#tagging a bunch of things that this might apply to

[ihhfhonao3]

Bitches be like “just be yourself!” And then get angry when you act like yourself

[aurorasulphur]

Disclaimer: none of these answers are official, and may not work for your particular use case. If there is a specific feature that an unofficial app had that you don't know how to replicate on the AO3, let me know in the notes and we might can crowdsource a solution.

A lot of people used the Archive Reader app to access stories on Archive of Our Own, and have been upset that the app is now charging to read longer than an hour a day. AO3 (and its parent organization, the OTW) has made it extremely clear in recent days that this app is unofficial and that there *is* no official app. They encourage people to use the website.

However, there are MANY reasons you might want an app, and in a bunch of those cases, there are ways to do those things without having to provide your login information to a random person running an app. Here is a round-up of solutions to the most common reasons I've seen people give for wanting an app instead of the plain AO3 website.

These solutions are based on the following assumptions:

You know what Archive of Our Own is

You often or primarily access it through a mobile device running iOS or Android

You understand what a browser is

You understand what a browser bookmark is

You understand what a site skin is

Edits:

Edited to clarify that you must be logged in to use custom site skins

Edited to add more tips and tricks from the reblogs

Edited to add new entry about notifications/emails

Edited to add new entry about reading statistics and the tracking thereof

I need a widget on my phone's homescreen, not just a browser bookmark.

You can do this with any website, not just AO3! Instructions here: https://www.howtogeek.com/196087/how-to-add-websites-to-the-home-screen-on-any-smartphone-or-tablet/

I need Dark Mode.

AO3 has a default site skin for Dark Mode, it's just called Reversi. Find it here, or at the bottom of any page on the website. https://archiveofourown.org/skins/929/

If you'd like Dark Mode on your whole browser (and you're on Android), sorrelchestnut has advice here: https://www.tumblr.com/sorrelchestnut/737869282153775104/if-you-want-dark-mode-and-dont-want-to-mess

I need to be able to read stories when I don't have internet.

Every work on the AO3 has a download button, so you can click on that and download the story for offline reading in the ereader app of your choice. More info on how to do that is in the AO3 FAQs: https://archiveofourown.org/faq/downloading-fanworks?language_id=en#accesslater

I need to be able to change the text size of the website itself.

If you have an AO3 account (and you should!!) you can do this with a personalized site skin! There is a simple tutorial here: https://www.tumblr.com/ao3skin/667284237718798336/i-have-a-request-if-you-dont-mind-could-you

I need to be able to change the text size in downloaded stories.

My personal recommendation: Don't download in PDF format. All the other formats you can download in can scale the text size up and down, assuming you open the work in the correct app. For me, I download works in EPUB format and read them on the built-in Books app on my iPhone. I hear good things about Moon Reader on Android as well.

I need to be able to replace Y/N in fics with an actual name.

ElectricAlice has a bookmarklet for that here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34796935

I need to be able to save specific tags and not have to search them up every time.

If you have an AO3 account (which you definitely should) then you can favorite up to 20 tags which will appear on the landing page. The AO3 FAQ explains how that works: https://archiveofourown.org/faq/tags?language_id=en#favtag

I need to be able to save specific filters and be able to apply them to any tag.

Reisling's beautiful bookmarklet has you covered: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33825019

I need to be able to permanently hide certain tags.

The best option is adding this to your site skin. (Must be logged in.) Instructions here: https://www.tumblr.com/ao3css/719667033634160640/how-to-permanently-filter-out-certain-tags-on-ao3

I also hear things about the AO3 Enhancements extension (just for Android/desktop, sorry iOS folks): https://www.tumblr.com/emotionalsupportrats/686787582579851265/browser-extension-everyone-on-ao3-should-know

I need it to save my place on the page and not reload.

This is really mostly a browser error--Firefox on iOS does this to me A LOT. Your best bet is to download the work and read it in an ereader app. A lot of people also will make an ao3 bookmark and write in the notes section which part they were at, but that assumes you aren't falling asleep while reading. (Which is the main reason I have this issue, lol.) For more info on bookmarks, see the FAQ: https://archiveofourown.org/faq/bookmarks?language_id=en#whatisbookmark

I need it to keep track of which stories I've already read/opened/kudos'd.

If you have an account (which you should) then the "My History" page keeps track of every fic you've ever clicked on. No, it isn't searchable or sortable, but it does exist. For fics you've kudos'd, I have yet to find a solution for iOS. For desktop or Android, you can use this excellent userscript: https://greasyfork.org/en/scripts/5835-ao3-kudosed-and-seen-history

@the-sleepy-archivist and @inkandarsenic have a solution for iOS here to use userscripts: https://www.tumblr.com/the-sleepy-archivist/737895174683885568/this-is-a-great-guide-one-thing-i-can-help-with and https://www.tumblr.com/inkandarsenic/737827438571192320/the-user-scripts-will-also-work-on-ios-there-are

I need an app because the website's search is terrible.

(I genuinely don't understand this one but I have seen it multiple times so on the list it goes!!) The search bar at the top of the screen is a keyword search. If you'd rather search within a specific field (like title or tag) then you'll want to click on the word "search" at the top of the screen and select Work Search or Tag Search. To search users, use People Search. To search Bookmarks, use Bookmark Search. (If this is you, please tell me what the heck you mean by "search is bad" and how an app helped with this.)

I need to be able to sort stories by date posted/number of bookmarks/alphabetical/etc.

You can do this using the filters sidebar. Pick a tag you want to filter on (like a fandom, character, or relationship) and then click on the "Filters" button. The sidebar will pop out and you can sort and filter on a boggling array of specifics. A good filtering guide: https://www.tumblr.com/saurons-pr-department/718665516093472768/if-there-is-something-you-dont-want-to-see-in

I need to be able to mark stories to read later.

AO3 has this feature built in! If you have an account (which you should) there is a "Mark for Later" option on every work.

Edit: Thispersonishuman reminded me that History and Mark For Later can be disabled, so if you're not seeing the Mark for Later option, check your settings.

I need to be able to listen to stories using text-to-speech.

Microsoft Edge web browser has a built in text to speech function. Supposedly it works on both iOS and Android, but I have not personally tested that. iOS also has a native accessibility feature in settings for text to speech that will work on the Books app, so I assume Android has a similar functionality. A bunch of people in the reblogs have more in-depth Android recommendations here: https://www.tumblr.com/protect-namine/737957194510794752/seconding-voice-aloud-on-android-for-tts-my, https://www.tumblr.com/smallercommand/737884523093704704/i-use-voice-for-tts-on-android-its-got-some, and https://www.tumblr.com/doitninetimes/737869463749263360/for-text-to-speech-on-android-you-can-also-check

I need to have in-app notifications for updates/I can't ever find story updates in among the rest of my emails/checking my email stresses me out.

Set up a separate email address using a free service like gmail, and use that email address JUST for AO3. Then the only emails in that inbox will be your story updates. I use Apple's Mail application for all my inboxes, but it's very easy to use the Gmail app instead, and you could log in to JUST the ao3 email and set it to notify for every email.

(Also as a general PSA: don't use your work, school, or military email as your AO3 email. Just don't.)

I want statistics like how many hours I spent reading, how many words I read, what my most read tags were, stuff like that.

So we've finally hit something that isn't easy and that requires a hell of a lot of manual work. Short version: AO3 does not track this data because they don't want to. (Mostly due to privacy concerns.) The lack of this tracking is a feature, not a bug. You can crunch these numbers yourself, but it will take a hell of a lot more effort, and it's something I personally found is not worth the effort the couple of times I have tried to crunch those numbers. If you are willing to download your history to an actual computer (not a tablet or chromebook) using Calibre, you can get a rough idea of your most popular tags via their tag browser, but it won't play nice with typos synned to a Common Tag (Canonical Tag/filterable tag) like ao3 does. (If anyone has used an app that gave you stats on this, please let me know in reblogs/replies/via ask how that worked because I am very curious.)

I need an app because <other reason>.

The AO3 Unofficial Browser Tools FAQ might cover your use case: https://archiveofourown.org/faq/unofficial-browser-tools?language_id=en If not, give a shout and we'll see what other tumblr users suggest!

[reidssluttywaist]

Spencer's lap.

In which you grind against your boyfriend.

fem!reader, season 2 Spencer, +16.

tags: dry humping, a little bit of dirtytalk.

a/n: guys this is so bad I've never written smut before but i had this idea while rewatching season 2 and tried something, this must have a bunch of mistakes and it's not proofread at all, also if anyone wants to rewrite this better please message me lol.

You never thought you'd have to sit for a physics class ever again since you left high school, and here you are, a half hour into your boyfriend explaining very throughly to you how he can make a rocket with 'physics magic', he also made you swear you would never tell his tricks to anybody, 'cause a magician never shares his secrets, right?!

Except you didn't get sleepy like you did in high school, you never paid that much attention to physics since now, the way Spencer's smile explains every detail, the giggle he lets out as he rumbles about different facts of all the physics laws, you're amazed by how happy he is, how his brain is extraordinary.

Hearing his humbles is better than any music you could think of, and paired with the soft sound of the rain falling outside Spencer's place, you feel so cozy and safe.

You and Spencer have been together for a couple of months now, he is your first real boyfriend, both of you are inexperienced in every single part of being in a relationship, sometimes the feeling of love you feel towards him overwhelms you, almost leaving you out of breath, you can't believe how good it is to love somebody, how god it is to love Spencer.

"Wow, that one might be your best! Look how high it went" you said after his most recent "rocket" made its way to the ceiling, Spencer smiling so big and laughing, making you laugh as well.

"Did you see that? I think I've perfected my measurements it's so high!!" Spencer says with a high-pitched voice, too excited to contain himself.

"The only bad thing about this is that you have to clean this mess up" You make a sad face, looking at the place that has little bits of water splashed all over.

"Nah, it's fine! It'll dry out soon enough" he says pretending that he doesn't care about the mess, except he does.

"C'mon, I'll help you clean and make us some dinner after, ok?!" You get up from your side of the couch, and hold Spencer's hand, trying to pull him up.

"I don't wanna get up now, it can wait," He says seriously, you can almost believe him.

You try pushing him up again, but this time he pulls you against him, being more successful than you do you end up falling onto him, sitting on his lap facing him.

"I said it can wait, I can clean up later, ok? I wanna spend some time with you now." He said holding your waist and looking at you.

You've never been on his lap before, you guys make out now and then, but never in that suggestive of a position, and Spencer never makes the first move like that, you feel your stomach filling with butterflies.

"You look so good with your glasses on" You blurt it out looking at him, analyzing his face as he looks at you.

"Can I kiss you?" Spencer says, you don't need words to respond as you press your lips onto his, starting a gentle kiss.

You'll never get accustomed to kissing Spencer, his soft lips, he's so gentle almost like he's afraid you'll run away if he makes any sudden moves, little does he know you won't, you'd never run away from him you feel like you could never get enough from him.

The kiss was now way more intense, your tongue exploring his, his grip on your waist a lot tighter now, one of his hands let go of your waist and made its way to the back of your neck, making you let out a soft moan into Spencer's mouth, making his body shiver under you.

Your hips start slightly moving over Spencer's thigh, the light friction making you want more.

Spencer was breathing heavily, and you could also feel him growing against your leg, he pulled you harder against him, adjusting your cunt to be right on top of his cock, applying pressure to your hips, you moan again, and you could feel yourself get wetter by the second.

"Spence, wanna feel you." You say in between kisses, making him whimper and push you harder against him.

"Fuck" he swears under his breath, both of his hands going to the waistband of the sweatpants you were wearing. "That okay?" he asks.

"Yes, please." You've never agreed to something so fast in your life, helping him take your pants away, after a few seconds of struggling you were back to kissing him like your life depended on it.

"C-can I take yours?" you whisper, almost scared to say it, he agrees by guiding your hand to his waistband, also helping you take his pants now, you were both only with underwear now, not even bothering to take your tops off, you went back to humping him, your thin underwear fabric soaked.

Spencer's shaky hands made their way onto your shirt, both of them massing your breasts, making noises come out of your mouth and the man under you groan.

"N-need more, Spence." You say grinding your hips harder against him, and bring your hands to his underwear pushing it down just enough so his cock is free.

You start to use your hands on him, slow up and down movements just enough so he can't even keep his eyes open.

"Want your pussy, please, wanna feel you" Spencer mumbles taking your hands off his cock, his hand going to your panties and ripping them out.

That made you gasp, making your pussy even more wet.

Spencer positioned you on his cock, which was resting on his stomach, you started moving your hips up and down, both of you moaning even louder now.

"You feel so warm, baby, you're so wet for me," He says, looking at where your bodies are rubbing against each other, he looks mesmerized by this sight, mouth slightly opened as he applies more pressure to your hips, making you shiver.

Spencer never dirty talked like that before, you could see the blush on his cheeks as he did, this new side of him making your mind blurry and a not start to form on your stomach.

"I'm so close," he says, biting his lips as you try to move even harder for him.

"N-eed more, please, your fingers," you say and he immediately knows what you mean, taking one of his hands out of your hips and bringing it to your pussy, his thumb finding your clit with ease, start moving it in circles making you let out a loud moan.

"Fuck" You let out, not able to keep your eyes open.

"Can you cum for me? Please baby wanna see your pretty face as you fuck yourself on me." Spencer says, that added with his movements in your clit make your mind fuzzy, you felt the heat on your stomach spread to your legs and your body starts to shake, releasing all the tension you were feeling.

"Oh, you're so pretty like that, so pretty when you cum for me," Spencer says, helping you ride out your climax, you were so sensitive by the recent orgasms but you started to move your hips harder and faster on Spencer's cock.

He bites his lips and you feel him grip your ass, his glasses were blurry and it was so hot that he didn't take him out.

He groaned when you felt his dick twit under you, you helped him through his orgasm, kissing him when you were both done, his hands when to your back caressing it, slowly moving up and down.

"That was so good" He whispers to you.

"A dirty talker, huh?! Who would've thought?" you joke, making him laugh.

"Most men are dirty talkers so it's not that uncommon" he rumbles.

He switched up to nerdy Spencer again, making you smile.

You spend a couple more minutes just talking before getting up, you make sure to point all that he must buy you a new pair of panties to pay for the one he ripped, he agrees, saying he would buy more than one because "you'll never know what might happen, right?"

[mindofthemage]

I know I mentioned 196 several times now, but fuck it's so cute to see all of them adapt!!

All you new people are doing so great at figuring our the site culture and language! Saw someone post a blorbo and ask if it's a blorbo. Yes it was! It was one of my blorbos too! I got a plushie of that blorbo!

Saw someone else say they reblog a bunch of stuff for their seven followers! Just like it should be done! Share the funny posts the amount of people that see it doesn't matter! If you tag it they can't filter the things they don't care out and don't get frustrated! (I for example have several Fandoms of my mutuals blacklisted because I don't care about them but I like all the other stuff they post!)

Another person shared their hyperfixation and that they really wanted to talk about it and a bunch of replies were just people wanting to talk about it too!!

I even see more posts tagged with the right Fandoms!!!

Super proud! All of you are doing great! Hope you continue to have a great time on this hellsite!

(Some part I personally noticed that could help tho:

It might be part of a joke I don't get, but if you tag frogs maybe tag it once in the correct way it's written incase people want to filter it out! Also applies to other stuff.

And if you post artwork that isn't yours, either try and find if the original is on tumblr and reblog it instead or link to the original! Because stolen artwork isn't fun and cool and it's great to give artists more exposure!)

Also your shitposts are still great and funny! Probably gonna continue to check the 196 tag even after it stops trending!

[ozzgin]

Yandere! CoD Headcanons: König x Reader x Ghost (II)

“Sharing is caring” is likely familiar to most, though the nuances of it may sometimes differ beyond the classic expectations. You’re trapped between two jealous, possessive and feverishly infatuated men with no escape in your sight. That implies, of course, you’ve been looking for a way out of this bizarre partnership. Have you? Be honest…

TW: NSFW, obsessive behavior, size kink, violence

Tags: @223princess

[Part I]

Yet another classic rule that comes with your job is to always be ready to deal with the unexpected. Plan as well as you may, the battleground is not as generous as to stick to your schedule. Yet the same principle applies out of combat, too. It’s just…you had’t really imagined such an outcome to be possible. Your extensive training covered most scenarios, from raids, to ambushes, natural disasters, everything except, well, this. You wonder if the code of conduct might include a paragraph about work romance, specifically your teammates taking turns to fuck you shamelessly at any hour of the day.

You gaze at your reflection in the slightly fogged mirror and quickly look away, embarrassed. You can’t bear to see the markings that are peppered all over your body, betraying the depraved activities you’ve indulged in for the past weeks. How did it even come to this? You sit on the edge of the bed, drying your hair, and hesitantly replay the event in your head. Your helpless form crouched on the storage floor, looking up at the two large men gripping at each other’s throats. Behind their masks you could sense their ferocious intent to kill. How would you explain it to your superiors? You gathered up your remaining confidence and barked at them to stop at once. They were indeed taken aback by your sudden yell that could’ve put any drill sergeant to shame. You wanted to get to the bottom of the conflict and put all this bullshit behind as soon as possible. Until they offered you the honest cause of their hostile rivalry. You could only stare in disbelief.

Your first instinct was to wonder if this was some sort of elaborate prank. What the hell, were they a bunch of high schoolers learning to handle their first crush or fucking grown adults in the middle of a military operation? You were never oblivious to it: mixed gender missions always came with a lot of casual hookups to blow off steam. Not your thing, but there’s plenty of other people down to it. Your suggestion was met with angry, vehement refusal. Both Ghost and König were outraged at the insinuation they’d put their dicks in some rando, as if that’s all there was to it. As if anyone else would do. Ironically this is where they found their common ground. König had lifted you nonchalantly by the collar of your uniform and asked you if you’re playing dumb. You could only shrug, even more confused. Ghost joined him and explained, casually and matter-of-fact, that you can call it a hookup as long as you remember it’s a lifelong arrangement. You were to walk out that door with the knowledge you belong to them and they would take any necessary steps to ensure your compliance. The hunting knife that was meant to plunge into his rival was now propped under your chin, dangerously close to your throbbing artery.

Now this should’ve been your sign to nod obediently, pack your suitcase at the earliest convenience and get the hell out. And that was your honest intent, initially. You could almost visualize the documents granting your absence from duty. Then you felt your buttons pop from their seams, forcefully ripped apart by König’s large hand. It occurred to you that you were propped against the wall by two men twice your size. You could hear their now labored breaths, muffled by their masks. The Austrian man roughly readjusted your posture, having you rest against his hips and throwing your legs around his waist. You gasped quietly once you sensed a bulge pressing into you. He fumbled with his zipper, but Ghost interrupted him with an irritated scolding. “You can’t just ram it in, you fucking dumbass.” You didn’t take long to understand the meaning and shivered at the thought. Without a warning, Ghost slid his hand into your now unbuckled pants. Two fingers begun pressing circles over your underwear and an unconscious whine escaped your lips. Satisfied by your reaction, he brought himself closer and increased the pace until he felt the moisture pooling in the fabric, which was enough encouragement to gently slip his way inside of you. In an attempt to help, König lowered his head over your breasts, fondling your now sensitive nipples with his tongue. His mask draped over your skin, adding a mild tickle to the overwhelming buildup. You suddenly remembered the storage no longer had a door after König kicked it out of its hinges, so you tried to push the muscular man away. “W-what if someone comes in?” Against your will and to your surprise, the question rolled out like a prolonged moan and you blushed awkwardly. “They won’t, if you shut up.” Ghost responded curtly. He considered it for a moment, and added smugly: “Don’t worry, that pretty mouth of yours will be real busy soon.” You closed your eyes tightly and prayed you wouldn’t be caught.

And you weren’t. You got away with it. That time, and the other time, and all the other times. At this point you question whether your other teammates truly haven’t noticed or have since learned to look away. Another possibility is that the psychotic duo has threatened the others into silence. Given their cocky attitude whenever you protest about the openness or risky timing, it wouldn’t surprise you at all. Even worse, their libido seems to be increasing exponentially as a consequence to their incessant competition of owning you. They seem to be plagued by a delirious need to have you at all times, and you’re rather afraid to admit that your desire to flee is slowly being replaced by a similar addiction. Rabid dogs in heat. That’s the only analogy that comes to mind.

Last time you didn’t even get the chance to return to the base. The soldiers had exited the truck, cheering their success and marching towards the gate. König had been quiet the entire ride, not even bothering to hide his ardent stare, his eyes hooded with lust. You were about to hop off yourself when you felt his burning grip on your wrist, pulling you back in and onto his lap. Oh, how he loves fucking you like this. His toned legs are sprawled out dominantly and his calloused hands guide you over his erection. No matter how many times you do it, the start is always painful. He’s just that big. But that’s his favorite part. Seeing you wince and tear up, holding your stomach as if shielding it from the foreign object assaulting the walls of your frail body. Then the thrusts become smoother and your movements break into an erratic pleading for more. He wants to witness it all. God, you turn him into a wild animal. His fingers dig into your skin and towards the end you’re a whimpering mess, shamelessly drooling over his uniform in a daze. As you coat him with your slick cum, he grunts and barely manages to speak. “Fuck, I’m gonna lose my mind for good one of these days.” His voice is deep and reverberates against your heaving chest.

Scratch that. Last time you didn’t even make it to the truck. You were laying behind a boulder, wiping the sweat and dirt off your face. You’d just finished taking out your targets and announced your return in the headset. Ghost approaches you with a hidden smirk and squats before you, extending a hand towards you. “Need help?” You nod with gratitude and take off your helmet. You reach for his hand, hoping he’d pull you up, but instead his fingers claw around your throat and push you against the ground. “Good, I have the perfect thing for a little slut like you.” He climbs over you without letting go of your neck and undoes your jacket with ease. Hell, he’s been doing it so often he could manage even blindfolded. With the free hand he shoves one of your legs away to make space. Truth be told, he’s very much biased towards this particular arrangement. He can already feel the unbearable pressure of his member waiting to be freed. He adores being able to take all of you in. Your expression, your small body trapped under his massive frame. He can fuck you as he pleases, until you turn into a rag doll, and there’s no way out. You grit your teeth in anticipation and hold onto his arm that’s choking you once he goes in. You must’ve been molded just for him. There’s no other explanation for his feral clinginess, scratching and biting and pulling in desperate, agonizing pleasure. After the deed has been done he can admire his masterful work, gazing lovingly at your flustered, disheveled form, gasping for air and dripping with his seed.

Your shake your head and try to chase away these perverted memories. You’re still damp from the shower and continue massaging your scalp with the towel, when you hear a knock on your door. Oh, no. No. “Busy!” is all you manage to shout. The door opens nonetheless and Ghost and König waltz in, entirely indifferent to your refusal. “Can’t I have one moment to myself?” You groan, frustrated. König leans against the wall and Ghost kneels in front of you. There’s a hint of cheekiness in his voice. “Sure. Tell us to go away and we will.” You blink and ponder his words. Remembering all the past encounters has gotten you a little bit eager, that’s true, but… “Say it.” He repeats himself. You squirm and look away, a deep red spreading across your face. Your lips are pursed. König lets out a soft laugh and closes the door, then faces you. “Since you wanted to be a brat, you have to beg for it now.”

What have you gotten yourself into?

[waspsinyouryard]

Alrighty gamers,

As a "reddit refugee" who has been on Tumblr for a year at this point and hopefully knows some stuff about how this website and its userbase operate (even though I haven't been on that frequently), here's what I have learned over the course of my time here that might be helpful to any redditors coming here (long bullet list incoming):

Absolute Basics

Apply a profile picture to your blog. It can be anything, but it needs to be there. If you have a default profile picture then you will probably be blocked on sight by almost everyone. It's not personal; you just look an awful lot like a bot.

Make at least 1 original post on your blog. It can be anything—from a long introduction to a random shitpost—as long as it isn't the sort of post that a bot would make. Maybe hold off on posting sexual gifs with a bunch of random unrelated tags for the time being.

Interaction With Posts

Likes on this platform are sort of like saving posts and comments on Reddit. They do add a note and they can be seen if you don't have your likes set to private, but they don't help spread the post at all and are most useful for later easy access.

Reblogs without added text or tags are mostly analogous to crossposting in function, although not in website culture. Instead, think of it more like taking a screenshot of a post somewhere else online and posting it onto your favorite subreddit of choice. Reblog things you find cool/funny/pretty/have something to add to/whatever frequently.

Comments on Tumblr are mostly like comments on Reddit. The biggest difference is that you can't have comment threads.

Posting (including reblogs)

Tag things when relevant. Especially tag topics that people might want to avoid, like bigotry or very long posts.

In your main text, say whatever it is you feel you want to say/add. If you're reblogging, this is were you put your hilarious zingers that will be forever immortalized by r/tumblr repost bots.

Tags are frequently used to elaborate or say anything that's not the main point of the post or reblog.

Interacting with other users

Don't be afraid to block people.

Don't be afraid to follow people. Following tags is functional, but following people that post things you are interested in is better.

If I'm leading anyone terribly astray, please feel free to add on to and correct this post

[dumbasswithapen]

can we just listen to Disabled people when they say what accommodations they need??? Like it really isn’t that hard to just take someone’s word on what is best for their own body! Whether it’s more or less or different than what you deem they need it really isn’t your place to say!!!

Sometimes, people need more than they show! Especially if they’re used to being in pain all the time, then they won’t always display that discomfort.

Sometimes the accommodations someone needs are different than what you assume. A friend who struggles with noise sensitivity may ask for you to turn on a different type of music, instead of turning it down, and if that is what they express they need you don’t have to say “oh no I can just turn it down!” and ignore them saying that that isn’t necessary because your idea of noise sensitivity is different than their own experiences and needs.

And sometimes people need less than you try to provide! Or simply don’t want that accommodation at the time! And here’s the crazy part: this applies even if what they say to do could hurt them. Obviously this isn’t a rule for every situation*, but for some it absolutely is. If your friend wants to tag along for, say, a hike, and they have joint pain it isn’t your place to add in “oh no but they can’t do [the hike]! They’ll be in pain! We have to do something else to accommodate them!” If that person expressed a desire to go, especially if offered other options prior that wouldn’t hurt them, let them live. Let them do the thing that puts them in pain, because Disabled people don’t always want to be shoved into a little box of safety. Absolutely sometimes they do, and some might always want to, but if they don’t, then let them make their own choices for their body. Just as anyone else does. You go out and get drunk, even if it gives you a hangover. You go skating even if you’re shit at it and scratch up your knees a bunch. Just because someone is Disabled doesn’t mean that they can’t do the same thing and do that fun thing that hurts them.

I don’t know if I’m displaying my point how I want, so here’s my own example: I am allergic to the cold. Anything below 60 degrees (f) I get hives. Any water cooler than a fucking warm shower I get hives. My joints don’t do great when it’s cold out. This does not mean that when I say I want to go swimming, you can say “oh but you can’t you’ll get hives!” Or “no you can’t do that you’ll be in pain!” Because. I know that. I know that. I know my Disability better than anyone else can, and I can ask for accommodations I need. I am not a child to be wrapped in bubble wrap so I don’t get hurt. My body is my body and I can do with it what I want, and face the consequences. Likewise, just because I said I wanted to go swimming doesn’t mean that when I don’t want to go out and muck around in the snow it is anyone’s right to say “oh but you wanted to swim earlier, so obviously it isn’t that bad for you!” Or “oh it’s fine it’s not that cold! Just wear a sweater!” Because at that time I need and want different accommodations and that should be listened to and considered accordingly, as far as it can be in that situation.

Seriously. Just listen to us. We are in our own bodies. We know ourselves. It really isn’t that hard

*a situation where this point would be null is, for example, a situation where the person has been peer pressured into doing something, or one where you know the person well and know that the endurance of pain is a self-harming behavior

[shameless-slit]

Boobas

Summary: Your tits hurt and your boyfriend Jonathan helps you with it.

Word count: 3.7k Tags: domestic fluff, boyfriend jonathan (pre collider), fem!reader (short and kinda chubby coded), teasing, sexual content but not technically smut(?)

A/N: Absolutely unedited self indulgence, I was on my periods and my nipples hurt and it was 6am so yeah. Yes it’s 3k words of horniness, no they neither fuck not come. Sorry I was horny but lazy.

Your tits hurt.

Well, for once it’s more precisely your nipples hurting, seemingly chafing against any bit of fabric, no matter how soft it is. Thankfully for you it’s a Sunday, so you’re splayed on the couch in front of the small tv displaying a fiercely competitive cooking show (it’s the fourth episode and you just want to see that hypocrite Delilah leave before the semi finals). Your crop top is pulled up above your chest, fingers carefully applying lotion against the sensitive nib, hoping the cold will help with the burning sensation. So far you’re only granted momentary relief, and a well hydrated skin you suppose.

A constant shuffling of slippers and papers tells you your boyfriend is pacing around the flat, nervously pacing from one room to another as he double and triple and quadruple checks his notes for tomorrow. Ever since he’s started working with Dr. Octavius, he’s seen a spike in his anxiety, unable to relax even on Sundays, especially when there’s a meeting with their most influential invested the day after. That’s why you’re not so surprised when he pops in front of Delilah’s little spiel about cutlery, shifting your gaze up to see him holding a messy bundle of papers, by now creased between his nervous hands.

“Babe, do you remember where I put the folder with the thing— the sheet with the stuff and all-“

He however almost jumps as he finally looks back at you, face flushing red, his nose even redder, hands clamping down on the papers as if he’d been electrocuted.

“Oh god sorry sorry sorry, I uhhhhhh… b-bad time?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction— it’s not like he’s never seen your breasts, you usually hang around the bed naked when it’s late at night and you can’t be bothered to move, let alone put some clothes on. Still, you figure it must’ve been a whiplash from his thoughts about colliders and unpleasant social interactions. That and he might have thought you were touching yourself— you are, just not in that way— and you appreciate his concern for privacy.

“You’re good Johnny, no problems here. Well, my tits hurt so that’s a problem, but don’t worry I’ll be fine”

You try to turn your amused grin into a reassuring smile, noticing the embarrassment still painted on his face. His eyes dart around the room before settling on your breasts as you say the word ‘tits’, then on your eyes for a moment, before going back at your chest.

Avoiding eye contact by looking at your tits? Good, he’s comfortable again.

“Oh right okay…” He gives you an empathetic hum, trying to shake off the blush in his cheeks. “Periods?”

You shrug. “Probably? It’s not the usual pain but you know. It does that sometimes.”

“Aw man, bummer. I’ll make you some tea?”

For some reason this makes you blush. Why? Who knows! But you’re partner is offering you tea and he looks so sweet saying it and you just want to extend your arms long enough to grab him and kiss him.

“Oh that’s so nice I’d like that!”

His face lightens up as your face lightens up, and then you remember why he’s in front of the TV screen.

“But take your time with your prep,” you add, “I’m not in a hurry. Have you checked the box under the bed? There’s a bunch of outdated papers there, your folder must be somewhere there.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You sure? It wouldn’t take long—“

“I’m not moving anywhere Johnny.” You don’t think you even can, the way your limbs are spread on the couch is so comfortable you don’t want to break the spell. “They’re not going anywhere either”, you add, pointing at your chest with a cheeky smile.

“O-Oh right.” You see his cheeks redden slightly under the edges of his beard creeping up, and he looks back at his papers in order to break your flirtatious eye contact. “Good luck with, uh, your boobs.”

You cackle a bit and a proud smile creeps up on his face as he leaves the TV screen, letting you see that Matthew is the one expelled this episode: miraculously, Delilah is making it to the semifinals.

Behind you, Jonathan is already making his way to the bedroom, absentmindedly fidgeting with the now thoroughly crinkled sheets in his hands. As awkward as he made it, the interaction with you was a nice break from the last two panic filled hours he spent scouting the house to make sure he had everything gathering neatly— by scientists standards, even then it was stretch— to take the next morning for the meeting. A grand gathering of all the sides of the operation, a demonstration of the prototype for the collider (his prototype, that’s why he had to be there, also because Octavia seemed to love tormenting him) and hopefully a sign off on one of the most ambitious projects of mankind. His magnum opus.

And he is thinking about your boobs.

He sees his crinkled bundle on his desk, along side other semi-organized stacks of papers waiting to be put in their proper folders. As he makes his way to the bedroom, the image of your chest seems ingrained behind his eyes like he’s stared at the sun for too long. He crouches down to try to locate the box you were talking about, and he can just see the way your breasts rose and fell with your breathing, the way one was glistening slightly from the lotion while the other had your two fingers pressed on the nipple, interrupted in their soothing. He extends a long arm under the bed, getting a hold of the box at pulling it to him, and his other hand twitches as he replaces your fingers with his in his mind. His other hand cups your other breasts and you let out a moan as he presses against the nipple there too, and his mouth moves to replace his fingers as he takes the soft flesh of your breasts in, rolling the nipple around his tongue, kisses you just to feel the vibrations of your moans on his mouth as he paws at the soft flesh of your breasts and—

He blinks. Was he not blinking this whole time?

He looks down at the box in front of him, of which he’s started looking through a few folders without really looking. He lets out a sigh as reality pulls him back in. He could just get lost in that pleasant fantasy again, maybe just for a second he thinks, another break from not-working-but-worrying-over-it. He’s stuck between his anxiety and desire, but anxiety sure can throw some hands because there’s no way he can think of you without the looming threat of tomorrow, unless he convinces himself the looming threat of tomorrow is already a solved problem. So he goes back to the first few folders and skims through them, ignoring how tight his pants have been and are feeling.

You’ve been stuck in a doom scrolling spiral of numbness and the occasional laugh for quite a while, before the sound of a hissy kettle startles you out of it. You unfortunately have had to move of your comfortable position on the couch in the hour and a half that has past, quickly settling on a new one, though not nearly as comfortable as the previous one. You snap your head to look behind the couch, as you see Jonathan exiting the kitchen with a mug in each hand.

“Oh you’re done!” you say as you sit back in the couch. “You even brought the tea!”

He nods, and you’re almost more excited than him. As much as you empathize with his urge to check everything is right at the last moment, you can’t help but worry when he seems to spiral for so long in his mind.

“Sure did, I said I’d make you some after all!”

He’s got that giddy smile at seeing your excitement as he sets the cups down on the small table between couch and TV.

“Mint tea with lots of sugar, for the special lady.”

You chuckle, and make some space for him as he sits down, taking a mug in your hands and a small burning sip of the tea.

“You’re all ready for tomorrow?” You ask, taking another sip before deciding the tea is very good and your tongue is very burned, setting the mug back on the table.

He shrugs, looking away at the question. “Not exactly. There’s still a bunch of folders to check if I haven’t forgotten anything… not to mention I just remembered Octavia wanted my original plans to show, so I had to go over them…”

You put a hand on his shoulder, and he stops himself, letting out a sigh as he mulls over everything he still has to do. Now that’s a problem, and it breaks your heart to see him spiraling so much and so quickly. As much as you’d want to help, you know he wouldn’t let you, not on this. He refuses to let you in on any actual work he does for Alchemax, for better or for worst. It may be for safety reasons to him, but to you, it just makes it harder to comfort him like right now.

Before you can add anything though, he breaks the silence you hadn’t realized had settled by turning to you and asking:

“How’s the tits?”

Maybe you were the one spiraling, because that makes a good job of snapping you out of it.

“You know, I kinda forgot about them after a while.”

You shrug, and your crop top, which you had pulled down at some point, brushes against your nipples in the worst possible way, sending a shudder through your body.

“Fucking shit,” you hiss through your teeth, “nevermind, they just needed to be reminded. They hurt like a bitch.”

“I could help with that.”

You pause and he pauses. You both look at each other for a second, before you can feel yourself start smiling uncontrollably. Your smirk only grows mor mischievous as you see the red creep up his cheeks.

“Johnny did you—“

“No! I mean, yes? I-I just want to help you in anyway I can so I, uh, was simply… offering support?”

You have to say, you’re surprised by Johnny’s forwardness, and if your nipples weren’t already hard from the incredibly unpleasant friction, they sure are now.

You’re usually the one to make advances, and as much as it’s fun seeing the man crumble on himself at the slightest innuendo, you can’t help but feel excited about a change of pace. He may think he’s horrible at flirting— well, he is most of the time yes— but you’d chalk it up to insecurity, the few times you saw him with confidence confirming your doubts.

You force yourself to stop smiling so wide, though keeping a small smirk on your face as you lean towards him, both to alleviate the friction on your nipples and to look at him teasingly.

“Well I’m interested now. How would you support me in these times of need?”

It’s almost cartoonish the way he gulps down his embarrassment, his fingers fidgeting with the top of his shirt, undoing and redoing the second button.

“I just thought… I-I could massage them if you want? I sad you had some lotion earlier too…”

“That’s so nice of you” you nod, giving him a reassuring smile to encourage him.

You begin lifting up your crop top, and Jonathan passes it over your head, and you can’t help but notice the nervous pace of his movements. Almost impatient.

His large hand cups your left boob. If your breasts were already rather small to your taste, they seem even smaller in his hand. He doesn’t seem to mind though, judging by the look on his face as he gives it a small squeeze, which shots tingles in your stomach. His thumb brushes over your nipple, and you immediately cringe at the sensation, hunching over yourself with a hiss.

“Shit shit I’m sorry!” He quickly removes his hand, both of them frozen in the air in panic. “I’m so sorry, that was stupid, I should’ve known your nipple was the part that hurt…”

You can’t blame him, you didn’t tell him— to be honest with yourself, you were too focused on yearning for his hands on you, you kinda forgot to. You let out a small laugh, a reflex to distract yourself from the sensation and to reassure him.

“You’re fine babe, I swear. Just so you know, yeah, they hurt at everything touching the nipple. I usually put on lotion, it helps a bit, better than water because water dries if and you do NOT want it to dry off when it’s like this.”

He nods, as if taking mental notes.

“Does it help to have something cold on it?” he asks.

You raise an eyebrow. He really is taking notes.

“Kinda? It’s better to have something cold than something warm against it, but keeping it somewhere warm helps the nipple… relax.”

You don’t know how to tell him, but now that you think of it, there actually is a way he can help you with it. You don’t know if it’ll actually work, but by now you’ve tried everything you could try by yourself, and god would it feel good to have that hit stop hurting for a second.

Without thinking, like most things that come out of your mouth do, you blurt out:

“You could use your mouth?”

You immediately cringe as you say this, because you hate asking for things, especially when it’s vulnerable, especially when it’s something you want, especially when you’re gonna have to explain yourself and your only explanation is “I want my tits in your mouth Johnny”—

“Can I?”

Now that’s a surprise anew. Once again, he pulls you out of your spiraling train of thought. You take a second to process, and when you do, you feel heat rise in you as you look back at him and see his eyes looking at your body so intensely. Hungry.

“Y-yeah”, you nod sheepishly. “I would like to… try this.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he shifts in his seat, turning enough to face you. You straighten your back in an attempt to make it easier for him as he leans his head down to your chest.

His lips latch onto your breast, taking as much as he can in his mouth. You feel the flat of his tongue press against your nipple, and for the first time today, it’s a pleasant sensation. The wet, warm texture of the tongue applying pressure almost feels like a massage for your hardened nip, and a small moan escapes the back of your throat.

“I… thanks you Johnny, it feels really nice…”

You feel his hands, up to now awkwardly hovering around you, come to rest on your waist. Long, careful fingers trace your skin, before he takes the satisfied hums you let out as permission to dig in the soft flesh of your stomach, his fidgety fingers seeming to calm down at the feeling of your rolls underneath his palms. Your own hands find their way to his hair, playing with them while whispering small praises to him.

This boost in confidence is immediately shown through a hand decending between your thighs, enjoying the feeling of the ample flesh caging it while he lets you grind on it for a second, before removing it the time to slip it under the waist band if your sweats. You just have the time to think of how wet you are before his fingers remind you of it, pressing against the fabric of your underwear right underneath your leaking wetness.

He finally pulls his mouth off of your tit, his hand immediately coming to replace it, following your advices and gently massaging it. You meet his eyes, clouded in a desperate, pleading desire.

You’re about to talk when he moves your underwear aside with his fingers, letting them graze around your sex.

“God you’re so wet already”, you hear, and you realize he’s out of breath, “I’m flattered, babe.”

“I don’t want it to go to waste”, he adds.

You look at him, trying to reel yourself back in, the feeling of his fingers against your warm skin making you want him so desperately.

“Can I just show you?” he asks, and you nod so eagerly you could’ve just started begging at that point.

His fingers drag around your wetness, gathering the cum gathered at your bottom. He goes as far as pushing them along your folds, which elicits an embarrassing sound from the back of your throat, but doesn’t enter you.

He drags his fingers, soaked as well, out of your pants, staining them in the process, before moving them up to your left breast, nipple painfully hardened and untouched.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit gross, I swear I’ll lick it off.”

Before you can ask to clarify your confusion, you feel his wet fingers on your left tit, suddenly understanding his idea. You revel in the sweet sensation of his fingers gently massaging the nib, your cum acting as a much better replacement for lotion than your spit (you tried and it hadn’t worked out but by god did this work well).

With both of your nipples wet enough to let him touch them comfortably, he brings his face back up to yours, still having to hunch as he presses his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. You eagerly accept it, returning it clumsily and parting your lips, his tongue immediately shooting in as you let it. Without breaking the kiss, you take it as an opportunity to climb onto his lap and straddle him, his erection pressing against your sweatpants.

His hands paw at your breasts, still being careful and gentle on your nipples. You can feel the restraint in his hand, the tension in his fingers as wants to squeeze and fondle your breasts and burry his face between them and suck and bite on them. Instead, he takes a nibble of your bottom lip, sparing your sensitive chest, and eliciting a small sound from you that feels like a reward to him.

You eventually break the kiss with a breathless sigh, your hands coming up to brush stray strands of hair from his red and panting face. The way he stares at you is priceless, studying your reddened cheeks, your flared nostrils, your parted, wet, puffy lips he almost immediately leans in for again. You remember why you broke the kiss in the first place, and you whisper right before his lips take yours:

“Fuck you’re amazing Johnny, I don’t know how I managed to land on someone like you.“

He gives you a quick little kiss, pulling back to look at you with eyes sparkling with pride. God does this man seem to gobble compliments right up, it’s like he’s been starved from it for too long.

“Are you kidding?” he chuckles, a low chuckle that makes your stomach churn in a delicious way. “I can’t believe I landed on you, it feels ridiculous you’d ever settle for me—“

“I’m not settling—“ he cuts off your attempt at cutting him off by pressing his lips on yours.

His hands trail down your torso, leaving your tits to go over your stomach. He mutters against your lips “I mean look at you…”

He plays and pinches the soft skin, taking handfuls of the plump flesh in his large hand, the other trailing down to your hips, slipping under your pants to trace the bumps and ripples on your skin.

“How in hell did I get the opportunity to touch that?” He adds, and the adoration in his voice is enough to make you weep, with the way he looks at you in awe and desire.

“Johnny…” you sigh, at a lost for words; words are never your strong suit when it’s to say things you want to say.

He pulls back to look at you, his eyes making their way down your body, taking in every inch with a hungry fascination. His hands slowly come back up to your chest, seeming to examine it.

“Do your nipples feel any better now?”

The bluntness of the question snaps you out of the moment, which makes you realize you haven’t felt any discomfort with your overly sensitive nipples since then.

“They… they feel fine,” you say in pleased surprise.

“What kind of magic did you do?” you add with a cheeky smile.

He smiles as well, a smug proudness creeping in. “Seems like my mouth was the answer after all. Sorry, did that sound wrong?”

“No,” you shake your head with a chuckle, “no not at all. Thanks Johnny, you’re an angel.”

His face grows bright and red as his cheeks darken with blush. He swallows his spit, as if reminding himself to speak. “Do… do you wanna continue with this? We can stop or take a break if you want of course.”

You pause, almost confused, then baffled as you realize: in his effort not to cause you any discomfort, he’s somehow convinced himself that you still weren’t thinking of any of that as sexual.

“Johnny,” you say, not hiding the twinge of amusement in your voice, “you’re not gonna leave me hanging like this, are you?”

His brows furrow in confusion. “What? No I mean—“

“Do you want to take a break?”

He paused as you cut him off, before shaking his head ‘no’.

“Good. Because I do not want to end it here.” You smile, trailing your fingers down his chest, playing with the buttons of his shirt before you start undoing them.

“I was thinking…” You look back at his face, unable to hold back a smile at the wishful realization in his eyes. “You’ve been working so hard all week, all weekend… but I believe you just need to relax. Blow off some steam, you know?”

He nods, his expression almost relieved as he understands you want the same thing as him. He opens his mouth to speak, though you cut him off again.

“Would you like to blow off some steam?”

“Yes,” he immediately answers.

You let out a small giggle, pulling him in for a kiss once more. He whines contently against your lips, his hips bucking in eagerness.

Maybe he really was going to sleep well tonight.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

favourite or most interesting wenglish quirks non-welsh people might not know about?

I have no idea what people would be likely to know about or not, so I'm just going to list a bunch, I think.

Inversion! I.e the thing Yoda does! Welsh allows a degree of syntactic fluidity for emphasis, and Wenglish carries this over. "Look at Boris Johnson. An absolute clown, that man is." "I saw EEAAO on the weekend! Magical, it was, just brilliant." This one sometimes can sound almost... wrong, actually, when used by an actual Welsh speaker. A totally normal sentence I have heard my husband say is "So cute, the cat!" instead of "The cat is so cute!" He once looked at a Pomeranian and said to me "So small, the dog!"

Doubling up on the verb to be! Similar to 'innit', but... more. "I'm going to give him a piece of my mind, I am." "He's all tired out, he is." She's been on the go all day, she has." Sometimes this becomes inversion if the speaker drops the first part. So, that last one might be "Been on the go all day, she has."

Double dipping with adjectives! Specifically, adjectives that mean the same thing. English, being a Frankenstinian mash up of eight others, has a much bigger vocabulary than Welsh, and Welsh speakers in the 1700s being forced to assimilate were fascinated by it. So "There he goes, driving around in his big huge car" - a totally normal and not redundant description in Wenglish.

Double dipping with nouns! Same reason. "Whose coat is that jacket?" "Whose shoes are those boots?"

The negative question! I love this one. When asking a shopkeeper, you might say "Have you got any milk?" Not in Wenglish! In Wenglish you say "You haven't got any milk, have you?" (Grammatically, the correct answer to that is probably "Why, don't you want any?", but in reality the answer is "Yes we do" and that's linguistically correct.) Something something Welsh people expect to be disappointed something something.

Expanded words! 'Where' is usually 'where to'. "Where to am I going?" "Where to am I taking the kids?" "Where to have you put Mam Gu's medicine?" Sometimes it can be 'where by', "Where by does she live in Cardiff?"

'Do' gets added in before verbs in some parts of the south east. This comes from a method of Welsh verb shortening, actually. 'Cerddais i' means 'I walked' - 'nes i gerdded' means the same thing, but literally is 'I did walk'. And that's how they roll in Abertillery! "Whenever I go to town I do buy a cake." "Gareth do play rugby on the weekend". (For clarity's sake, that last one would otherwise be 'Gareth plays rugby on the weekend.')

'Look' and 'see' as verbal tags! Used at the end of a sentence for emphasis. "He's done fucked it up, look." "It's easier not to bother, see."

And a whole bunch of Welsh loanwords that get sprinkled in. Plus some English ones that we liked and used indiscriminately; the biggest and best example of that is 'tidy', which is the most overworked word in all of Wenglish. How much did you sell your car for? A tidy amount. Did she hand in the wallet she found? Yeah, she's tidy. How was your blind date? Tidy, yeah, might go for a second with him. Did you enjoy your meal? It was tidy, yeah.

Welsh ones:

Dwt (n) or dwti (adj). Very tiny. "He's a dwt of a boy." "Look at the kittens! I love the little dwti one."

Cwtch, my beloved. Best word. Closest English analogue is 'hug', which we also use, but a cwtch has connotations of being a little fluffy animal tucked cozy and safe into a comfy little space all happy and warm. Can be a noun (a cwtch), a verb (cwtch him up all nice) or an adjective (I love this room, it's cwtchy). There is safety, security and comfort to a cwtch. Lesser used, but it also applies to a method of wrapping your baby into your arm with a shawl (traditional Welsh childcare method: baby stays warm, your arm doesn't get tired, and you keep one hand free), and the small cupboard under the stairs.

Bach - small. Used as a term of endearment. "How are you, bach?" Generally used by someone older to someone younger.

Byt/byti - mate. Possibly where the American English 'buddy' comes from. Used like bach, but between peers rather than older to younger.

Titles. Especially for grandparents! We're still recovering from the lost generation of the seventies and eighties, so it's not uncommon for people to have Welsh speaking grandparents who didn't pass on the language but use the titles. Mam-gu and Tad-cu in the south (abbreviated to Gu and Cu), Nain and Taid in the north. But also Mam instead of Mum.

That's all I can think of offhand, anyway! There will definitely be more.

[blood-grove]

unnatural bleeding

merfolk au!

previous <- part 3 -> next

parings: gaz x reader

chars: gaz, price , soap , ghost

tws: blood, injuries, violence, past abuse, language, slow burn, rude reader.

tags; @chickennn-soupp @cassiecasluciluce @sans-chara @lethargicluv 

a/n; hehehehemuahauahahahahaa (also realized the abuse tw doesnt rlly apply much its more like past abuse then current so ill fix that.) also i dont believe in proofreading (im lazy) also im not good at dialogue or sticking to povs....:(

The mer was in horrible condition by the time they had located them, Sightings from swimmers, surfers, and divers anyone that could have briefly seen them.

They had finally got a lead and the team was off, It didn't take but a couple of hours to find the injured Mer it didn't seem to disturbed at our presence yet till of course it seemed to notice us finally starting to swim away.

Susan one of our head researchers loading the tranquilizer gun as we prepared things around the boat, From what he could see the mer seemed to be in worse condition on the skinnier side and scarred beyond thought possible glimpse of sunburn scars also confused him.

"Where'd ya even find da' poor ol' sap like that Gaz?"

"Around the dock was on a break..nearly thought it was a corpse till it swam away."

"Creepy.."

He nodded sighing as they started up the boat again steering themself to be on line with the mer that must of noticed they were being followed they had started at a quicker pace of swimming which no doubt was hurting there injuries even worse pulling up beside them with the both allowing Susan to take proper aim.

A first hit there tail fin when they tried to quickly surface for air which sent them into a panic he felt anxious they would get away as they got another dart ready

They seemed to feeling the dart in full effect as they tried to shake the dart off there struggles gradually weakening when Susan had already reloaded getting a good shot on there back as the mer tried to dive deeper.

Recovering there now unconscious form had been relatively easy they were on the small size of Orca mer as they were laid on the boat heading course back to the facility as the medics on board got to work with patching up some of there injuries some would need surgery to be properly stitched up and fully sanitized.

He sighed as he looked over the mer sighing as he gave a gently pat to it's tail it hurt him to see them in such a state.

"As far as our examination goes we can't get a definite age but they are a full adult, There underweight so slipping in supplements and more high fat content in there food is a must.." A medic would explain as they both watched the Orcas surgery from behind glass.

"A lot of there wounds were infected but in the early stages so recovery from them might be a easy enough process.."

"You think there wounds are the cause of them being underweight?"

"We don't think so the wounds would be much more infected than they were now if it had been from a while back.."

Gaz sighed as he shifted.

"I'll go talk with Price-"

He turned heading out as he started down the hall.

He always thought this place needed some decorations besides the main lobby and a few other rooms the hallways were bare made the place feel more sterile and void always made him shiver or maybe it was the cool A/C that the old man was so stubborn about.

It didn't take him long to reach Price around the pool area.

"Garrick, How'd it go?"

"Better than expecting there gonna be leavin' to the rehab pools soon enough..You think they'll be big enough?"

"Pretty sure we've handle Mer's bigger than em' right?"

Gaz nodded, "There pretty small mer poor thing's underweight and got a infection'"

Price hummed as he picked up what he was working on before Gaz came in.

"You heard about Shadow's Shore getting a bunch of there 'attractions' stolen?"

Shadow's Shore, God those bastards they were notorious for kidnapping or even killing merfolk for sport.

The merfolk they kidnapped were usually children easiest to grab and place into there tanks treated no more than a mindless creature they usually didn't live there entire lifespans which was still unknown for most merfolk due to people like Shadow's Shore taking them while there young just for them to die barely even adults.

Video's from the place made his blood boil forced to do tricks, Getting treats as if they were a dogs, And god that annoying baby talk.

Merfolk were basically on the same intelligence level as human even rumored to have there own general language and species specific language yet laws in a lot of places refused to see them as such allowing Shadow Shore to stay open for the money it brought in.

The merfolk that were hunted were treated like trophy kills let out into small pools where they where shot and held up to pose with the person who paid to kill them.

Gaz shivered he still remember that video that was quickly covered up by the press, That poor mer crawling desperately out of the pool trying to get away so many arrows sticking out it.

Gaz quickly shook himself out of that thought focusing back in front of him.

"Really? fuckers would of deserved it..What'd made you bring this up?"

"They lost a few of there Orca Mer's"

a/n; cutting this short here cuz its literally 1 am as i finish this part off LMAO if this isnt as good as the other ones blame 1 am kron 🫠 also loreee ! loreee! some background info into this world :))))

[fangirltothefullest]

hey! i’ve seen you reblog a few posts from proshippers/posts tagged as proship and i just wanted to let you know in case its not on purpose!

I need some of you youngsters to please listen carefully to what I'm about to say because it might open your eyes to a very important concept- when I say ship and let ship I mean I don't give two fucks about what people read in fanfiction because it's all fake. Made up characters in a made up scenario with made up things happening.

Your christian-based concept that thought is equal to action isn't true. You can THINK whatever the hell you want do long as your actions don't cause a problem. A creepy old man can look at a young lady and THINK all the nasty things he wants. So long as he does not take those thoughts and turn them to actions, he's fine. He might want to go see a therapist but at the end of the day thoughts are just thoughts. Standing on the edge of a cliff and thinking "wow if someone pushed someone off this they'd die" doesn't mean you want to push someone off a cliff.

PLEASE separate the concept that thought and action are the same thing.

Even if the topic is a taboo topic, even if it's something you would never in a million years agree with, it's still fake at the end of the day.

I don't personally want to read about canibalism, but its not my job or my right to force other people to never write about that stuff. Policing other people's writing and policing the "goodness" or "badness" of the content they write is not my job and it's not anyone else's. Your morality is yours and yours alone. What you find taboo and never want to think about might just be a weird enjoyable read to someone else. Just like kinks or even random topics, you cannot cater to everyone and trying to force a moral purity in written fiction is just ailly. They're made up. No matter how much you want Azirphale and Crowly to be real no matter how much you are desperate for Percy Jackson to have real feelings, they aren't and he can't. They're not real and they never will be so nothing that happens to them, no matter how fucked up, really matters.

And that's all it is and all they will ever be. A bunch of taboo topics and events done to made up people.

I don't want to read about incest but I'm not going to stop people from writing fanfics about the supernatural brothers doing the nasty. I'm also not going to go out of my way to look for it or tell people to stop because it's all fake. Its not supporting it. It's made up pretend space.

I sit here throwing made up characters into Bad Situations that would be horrible if they were real people. But they're not. They're fake people with fake things happening to them and it's fun to write and fun to read. I torment my characters all the time. I made Virgil go through so much emotional trauma in APP and no one bats an eye because it's fake. Please apply the same critical thinking to the rest of written everything.

Proshipper literally means that a person should have the freedom to write what they want and read what they want because morality has nothing to do with fiction. It does not make you morally a bad person to enjoy a taboo subject in written form. This goes for ALL taboo subjects. People reading greusome murder mysteries don't go out and murder people. The same thing applies to the other taboo subjects. People writing about weird incest ships aren't going to go out and do the incest thing.

If they are it has nothing to do with the fiction and everything to do with that specific person.

Thought and action are not the same thing.

Allowing everyone to write what they want without gatekeeping based on morality is a good thing. We would not have lgbtqia+ stories if the morality policing of Christian values dictated what we are allowed and not allowed to write.

Please understand that I saying all this as a teaching tool. You might be super icked out by certain topics and that's natural and normal and ok. I am too! Everyone is! But what we have to do is be tolerant of the ideas that writing taboo subjects and being a proshipper isnt a bad thing. Also enjoying taboo subjects in written form doesn't make you somehow evil, ok?

[juney-blues]

ever since i made THIS POST a lot of people have been asking for a tutorial, even though in pretty much all of the screenshots i included the specific part of inspect element showing exactly what i edited.

so buckle the fuck up I guess because the tumblr userbase want to find out how to make html pages unusable and who am I to deny you.

get ready for Baby's First HTML and CSS tutorial lmao

ok so first things first we need to go over BASIC HTML

html is made up of these things called "tags" which specify certain parts of the web page, such as

HEADERS (<h1> through <h6> in terms of importance)

PARAGRAPHS (<p>paragraph here</p>)

LINKS (<a href="linkhere"></a>)

BOLDED SECTIONS OF TEXT(<b>bold here</b>)

and a bunch of other stuff,

by default however, specifying all of this just gives us a plain white page with plain black text of varying sizes

that's of course, no fucking good, and sucks shit, so the arbiters of html decided to let us STYLE certain elements, by adding a STYLE parameter to the tag

this can change any number of elements about how things are formatted.

text colour, page colour, font, size, spacing between elements, text alignment, you name it? you can change it!

you might've noticed that, certain elements are nested in other elements

and that any changes that apply to one element, apply to everything included under that element!

how convenient!

anyway this method of styling things by adding a style=" " to their tags is called "in-line style"

i think because the "style" goes "in" the "line"

it's generally ALSO a pain in the ass to style an entire website like this and should be exclusively reserved for small changes that you only want to apply to specific parts of the page.

for any real change in style you want to create a <style> section in your page's header!

this can be used to make changes to how all elements of a type in your page are displayed

or even add new elements with whatever wacky styling you want that can be used with the <div> tag!

wow! isn't css just dandy!

and hell you can even use External CSS™ if you're making multiple pages and want them all to have a consistent theme, by pointing to a .CSS file (which is basically just a <style> header without the <style> tags lmao

ok this is all well and good and very interesting if, say, you're making your own website

*cough*neocities*cough*itsreallycoolandfree*cough*

but you came here because you want to FUCK UP A WEBSITE and make it look STUPID!!

so this is where the transform css property comes in~

you can read up on it HERE if you want the details but basically it allows you to apply mathematical transformations to any html element you want,

all of these fun bastards,

they can be really useful if you're doing some complicated stupid bullshit like me

OR for having fun >:)

if you'll remember, earlier i said that css properties apply to literally everything nested in an element,

and you MIGHT notice, that literally everything in pretty much all html files, is nested in an <html> tag

you can use style=" " or regular css on pretty much ANY html tag,

INCLUDING HTML!

ok ok that was a lot of buildup for something that i could've explained in one or two lines, but i gave you all this fundamental knowledge for a reason,

well, two reasons, go make a neocities

CHAPTER 2: THIS POST HAS CHAPTERS NOW

CSS KEY FRAMES BABYYYY

THESE FUCKERS DON'T WORK AS INLINE STYLING

I HAD TO TEACH YOU HOW CSS WORKED, TO GIVE YOU THE KNOWLEDGE YOU NEED, TO ANIMATE PAGES. TO MAKE THE FUCKERY COMPLETE!!!!

OKAY SO AGAIN READ UP ON THIS IF YOU WANT THE FULLEST POSSIBLE UNDERSTANDING

BUT WHAT KEYFRAMES ALLOW YOU TO DO, IS ANIMATE CSS PROPERTIES

and then make a class, which calls that animation...

and then assign that class. to your html tag.

and then vomit forever

we can do it in 3d too,

the only limit is your imagination... (and how many parameters you want to look up on w3schools and mozilla mdn web docs)

CHAPTER 3: APPLYING IN PRACTICE

ok now the fun thing about all of this, is you can apply it to your blog theme, literally right now

like literally RIGHT now

like step one, make sure you have a custom blog theme enabled in your settings, because that's turned off by default for some reason

step 2: edit theme

step 3: edit html:

step 4: apply knowledge in practice >:)

[queersatanic]

heyo! what can i, a teen in a really boring wealthy neighborhood with no queer community, do to combat fascism/make people aware of how wasteful and bigoted they are/generally fuck things up?

thanks so much!!

Before we get into the meat of your question, one thing we're hearing from this ask that you're going to want to keep an eye on is the idea that you know more than other people and need to educate people from a place of superiority over them. This is something that liberals do quite a lot, and while there's not a lot of reason to be sympathetic to reactionaries, something they are justified in responding negatively to is the patronizing idea that they just lack awareness of how wasteful or bigoted they are (in reality, they have a different set of values, and those values lead them to reasonable, but harmful, ends).

That is not the main point of your ask or this answer, but just watch in yourself the urge to view your self as better than others, speaking down to them.

OK, to the main point of your ask: A really important first step is going to be honestly evaluating the level of risk you're willing to take.

If you are a teenager in a wealthy family, this is probably the time when you are least likely to be meaningfully punished for, for example, breaking laws. However, there will may still be consequences for you that you don't like. Do you have parental support? Do you rely on them for your finances, or do you have some independent income? What is your support network like in general in case you make some of your peers or authority figures upset with you? Etc.

So that's the first thing: think about what sort of consequences you are currently prepared to deal with, with the understanding that may change later for you.

To give you one example: graffiti is great. The one that will probably get you in the most trouble but has some of the highest utility is spraypainting. Of course, if you don't already have artistic hobbies, it may be obvious if you go out and buy a bunch of spraypaint cans then tags start showing up all over your neighborhood, and this might be something you want to keep in mind. But there's also slap stickers, mop markers, wheatpasting. Actually, @crimethinc has a few guides on this already.

That's one example of an area that you can start doing things in with minimal resources and without needing a large group of people. It allows you to get started, which is the important thing. You are transformed by your practices much more than your plans for future practices, and you'll learn lots of things with real understanding that you only learned about from reading or hearing someone else talk about it.

But you do probably want to do things with other people, and most of them will be initially constrained by legality, so start talking to your peers if you aren't already. Don't lead with, "Hey, do you want to do illegal things together?" (and again, that may not be what you're ready for now, anyway). However, you do need to find other people who are interested in the same sorts of things that you are, and face-to-face conversations are the best way to go about this whenever possible.

You said you're a teen, so the assumption is that you're in school. If so, is there an issue on your campus that lots of your fellow students have a grievance against? Can you organize against that?

For example, is there a tardy policy that people feel is unfair? Can you work toward a collective protest by making everyone be tardy to class for a period, a whole day, a whole week, to overwhelm the system? Does the school have rules that are queerphobic? Is there a perhaps smaller group of people who care about that who can organize a walkout?

If you're out of school and at a job, do you have a union there? Do you have a groupchat that excludes management in order to complain about scheduling or unsafe duties or wage theft? Since it sounds like you still live at home, you're probably more willing to take risks at work than people who rely on jobs to pay rent and avoid eviction, but you likely share some concerns in common you can act on.

You're going to best know the issues local to you, but it's a place to start and get people in the practice of self-organizing and acting directly against hierarchical power.

In doing that, you're going to find other people who are perhaps willing to do illegal acts like graffiti with you. Or who have completely different skills and interests, for example cooking. Meals are a good way to bring people together and bond, and can also be extended to others who need it. By getting to know someone who knows how to cook, you can learn skills that help you later, like starting a local "Food Not Bombs" group for folks who would otherwise miss meals.

There's a lot of things that you can do, can do yourself, and can organize with others directly. It is not easy, but it's often very fun, and it will give you skills you can use later in life, as well as open the imagination of lots of other people about what can be done and how.

CrimethInc again has lots of other resources that you may want to become familiar with:

("Theory" and "praxis" aren't really in tension with one another. You read things other people have done to take advantage of their mistakes and experiences, but you still have to go out and do things yourself to really understand it for your situations and yourself.)

[baronessblixen]

I used a prompt from this list today: 10. “It’s alright, I’m here now.”

Diana/IVF angst (with a soft ending): Scully is already upset about a colleague's pregnancy and then Diana shows up and makes things worse. (wc: 1,549)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 3: The Deepest Cut

Those damn hormones.

Scully wipes the tears from the corner of her eyes, careful not to smudge her carefully applied make-up. It’s one thing to break down in the sanctity of her home. It’s entirely different to have it happen at work. There was no way to prepare herself. One moment she and Mulder were getting lunch and the next, everyone was congratulating Agent Winman on her pregnancy.

She felt Mulder’s hand on her back in the aftermath, a steady reminder that he was there for her. She doesn’t remember what she said to the other agent, but she must have said something. And then there was Diana. Who – even though she hardly knew the other woman – was the loudest and the most cheerful. Who, upon declaring that there’s nothing better than babies, looked straight at Mulder and winked.

Scully excused herself, pressing her untouched lunch into Mulder’s hand. She heard him try to ask if she was okay, but she wasn’t, and she knew she couldn't stay and explain. Because of the hormones. There won’t be a baby growing inside her, but her body is as quick to catch up as her brain. Her doctor told her it would take a while for her hormones to return back to normal. Right now, she’s losing her patience. She shouldn’t have tried. She shouldn’t have hoped. How silly of her. But how could she not have tied, not have hoped? A boy – or girl – with Mulder’s smile and his pouty lips. With a thirst for knowledge, a tender heart, and a stubborn head.

She looks at herself in the mirror, her cheeks rosy and full. And for what? Her dream child disappears and all that’s left is her own face and the tears that threaten to fall again.

“Get a grip,” she says to her reflection, wiping under her eyes. She can’t face Mulder like this. One look at her and he’ll know she cried. And she doesn’t have the strength to explain it to him. To shoulder his grief, too.

The door to the bathroom opens and Scully startles, trying to hide the tissues and every piece of evidence of her breakdown.

“Oh, Agent Scully.” There’s disdain in Diana Fowley’s voice as she says her name. Of all of the people in the Hoover Building, it has to be her. Of all the bathrooms she could have chosen, she walks in here, with a smirk on her face.

“Fox was wondering where you’d gone.”

“Just needed the restroom,” Scully says, turning on the water.

“Hmm. Isn’t it just wonderful news, though?” Scully remains quiet. “Agent Winman,” Diana explains needlessly. She’s just standing here, gloating. She doesn’t need the restroom at all. She must have followed her here. Bile rises in Scully’s throat.

“Wonderful news,” she says, turning away from Diana to dry her hands on a bunch of paper towels.

“You know,” Diana says wistfully, “I never thought I’d want children, but now I’m reconsidering it. All you need is the right man.” Her laugh sounds like a Rottweiler’s bark. “And I think I know who’d be perfect.”

“That’s great,” Scully says, trying to sound disinterested. Don’t say his name, she pleads. Don’t say his name. Just as she lifts her head and her eyes meet Diana’s, the other woman opens her mouth.

“Fox will make a great father, don’t you think?”

Will. Not would. As if she’s sure of it. As if she’s sure that she and Mulder will have children. Scully grabs the countertop and holds on tight. If she doesn’t, she might faint. Her dream child, the one with her nose and Mulder’s mouth disappears and is replaced by another one. That boy has Mulder’s mouth and his smile. Just like she’d always dreamed it. But he has Diana’s eyes, her dark hair, and her nose.

“Agent Scully? Did I say something wrong? You look pale.” Her voice drips with satisfaction.

“No, I’m fine,” she says. “I’m just-”

“You’re sad you can’t give him children, hm?” Scully’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh yes, I know. Everyone knows.” Another laugh. This one cuts even deeper and tears Scully’s insides apart. How does she know? How could she have possibly found out about her and Mulder doing IVF? Unless. No, it can’t be. Mulder wouldn’t have told her. Not this. Not her.

“And you know what, Agent Scully?” Her face is so close that Scully can smell her perfume. The unsubtle, expensive scent tickles her nose and makes her sick. “I can. I can give him children. I can be a mother.” Just as she says this, the door to the bathroom opens and Mulder’s head pops inside.

“There you are. I had a pretty embarrassing run-in with Skinner’s secretary just now. Scully, are you-” for the second time that day, she doesn’t let him finish his question, and runs off. She doesn’t care where she’s going, and she can’t see well. She lets the tears fall freely, not caring anymore.

*

“Hey, don’t run again, okay?” Mulder’s voice is soft and his steps toward her as timid. He looks as if he were trying to catch a scared kitten.

“I won’t,” she promises, trying to keep the tears at bay. It’s no use. The closer Mulder comes, the fast her walls crumble. By the time he puts his arms around her, she’s full-on crying.

“It’s all right,” he whispers into her hair. “I’m here now.” His words and his tenderness make her cry harder. She thinks of that night, of the glimmer of hope in his eyes before she told him that it hadn’t worked. That there wouldn’t be a baby. He held her all night, whispering things to her, trying to share his hope and his beliefs with her. Trying to make her see that once again he wouldn’t give up. That he’d shoot for the moon, try and catch it for her, make that miracle come true after all.

“What happened there?” he asks gently, stroking her hair. And she lets him. They’re at work and anyone could walk in. Diana Fowley could see them like this and report them. The thought makes her shiver which in turn makes Mulder draw her closer, his arms tightening around her.

“Mulder, I can’t-” What Diana said to her returns with a vengeance and she frees herself of Mulder’s embrace. He lets her go, his arms slipping away and hanging by his side as if useless when not holding her. “How did Diana know?” she asks out loud, her thoughts going too fast for her.

“How did Diana know what?”

“That I did IVF. That I can’t have children.” The surprise on Mulder’s face is genuine. He’s taken aback by her question and Scully feels almost guilty that she even suspected he’d say something to her.

“I- I have no idea, Scully. I didn’t tell her.”

“You didn’t.” She has to make sure.

“I swear to you I didn’t. What did she say to you? That got you so worked up.” He comes closer again and she lets him in.

“It doesn’t- it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he says, searching her face. “She said something that hurt you.”

“She said you’ll make a great father.” Mulder’s eyes narrow in confusion. “She, um, she wants to have children with you.” “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. She hates children. Maybe hate is a strong- no, she hates them. I remember her saying that once. She said she even hated children when she was a child herself.” Scully scoffs; she can see that.

“And hey.” She doesn’t dare look at him, but Mulder wouldn’t be Mulder if he didn’t try everything in his power. He tips up her chin. Her eyes are swimming with tears again – or still – but she sees the love in his eyes, in all of his face. They don’t need to exchange those three little words for her to know them, and to feel them deep inside.

“Even if she didn’t,” Mulder says. “Even if she loved children, even if she wanted a dozen of them… I don’t want any with her. That thought never even crossed my mind. I’ll talk to her and-”

“Don’t,” Scully says. “Please.”

“If that’s what you want.” She nods. “I’ll try to keep my mouth shut. You know how hard that is for me.” He gives her a sweet smile and she chokes out a laugh, too. Her sadness weighs heavily on her, but with Mulder here, it feels a bit lighter.

"I can't believe she'd say that to you. I'm sorry, Scully. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she says in a small voice knowing it's far from okay. She herself is far from okay. “I’m sorry that we-” He shakes his head, still smiling.

“Remember what I said?” As if she could ever forget it.

“Never give up on a miracle,” she repeats quietly, as if afraid to speak it out loud, to tempt fate once again.

“I won’t if you won’t.” He kisses her temple, letting his lips linger. Her eyes flutter close and she soaks in it all in. His words. His love for her. His unbending hope.

It doesn't matter what Diana says or does. She'll never have this. She'll never have Scully's Mulder.

[lunarmoves]

these summer nights (chapter one)

pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

mentions: summer camp au, gender neutral reader, alcohol consumption (reader takes a shot), ocs (kind of)

a/n: well it's finally here! and in time for summer too! im so sorry ch1 is such a beast omfg... i tried to split it, but there was no solid point for me to do so, so it ended up over 10k words LOL (<- in agonee). check out the masterlist for more info on the fic (tags & summary). hope u guys enjoy! :D

word count: 11.8k+

masterlist

ao3 link

You’d found the job listing in a Craigslist ad, of all places. 

Because who even used Craigslist nowadays anyway? You, apparently, in your boredom and desperation to get a summer job. Your semester was about to end and you’d found yourself looking at a very uneventful, money-less summer. You’d completely forgotten to apply to internships with the whirlwind of work and studying you had to do while school was in session. Which inevitably led to you scrolling through all manners of websites and flipping through newspapers in an attempt to find a job at the last minute that you could possibly do. You needed the money, you had to admit. Bills didn’t pay themselves and the on-campus job you had during the school year unfortunately didn’t carry over into the summer. 

At first your eyes had glanced over the ad in the dreary haze that’d come over you due to hours of mindless scrolling. Then you did a double take when you saw the pay. Thirty-five dollars per hour. Thirty-five. What the hell?! That was significantly more than the minimum wage you were earning through your university. If you did this job, you’d be cruising for a bit during your final year in school. It almost made you think it was a scam.

You quickly skimmed through the job’s small blurb. It was for a full-time summer camp counselor at some place called Camp Fazbear. Three months in the woods with a bunch of kids. Hm. You opened a new tab and did a quick search for ‘Camp Fazbear’. Links to an official site popped up. It seemed legitimate—that was good enough for you. Closing the tab, you returned to the job listing and skipped right down to the requirements. 

You didn’t really have any experience with children on your resume, but that pay was seriously no joke. And they covered lodging and food for you? Holy shit, it was a steal. It wouldn’t hurt to apply. You might as well, honestly, especially with how unsuccessful you’d been with getting any responses from other internships. A few clicks later, you’d submitted your resume and reference letters through the website’s portal. Your hopes weren’t too high, but you’d be dumb to not at least attempt to get an interview. What was that saying about missing all the shots you didn’t take? Yeah, that. 

A few days later, you got a response email asking for your availability for a phone interview. And suddenly, things seemed to be moving a bit too fast for your tastes. 

You’d nailed the “interview,” apparently, for you were sent a bunch of papers to sign. Waivers, background checks, contracts, housing agreements. You had to watch some trainee videos, take a drug test, and do a joint CPR and first aid course. And as soon as you were done with your finals, you packed up your things into a large suitcase, settled the sub-leasing for your apartment for the summer, and drove your way down to Camp Fazbear.

It was a bit of a long drive, going from the small city your university was in to the middle of the woods. You watched as concrete and brick buildings were replaced by wide, open fields and vibrant green forestry. You got lost a few times, made a few wrong turns and got off at an exit that you swore was the right one, but eventually you found yourself passing under a large arch over the road that said Welcome to Camp Fazbear. There was some drawing of a bear on it, but you didn’t get a good look at it. Probably the camp mascot or something.

You eventually came up to a security checkpoint. The guard lounging around in the little cabin flashed you a lazy grin and checked your I.D., cross referencing it with a list he had. Then he lifted the gate arm, waved you in, and returned his gaze back to the small T.V. on the desk in front of him. You eased your car back into motion, cruising down the road until you had to make a turn onto a dirt pathway. Not too far now—you were close. Sure enough, a large, wooden lodge appeared as you rounded a corner, surrounded by trees and bushes. 

There was an area in front of the lodge that looked like a small parking lot with all the dirt packed down and uniform. There was another small, silver car positioned by a bush. You parked your car in front of a tree with a small parking sign nailed to it, killed the engine, and unbuckled yourself so you could step outside. Immediately, the fresh smell of leaves and grass, wood and earth, invaded your senses. You inhaled deeply and exhaled it all in a deep sigh. The air here was much fresher than the city’s. It made you feel lighter. You closed your car door behind you and clicked your keys to lock it. You didn’t expect anyone to try to rob you all the way out here, but still, habits. 

Dirt crunched under the soles of your sneakers as you made your way up the few stairs of the lodge to its entrance. But before you could rap on the door, it swung open of its own accord, a tall, blond-haired man beaming a smile at you. 

“Ah, you’re here early!” he said brightly, stepping to the side to wave you in. “Saw you pulling in on the cameras. Come in, come in!” You thanked him and stepped into the air-conditioned room. You recognized his voice as the man who did your phone interview. 

“You must be Mr. Emily?” you asked as you spun around to watch him close the door behind you. He was wearing a pair of blue overalls over a white shirt. He nodded and confirmed your own name, then began to walk across the room. It was a small reception area, by the looks of it, with a desk to the left and a few chairs and couches to the right. Potted plants decorated the corners of the room. Fairy lights were strung up over the entrances. Cute. 

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Mr. Emily asked you as he led you through the reception area and into a larger room with more seating arrangements that had a rather tall ceiling. A chandelier hung elegantly in the center of it. Interspaced doors lined the wall to your right. Glass windows let in golden sunlight that bathed the area in a warm glow. There was a staircase that led to an upper gallery to the left with more rooms connected to it. Directly across from you was a large set of glass doors that led further into the camp, from what you could see. “I imagine the drive must have been a bit of a long one.” 

“I’m fine, thank you. It wasn’t too bad,” you told him, still looking around at all the decor and furnishing. There were some bright stuffed animals sitting on a few of the sofas and loveseats. A wooden smell permeated the air, likely due to the strong oak the building was made of. Mr. Emily led you into one of the rooms along the rightmost wall. It was his office, from the looks of it, with a large L-shaped desk tucked in the far left corner and a few chairs positioned in front of it. Pictures and drawings lined the walls. Most notably, though, were the blueprints he had, either along his desk’s surface, or pinned to the walls. 

“Excuse the mess,” he said hastily as he began clearing away some of the blueprints, rolling them up to shove to the side. You couldn’t really make out what was on them, but the ones on the wall looked like… robots? Kind of cool. “I hadn’t expected you to be here so soon! Not an issue, of course. Better early than late!” He shot you a smile that you mirrored as you sat down on one of his chairs. 

“Sorry, traffic wasn’t as bad as I’d expected.” You’d left pretty early, too, just in case. You scratched the back of your head and found yourself looking at a little bear plushie that sat on one of the shelves above his desk. Aw. 

Mr. Emily waved a hand at you in dismissal as he sat in his desk chair across from you. “All good. Now. I’ve received all your paperwork, of course. Let’s see…” he trailed off as he rummaged around and pulled out some papers from within one of his desk drawers. He started leafing through them. “You did the required training and got your certifications. Good, good. Contract has been signed, a direct deposit has been set up… Excellent.” He mumbled to himself a bit as he clipped the papers together and shoved them into a manilla folder with your name on it. He then set it to the side and looked up at you. “Right! So, since you’re here a bit early, I’ll have one of our more senior counselors give you a tour. I’m waiting for the others to arrive so I can get introductions and the small orientation out of the way.”

You nodded, fidgeting slightly with your fingers. “And the kids haven’t arrived yet, right?” 

Mr. Emily shook his head and bent down slightly to grab at something under his desk. “Oh no, no, they’ll be here in a few days. We need to get a few more preparations done and get all the new counselors ready for their duties.” He straightened up and lifted a small tote bag into the air to hand over to you. “Here! Your uniform and a few other things!”

“Thanks.” You grabbed the bag from his hand and looked down at the design on it. There were little suns and moons all over it. Peeking through the top of the bag, you saw two collared orange shirts tucked inside along with a little nametag and a water bottle. There was also a keychain and some stickers. Your gaze softened. How nice! “I’m assuming I have to wear the shirt every day?” 

“Yes,” Mr. Emily confirmed. “It makes it easier for kids to locate their assigned counselor. You’re allowed to wear any sort of pants with it, be it jeans or khakis or shorts.” 

You bobbed your head alongside the information you were receiving and opened your mouth to ask a question. But before you could get it out, there was a knock at the door. 

“Enter!” Mr. Emily called out, and you turned around to see another man walk into the office. He was rather tall, with light brown hair that appeared even lighter in the sunlight, tanned skin, and dark blue eyes that immediately landed on you. He gave you a smile. Mr. Emily clapped his hands together. “Ah! Michael! Perfect timing.” 

“This one of the newbies?” Michael asked with a bit of an English accent, quirking an eyebrow up at you as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans. 

You introduced yourself. “Am I gonna be known as a newbie for the entire summer?” 

Michael grinned at you. “Pretty much. But hey, at least you’re not the only one.” You sighed to show your reluctant acceptance. 

“Michael here will give you that tour I’d mentioned,” Mr. Emily told you as he stood up from his desk chair and started gently ushering the two of you out. You stood up and patted your pockets down to make sure you still had your phone, keys, and wallet. You did. “Go on, I still have much to do. I’ll contact Michael once the others have arrived so you both can come back here. Off you go!” 

“Alright, alright, see ya Henry.” Michael waved a hand as he exited the office with you trailing behind him. You gave Mr. Emily a farewell, your tote bag slung over your shoulder, and jogged to catch up to Michael while he walked towards the exit leading to the rest of the camp. 

“He seems nice,” you mused out loud, stepping outside into the warm sunlight and slight breeze wafting through the air. Ah, this was nice. 

“Who, Henry? Yeah, he’s great,” Michael replied with a faint smile. He made his way down the stairs of the lodge and started leading you across a wide, open space. “Crazy smart, too. He could be doing anything, and yet he’s here.” There was a moment where Michael looked thoughtful, but then he shook it away. “Anyways. Welcome to Camp Fazbear, where happiness and fun come to life, yadda yadda. This is the main pavilion area.” He waved his hand across the large space you were in. There were hardly any trees apart from the ones lining the pavilion’s perimeter. A couple campfire pits were spread out here and there, surrounded by massive logs and a few chairs. There were some picnic tables as well. 

Michael pointed to another large, wooden building to the left of the space. “That’s the main mess hall. It’s where the kids go for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Err… oh! There’s a map over here if you wanna check it out.” He walked over to a large board to the side of the mess hall that had a map on it protected by glass. You stepped up closer so you could observe it. 

“Man, this place is huge,” you commented as your eyes raked over the map. A ziplining area, lake, pool, field, rope course, bathhouses, and a bunch of other miscellaneous buildings were just a few of the things that greeted you. Shit, you hadn’t expected it to be this big. It was kind of scary, but also very exciting. You’d give anything to be a kid staying at this place for the summer—it looked like it would be a hell of a time.

Michael snorted. “Yeah. Makes it a pain when you have to walk everywhere.” He gestured at you to follow him and the two of you continued your way across the pavilion and onto a path lined with more trees. There were a bunch of other workers milling about, likely helping to get the camp ready for opening in a few days. Most of them looked busy, but a few offered you and Michael a smile or little wave in greeting. At least the people here were nice.

“So… you’re a college student, right?” Michael asked you after a moment of silence interrupted by the occasional crunching dirt or snapping twig under your shoes. 

“Yeah, going in the final year for my Master’s program.” You couldn’t help but let your gaze drift about, taking in the way the honey-colored sunlight filtered through the green canopies above you. It was gorgeous. Very scenic. You could get used to this.

He hummed. “I’m a fourth year grad student. A lot of our counselors are college aged, if not most. ‘S why we have a kinda high turnover rate. People graduate and go off to do other things.” Grad student? You wondered what he was getting his PhD in. 

“Makes sense.” You paused as you remembered one of the questions you had. “Actually, what do you guys do when it’s not summer? Close down everything?” 

Michael shook his head and watched a bird fly overhead through the leaves. “Nah. Well, we close for two months, but then we reopen as a winter resort kind of thing. We get a lot of snow over here. Then we close again for another two months and open back up the summer camp.” 

“That’s pretty cool,” you admitted, thinking about all the work that must go into switching from a camp to a resort. “Seems like a lot to do, though.” 

“Oh for sure”—Michael shot you a grin—“but we have hardworking people, so it works out.”  

It’s a minute before you both emerge into another open space, this one with brightly colored cabins positioned around it. You recognized the characters on some of the cabins as being the same as the stuffed animals you saw in the first lodge. 

“Who are all those characters?” you asked, pointing to one of the cabins that had a white and pink chicken painted on it that matched its similarly-colored decor. “Are they all camp mascots? I thought there was only the bear.” 

Michael gave you an odd look and stopped in front of the cabins, where there was another small fire pit with benches around it in a circle. “Mascots? No? Those are the main counselors.” 

You gave him an odd look back. “What.” You thought you were the main counselor—or one of them, anyways.

He stared at you. You stared at him. “What do you mean ‘what’? Didn’t you read the job description?” 

At that, your look turned slightly sheepish. “Um, I may or may not have skimmed it and any paperwork Mr. Emily sent to me.” Embarrassment crept up your neck and into your cheeks. Maybe you should have read through things more carefully… 

Michael’s look turned incredulous. “Okay, first of all, ew, call him Henry, he’s not that old. Second of all, did you really accept this job without fully researching it? Did nothing about the animatronics pop up during your interview??”

“Listen, I was desperate,” you half-heartedly argued. “And no. It wasn’t much of an interview, honestly. He just confirmed my information and asked me about my availability and background.” Animatronics?? What did you get yourself into? 

Michael blinked slowly at you, then raised a hand to his forehead. “Incredible. I’m actually impressed. I don’t know how you dodged this information.” He shook his head slowly and gestured to the cabins. “Those characters are the main summer counselors. They’re all robots with self-learning A.I. Your job is as a counselor, sure, but it’s mainly to support them and act as a handler of sorts for who you get paired with.” 

Self-learning A.I.? You knew robots were a thing that was slowly becoming more integrated and accepted in society, but you didn’t expect a summer camp of all places to have them. “You’re joking,” you said flatly. Michael gave you a deadpanned look. “You’re not joking.” 

“Nope. I told you Henry’s a genius.” He shrugged his shoulders and turned to look at the cabin with that familiar brown bear on it. 

“How did parents even agree to this type of thing?” you wondered. You could see how sending kids to a three-month long camp where most of their supervision would come from robots would seem rather… extreme. Especially for those with less progressive perspectives. 

“That’s the thing,” Michael replied, “not all of them were entirely comfortable with it. And the government got on our arses for all-robot counselors, so we had to hire human handlers. It’s worked so far.” He gave you a shrug. 

“That’s fuckin’ crazy, dude,” you finally blurted out after you took a few moments to process everything. “Robot counselors. I feel like I’m in the future.” 

Michael let out a deep laugh that made you perk up slightly. It sounded nice. “I’ve gotten used to it by now. They’re honestly no different than working with people—maybe even better.” He pointed to the cabin on the far left decorated in red, purple, and gray with a wolf painted on it. “That’s Roxanne, Roxy for short. The next one is Chica’s.” Oh that’s who the chicken was. Made sense. His finger moved along. “Then Montgomery, or Monty.” The alligator’s cabin was painted with greens and purples. “Freddy Fazbear himself.” At least now you had a name for the bear and his orange and blue cabin. “And finally Sundrop and Moondrop. Sun and Moon for short.” 

That last cabin was half painted in yellows and oranges while the other half was in grays and dark blues. You raised an eyebrow at the two animatronics painted on their respective sides—they looked like polar opposites, though they both had a crescent moon across the same side of their face—and turned to give Michael a confused look. “Why does that cabin have two of them?” It was a sharp contrast from the others. 

“Oh, Sun and Moon are one animatronic. Sun comes out during the day, and Moon comes out at night. It’s a cool light sensitivity mechanic,” Michael explained to you, causing an ooohhh to escape your lips. You had to agree; that was pretty cool. 

“So where are they now?” you asked, your eyes looking about as though you could catch a glimpse of the animatronics, wherever they were. Now that you knew they were part of the camp, you were excited to meet them—if a bit nervous. 

“They’re in rest mode, charging up for later.” Michael took that moment to glance at his watch. “Speaking of which, we should move on if we wanna hit everything before Henry radios.” 

You nodded and followed alongside Michael as he guided you past the cabins to point out the bathhouses (“Your cabin room has your own bathroom attached to it, so you won’t have to share with the kids,” he told you amusedly after spotting the less-than-pleased look on your face) and additional storage buildings. He took you practically around the entire camp, leading you past the lake and its boathouse, the pool, a giant field for miscellaneous activities with a playground tucked in one corner, and the ziplining area. You were certain that you would get lost in the first few days—maybe even weeks—of being here, but at least you wouldn’t be completely alone. 

As you were both slowly making your way back around to the main lodge, Michael told you about some of the security measures Camp Fazbear had. He pointed out a few of the hidden cameras in the forestline in addition to the more obvious ones perched at the top of the solar-powered lamp posts. There sure was a lot of security. You wondered why. “There’s a cutoff point in the woods where kids can’t go past. It’s obvious where it is, since there’s a bunch of signs and cameras around the perimeter, but we usually don’t have issues with kids wandering past it by accident.” 

You hummed, eying the blinking red dot on one of the surveillance cameras as you both walked by it. Michael continued, “The animatronics are connected to the cameras anyways, so they’ll be instantly alerted just in case, but they can’t really cross the boundary line unless one of the exceptions in their protocols are reached.” He paused for a moment and scratched his head. “Henry’ll probably go over all this in the orientation. Sorry, I know it’s a lot of info.” 

“That’s okay, it’s kinda interesting,” you admitted. “I didn’t expect Camp Fazbear to be so… high tech. I thought it was a regular old summer camp, y’know? Like, ‘no technology for three months’ type of thing.” 

Michael chuckled. The two of you stepped off the pathway through the woods you were following and back onto the main pavilion. There were more uniformed people bustling around here, carrying boxes of this and that. “Well, with robot counselors it was kind of a given that the camp would be a bit atypical.” You gave him a look that practically screamed oh really? He snorted, then added, “Besides, we still confiscate phones, so it’s still kinda no tech for the summer.” 

“Aw, really?” you complained lightheartedly, one of your hands covering the pocket your phone was in defensively. “Counselors too?” 

“Yeah”—Michael tossed an apologetic look your way—“Have to set an example for the kids, after all.”  

“Booo, hissss.” 

“Yeah, yeah, complain all you want— Oh! I forgot to point this out earlier. That’s the maintenance building over there.” Michael pointed to a slightly smaller building hidden past the large mess hall. You hadn’t even noticed it. “At the end of every week the animatronics need to do a maintenance check. Just a scan to make sure all their systems are working properly. So it’ll be up to you to make sure they’re functioning as they should.” Oh man, this was a lot to keep track of.

“I should make a checklist or something,” you murmured, more to yourself than Michael, but he laughed anyway. 

“Yeah, that’s what I did when I first started out.” There it was again, that same thoughtful expression on his face. It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. You wondered what he was thinking about. 

Just then, the walkie-talkie clipped to Michael’s waist—that you realized had been partially hidden under his shirt this whole time—gave a little bzzt before a familiar voice floated out of it. “Henry to Michael.”

Michael unclipped the walkie and held it up to his mouth. “Yo.”

“Everyone’s here, right on time. Head back to the lodge, over.” 

“On our way, over.” Michael glanced at you as he reclipped the walkie to his jeans. “We timed this perfectly, it seems. C’mon, it’s orientation time.” 

It was a short walk across the pavilion back to the lodge. Michael led the way up the small set of wooden stairs and through the doors, aiming for Henry’s office. He’d left the door open, and once you and Michael stepped through, you were able to see the three other people crammed into the space around Henry’s desk. They all turned around to look at you and Michael. The sudden attention made you plaster a polite smile onto your face. You held onto the shoulder of your tote bag and said a quiet “Hello.” You got a few nods in response.

“That was fast!” Henry said cheerfully from his desk chair. He gestured at the two of you to step in closer. “Come in, let’s get you all introduced. Close the door, Michael.” A quiet creak preceded the click of the door shutting. You shuffled as close as you dared to the backs of the chairs two people were sitting on and looked at Henry as he started speaking again. “Okay! We can start with a little icebreaker.” Aw man, you hated icebreakers. “Name and favorite summertime activity. I’ll go first! My name is Henry and I like to hike! Who’s next?” 

The five of you remaining all glanced at each other before Michael decided to be the first victim and take one for the team. He cleared his throat. “Name’s Michael. I like drive-in movies.” He nudged you in the side and you took that as a sign that it was your turn. You introduced yourself and gave your favorite activity. Then you looked expectantly to the man standing to your left. 

“Vincent,” he said in a drawling voice. He was a dark-skinned brunet with long hair that was pulled in a tiny ponytail at the back of his head. Black eyes swiveled around the room in disinterest, arms crossed over the purple shirt he was wearing. “I like… fuck if I know. Swimming, I guess.” He gave a half-hearted shrug and pointedly looked at the man sitting on the chair in front of you.

“M-My name’s Jeremy,” he introduced himself with the slightest of stutters, his fingers fidgeting with each other. Jeremy looked like a small thing, sitting in that office chair. He had wavy, blond hair messily scattered upon his head and hazel eyes that darted away quickly once they made eye contact with someone else’s. His skin was a light brown shade, and he was wearing a plaid shirt that matched his eyes along with some dark jeans. “I like… staying inside, mostly. Playing video games.” That was so valid of him, you thought to yourself. 

The last person to go was a blonde woman with vibrant green eyes that looked sharper than a pro chef’s kitchen knife. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail underneath the cap she wore. Lightly tanned skin poked out from the long-sleeved shirt she had on; you wondered how she wasn’t absolutely sweltering in it. She sniffed slightly. “I’m Vanessa,” she said flatly. “I guess I like the beach.” 

“Excellent! Wonderful to have you all here,” Henry said immediately after Vanessa got her last syllable out. “Vincent, Jeremy, and Michael are our three veteran counselors, so that makes you two our newbies for the summer!” He looked at you and Vanessa, then offered a wink. “Don’t worry, you won’t be known as the newbies for the entire summer!” 

“Only most of it,” Vincent added with a smirk. Henry gave him a look that wasn’t all too serious, then continued on with his little spiel.

“Anyways,” he continued pointedly, “I’ll spend the next hour or so going over basic orientation things. I will supply you all with packets you can use that will contain the most important information. It’s a lot to take in, so it’ll be good for you to study it in the next coming days before the children start to arrive.” He said that last bit mostly to you and Vanessa. You both nodded to show you were listening and understood. 

Henry passed out said packets from a pile in one of his desk drawers, then started off the orientation. He was right—it really was a lot of information to take in. What your days would look like, how you’d keep track of the children, what to do in the case of an emergency, who to contact if you needed help… just your general camp guidelines. You found yourself losing focus halfway through and had to pinch yourself to keep aware. A quick glance at the others showed that they were also either completely tuned out (Vincent) or raptly listening (Jeremy). Thank god all this information was in the packet. You’d definitely have to study it later. 

Then, Henry started talking about the animatronic counselors. This—for obvious reasons—immediately piqued your interest.

“The main counselors are connected to a secure database with all the children’s information on it,” Henry explained, making small gestures here and there with his hands. “They have facial recognition software, so they can easily keep track of whoever they are assigned to. They have sensors built in the backs of their heads and are able to tune in to the right radio frequency to communicate via the walkie talkies. They can also access the security cameras. There are charging stations located in every building in the event that they must rest and recharge.” 

He flipped through a few files on his desk and pulled out a picture. You and Vanessa leaned closer to peer at it. “This is what the stations look like.” It was a large, dark orange tube with a lightning bolt on it that looked like something straight out of a futuristic movie. Weird. You wondered how much electricity it required to power it.

He then went on to explain the maintenance checks and how they are carried out—just like Michael said he would. Apparently, you also had to help wipe them down at the end of every day to ensure none of the children would get sick from germs and to get rid of any dirt that may have accumulated from being outside all day. 

“You will each get assigned to one of the animatronics for the summer. Your job will be to assist them and ensure things are going smoothly, though keep in mind that they are the main ones in charge,” Henry informed all of you, though honestly, this was all likely more for your and Vanessa’s benefit. “If you look at the bags I have given you, you will see a specific design on them. This design matches with the animatronic you will be paired with.” A quick glance at everyone else showed that they were indeed holding onto similar tote bags. But before you could see who had what robot, Henry started speaking again. “I already called them over a bit ago. They should be waiting for us outside my office.” 

Your eyes snapped over to Henry as he stood up from his desk and started making his way over to his office door. “Wait— we’re meeting them now?” That bubble of nervous excitement was starting to rear its head again. 

“Of course!” he replied cheerfully, pausing momentarily just before the door. “Nothing to be worried about! They’re rather nice!” With that, he threw open his door and bustled through, not waiting for the rest of you to gather your things so you could follow. Michael and Vincent were already long gone by the time you had stuffed your packet into your tote bag. Vanessa and Jeremy had already gotten up and moved around you to leave, seemingly not an ounce of nerves in their steps. You took in a deep breath and followed after them, immediately locating the animatronics hanging around the seating arrangements in the middle of the large room. 

The first thing you noticed was their heights—even with some of them sitting around on the couches. They were fucking massive. 

Vincent had strolled right up to Monty and was giving him a sharp grin that was mirrored right back at him as they grasped each other’s hands as though in an airborne arm wrestle. Vincent was a pretty tall guy, but standing next to Monty, he looked kind of short. “Looks like it’s me and you again this summer, huh big guy?” Vincent smiled in a mischievous way that just spelled out trouble. Uh oh. Before you could hear Monty’s reply, Chica sprang up from her seat and rushed over to Jeremy, calling his name out loudly. 

“You’re here!” she squealed as she immediately latched onto him for a hug. Jeremy stumbled a bit; he was only able to stay upright due to Chica holding onto him. “Oh we’re gonna have sooo much fun!!” 

You smiled at their interaction, then noticed Michael was talking to Freddy and Henry in a corner. The animatronic bear practically towered over them. At least Chica was shorter, you noted as you eyed her again. Not by much, but at least she didn’t loom over Jeremy. 

Your eyes then found Vanessa as she trailed over to Roxy, who was still sitting on one of the couches, inspecting her nails. Vanessa stopped somewhere near Roxy and then they seemed to just look at each other. Awkward. You didn’t envy that interaction. You tore your eyes away so you could look around some more at the conversing pairs of counselors. 

That just left you and—

“Helloooo!!! New friend!!” 

You turned to your left and immediately had a mini heart attack as your gaze darted up, your head soon following until it was almost craned back. 

Sun was fucking tall. 

If you thought the other animatronics were big, that was nothing in the face of Sun. His gangly body and limbs seemed to make him appear even taller than he actually was. You were practically swamped in his shadow. He leaned down closer to you once he noticed you’d stepped back to increase the distance between the two of you—if only to ease the muscles of your neck. His face was just inches away from your own. Oof. You tried not to cringe back. His head spun slightly to the left in a way that was not natural for a human, and there was a moment where his wide, white optics briefly flickered blue pupils into view that traversed up and down your body. You blinked at him in confusion, but didn’t say anything.

“Scan complete!” he chirped after a moment in that peppy voice of his, eyes returning back into that bright white. Scan? What the hell? “Oh, new friend, we are so excited you’re finally here! We’re going to have so much fun this summer! We’ll be the best of friends by the end of it!”  

“Y-Yeah,” you agreed—the right thing to say, if his excited wiggle was any indication. The large grin on his face seemed to stretch wider, blinding you with its brightness. He had ribbons with bells on them attached to his wrists, and they gave a little jingle as he moved to clasp his hands together. It was amazing how human-like he seemed. Henry really was a genius. 

Speaking of Henry—the man clapped his hands together to gather everyone’s attention. You turned around to look at him, a silence befalling the room just before he began to speak. 

“Okay guys, now that you’ve all been introduced to each other, you can head over to your cabins and settle in. Today’ll be a bit of a slow day, but tomorrow I’ll need all hands on deck for preparations. Just take it easy for now. You’ll get your radios and keycards tomorrow.” Henry turned to look at Roxy to address her, who raised an eyebrow in question. “Vanessa will need a tour after she’s unpacked, so you can give it to her. But other than that, you’re all free to go.”  

“Finally,” Vincent groaned, his hands crossed behind his head as he turned around to make his way back to the reception area of the lodge. Monty trailed after him with a wicked smile and clapped the man so hard on the shoulder he nearly tipped over. 

“Guess me ‘nd you got some catchin’ up to do, huh?” Monty laughed—a rough, mean-sounding thing—when Vincent shot him a halfhearted glare. They seemed pretty tight; it made something twinge in the pit of your stomach. The feeling would pass, though, you were certain. A quick glance around the room showed that Michael, Henry, and Freddy were discussing something together as they headed towards Henry’s office. Camp logistics, probably. Vanessa and Roxy had both disappeared in the direction of the main pavilion, likely to get that tour started. Meanwhile, Chica had grabbed Jeremy by the wrist and was dragging him after Vincent and Monty to join them in the reception room. Everyone just seemed to jump right into things—together.

Before you could ruminate on the relationships between the older counselors and their robotic partners, something stepped into your line of sight. You looked up from staring at Jeremy’s retreating back to see Sun, who gave you a bright grin as he leaned back down into your space. Again. This time, you shifted back slightly. He was awfully close. Did he have a concept of personal space? “New friend,” he started eagerly, “allow me to accompany you to our cabin to help you unpack!” 

You blinked at him once in surprise, then gave him a smile. “Sure! Lemme just go grab my stuff real quick.” 

“Right-o!” Sun straightened up and gave you a salute that was more endearing than you thought would be possible from a seven and a half foot robot. You stepped around him and started making your way over to the entrance of the lodge, where your car was still parked outside. Directly behind you was the sound of heavy footsteps. A quick glance over your shoulder showed that you’d gained a shadow: Sun happily followed you, practically bouncing with each step. Alright then. 

As you passed through the reception area, you saw that Jeremy and Vincent had the foresight to leave their belongings by the desk so they wouldn’t have to go back outside to the little parking area. You guessed they were just used to it by now. You breezed by them as they hoisted bags over their shoulders and passed suitcases over to their robot partners. Stepping through the front door, you immediately noticed the addition of two new cars of varying sizes and colors crammed into the space in front of the lodge. You wondered if some of your coworkers had carpooled. Seemed like it. 

The steps creaked under your shoes as you beelined for your car, taking your keys out in the process to unlock it with a beep beep. You pulled out your backpack from the backseat first and folded up your tote bag as much as you could so you could stuff it inside. It just barely fit. You slung the backpack over your shoulders, closed the door, then walked to the back of your car to pop open the trunk and heave out your suitcase. 

It wasn’t until you’d slammed the trunk shut that you finally glanced to the side to see Sun patiently standing on the front porch of the lodge, hands clasped behind his back as he watched you with that wide grin. You thought he would have followed you all the way to your car, but you guessed not. Like this, you were able to properly take in the sheer height of his figure and what he was wearing. Puffy, sun-patterned pants covered his legs while his skinny torso was bare and on full display. His rays spun around slightly as you locked your car up once more and dragged your suitcase over the dirt to step back into the lodge. 

Once you’d reached the bottom of the small set of stairs, though, Sun leaned forward without stepping away from his spot and reached out a hand to grab your suitcase from you. “Let me help you with that, new friend!” he said cheerfully and lifted it up towards him. He held your suitcase by the handle on its side, not bothered by the weight whatsoever. You marveled at the robotic strength in his lithe limbs. Fascinating. 

“Oh! Thanks, Sun!” You beamed at him and hopped up the stairs so you could follow him back through the lodge. By now everyone had disappeared, likely to their own cabins. “You didn’t have to! I appreciate it.” 

“Anything to make your transition into Camp Fazbear easier!” He turned his head down to look at you as you followed his strides at his side—to the best of your ability, anyways. Man, he had long legs. He slowed down slightly for you and you gave him a quick thankful grin. You both exited out onto the main pavilion and started making your way across it. “Have you received your tour of the facilities yet?” 

You nodded, hoisting your backpack up so it sat better on your shoulders. “Yep! Michael gave it to me already. I got here a bit early.” You raised one of your hands up to shield your face from the sun. It was bright out. 

Sun seemed to droop down in an almost dramatic manner—a motion that made you glance up at him curiously. “Aww, that’s a shame! I’d wanted to give it to you!” Was he disappointed? The robot was disappointed. You gave him a consoling pat on his arm. 

“It’s okay, dude. You can give me a tour of the cabin.” At your words, he sprang back up easily—rejuvenated. It was kind of funny. You suppressed a smile. 

“That’s right!” he beamed and bounded forward. His head did a complete 180 so that he was looking back at you as he skipped ahead—an action that took you by surprise, but well, he was a robot with a rather spindly neck. “Come, new friend! Race ya there!” 

“Wha— Sun! Wait up!” you called out as you gripped your bag by its straps and jogged after him, careful not to jostle your belongings too much. 

It was no doubt that Sun—with his long limbs unbothered by the weight of the suitcase he was carrying—beat you by a long shot to the cabins. You huffed out a breath of air as you skidded to a stop next to him and leaned down to brace yourself against your knees. “You’re— pretty fast,” you puffed out. Sun grinned down at you, patiently waiting for you to collect yourself. You straightened up and wiped some sweat from your brow. “That was hardly much of a competition!” 

His sun rays spun around his head in a flair that made you suppress a little laugh. “I’m sure by the end of the summer you’ll have me beat!!” 

“Doubt it,” you snorted and gestured at him to go up the stairs of the yellow and navy cabin you’d be staying in for the summer. He bounded up to the wooden door—it had a crescent moon inside a sun carved into it—and opened it with a dramatic flourish as you trudged heavily behind him. 

“After you!” he chirped with a bow, his arm across his chest. 

“Why thank you!” you replied with a grin, charmed by his politeness. You stepped past the open doorway and let out a small whistle once you swept your gaze around the interior of the cabin. “Wow! It’s big!”

It really was—the outside of it made it seem much smaller than it actually was, especially with how high the sloped ceiling was. The cabin, similar to its exterior decor, was painted gold with red stripes on the left and navy with yellow stars on the right. There were bunk beds lined along the walls with sheets that were a sky blue and had puffy clouds on them. A quick mental calculation lets you know that there were ten bunk beds total, each with their own little dressers next to them. That made it, what, twenty kids tops? The idea of being in charge of so many was a bit intimidating, but you supposed you could handle it with Sun’s help. 

“Welcome to our humble abode!” Sun announced as he stepped inside after you and closed the door. He walked further in until he was in the center of the room and brandished his free hand about. The bell tied to his wrist let out a small jingle with the movement. “Here is the main room with all the kids’ beds! Shoes are allowed inside, but not on top of the beds and sheets. Every Sunday, we do a weekly cleaning of the cabin to get the children used to tidying up after themselves and to ensure the floors don’t get too dirty!”

You nodded along with the information and followed Sun as he made his way further into the cabin. There was a door tucked in a far corner along the left wall. He opened it and gestured for you to go inside. As you did so, you noticed it led to another, smaller room. There was a bed to your left that had a small nightstand next to it, along with a wooden armoire to your right. A window with its curtains drawn across from where you stood allowed warm sunlight to filter across the polished, wooden floor. 

But what really caught your attention was the large, orange tube positioned in the far right corner, by the window. 

“Uh,” you started eloquently as you pointed to the charging station that looked as though it was currently off. “What’s that doing in here?” 

“Hm?” Sun ducked into the small room after you, walking over to set your suitcase down by your bed. The ceiling in here was much lower than the one in the main room, so he had to stoop down a bit. But even then, the tips of his sunrays brushed against it. He retracted them further into his faceplate, then looked to see what you were pointing at. “Ah! Yes. That’s our charging station!”

“I know that,” you said gently, wondering if your question hadn’t been clear enough for him to hear or something. “But what’s it doing in… my room??” It was a little… strange. You didn’t think you’d have a roommate, albeit a robotic one. 

Sun fidgeted with his hands, swaying gently side to side in an animated motion that you wondered was programmed into him. “Oh! It used to be out in the main room. But! It was distracting for the children, especially when we recharged at night! No, no, it was better to put it in here! More privacy as well!” He gave you a smile that was thin at the edges. His fingers twitched slightly, then he was back to giving you a bright, beaming grin and that thinness was gone like it had never been there in the first place. “Think of it like a slumber party, new friend!” 

You stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. How bad could rooming with him be? You doubted you’d spend much time in here anyways. “Alright then.” Your words seemed to ease some invisible tension in him, for he slumped down, then bounded right back up. He nearly hit his head on the ceiling, but managed to stop himself just in time.

“Great!” he exclaimed. You gave him a smile, then looked around the room once more. There was another closed door to the left of the one you’d just come through. You supposed that was the bathroom Michael had mentioned to you earlier. But before you could walk over to it to inspect the shower (hopefully it was clean), Sun started talking again. “Take all the time you need to unpack! I would advise against lying on your bed, though! We need to wash the sheets—as well as the ones in the main room. There’s a small laundry room over there!” 

You followed his finger as he pointed out of the open doorway that led into the main room. Directly across from you, against the right wall of the main room, was another closed door. In-unit laundry machines were a blessing, though you supposed with twenty-something kids also using them, it would get messy pretty fast. You sighed. 

“Well…” You walked over to your suitcase and set your bag down on your bed, resigning yourself to the arduous task of unpacking. Sun’s gaze followed you, his head spinning in an inhuman way to track your steps. You stretched out your arms and shoulders, then settled your hands on your hips. “Best to get started then.” 

Later that evening—after you’d unpacked your bags and resheeted your bed once they’d been properly washed—there was the sound of your cabin’s front door banging open as someone loudly called out your name. Who the fuck could that be? You paused and lifted yourself from your bed, where you’d been aimlessly scrolling through your phone and internally bemoaning the fact that you’d have to part with it in a few days. After a few seconds of staring at your open bedroom door, you eventually jammed on some flip flops and shuffled to the door to check it out.

“Yo! Newbie!” Vincent grinned at you once you’d walked out of your room to see who it was. Well, that was a bit of a surprise. You raised an eyebrow at him as he lifted up a hand at you in greeting. “You busy?”

“Not really,” you responded after a moment of contemplating if you had anything major to do. Sun had left a bit ago before it got dark, chiming out something about having a few tasks to get done, so you’d been left alone for a while. Your head tilted to the side. “Why?”

Vincent pointed behind him at the open doorway that led outside. “Everyone’s hangin’ around the firepit if you wanna join. Kind of a tradition we have before all the kiddos roll in.” 

Oh? You perked up. “Sure! Sounds fun.” You’d take any chance to get closer with everyone else. 

“Awesome, c’mon then.” He waved his hand at you and turned on his heel to make his way back outside. You stuck your phone in your pocket and followed, pulling the door shut behind you before you walked down the cabin’s wooden stairs. By now the sky had taken on a midnight gradient, the last vestiges of burnt mandarin light peeking just above the woods’ canopies as deep navy and purple swept across everywhere else. You took a moment to appreciate the twinkles of white, red, and yellow that filled the sky—the nebular clouds that looked as though they’d been delicately painted there. Living in a city never allowed you the chance to see just how gorgeous the night sky was, and you knew you’d spend all the time you could while you were working here to look up at the stars.

You followed Vincent as he made his way over to the fire pit in front of the cabins. By “everyone” you soon realized he’d meant the rest of the human counselors, for you couldn’t see a gleam of metal anywhere. You wondered what the animatronics were doing—recharging, maybe. 

You took a seat on one of the stone benches around the fire pit, next to Michael who greeted you with a small smile. On the bench directly across from you sat Jeremy and Vanessa. They’d already gotten a fire going, and you watched as hazy smoke curled up lazily towards the dark sky from the flickering flames. 

“Right!” Vincent exclaimed as he sat down on the bench to your left and started rummaging around in a black bag that had previously been placed there. “We’re all college-aged here, yeah?”

You were sure he was asking just to confirm if you and Vanessa were. You both nodded and watched as Vincent pulled out a tall, glass bottle from the confines of his bag. Shades of orange and red from the fire gleamed across its surface, reflecting the dancing flames. Uh oh.

“Bro, Ciroc? Really?” Michael groaned as he reached out a hand and curled his fingers at Vincent so he could pass the bottle over. Once the container was in his hands, Michael turned it around so he could read the label. ���And coconut-flavored too? You know this tastes like shite, man.”

“What? You prefer the Malibu from last time?” Vincent bit back at Michael, rummaging around in his bag once more so he could pull out some red solo cups and another bottle of juice. Michael made a face and that was all the response Vincent needed. “We gotta initiate the newbies somehow.” What.

“Huh?” you eloquently asked, eyes widening slightly when you noticed Vincent had taken back the bottle of Ciroc and was pouring a shot into two of the solo cups. No mixer either? Fuck. 

“...Do we have to?” Vanessa asked in a surly voice. “Vodka’s nasty.” 

“Yes,” Vincent said at the same time Michael said “No.” They both looked at each other. 

“You don’t have to if you really don’t want to,” Michael said quickly—his gaze flicked between you and Vanessa—before Vincent could get a word in. The other man rolled his eyes, but nodded his head in agreement. 

“But then you’d have to do something else,” Vincent added and extended both his arms towards you and Vanessa. He wiggled the solo cups within his hands at you. “C’mon, one shot’s not that bad. I’m going easy on ya.” 

“If it’s any consolation,” Jeremy piped up, making your stare move from the cup to his face, “I refused to take a shot of Vincent’s Jungle Juice once and he made me do a polar plunge into the lake.” You gave him a sympathetic look as Vincent started to roar with laughter. 

“Oh man! That was a good night! I still say you should’ve taken the shot!” he managed to get out through his laughs. Jeremy gave him an incredulous look. 

“I-I’m pretty sure that would have killed me!”

After hearing that… you’d honestly rather just take the shot and get it over with. You didn’t even want to entertain the idea of what else Vincent would make you do as an ‘initiation’. 

“Fine.” You sighed as you leaned over and grabbed the cup from Vincent’s hand. “At least it’s just one, I guess.” 

Vincent grinned at you as you settled back down in your seat. “Yeah, see? You get it!” 

Looking over at Vanessa, you saw that she too had decided to just take the shot and get it over with. You raised your cup into the air at her in a cheers, then tilted your head back so you could swallow the shot in one go. Immediately, you felt the vodka burn at your mouth and throat—all the way down to your stomach, where it settled in hotly like it was lava. God, that was foul.

You spluttered a bit and waved your empty cup at Vincent, trying not to breathe in too deeply just yet. “Juice! Juice!” 

“Alright, alright!” he snickered and took your cup from you so he could fill it with a generous amount of juice. He handed it back to you. “Hey, good job, newbie!” 

You gulped down half of your drink to chase away the lingering taste of alcohol and coconut. Something patted you on the back and you peeked to the side to see it was Michael. You gave him a grateful look and finally lowered your cup. “Thanks, I hated it.” 

“Surprisingly, that was better than some of the other shit I had back in college,” Vanessa noted. You looked up to her to see her looking down into her empty solo cup, just as unbothered as before, if not a bit bored. Seemed like she had taken it better than you had. Vanessa, you decided at that moment, was cool. 

Vincent gave her a smirk that was just lined with mischief. “Up for another one, then?” 

“I’ll pass,” she immediately declined and set her empty cup down next to her. 

Vincent only shrugged and started pouring some more of the Ciroc into three other cups along with some juice. “Suit yourself. Who knows when we’ll be able to have drinks again once the kids move in.” 

“Knowing you? Sooner rather than later,” Michael scoffed as he rolled his eyes in good nature. Vincent gave him a sly smile, but didn’t say anything else.

As he passed out the drinks to Michael and Jeremy, you piped up again with a question that’d briefly been on your mind earlier. “So… what are you guys all majoring in, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“Not at all! I’m studying robotics,” Michael said once he’d taken a small sip of his drink. He made a face and gestured at Vincent to pour him some more juice. “I already told you, but I’m a fourth year PhD student.”

“I’m in my third year studying game design,” Jeremy chimed in. He then shrunk into himself a little. “Which is, uh, sorta obvious since I like video games and all.” You gave him a small smile at that.

“I’m in my last year of getting my MechE PhD,” Vincent announced proudly, “and I’m fuckin’ dying.” He downed half of his drink right after. Your heart went out to him in sympathy. 

“...Comp sci Master’s,” Vanessa spoke up after a short moment. You turned to look at her. “I’m planning to graduate in December.” 

“A semester early?” you asked and she nodded. “Nice!” You then told them what you were getting your own degree in before settling them all with a thoughtful look. “I guess the robot counselors really called out to you guys then, huh?” 

“You kidding?” Vincent blurted out, waving his cup in the air. The drink within it sloshed around a bit, so he reeled his arm back in. “Getting to work with Henry is a blessing! The man’s incredible at robotics and A.I. development! It’s every engineering student’s dream!”

“Does he give you guys more… technological responsibilities with the animatronics then?” you asked curiously. “Since you have the education?” 

“Oh yeah,” Michael answered. “He’s surprisingly lenient with that sort of thing. Let us do what we see fit when it comes to maintenance or looking at his blueprints.” 

“That’s pretty nice of him,” you commented, thinking about how much of a resume boost it would be for them. This would probably count as a project of sorts, right? That was cool.

Michael smiled warmly, lost somewhere else. “Yeah, he’s great.”

“How long have you all been working here, anyways?” Vanessa suddenly questioned, her gaze directed to the three veteran counselors. Vincent hummed. 

“I’ve been here for about four years, I think,” he said thoughtfully, one of his fingers tapping lightly against his chin. “Michael’s been here longer than I have, though.” 

The man in question nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a while for me. More than five years for sure.” He looked contemplative for a second, staring into the fire as it crackled and sparked before him. Then the look was gone, as though it had never even been there in the first place. 

“I-I’ve only been here for two years,” Jeremy said, both his hands clutching at his cup. “So I’m uh, relatively newer in comparison.” 

“I see. So you’ve all pretty much stuck around for a while,” Vanessa mused, more to herself than anything, but it made you tilt your head at her. She seemed to notice the unstated question that lingered in the air, for she added, “Oh, I just wanted to see how often people returned. I was only planning on staying for this summer.”

Michael nodded. “Understandable, yeah. People come and go all the time. Life just catches up to them.” He shrugged, then turned to look at you. “How ‘bout you?” 

“Bit too early for me to say, honestly,” you responded after a moment of thought. You shuffled your feet a bit, feeling your flip flops slide against the compact dirt they were resting on. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. Have to see if I like working here first. Actually— while we’re on it, what’s it like working with the kids anyways?” 

“Fucking exhausting!” Vincent groaned, throwing his head back. “Especially once it gets hotter! The tykes have endless stores of energy, I swear.” 

“That’s why we’re technically assistant counselors.” Michael snickered and leaned back slightly on the bench, propping his arm up behind him. “The animatronics are able to handle everything just fine.” 

You hummed. “Yeah, I suppose they don’t really run out of energy, huh?” 

“Other than when they need to recharge,” Jeremy added. He then scratched his head. “Well, I guess they all have solar technology, so that’s not much of an issue either…” 

“Solar technology?!” you blurted out incredulously. “What the hell??” 

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Vanessa remarked dryly. 

“Oh yeah,” Michael grinned, apparently delighted at how stupefied you and Vanessa were, “they got upgrades like you won’t believe.” 

You raised your eyebrows as you turned your head to look at him. “How did Henry even get the money for that??” 

“Actually it was—” Vincent started, then cut himself off with a quick glance at Michael, who was suddenly staring resolutely into the fire before him. It was so subtle you would have missed it if you hadn’t already been looking at him. But before you could question anything, Vincent continued as though nothing had happened at all. “—all the funds from the government and the parents, you know? This place isn’t exactly cheap.” 

You exchanged quick looks with Vanessa. She had definitely noticed the slight hiccup as well. Part of you wanted to press, but well… A quick glance at the three veteran counselors showed that they likely didn’t want to discuss it further—they avoided both your and Vanessa's gazes, either by taking a sip of their drinks or staring into the tangerine flames. So you let it go for now. 

“I bet it isn’t,” you said lightly and an invisible tension seemed to melt away from the group at your words. “That thirty-five dollars an hour deal was what really hooked me in.” 

“Ayo, you too? Up top!” Vincent cackled and raised his hand up for a high-five. You leaned forward and slapped your palm against his with a grin. 

It was fun, hanging out with the other counselors as you all slowly made your way through the bottle of Ciroc. The stars overhead rotated across the sky, the flames from the fire pit died down until they weakly licked at ashy logs. It was starting to get a bit chilly, but you were too busy enjoying yourself to notice the goosebumps that decorated your skin. You exchanged stories all evening and into the night—from your college days and from their adventures working as camp counselors. It made you excited, you had to admit, hearing about all the things they’d done. It sounded like this summer would be a fun one and there was a warmth in your chest that’d sparked to life upon getting to know your coworkers better. 

“And then—” Vincent choked out, lifting a hand up to his face so he could wipe away a tear. His cup sat on the ground next to him, forgotten. “—And then this asshole dropped the fucking oar into the lake! We were stranded there for hours, man!” 

“I-I’d told you guys it wouldn’t be a good idea to go rowboating that late!” Jeremy snorted, his cheeks a little rosy from the two drinks he’d consumed. You giggled into your hand when Michael let out a loud groan in response. 

“We were drunk and on a mission,” he told you and Vanessa, his ears slightly tinged red. 

“He was so shitfaced he couldn’t even hold the oar properly!” Vincent nearly yelled. He got punched in the arm by Michael and gave him an offended look. “Hey!”

“How did you guys not get caught?” you asked before they could start tussling again. Vanessa snickered when Vincent reached back over and punched Michael just as harshly on his shoulder. 

“Oh no, we did. Moon got our asses once he noticed we weren’t in our rooms,” Michael said somberly, rubbing at his shoulder with his opposite hand. “He won’t let us live that shit down to this day.” 

“What was he doing outside anyways?” you wondered aloud, rubbing at your chin. “Seems kinda hypocritical to me.” 

Vincent turned to look at you. “Did no one tell you?” he asked, squinting at you slightly. Or well—not at you. Honestly, you couldn’t tell where he was looking at, just that it was in your general direction. “They free roam at night.” 

“‘Free roam’?” Vanessa repeated, tilting her head to the side slightly. You turned to look at her and noticed she was staring at something over your head. But before you could turn around to see what it was, she continued speaking, her eyes darting back over to Vincent. “For why?”

Michael answered in his stead. “Security purposes.” You raised an eyebrow at that. 

“And also so their servos don’t lock up or whatever,” Vincent added and you noticed he was staring at you, a wide grin on his face that revealed basically all of his pearly teeth. You gave him a confused look. Why was he looking at you like that? His grin only got wider. 

“Why are you—” you started to ask, then immediately froze when something behind you gripped at your shoulders—tight and cool.

“Boo!” A voice rasped right into your ear. You yelped and jumped forward, your heart pounding in your ears as you abruptly spun around to see a tall, gangly animatronic hunched over where you’d been sitting. Spindly fingers wiggled in a wave at you, a grin with sharp teeth glinted in the dying flames of the fire pit. 

“Whaddahell!!” you wheezed, hand clutching at your chest. You hadn’t heard him approaching at all! Everyone burst into laughter at your reaction, filling the quiet night air. 

“Oh my god the look on your face!” Vincent practically shouted, slapping his hand down repeatedly on his knee. 

Jeremy wiped a tear from his eye and gave you a sympathetic look—or as much as he could manage between his laughs. “He does that to everyone, don’t worry.” 

Moon snickered when you turned back to him to give him a halfhearted glare. His red eyes were upturned into crescents, and he bounced from one foot to the other in delight. Like Sun, you noticed as you took the moment to observe him, Moon had nothing covering his chest while puffy, navy pants decorated his legs. They were adorned in golden stars and small specks—just like the fluffily-rimmed nightcap that sat on his head. The bells tied around his wrists let out an occasional jingle as he hopped about. 

“You have just made yourself an enemy tonight,” you told Moon seriously, crossing your arms over your chest to make yourself appear as intimidating as possible. He seemed amused by your words, if anything, for he let out another sly giggle. 

“Careful,” Vincent warned you suddenly, “you’re dealing with a real shithead over there.” 

Moon’s head spun around to face Vincent at his words. You watched as he slouched over to the man so he could loom over his head with his terrifyingly sharp smile. Vincent just looked up at him, unamused. 

“Drinking on the premises?” Moon tsked, the bell attached to his nightcap jingling lightly as his head rotated to the right in an unnatural way. His fingers wiggled again in a wavelike motion, his hands raised in the air by his shoulders. “Naughty, naughty.”

“Oh fuck off, guy!” Vincent batted at Moon’s nightcap and sent it swaying back and forth. “You know there aren’t any kids here.”  

“Language!” Moon chided, then reached down to snatch up the bottle of Ciroc by Vincent’s foot. There was about a shot’s worth of liquid left in it. Vincent let out an indignant “hey!” and raised his hand to grab at it, only for Moon to pull his hand up and away—out of Vincent’s reach. “It’s bedtime. Go to sleep~” 

“Moon— give that back!” Vincent jumped up to his feet and stretched his arm up further, but Moon unfortunately was much taller and simply dangled the bottle just over Vincent’s head.

“Beddy bed! Bedtime!” 

Michael sighed and got up from where he’d been sitting to stretch out his arms. “He’s right. We should head to bed. Lotsa things to do tomorrow.” He bent down to grab his cup from the ground. You nodded and walked back over to your seat so you could grab your empty cup, the others standing and dusting themselves off to help clean up as well.

It was quick work to douse the fire pit and collect your few belongings. Vincent spent a few minutes grappling with Moon and spitting out expletives until eventually he managed to snag the Ciroc bottle and stuff it into his bag along with the bottle of juice. Under Moon’s watchful eye, you all tossed your cups into one of the garbage bins near the cabins and made your way to your respective rooms, calling out goodnights that echoed across the open space. 

You trudged up the stairs of your cabin and looked behind you once you’d opened the front door. Moon watched you, standing stock-still by the darkened fire pit. The lights of his eyes shined brightly through the darkness. You shivered slightly—from the cool air or the creepiness of being watched by a robot, you would never know.You held up two fingers to your narrowed eyes, then turned your hand around to point them at him in an ‘I’m watching you’ motion. You were just able to see his eyes upturn once more before you finally receded back into your cabin, shutting the door behind you with a quiet click.

a/n: btw, vincent is not actually purple guy. i just took his character as an oc of sorts!! i thought it would be a fun throwback to 2015 fnaf days, where we didn't know shit abt the lore LMAO. i also took creative liberties with jeremy fitzgerald as well!

part two

[porcupine-girl]

Tumblr: Myth vs Fact

People have been talking a lot about Tumblr on Twitter lately (for no reason whatsoever), but that also means a lot of misinformation is going around. So if you're coming from Twitter, I would like to clear up a few misconceptions, starting with:

Myth: Tumblr is dead. It died with the Dec 2017 porn ban and now it's a ghost town.

Fact

Well, okay, yes, it did die with the Dec 2017 porn ban. Mostly. But it got better! On November 5, 2020, Destielpocalypse happened and Tumblr rose from the grave. Since then it hasn't been as busy as in, say, 2015, but it's gotten over its death and has had a steady stream of traffic ever since.

See the rest below the cut!

Myth: Tumblr is where all the drama and discourse starts.

Fact

Again, this hasn't been true in quite a while. When Tumblr died in 2017, most of the people responsible for the discourse moved to Twitter. Since then, it's been pretty chill, even after Destielpocalypse resurrected it. People like to say that Twitter is just Tumblr five years ago, and... it's pretty true right now, at least in the drama department. We'd appreciate it if you didn't try to change that.

Myth: Porn is allowed again on Tumblr!

Fact

Sadly, this is not true. However, nudity is allowed now. Just no visual depictions of explicit sex acts. Here is a pretty detailed explanation from the CEO of Automattic (the company that owns Tumblr) on why they can't bring porn back right now, even though he would like to.

Note that this only applies to visual depictions. Explicit text (yes, that means smutty fanfic) has always been allowed.

Myth: You should never add anything to a post you reblog.

Fact

Actually, one of the really cool things about Tumblr is how a post can grow and develop with every new addition! Simple Tumblr posts have turned into repositories of useful information or complex scifi world-building thanks to users collectively adding cool stuff with each reblog, or sometimes just asking relevant questions for others to answer in their reblogs.

But you don't have to add anything in order to reblog! Most people don't! And if you have something to say that doesn't really add to the post (like "Cute!") or is just for your followers, it can go in the tags.

Which brings us to a related myth:

Myth: There is a complicated system of etiquette around reblogging and tagging and if you don't follow it everyone will point and laugh.

Fact

Okay, there are some general etiquette guidelines that have developed that most people follow. Like the above, about only adding onto a post if you have something substantive to say and putting other comments in the tags. I'm sure you've seen rules like this around.

But these are flexible and nobody is going to hate you for violating them now and then. If you reblog something and forget and add "Cute!" to the post instead of in a tag, nobody is going to dogpile you. Worst case, people will click back to the reblog before yours and reblog it from there instead of reblogging yours. Or they might just reblog yours because tbh it doesn't really detract from the post. Just don't be rude, and remember that the OP and everyone who sees the post can see your tags very easily now.

The main thing is please do reblog stuff! That is the #1 way posts get new viewers (see below, most people turn the algorithm off). You don't have to add anything or even tag it; reblogging it is just a way to say "hey followers, look at this neat thing I found!"

Don't let the idea that you're not reblogging "correctly" prevent you from reblogging at all.

Myth: It's cringe to reblog old stuff, or to go through and reblog/like lots of things from someone's blog.

Fact

Posts are made for reblogging. We are all here for the reblogging. We want you to reblog. There are posts from 2012 or even older still making the rounds. If someone stumbles on my blog and reblogs a bunch of old stuff in a row, I'm just happy that they enjoyed my blog.

If OP doesn't want a post to be reblogged anymore, they now have the ability to turn reblogging off. Otherwise, reblog away.

Myth: Tumblr is the golden land of no algorithms!

Fact

Tumblr is the golden land of allowing you to avoid the algorithm if you so choose.

Most Tumblr users changed these settings years ago and have been living algorithm-free for so long they forget that when you first sign up, it does have an algorithm unless you turn it off.

Here is how to customize your viewing experience (on the app):

From your blog (the little people in the bottom right corner), hit the Settings wheel in the top right corner.

Go to General settings

Go to Dashboard preferences

The first four are all various algorithms. Best stuff first reorders your dash by algorithm - if you turn it off, it's all chronological all the time. 2-4 add extra stuff to your dash that the algorithm thinks you'll like. If you turn them off, you will ONLY see what's on the blogs you follow. (Note: if you turn off "Include followed tag posts" you can still view the tags you follow in the "Your Tags" tab at the top of your dash.)

4b - If you want to view mature stuff (nudes but also violence or anything drug/alcohol related) go to Content You See and turn it on. It's off by default. This is also where you can set tags or keywords you want hidden.

(These settings can all be found in similar places on desktop.)

Even after you do all this, if you really want to see what the algorithm has to say, just go to the For You tab. It will... probably convince you that you made the right choice in turning all of this off. Tumblr's algorithm really isn't that great, and we're fine with that.

Myth: Neil Gaiman is an active Tumblr user.

Fact

@neil-gaiman has no social media.

Myth: Supernatural is a television show that went off the air two years ago and is no longer relevant.

Fact

Welcome, you are now on the Supernatural website, where even if there wasn't a prequel series currently at this very moment airing, Supernatural will never die. Or will die and be resurrected repeatedly. It will probably creep into something on your dash eventually. Mute a few keywords if you don't want it, but brace for the occasional gif anyhow.