#tape-cul

[philoursmars]

Je reviens à mon projet de présenter la plupart de mes 53800 photos (environ !)

2011. Oye-Plage, ses bunkers en ruine, ses cormorans perchés sur des pieux, au loin des ferries....et le Tap-Cul !!!

[2t2r]

La balançoire à bascule acrobatique [vidéo]

Nouvel article publié sur https://www.2tout2rien.fr/balancoire-a-bascule-acrobatique/

La balançoire à bascule acrobatique [vidéo]

[rwpohl]

le chat dans le sac, gilles groulx 1964

[sarahluise-breitling]

Non, je ne suis pas une pute ou une Call girl ou escorte. Non je ne suis pas superficielle et je me tape encore moins vos hommes.

Je suis une artiste autoportraitiste, je suis une photographe qui essaie de s’en sortir dignement en faisant des ménages pour une société tôt le matin et tard le soir, je suis également la petite main qui répond au e-mail de l’association.

Je suis tout ça, oui !

Peut-être que donner mon cul serait plus facile et sans doute que je gagnerais bien mieux ma vie.

Ne jugez pas lorsque vous ne savez rien !

[theycalledhimastar]

☄. *.

Neighbor!Price who of course, notices the way his neighbors stare at him nosily. He knows people are curious, knows they might find him attractive too. He retired finally in order to try and get away from prying eyes and curious people, but he wasn't all that upset about it. It was more of a nuisance than anything else. Just another thing he would learn to ignore.

Neighbor!Price who also notices a certain young man that *doesn't* seem all that interested in John or anyone else in the cul-de-sac for that matter. Practically a hermit, the way you only ever left the house to go out for groceries. You prolly worked from home, there was no way you ever went out for work and he didn't notice.

Neighbor!Price who finds himself subconsciously memorizing your schedule and wondering more about you as he never heard your name mentioned by any of the other neighbors. Never saw you joining in the conversation and he was so used to knowing everything about everyone near him that the mystery of you plagued him.

Neighbor!Price who asks around about "The young man who never leaves his house", the one across the street from him in the butter yellow house. His elderly neighbors only shrug and mumble something about how you never really talked to any of them no matter how many times they tried to befriend you. That you had no interest in them, or the community.

Neighbor!Price who just assumes you're shy, introverted, he knows the type. Much like a stray cat, he wondered if leaving you alone as opposed to forcing his way into your business would make you like him. Not that it mattered of course, he wanted to be left alone, absolutely. His curiosity was merely because nobody else seemed to know anything and he had nothing better to do of course. No ulterior motives. Not because the glimpses of you that he saw from time to time made him eager to see you again even if you never spoke or even acknowledged him.

Neighbor!Price who doesn't forget about you, but eventually finds himself busy with helping everyone else in the cul-de-sac with his skills in basic repair. (Of course, the neighborhood is full of young families and elderly people, neither of which are too experienced themselves.) However, he never realized that "everyone else" included you.

Neighbor!Price who comes to a shock as he sees a letter taped to his front door with the number of the house across the street from him, explaining that your cabinet fell off from the wall and you had no experience with repairing anything of the sort. Asking him for help with a phone number scrawled at the bottom. He certainly wasn't going to turn down the opportunity, even for a repair so easy as that, your first thought had been him, and that made him even more curious. No better than his neighbors.

Neighbor!Price who doesn't know that you've been equally curious about his solitude, and that you definitely could fix your cabinet on your own. You just don't know how else to approach him...

Neighbor!Price *dreamy sigh*

[punk-in-docs]

‼️TAINTED LOVE ‼️

Detective (Killer) Quinn x Reader ‼️ Dark Drabble ‼️

Inspired entirely by this post which I glimpsed via @ravensfromvalhalla from @ceriseheaven hope this is ok that I rolled with this gif/idea.

I have no freakin’ clue what warped part of my brain is responsible for this fuckery but alas, here we are- pure filthy darkness within. Read at your own caution. Come scream at my inbox about this if you so desire.

Los Angeles - 1987

You’re where you usually are. Stalking the fringes at a blood soaked crime scene.

Brutal. Vicious. Sad creamy walls spattered in blood. Two dead they say. No word details leaked yet. You scraped yourself out of bed and got here before the sun was even warm.

Desperate to talk to anyone to make your deadline and get this in the morning papers tomorrow. Maybe you’d get print. Maybe this fucking time you’ll beat Cooper to the bylines. Maybe maybe-

You exist on maybes these days. You eat breathe sleep and cram them. You put on your sensible cloud grey skirt and black heels and you hunt for the news for your shitty paper. For the job that barely keeps you in food and scooping together enough for rent.

Your next story is here. Tucked away where you’re stood, locked deep in the slanted set of the Hollywood hills. Astral Drive.

Strips of yellow crime scene tape holds back your lot. The inquisitive reporters with pads and pen in hand. Avid eyes. Wolves. Snatching any information you could from the cops. Hungry fingers. Pens poised.

Your head snaps to the drive up to this sleepy cul-de-sac with the assaulting shriek that comes forth.

Tainted Love comes blasting rude from the windows of a maraschino red Porsche. Red like a heartthrob. It drowns out the din of camera crews and stoic cops not giving a fucking damn inch.

Come on. I’ve got a deadline. Can’t you give me anything?

Back behind the yellow tape ma’am.

Just trying to do my job here, Officer. Same as. You. You hurl back. Glaring through your glasses lenses.

The car comes crashing into view. Parks screeching and sloppily next to the pale cop cruisers. Rabid red and the driver is a maniac.

Door flying open and huge black stomping boots are the first things to spill out.

That’s the first time you see him. Not notice. See.

He can’t be missed. Not in that car. Not with that swaggering walk - those clothes. He dresses like he’s right out that Schumacher movie. The Kiefer Sutherland one about Vampires.

All this vicious LA sunshine, and he’s in a black PVC leather trench coat. All shiny shimmers. Unyielding on the eyes. Slicked back curls worn like oil slick on his head. A white tee and a silver chain or two clamped around his neck. Slamming around a pale neck as he strolls.

Chewing red gum and black shades on. He frowns at the house in the terrible bright sun. Like he’s angry at being here. Angry at daylight. Truly vampish. Nails bitten a little - painted a gummy shade of black.

He’s wild and crazy. Unhinged like that Blondie song. You go out at night and eat up bars where the people meet.

He adjusts his shades on his nose. Slams the car door like he’s putting on a freakin’ show. Probably reeks of stuffy Paco Rabanne. Pour Homme. Something that comes out a black and gold sleek bottle. The cologne that buffets as he walks past. Lingering on where he doesn’t.

“Freshly waxed. Don’t dare fucking touch her, pigs. Understand?” He flicks at the chest of a tubby cop as he walks by. Talking about his beloved baby. His bloody car.

Disdain thrown to his leather back as he swirls past them. Coat tails lap at his black pressed slacks. His boots are black crocodile skin. Tacky as fuck.

You can’t deny he is stunning, though.

Chocolate curls and puddle melting eyes, all brown. A face that’s entirely too youthful and sweetly handsome for this job.

He’s stunning the way a tiger is. All stunning rippling display and sinew designed to bite, lick his long canines and show off.

Sharp deep eyes that hide a lot of carnality. He’s seen things. Hell. He’s done those awful things. He’s trod places no sane men would dare. He’s finishing a cigarette and letting it cloud over the taste of his crappy gritty morning coffee.

The crowds around him part like they’re negatively charged. He looks like an extra late to a film set. Not a detective. There’s just no way.

He yanks the tape up and is ducking under it like it’s nothing. No one stops him. Stomping across the path in those knocking heavy soled boots as he flicks a used cigarette back at the curb. It fizzled dead.

Yes way. The badge is hooked right there on his belt. Golden and true. Not even prominent. All ego and no cares, is this guy.

You and your fellow reporters clamour for details. Straining the crime scene tape to snap.

He turns his head at the push of microphones and tape recorders shoved forwards. Twists right around and time slows to treacle when he lowers his shades - to see you.

Sensible heels. Cute skirt. All babe. Pretty neck.

His eyes swim the length of you. Head to toe. There’s that tiger on the loose again.

He steps back and his coat laps swaying behind him. You gulp as he comes close like a gathering leather storm.

He tilts his head at you. “Paper?” He asks like it’s interesting to him.

“Chronicle.” You eek out. Unable to believe you might get something here. Might scrape some words together and make a meaty mighty piece out of this.

“Detective?” You ask. Your voice is a songbird he wants caged all for himself.

“Quinn.” He smooths. Smile like silk. Zipping another cigarette to his lips.

“I’m hoping for a lead here. You know. A girl’s gotta make rent somehow. Gimme something.” You’re not below begging.

“You’re on the wrong side of the tape. Leave us do the investigating.”

Can I get some details of who was involved? The type of attack? Is this the work of a serial killer? Should our public be worried. What, Another Night Stalker?” You rattle off.

You chirp too much, little bird.

He snatches the voice recorder out your hand.

“Two people. Brutal knife attack. No and yes.” Comes his answers.

That last answer chills you. “People should be worried.” You state.

He doesn’t respond.

He sticks his eyes right into yours. Looks through you. Like your skin was wet paper. Lights his cigarette in no rush and licks his plump lips.

“Trust me birdy, you just got a hell of a lot more than what you bargained for.“ He promises. Drawling.

Dropping his eyes up and down at you. Sheer flirt. Chucking the voice recorder back to you, that you barely catch.

“You got my number, yeah?” He checks as he sways away.

“Yeah 9-1-1.” You reply acidly.

He laughs in the crime scene doorway. Cackling away.

“Nah. It’s 666 honey.” He corrects. Shooting you a wink.

He absentmindedly hopes he managed to pick all the blood out from under his nails from last night. The guys inside made one bitch of a mess-

-

You frown a little later on. Listening back. When you wonder how he knows a knife was used and he hadn’t even entered the crime scene yet.

-

Next part? C’mon. I dare you❤️‍🩹‼️🔪

Tagging some beloved JQ/Munsonites 🔪 (I’ve no idea what this drabble even is I’m so sorry) @indouloureux @stiegasaw @munsonquinns @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @starbxcks @morganamoonstone @ramona-thorns

[borgien]

Je vais te mettre à genoux, à  mes pieds, poser ma main au-dessus de ta tête, appuyer doucement pour t'incliner devant moi, doucement te faire poser les lèvres sur mes escarpins, m' offrant ainsi la vue sur ton dos ...

T'imposer de garder cette position le temps que je ressente ton corps du bout de cette ceinture que je fais glisser lentement sur toi, de légers petits coups sur les fesse te font comprendre que je veux un accès à tes couilles...

Je glisse la ceinture entre tes fesses et redescend le long de ta croupe que tu me tends malgré toi, je serre les jambes, ta tête plaquée entre mes mollets ...

Tu ne bouges plus que  tes lèvres sur mes chaussures... 

Besoin de toucher, mes doigts appuient et entament un cheminement sur ta peau, la ceinture éprouve la fermeté de tes couilles par de petites tapes...

Mon corps se couche lentement sur ton dos, ma main approche tes couilles, l’autre s'ancre de mes ongles sur tes fesses, tendant la peau de ton cul vers le haut en même temps que mon autre main empoigne tes couilles pour les tirer vers le bas. Je resserre plus fort, tire plus loin... Je veux entendre tes râles. Je ne lâcherais qu'après les avoir obtenus... C'est à cet instant que je relâche tes couilles et que j’abats sur tes fesses une claque violente.

Je claque ton cul, le son de tes fesses qui rougissent sous mes mains me fait vibrer. Je  te sens tendre ton corps pour mieux résister. Mes mains deviennent chaudes , tes fesses se teintent de pourpre.

Oui j'aime te soumettre à Mes envies bien plus qu'à celles que tu me suggères parce j'aime laisser libre cours à Mes pulsions et là , j'ai envie du son de tes fesses sous mes mains...

Doucement , je fais remonter mes doigts le long de ton dos jusqu'à ta nuque. Je pose une main sur ta tête, l 'incline pour que ta joue se plaque au sol. Du pied je fais glisser la ceinture devant toi, je veux que tu la vois, qu'elle t'accompagne, qu'elle reste dans ton esprit comme la source du plaisir qui s'écoule de Moi...

[atlaese]

at the end of the cul-de-sac — s.h.

summary: almost 10 years after leaving Hawkins and subsequently your best friend, you move back to start university. Haphazardly reconnecting with Steve means old feelings might resurface — if Steve hasn't moved on to another already.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader tw: childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, no spoilers, minor mentions of injury sustained as a kid (scraped knee kinda stuff), misunderstandings (so a tiny smidge of angst) robin is a sweetheart <3, I have decided there is a uni close to hawkins, happy fluffy ending!! words: 4.4K a/n: hi! i started writing this somewhere after vol 1. but I had finals, went to a festival & had covid, so that's why I only got to publish it now. i still hope you enjoy it though <3 thanks for the support <3 and I hope you have a good week!! p.s. i now have a library blog! go follow @aeristhotle and turn on notifs to get notified when i update!

reblogs and comments are highly appreciated ✨💗

STEVE HARRINGTON MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

It had been nearly a decade since you said goodbye to Hawkins, Indiana, trading in the sleepy town for the bustling city of Washington. Your father had accepted some office job that forced you to say goodbye to everything you had ever known in your life.

You remembered thinking that it was the end of the world, leaving behind all your friends that had been there since the very beginning when you finally drove away from the street you grew up in.

The pale yellow house at the end of the cul-de-sac, the old pine your dad always complained about, the leaky gutter that always overflowed when there was a storm and the dent in the wall from where you had butted your head after cutting the corner short and sliding straight into the wall.

Now, it was all getting smaller as you looked out of the rear window, a long drive ahead of you. It was such a peculiar feeling to say goodbye to the home you grew up in. The place where you lost your baby teeth, where your dad taught you to drive a bike, the stick of a broom taped on as a handle to keep you balanced.

As your dad rounded a corner, the house finally disappeared from your vision. You weren’t sure if you’d ever see the house or the street it sat on ever again. Goodbye to the park behind the Rodneys house, goodbye to the countless hours you spend playing on the carousel and goodbye to the monkey bars you sat on as Steve climbed up the steps to join you.

Goodbye to Steve, too.

“I’ll write you letters, I have new stickers to decorate them, too,” you said, sitting next to Steve on the carpet at your house. The Harrington’s came over to say goodbye to your family, your parents’ friends ever since high school. 

“You have to!” Steve exclaimed, his little hands wildly gesturing. “You should send me a postcard of the Lady of Liberty, I heard she’s like 1000 feet tall or something.” 

“Lady Liberty is in New York City, silly,” you corrected him, “I’m not sure she’s that tall, but if we ever visit her I’ll let you know.” 

Laughter drifted in from the backyard where your parents were having drinks, and Steve’s head dropped down. Even at age 10, his hair had a life of its own, curls sticking out in every possible way. 

“Do you really have to go with them? I’m sure my mom would let you sleep on the couch if you asked her nicely,” Steve said, his voice toning down as the weight of the situation finally dawned on him.  

You grabbed his hand in yours, two little palms fitting over each other as they had done so many times before. 

“I’m starting at the new school next week and most of my stuff is already packed and ready to go in the truck.” 

Steve nodded, brown eyes getting a little red now he was sure his best friend was permanently leaving his life.  

“We have to keep in touch, pinky promise,” he finally looked up, his other pinky out for one of the most sacred promises a little kid could make. 

“Promise,” you said, wrapping your pinky around his as you had a final look at his boyish face. 

Promises made by little kids never are followed-up, unfortunately.

You wrote Steve three postcards and he called you twice on the house phone before you lost contact.

You quickly moved on to new friends at your school and Steve started hanging out with Tommy and Carol. Kids are always more focused on the present rather than on the past. You couldn’t blame it on anyone.

Steve Harrington would be nothing more than a sweet childhood memory, someone you thought about when you passed by the monkey bars or when one of your friends started dating a Stephen. A fleeting thought – a second that brought a smile to your face before disappearing again. Yet, he always held this fond space in your heart – and you knew that feeling would be for forever, and it was fine like that.

And now you are back in Hawkins, a little less than a decade later, a little taller than before and freshly graduated from high school, ready to start university close to the town you once called home. It only made sense for both you and your parents that you’d move back to the safety of the small town. God knows what goes on in those big cities.

The fact that Steve probably still lived in Hawkins was the deciding factor to pack your belongings and move back. Something, somewhere deep inside you longed to be close to Steve again. 

Though you had made new best friends, Steve was still the one that held a big piece of your heart. You had been friends from the very beginning, and it felt impossible to share such a bond with anyone else. A little voice at the back of your mind whispered that Steve would still be there, still the same loving boy who once called himself your best friend and that you’d be back to said status in no time. The same voice also whispered in your ear how Steve might have waited for you and you felt flutters erupt in your stomach. You always had a weak spot for his droopy brown eyes.

It was a tiny apartment that once belonged to one of your grandparents, a fifteen-minute drive to your campus, and close to both the local supermarket and some other shops you were sure you’d frequent often.

One of those shops was a branch store of Family Video and it was coincidentally the last thing on your list after a long day of moving in. 

Your plans were to rent a movie, pop a frozen dinner in the microwave, and enjoy your newfound freedom away from parental figures. The next few days you’d hoped to come across some familiar faces, but tonight you just wanted to get settled in.

It felt good to be an unsupervised adult.

The store was quite busy as you pushed open the door, most of Hawkins’ pre-teens and young adults looking for the perfect movie to end their day.

You slid into an aisle and tapped with your fingers against the spines of the VHSs, mumbling the names of the movies as you passed them. 

“E.T., seen already,” you murmured against yourself. “Superman was boring, let’s be honest.”

Your eyes landed on Ordinary People, and you grabbed the VHS and went on your way to the cash register. There was no use in hesitating to choose – with half of Hawkins in the store you didn’t want anyone to snatch the movie away right in front of your eyes.

“Hey, you little shit, that one is too scary for you, it says 18+ for a reason!”

“Quit bullshitting, it’s just a serial killer, you know I’ve seen worse,” a teen said to someone typing away at a computer, his face hidden by the massive machine. “C’mon man, you know I’ll keep complaining until I have it.”

The teen kept sliding the VHS over the counter, only for the cashier to slide it right back without even taking a second look at it. 

“Knock it off, Dustin, you’re gonna scare the customers away and I can’t lose another job!”

Dustin was about to slide the VHS over again, probably with a come-back, when he saw you standing behind him.

“Look I’ll even let the lady go in front of me, and you better get me this movie after as I’m also a paying customer!”

You pressed your lips together in a smile as a way to say thank you and pushed the VHS over the counter, hoping to get out of the busy shop quickly. 

“Name, please?” the guy said, not even looking up from the screen.

You had just uttered your first name, hadn’t even started on your last name as his head whipped away from the screen, brown eyes scanning your face instead of putting the movie in the system and telling you when to bring it back.

“Y/N?” he muttered, the floppy brown hair and puckered pink lips reminding you of your childhood best friend.

“It’s Steve, Steve Harrington,” he said now, still not believing it was you who was standing at his counter, so many years after he had last seen you. “You remember me, right?”

He, too, had grown a fair bit taller, but he still had that same doe-eyed look in his eyes, he still puckered his lips in the same way – he just had a little more confidence than when you left him. He had finally grown into that massive head of his and it looked like he found his own style, not anything like the clothes ms. Harrington used to put him in. Imagine if he still wore those obnoxious trousers with suspenders and a shirt with the top button done.

“Of course, I remember you, Steve,” you said, “I never forgave myself that we lost touch. Never.”

Steve looked down, guilt painted on his features as he recalled the few times he did reach out to you. “Me neither. I lost one of the best friends I ever had and it was my own fault.”

“But you’re back now!” he added, a new sense of joy replaced the guilt on his face. “Or is it just temporary?”

“I’m here for college, so we’ll see how that works out.”

“Hey now, you knew all 50 states before I could even say the alphabet, you’ll do great.”

You were about to ask him to hang out later, to reminisce about old times and to catch up on what you’d missed the last few years when a beautiful girl popped up behind him, a million freckles gracing her face – each one seeming to call Steve’s attention.

At her appearance, you immediately felt your confidence chipping away. The joyful bubble burst and it was time to pack up the beautiful daydream that started forming in your mind.

Why would he have waited on you? There had never been an indication you’d come back, never a moment where you had gotten back in touch with him. Who’s to say he hadn’t moved on and forgotten about how good you two were together? Why would he ever wait for a possible ‘what if’ if there were so many other opportunities, right here in Hawkins?

“Hey dipshit,” she called out to Dustin, slinging an arm over Steve’s shoulders as he remained comfortable under her touch. “How many times have we said no about the 18+ movies? You’re lucky we’re letting you get the 16+ ones!”

“Robin, stay out of this,” Dustin now bit back good-naturedly, still tightly gripping the VHS,  now counting a few coins as he seemed to be 100% sure he’d get the movie. 

How foolish that you thought you could just waltz back into Hawkins and expect everything to be the same. Steve was even friends with random kids now, and here you were, thinking that you could pick up where you left off. 

“Uhm, so when do I bring this back?” you spoke up, making Steve whip his head back to you as Robin checked you out, her eyes carrying an analytical weight trying to figure out who you were.

“It’s uh, one week, so next Saturday, but you can always call to extend,” Steve said, not realizing how uncomfortable you were all of a sudden. 

You rummaged around in your bag in search of a few dollar bills in exchange for the movie, “yeah… I’ll be fine, a week, okay.”

You hastily pressed the few dollars against the counter and plastered a quick smile on your face.

“Hey, y/n, Robin and I were thinking of hanging out tonight if you wanna come.”

Steve looked at you expectantly, brown eyes hopeful for an affirmative answer, but Robin’s stare made it into a definitive ‘no’ as much as you wanted to say yes. Her stare wasn’t mean or anything, you just felt like you had disrupted a moment between them and wanted to get out as quickly as possible.

“No, it’s fine, I really need to get home,” you said as you already started backing off. “Moving. Shit ton of work, you know.”

You were out of the store in the blink of an eye, leaving Steve wondering if he had said something wrong.

“Do you know her?” Robin asked, now picking at her nails as she threw another death stare at Dustin. “It’s still a no for you.”

“Yeah,” he trailed off, still looking at the door where you disappeared through. “That was my best friend who moved away.”

“That's the best friend huh?”

Robin now flashed her signature smirk, unknowing to Steve.

“Got anything to tell us, Steve?” Dustin now piped up after seeing Robin’s smirk. “You’re not really one to reminisce about the past.”

“Growing up with someone… it’s different. She was my whole life and I was hers,” Steve softly said, eyes glazed over with a mixture of wanting, loss, and a speck of hope. “You should know how bad it is to lose a friend like that.”

Dustin and Robin shared a look. They couldn’t believe the effect you had left on Steve, even if it was just a short visit.

“Whatever.” Steve stood up, shaking the feeling off and straightening up. “Hey, you get another movie now , or I ban you for the next year. Yeah, a year, you heard it right.”

“C’mon Steve, you’re being an ass,” Dustin pleaded, still trying one last time to get the adult-rated movie for his own movie night.

“Now!”

“Fine! Jesus, you’re getting old and cranky already,” Dustin stormed off, immediately talking in his headset to relay the message to his other friends, probably already scheming revenge on the older brunette.

“They’re your kids,” Robin snorted as she turned around to get back to reshelving VHS tapes, leaving Steve who felt like he had just been hit by a bat – twice.

After sulking all weekend that perhaps you weren’t as memorable as you thought, you returned to the video store on Monday, hoping to quietly drop off the movie and not come across the two people you desperately wanted to avoid. Egos were on the line, okay?

You not so subtly peered through the glass into the store, your body poorly hidden by a  few huge cutouts in the shop window. It felt like you were starring in a bad detective movie.

It was a quiet Monday at noon, with one car in the parking lot and no one visibly behind the counter.

Would it be so horrible if you just left the VHS on the counter and made a run for it? 

The door creaked as you pushed it open, which made Robin’s head pop out from under the counter immediately, her brown-blondish hair a fashionable mess as she plastered a smile on her face.

If it was socially acceptable to throw the VHS in her vicinity and run as fast as your feet could – you’d do it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t and Robin was already waiting behind the counter for you, her fingers rhythmically tapping the wood. 

“That was quick,” she stated as you slid the VHS over the counter, avoiding her eyes as she kind of intimidated you.

“No use in keeping it longer than I have to.”

You politely nodded and tapped the counter before turning back to the exit.

“He has told me a lot about you, you know, the past few years that I’ve gotten to know him.”

“Me?” you said as you turned around. Why would Steve be talking about you still? To someone that you didn’t know? Someone who could mean a whole lot more to him than you ever did.

“Yeah,” her voice had a hoarse tinge to it as a smile overtook her face. “When a certain song came on the radio he’d say something like ‘this song was y/n’s favourite’ or when we passed by that one curb he’d say ‘I ate shit here and y/n patched me up with those blue bandaids with little teddy bears on them.’”

“He talked about me?” you repeated, still not believing her, though everything she mentioned sounded like things that happened in your past, stuff that you had seemingly forgotten and now it replayed in your mind. 

“That boy was in love with you and I don’t think a lot has changed.”

There was a lighthearted smirk on her face when she saw you get flustered, a sudden meek smile transforming your face in a heartbeat. 

“Don’t… you didn’t know him back then,” you countered, trying not to get the lighthearted feelings to your head. “He’s always been a flirt, he’s always been like that.”

“No no no,” she shook her head, her hair happily bouncing around, her freckles blurring together. “I know Steve and the way he acted after you left? That didn’t even happen when he started crushing on Nancy again.”

“Again?”

“She’s long in the past – just a mere detour from you ! Don’t worry about it,” Robin waved your worries away, her giddy nature making you feel giddy about it as well. Maybe you really shouldn’t have judged so quickly.

“C’mon, let me set you up or something, it’s been a while since I won a bet from Henderson.”

“You’re betting? Already?” you asked. It was never good if bets were involved, but Robin seemed so trustworthy. 

“You’ll get used to it,” she winked, preluding that maybe many more adventures with this group of friends would happen. “Do you want me to call Steve? I bet he’d get that ass over here in a heartbeat for you.”

You laughed at her readiness to change up her whole day, even if it was a slow day at the store.

“No, it’s okay, I need some time to think,” you rapped your fingers on the counter before pushing off towards the exit. “But I really appreciate this, Robin, I’m a little less doubtful about the future now.”

“Where are you going?” she called out. “It’s so boring here I need entertainment!”

“To this place where I bust my knee once,” you said, pointing to the knee with the weird scar. “It’s a special place to me.”

“Alright,” you heard her trail off before you left the store and got into your car. “I don’t like places that have bad memories but okay…”

The park behind the Rodneys house was still there, though the Rodneys themselves were no longer there, the house was now just gathering dust, well on its way to becoming the backdrop for many ghost stories.

The swingset had gathered some rust during the time you were away, the shackles making that eerie sound that every small town swing set seemed to make. 

But as you sat down on the weathered wood, you instantly felt years younger – as if the swingset was a time machine that transported you right back to before you left. The only thing missing was Steve pushing you, his giggles and snorts floating up in the air as you encouraged him to push you even higher. 

After everything Robin had told you, you desperately needed some time to think and process – the apartment felt suffocating and you didn’t want to hang around town in fear of encountering the one your thoughts were filled with.

Then you found yourself in front of the old park where you spend many hours running around with Steve and it all clicked.

Leaning your head against the shackles of the swing, you softly swung and watched the sunset. The sky was painted in hues of ripe plums and fresh raspberries – the colours bleeding over into each other as if someone had accidentally mashed the juicy fruits together. But just as everything that happened by accident, it had a bittersweet undertone that made everything worth it.

Just like years ago, it didn’t take him long to find you.

The other swing creaked as he sat down on it, his feet now touching the ground as his legs had grown, unlike back then when he barely could get up on the swing without almost breaking his neck.

You both stared at the skies for a bit, words on the tips of your tongues but not willing to break the silence that felt safe – just like how a kid felt safe from the monsters under the blankets.

“I was thrown off when I saw Robin,”  you started, testing the waters as you kept staring in front of you. “Though I had no reason to be, it was stupid and I’m sorry for assuming stuff and running off like that.”

Steve let out a soft sigh as he pushed his hand through his hair, his lips as always cherry-coloured. “You really don’t have to apologise. You did what any normal human being would do.”

The words clung to the air as you felt a little breeze pick up, the leaves on the bushes adding to the background noise.

“How’d you know I was here anyway?”

“Where you busted your knee and then had to get stitches and they healed in this super odd shape that either resembles an open mouth or weirdly shaped D .”

“Robin,” you tsked. “Right, you were there.” 

“I held your hand while they put in the stitches,” he snorted, eyes zeroing in on the scar on your knee. “You had a tight-ass grip for an 8-year-old.”

“After all those hours with you on the jungle gym, you bet I had developed some muscles already!” 

Once more you felt like no time had passed between you leaving and coming back. Between leaving Steve behind and finding him back. And even if time did pass, it felt like you could just continue on from the point where you left – the shared history would always be there as a background to provide a common ground no other people had. It was unique to the two of you – something you’d never find in any other person. 

“I did move on, you know,” he now made eye contact as he spoke truthfully, the pinkish colours of the sky now beautifully reflecting on one half of his face. “I moved on many times, yet any time I came close to loving someone, you were always at the back of my mind. Always.”

And while that statement did hurt, it also felt very familiar. It was something you, too, could relate to. To the loving someone else, yet this one person is still on the back of your mind, an itch waiting to be scratched, a memory, hidden somewhere deep only you could find. 

And Steve would be the only one to understand, too. Your new friends in the city couldn’t understand the impact he had had on you, just like his new friends couldn’t understand it to its full extent either.

“There was always this ‘what if’ scenario,” you whispered back, your hand now coming up to still the swing he was sitting on so you were at the same level. 

“Uhu,” he murmured back, his eyes constantly twitching between your eyes and your lips as your bodies were now immensely close you could feel the heat radiating off from him.

God, how handsome he had become. 

“I know we haven’t seen each other in like…years, but it feels like hardly any time has passed. Like we were both stuck in a limbo while the rest of the world kept turning,” you softly said. 

“You were always better at putting things in words than I was,” Steve mused, his left hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I feel exactly the same.”

At that moment, it felt like the final puzzle pieces fell into place – the jagged edges morphed together into a perfect picture.

His lips on yours were an unfamiliar feeling, yet it couldn’t feel more like coming home – that warmth and the softness, the scent of his cologne, and the hand on your cheek that was shivering just a little.

It couldn’t be more perfect.

After pulling away from this sweet kiss, Steve immediately pulled you back, a feverish look on his face as he couldn’t get enough of the feeling. Couldn’t get enough of you. Couldn’t get enough of this sudden hold you had on him, again. He had always been yours, even when the two of you didn’t know.

Both his hands were now holding on to your face, as yours were trying to stabilise the swings you were on, though most of your concentration was focused on Steve. 

Steve’s hands, his lips, the feeling of the slight stubble that was rubbing against your skin, his scent that still smelled like him, just now the added intoxicating smell of his cologne that made your head spin round and round. 

The two of you had sat there for hours, it felt like, but it could also be a few seconds. The only thing that marked the passage of time was the sky that had turned into a purplish blue, the sun now fully gone and a few stars twinkling in the sky.

“Just for the record,” Steve broke the kiss, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “You’ll be here for a while, yeah? No running off to the big city any time soon?”

You pressed a soft kiss against his lips, a smile curving against cherry red lips from kissing.

“I’ll stay here, Harrington, even if it’s just to see your stupid face,” you laughed, putting a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Still, we can always meet here, at the end of the cul-de-sac.”

“Hmm, I’ll take what I can get,” he pressed a kiss against your cheek, then onto the corner of your lips. “Even if it’s just a few kisses at the end of the cul-de-sac.”

Once more, you kissed him. 

Though it had been a long time since you were in Hawkins, these first few days showed that the sleepy town hadn’t changed a whole lot and that you still fit perfectly into this town, right beside your childhood best friend, once again ready to face the world together.

[homomenhommes]

saga: SOUMISSION / DOMINATION 101

Samedi matin.

Je suis le premier à ouvrir les yeux. Jimmy dans la nuit est venu coller son dos contre mon ventre, en cuillère. Ma bite raide du matin tape contre la base du plug. Avec une main, je tire doucement dessus. Le plug coulisse bien je le sors totalement, ce qui fait frissonner Jimmy. Je ne laisse pas le trou se refermer et enfile ma queue raide à la place. Elle entre toute seule profitant du reste de la graisse du plug. Je ne bouge pas. Il ne se réveille pas. Très lentement je fais quelques aller et retour avant qu'il ne se réveille. Il tourne la tête vers moi et ouvre un oeil. Je lui prends les lèvres et nous nous roulons un patin.

Nos mouvements s'amplifiants, nous finissons par réveiller Marc qui nous mate jusqu'à ce que je me vide au fond du cul. Je me retire bascule Jimmy pour qu'il présente son cul à la vigueur de Marc. Mon homme le prend alors dans la même position que moi, couché sur le coté. Jimmy tire ses jambes sur son torse pour améliorer l'accès à son trou. Je mate à mon tour. Après mon limage, il se prend sans soucis les 22cm de Marc. Il gémit doucement que c'est trop bon de se réveiller pareillement. Marc accélère et finit par se déverser en lui. Alors seulement, Jimmy porte une main à sa bite pour recueillir les quelques millilitres de sperme qui en sortent. Comme il ne voit rien pour essuyer sa main, il la lèche pour la sécher.

Quand nous descendons, une bonne odeur de café sort de la cuisine. Samir et Ammed sont déjà debout, en uniforme (shorty cuir moulant). Le café est prêt et des viennoiseries fraîches sont sur un plateau. Jimmy saute au cou de Samir et je l'entends lui glisser à l'oreille un -merci tonton, c'est trop bon de se faire enculer.

Nous les remercions et Marc prend un pot à biscuits vide et place de l'argent dedans pour les besoins de la cuisine et divers. Il avise nos nouveaux employés que c'est à leur disposition pour ce genre d'initiative.

Je pars donner mon cours de gym / muscu suivit de l'enculage en règle de mon boss, pressé de rentrer à la maison retrouver Marc et Jimmy.

Après le déjeuner, avec Jimmy collé à mon coté, je commande sur internet une bonne 20aine de slips, jocks et shortys à sa taille. Puis nous allons " à la ville " l'équiper pour maintenant. Passage chez Slipissimo ou nous trouvons de quoi couvrir ses fesses avec quelques Calvin Klein et deux maillots de bain, au magasin d'équipement de sport, je lui prends deux jocks et nous terminons notre tour chez mon concessionnaire moto pour lui trouver un casque à la taille de sa petite tête. Après bien des essayages c'est chez Shoei avec un XR 1100 Conquista qu'il trouve son bonheur. Quand il voit le prix, il veut refuser mais je lui faits remarquer que sans casque pas de moto et comme le printemps arrive les transports seront plus souvent moto qu'auto. Je me laisse tenter et pour changer de mon propre Shoei, je m'achète la nouvelle version du mien soit un X Spirit II Martyr.

Nous rentrons avec nos achats. Il court les montrer à son " tonton ". J'entends ce dernier lui dire qu'il faut mériter toutes ces attentions et bien obéir à Marc et Sasha. Jimmy lui promet qu'il fera tout ce que nous lui demanderons. ; Merci Samir !

Avec l'accord de Marc j'appelle Eric pour qu'il vienne nous aider à formater Jimmy. Il me répond qu'il passera en soirée après ses cours de conduite moto.

En attendant, nous passons l'après midi dans l'eau. Il adore ça Jimmy. Son maillot mouillé le colle comme une deuxième peau et on peut carrément voir tout les détails de son anatomie. Nous chahutons ensemble et j'en profite pour lui passer la main sue son sexe. Il bande continuellement. Bientôt, il me demande quand est ce qu'on va l'enculer de nouveau, il aime trop ça ! Je l'attrape, le colle contre moi et je passe une main dans son maillot, poussant mes doigts jusque sur sa rosette. Elle est là palpitante de désir.

Je me décide à le préparer pour Eric. Je crie à marc que nous allons au donjon. Il me répond qu'il nous rejoindra avec Eric.

Jimmy est intrigué et se demande ce que cache ce mot. Nous traversons s la cour et je le pousse dans les tentures pour entrer. Il fait encore noir. A tâtons je trouve les interrupteurs et déclenche quelques spots. Jimmy est bloqué. Il regarde partout essayant de deviner ce qu'il y a dans les parties obscures de la salle. Je le pousse jusqu'aux sanitaires pour lui faire un lavage interne. Un peu de gel sur la canule et je l'enfonce dans son cul. Remplissage, vidange, remplissage, vidange, jusqu'à ce que sorte une eau aussi claire qu'elle est entrée.

Je lui dis de me suivre et l'installe dans un des slings. Je règle les menottes pour ses poignets et fait de même avec ses chevilles. Je descends l'ensemble pour que sa tête soit à la hauteur de ma bite et le cul beaucoup plus haut. Je m'approche et il aspire ma queue dès que mon gland touche ses lèvres. Je me penche un peu et j'ai accès direct et à la bonne hauteur à son trou. Quelques crachats dessus et je lui enfonce mes deux majeurs. Je fais des va et vient, rajoute de la salive. Bientôt son anus se détend et quand j'écarte les mains, son trou s'ouvre et je crache direct dedans. De son coté, il me tête comme si sa vie en dépendait. J'accompagne sa bonne volonté de coups de rein pour l'aider à me prendre en entier.

Il m'excite grave et je dois sortir de sa bouche pour éviter de juter. Je calme le jeu. Je tire su les chaines de suspension et remet le sling à l'horizontal. Avant de l'élargir pour Eric, je veux me le faire. Autant j'aime me faire enculer par les mecs plus âgés que moi, autant j'adore enculer une jeune salope.

Je me graisse la bite et pose mon gland sur son oignon. Je résiste quelques instants à le pénétrer mais je ne tiens plus et m'enfonce dans son intimité. Les sensations son trop bonnes. J'ai juste mis ce qu'il fallait pour glisser mais pas plus. Je me concentre sur mon sexe et je ressens ma pénétration comme jamais. Son boyau colle à ma bite. Je pose mes mains sur ses épaules et d'un coup plus sec, l'empale jusqu'aux couilles. Il gémis de plaisir tout au long de ma progression. Comme mon torse est arrivé un peu près de lui, il tend la tête et attrape un téton avec sa bouche. Ça lui vaut quelques millimètres de plus dans le cul ! Je me redresse et les mains sur ses cuisses, je balance le sling pour limer son trou.

Il aime ça ! Son visage montre le plaisir qu'il prend à la chose. Merci Samir pour cette bonne salope ! Je le lime jusqu'à ne plus pouvoir me retenir et lui envoi tout dedans. Je me couche sur lui, les jambes momentanément coupées. Il en profite pour m'embrasser le front, les joues, les yeux et pour finir il me roule un patin à croire qu'il a fait ça toute sa jeune vie.

Je me redresse et sort de lui. Il serre els fesse et garde tout. Je lui dis que ce soir un ami à nous va venir le tester et que nous devons se préparer. Je lui détache les membres mais lui dis de rester sur le sling. J'approche un tabouret et prend un pot de graisse chauffante. Assis, les yeux à hauteur de son trou, je peux commencer le travail de dilatation. Après mon enculage, les deux indexes et majeurs de chaque main entrent facilement. La graisse chauffante qui les enduit commence à faire son effet et le petit trou rougit bien. Il se tortille sous mes doigts et je remplace les 4 doigts par trois de ma seule main droite. Je les fais tourner tout en faisant un mouvement de va et vient pour faire entrer la graisse. A ce stade je passe au gode. Direct celui de 22cm, après tout e vient de lui enfiler mes 20. Il prend vaillamment le morceau de plastic. J'augmente progressivement la taille du jouet que j'enfonce dans son cul. Pas un mot de refus, pas un cri, mon ptit beur accepte la domination avec un naturel qui force mon admiration. Je soumets son corps une progression rapide de dilatation mais il accepte sans rechigner.

Je m'arrête au gode de 23 x 5,5. Il faut bien qu'Eric ai encore un peu de travail à faire et je sais surtout qu'il aime les anneaux qui le serrent encore.

Je n'ai pas vu le temps passer et c'est la main de Marc sur mon épaule qui me prévient qu'ils sont là.

Je m'écarte et ils peuvent admirer Jimmy. Pendant qu'ils se mettent nus, je rattache les poignets et les chevilles en haut des suspentes et retire le gode pour que son anus se referme un peu.

Marc le premier s'enfonce dans son cul. Il le trouve un peu large, normal ! il cède la place à Eric après que ce dernier se soit kpoté. Je demande à Jimmy d'être forte et de se laisser faire (comme si il pouvait s'échapper !). Eric place son gros gland contre son anus et commence à pousser. Vite, je fais passer le flacon de poppers sous le nez de Jimmy. Sans douleurs, il se laisse empaler sur la bite noire de 26cm. Pour prendre les derniers cm (les plus larges), je lui repasse un peu de poppers. Il en profite pour me dire -merci c'est trop bon.

Marc veut lui faire la gorge. Je règle les hauteurs et fait descendre sa tête.il la rejette en arrière et Marc s'enfile en lui.

Le spectacle est superbe. Ce petit corps imberbe soumis à deux mecs virils. Je le caresse sans toucher à sa petite queue. Ma main sur ses abdos, je sens la bite d'Eric aller et venir. Il faut dire qu'elle ne doit être qu'à 1 ou 2cm sous la peau. A son oreille je lui chuchote qu'il est superbe, qu'il me rend fier de lui, qu'il sera une bonne pute à l'avenir.

Après un limage en règle d'une bonne demi-heure, Eric se lâche dans sa kpote alors que Marc qui s'est retiré de sa gorge lui jute sur le visage. Jimmy ouvre grand la bouche pour en avaler le plus possible. Excité moi aussi, quelques coups de poignet et j'ajoute ma crème à celle de Marc. Jimmy avale le tout. D'un doigt de pousse le sperme déposé sur ses joues jusqu'à sa bouche, il me le suce avec avidité !

Eric sort bite. Il se tourne vers moi et me félicite pour ma nouvelle pute. Ça faisait longtemps qu'il ne s'était fait un trou pareil. Quand je le charrie en disant que parmi ses élèves de scooter ou de moto il devait avoir le choix, il me répond qu'effectivement il ne manque pas de jeune mec à mettre sr sa bite mais que Jimmy est une pute née. Il a senti pendant tout l'enculage son anneau palpiter et le serrer régulièrement. Ses élèves ne lui ont jamais fait ça avec autant de naturel et sans qu'il le demande. Je caresse la joue de Jimmy et lui dis qu'il m'a fait honneur. Il rougit et me dit merci.

Je crois que Samir m'a trouvé la perle rare. De plus à son âge, sa croissance est terminée et il devrait garder cet aspect juvénile un bon nombre d "années.

Nous rentrons à la maison où nous attend un diner préparé par nos beurs de service.

(Pour éviter un élargissement trop constant, je le plugge avec l'engin d'exercice et lui dit de serrer son anus dessus. Ça m'a bien réussit, y'a pas de raison que ça fasse autrement avec lui).

JARDINIER

Valentine's approved

~~

+

[donnerpartyofone]

I took a nap and had this disturbing dream that I was trying to walk out of a cemetery, and a strange man started chasing me. I had the sense that there was a trail of violence behind him, and I ran for a long time back home. I lived alone in a large apartment in a peaceful suburban cul-de-sac. I became aware that murders had recently been committed in the neighborhood. A series of weird, intrusive men kept trying to talk to me through the sliding doors to my yard, or to get in and use my phone, and it bothered me that I didn't get a very good look at the man who chased me. Then this strange family showed up; they said they were related to some of the neighbors and had come for a party, but their behavior was so unnerving. I thought, is the killer in a cult or something? Eventually a man did get into my apartment to use the bathroom, and after a while I realized that he was actually in my bedroom in the dark, waiting for me to come look for him. I ran into the street where the police were taping off the yard across from me; someone new had been murdered. I chased after a cop with yards of police tape streaming around my legs like seaweed, trying to tell him that the killer was in my apartment and they had better come and trap him. I went with the cops to my apartment and there was some sort of confrontion, but the dream lost focus.

When I wrote this down in my dream journal (shut up!), I realized that the entire dream was based on an evening when my best friend and my husband and I watched TOO MANY COOKS and this movie CONGRATULATIONS! that everyone should see. Like literally watch it, it's so good. I was the only person I knew who had seen it for a long time and then it disappeared, I'm so happy it got reissued. It's even better than I remembered.

[bokatan]

💭 for Reed

[ Send me a for a 💭  drabble where my muse reveals something about either their past or some of their secrets. ]

They're in the process of gutting the decimated house at the end of the cul-de-sac when Reed spots a dust-coated cardboard box half-buried under a pile of debris. He's honestly shocked - he remembers how the house used to look so long ago, boxes piled up everywhere while he was in the process of sorting through them, but he wasn't expecting to actually find anything left. Apparently the "junk box" label scribbled in now-faded marker had actually deterred the scavvers and everything else that had torn through all of their belongings over the past few centuries. Reed kneels and quickly pulls the box out from the rubble it's been wedged under and grabs his utility knife to slice through the seams on the top. The cardboard's rotting and the tape's barely hanging on, but they've done their job at protecting the box's contents for much, much longer than anyone would've expected. He returns the utility knife to its sheath on the side of his boot and opens the box. He's not exactly disappointed, after all the box did say it was a junk box, but he's still a bit annoyed that this was the box that survived a nuclear fallout. Inside of it, there's a few mugs cushioned with mismatched towels, some books he doesn't recognize, and one of Margot's old harnesses with a few miscellaneous patches and pouches intended to attach to it. He pulls a few items out and gently sets them aside, only to change his mind on this box when he spots a familiar sheath at the bottom among a few scattered photographs. He doesn't have much use for brittle old mugs and faded books, but his old army dagger? That could be useful. As for the other items - he doesn't see any reason why Margot couldn't wear the harness now, and the photographs would be nice to have; he's not ready to deal with processing that yet, but she's in at least one of the photos and he's not going to just destroy a physical reminder like that. "You okay over there?" Preston calls from the other side of what was the house's front room once he notices that Reed's stopped working. "Yeah, just- found some old things over here." Reed replies. "Oh. You said you used to live here, right?" "Mhm. It was only for a month or so, but all of my stuff is- was here. Not like I had that much anyways, so it doesn't really matter." Preston doesn't reply, but his expression softens momentarily before he turns his attention back to the debris he was clearing. Reed carefully pockets the photographs and dagger, then closes the box and sets it aside to deal with later.

[munsins]

Music Boy - Eddie M.

Summary:After multiple failed dates and relationships you’ve given up dating all together until you bump into a cute metalhead at the music store you frequent who also happens to be the towns outcast.

Warnings: fluff, Eddie and reader being nervous and awkward, Eddie being Eddie

Characters: fem!reader, Robin Buckley, Eddie Munson.

FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED!!

You slide your lunch tray across the wooden table and sit down with your chin in your fist. "Listen, your dating life isn't that awful, you'll meet someone y/n." Robin says her mouth moving at 60 miles per second as she slides in next to you. Your dating life has been the hot subject since second period, but it's not the enchanted Disney movie you'd expected it to be. In fact, it's the entire opposite

You murmur, poking at the mystery meat on your lunch tray, "I don't know Robin, maybe I'm destined to be alone forever." Every date or relationship you've ever been in has been awful; the people were either trying to get in your pants or were just outright douches. You've experienced everything Hawkins has to offer and you don't want to live some depressing life with two kids, a husband you don't even love, and a house on the end of a cul de sac, “Listen that’s a bunch of bull and you know it I mean there’s nothing wrong with not being in a relationship.”

“Easy for you to say you're dating Vicky,” Robin shrugs her shoulders while grinning apprehensively. As she places your fork on the lunch plate, you roll your eyes at her in a huff. “You'll still find someone, so don't worry,” okay, yes. When it came to discussing your love life, Robin was constantly upbeat, and you were appreciative of her positivity since it gave you a lot more confidence in your ability to meet someone.

Before the conversation continued the bell rung signaling everyone to move on to their next class “so what are you doing after school” Robin gets up slinging her bag over her shoulder “just the usual wallowing in my own sadness and self pity” you shrug your shoulders with a sarcastic grin, Robin tilts her head at you and groans in response “fine, fine I’m stopping at the music store to get a few things then heading home” you and Robin begin to exit the cafeteria, the stench of sour milk and cheap imitation meat leaving your noses “sounds like a y/l/n afternoon to me.”

Robin sends you a smile and a wave before heading into class and you into yours, you take your seat at the back of the classroom slouching into your chair and fiddling with your pencil drowning out whatever bullshit the teacher is spewing out.

———

You enter the small music store in downtown Hawkins, opening the door as the bell above it chimes, and the aroma of the store and the tranquil music fill your senses giving you serotonin, You typically stop by whenever a new album by your favorite band is released or just to browse what they have in stock and pick what you like. The music store was moderately busy, with only a dozen or so people hanging around, mostly customers trying to get their hands on anything by Madonna, Bowie, and The Beatles.

However, you typically find yourself exploring the back of the store where all the vinyl and tapes from metal/rock bands lie mostly untouched. Your fingers skim through each row gently as your mind is entirely focused on finding something you fancy; as a result, you hardly notice anyone approaching you until the loud sound of squeaking shoes startles you out of your reverie, "Woah, holy shit, didn't mean to scare you." A tall boy with long hair and tattoos all covering his arms appeared in front of you. "No, no, you're okay." You talked softly, taking in more of his little features, like the maroon vest he was wearing with his name sewn into the top corner and pins of metal bands scattered on the fabric also the tag gun tight in his ring clad hand.

You look away from his hand and toward his eyes to see that he is still staring at you in shock. "I'm sorry I just didn't expect to see anyone back here well, there is the usual old head but I've never seen you here," he smirks as he approaches you while pulling vinyls from the stack tagging them. “Can’t say that I’ve seen you here either, usually it’s Otis manning the register.”

He peeks at you and your intent demeanor as you continue to flip through the rows of vinyls, "Yeah I'm new and Otis is out today I'm surprised he trusts me to take care of things by myself," he says with a huff as he tags the scarcely touched records. You pick out a Led Zeppelin album and chuckle to yourself, "That's a nice one, I have it on tape back at my house." You look up to find that he is now paying close attention to you, "Oh yeah? Which Led Zeppelin song is your favorite?”

You grin broadly as you rock the record back and forth, "wow, you're really putting me on the spot right now." Eddie leans against the shelf, deep in thought, "can't say that I have a favorite; I like a lot of their songs, but a favorite very hard." His mouth widens into a toothy grin as you return the smile, his smile lines becoming more obvious as his eyes crinkle slightly, "oh boooo cmon, really you don’t have a favorite?” You mock Eddie while tilting your head back sarcastically.

You both share a genuine laugh it soon dying down as you both get lost in each other’s eyes, You can't recall the last time you actually connected with a guy like this; typically, guys talk about themselves and the girls they want to bone (you, sadly, being one of them), but this brief interaction you had with him was one of the most sincere interactions you've had thus far, despite the fact that you didn't know him all that well.

Eddie soon blinks out of the trance shaking his head in embarrassment “I’m uhh, I’m Eddie by the way” he eagerly extends his hand for a handshake. “yeah I know it’s embroidered into your vest there” you point at the white stitched name on the vest “oh yeah right it is my bad” he bashfully raises his hand to the back of his neck rubbing it while avoiding eye contact with you.

You fumble around with the record in your hand and say, "I'm y/n," as Eddie raises an eyebrow and smiles slightly. "You go to Hawkins high right? Friends with Robin Buckley?” "Yes I do, and uhh yeah I'm friends with Robin she's basically my ride or die," you confess. "I'm not like a creep or anything like that we have a mutual friend group outside of school and one of the guys we're friends with is in my party," Eddie says, a tiny nervous blush forming on his cheeks.

“Your..party?” Your brows furrow at him, "oh! Yeah, I play Dungeons & Dragons with my friends; it's kind of like a fantasy game," Eddie says, rambling on about the foundations of his game and how he serves as their dungeon master.

“I’m surprised you’re even talking to me with me being the town ‘freak’ and all” he air quotes around freak as he rolls his eyes “I’ve heard your name through the halls and your tittle of freak devil worshipper but I’ve never believed it since I didn’t even know you at the time” Eddie gives you a sincere smile; he likes knowing that at least one person outside of his friend group doesn't see him as the terrible things people call him, whether it's to his face or through the halls.

You never agreed with what everyone called Eddie you’ve seen him around school but it was mostly for a split second none the more you always thought he was just misunderstood I mean if Robin knows him then he can’t be a terrible person.

You and Eddie chat some more, talking about music, school, just anything, standing in this music store talking to Eddie has been better than any date that you’ve been on, he was funny, charming, and passionate about the things he love “well I don’t wanna hold you up any longer so how about I ring that up for you and you can be on your way” He gestures to the record in your hands, and you look down surprised you're still holding it because you've been completely distracted by him “oh uhh yeah sure” you and Eddie walk towards the front of the store as he makes his way behind the counter.

You take out your wallet and give him the cash, "Oh, and keep the change," you say with the same grin that he had before. You're not sure what made you so anxious, but something about him made your heart beat quicker and your palms all sweaty. Eddie delivers you the record in a bag, and you shyly wave at him as you head out the door, "Hey, wait up!" You're caught off guard as Eddie leaps over the countertop and approaches you, "I know we just met and you can absolutely shoot me down, but I was umm wondering if you'd want to maybe go on a date?"

In anticipation of your response, Eddie crosses his arms over his body while fidgeting with the hem of his vest. Maybe this was your opportunity to finally have a successful date and possibly even develop a genuine relationship. As you continue to be silent, Eddie becomes anxious, "If you don't want to, that's great. I'm not trying to pressure you into anything; I just thought you were pretty and we like the same music." Eddie begins to ramble fiddling with his rings, his shyness making you smile “yes Eddie I would like to go on a date with you” Eddie stops his rambling as his eyes meet yours.

“Wait, really?” His eyes beam with a big smile on his face “oh shit uhh let me give you my number” He pats himself down in an effort to locate his notepad, then gestures towards the rear room “g’me one second I think I left it in the back” after that he darts towards the back which you assumed was Otis’ office and the break room, his head pops back out as he jogs towards you his loose curls bouncing as he walks.

He takes out a pen from his back pocket and writes down his number before handing you the piece of paper “here, uhh give me a call when you want no pressure of course and we can talk about that date” his excitement warms your heart, It's not often that a guy is this excited to go on a date with you, you admired his excitement so maybe this time will be different. “yeah I’ll definitely call you don’t worry” you pocket the piece of paper as you fiddle with the bag in your hand.

You glance up to find Eddie still grinning at you with his huge silly grin still covering his cute face. He shakes his head once he notices that he’s staring "Oh yeah, uhh, I'll see you later. Maybe at school or here again. Hopefully soon." You look down making eye contact with him through your eyelashes “don’t worry you’ll see me again Eddie” he smiles at that piece of information “Great, bye y/n.”

He gives you an open mouthed smile as he fiddles with the pen in his hand, you walk backwards towards the door with a wave before turning around and walking home. As you were leaving, though, you caught a glimpse of Eddie pumping his fist in the air in celebration , which made you giggle.

You've never made a guy as nervous as Eddie was, and it was cute. As you walk the remaining distance home, all you can think about is Eddie—when you'll talk to him again, whether he'll pick up the phone when you call, and so many other things. But the main thing was his smile—that big idiotic smile he mostly kept on his face the entire time.

———

You plop down on your bed kicking your feet in the air as you hold the phone up to your ear “Wait so you genuinely like this guy?” Robins muffled voice speaks through the receiver “well I don’t know if I like like him I just think he’s cute and kind and cute..” you trail off as your overly broad smile causes the apples of your cheeks to ache. “you already said cute y/n and you met him in the music store?” Robin shared the same amount of enthusiasm as you did “yeah! And he actually has good taste in music” you shift into your side playing with the hem of your shirt.

Robin ooo’s “so who is this cute, kind guy with good music taste” She pry’s making you smile even harder which you didn’t even know was remotely possible “his name is Eddie, you might know him he said you guys had a mutual friend group” You wind the phone line around your finger, “wait, Eddie as in Eddie Munson!” Robin squeals making you chuckle, you felt like a 14 year old girl talking about her crush to her friends at a sleep over “yeah he’s actually really sweet” you coo making Robin fake gag “well he seems kind of dorky and weird to me plus he always smells like cigarettes” you scoff and smack your lips “yeah whatever Rob” you chuckle.

You and Robin talk for another 20 minutes before she calls it a night and goes to bed. You’re sat on your bed reading a book, your eyes drift from the pages and to the little piece of folded paper, you grab it opening it to see Eddie’s phone number written in a messy and hurriedly manner a skull with heart eyes scribbled next to the digits, you peak at the clock it being 10pm you contemplated calling him afraid he might be asleep and you’ll be on the phone with an angry and sleepy Eddie.

The notion fumbles about in your head for another ten second before you pick up the phone and dial the number, the phone rings as you grow more anxious with each buzz it goes of for a while before you begin to feel defeated and give up until the phone stops ringing “Munson residence, how may I help you.” His voice is deep and raspy when he speaks into the receiver causing you to remain speechless “hello?” You snap out of it stumbling to speak. “Oh, uh hey Eddie it’s me y/n from the music store” your voice was gentle and nervous.

“Oh y/n hey!” You hear shuffling on the other side of the line causing your eyebrow to quirk up. “Wasn’t expecting you to call tonight” you can feel his smile through the phone which causes you to smile aswell “yeah I didn’t wanna seem desperate but I found the courage to call so here I am” you say, and he offers you a laugh in return.

You guys continue to talk throughout the night as it gets later and later. The conversation switched between various topics such as music, random stories from your childhoods, and you even learned that he's in a band, which you think is cool. He plays you a little bit of something he’s been working on before you eventually drift off to sleep with the phone steady on your pillow. Eddie soon notices the light snores and smiles to himself.

Before getting comfy in bed, he stretches his body, the noises of muted movement can be heard from your side of the line

He murmurs softly, "Goodnight sweetheart," before putting the phone on his bed and smiling as he closes his eyes letting the peacefulness of sleep soon consume him.

[2t2r]

10 étonnantes expériences avec du feu [vidéo]

Nouvel article publié sur https://www.2tout2rien.fr/10-etonnantes-experiences-avec-du-feu-video/

10 étonnantes expériences avec du feu [vidéo]

[la-isla-blanca]

- suggestion de faceclaim pour le pré-lien traum und existenz

tw - mention d'alcoolisme

kaito ça date, kaito ça prend racine dans des vieilles théories du complot fumeuses et des jets de jouets par-dessus la balustrade pour voir lequel survivra à l'apesanteur. kaito c'est l'autre côté de la pièce, c'est un micmac complémentaire, lui aime pas lire, elle elle adore lire, lui passe mille ans sur l'instru, elle crache des paroles comme un missile qui fend la mer en deux. kaito ça a été aussi celui qu'a joué au plus con, qui s'est retrouvé alcoolo à force d'accepter les verres lors des soirées, qui finissait pété à midi, qui s'est retrouvé à pas pouvoir assumer un concert. lulu l'a dégommé, lulu l'a dézingué, lulu l'a embrouillé comme jamais, dans l'inquiétude pour son pote mais aussi le flippe que le contrat pète entre la maison de disque et eux. la semaine d'après il avait son cul bien enfoncé dans une chaise en plastique chez les AA, et elle l'a accompagné lulu, elle l'a accompagné en lui serrant parfois la main. lulu c'est à la vie à la mort, lulu c'est les résidus d'un chaos doux qui tape des fous-rires à deux heures du matin.

[arsonsara]

[The phone rings twice, but in the middle of its third ring the phone is answered] Howdy dowdy, you've reached the home of one Arsons Ara!~ With whom am I speaking to on this loverly day?

[Silence] ...Hullo? Anyone there? You weren't spooked by my name, were you? Oh well, don't worry, it's just my internet handle! I don't actually set stuff on fire if that's what your worried about. I made it up a long time ago when I was a teenager, it even has this whole meaning I ascribed to it with the constellation Ara and...Hehe, gosh it's silly to think about now but the naming scheme was based off this old web-comic I used to read. But, that's a long story, and I don't wanna ramble for too long! Still, is there anything I can help you with? [Silence] Hulloooo?...You theeeere? I didn't make you nervous, did I?...

[Silence] Hmmm...Well, someones got to be on the other end of the line. And it'd be such a shame to just hang up now, I don't get calls like this as often as I'd like...Oh! Did you just need someone to listen to, stranger? Is that why you called? It's okay if it was, I understand that feeling. Sometimes it's just nice to just listen to someone chat about what's on their noggin.~ ...Actually, now that I think about it, you called at the perfect time! Something happened not too long ago, and it's been rattling around in my head for such a long time! Iffin' you don't mind, I think it'd be really fun to talk about it with someone else! It's about this cute little puppet show that some folks found! It's all really cute and charming, but there isn't a lot of information about it, seems like it's become lost media. I'unno why, but I just can't seem to stop thinking about it lately! And I think it'd be a lot of fun to talk about it! But let me know if you need anything else or if you also wanna talk, okay stranger? [Silence] ...Well, I...suppose you're still there! Might as well get started.

[Arson clears her throat, and there's the sound of her straightening her dress for a few moments as she hums and has to herself.]

Welcome Home is an Anti-Fiction, Alternate Reality Game based on a fictional lost media puppet show of the same name. Created by the artist Clown, also known as PartyCoffin, alongside a small team of artists and voice actors, the bulk of Welcome Home's story is delivered through a website that was released to the public on February 16th (according to research I did on Clown's tumblr anyhow, but i'm no historian or Tom Scott, so take my sources with a grain of salt and trust that I try my best. =w='') and details the Welcome Home television show that aired in the early 70s.

The Website is in an old-web style, reminiscent of the Geocities era. In the fiction of the story, it is run by a team of anonymous lost media preservationists called the Welcome Home Restoration Project, and the WHRP hosts information regarding the show itself, including a Biography page for all of the characters, Secondary media for the show like books, audio from vinyl and tape recordings, promotional art, speculative recreations for certain aspects of the show, and News sections for the WHRP to keep readers posted on their most recent findings and updates. On the surface, Welcome Home is a colorful, cheery & cartoony childrens puppet show, heavily inspired by shows created by The Jim Henson Company, such as The Muppets, Sesame Street & Fraggle Rock. The show took place in a small cul-de-sac neighborhood called Home, (Not to be confused with the character of the same name, Home, who is a literal house) and focused on the residents within it. Each episode would start with the main character of the show, Wally Darling, introducing the audience to the happenings in Home and the general theme of the episode. As the episode continued, the audience would follow along as they got to see the rest of the cast interact with one another in delightfully quaint & cutesy hi-jinks, alongside animated breaks and story book segments. However, deeper within the website itself, there's a darker story being told. Astute visitors will find doodles seemingly being drawn out of thin air, leading to macabre recordings of Wally Darling speaking to the audience. Bugs lead to video recordings that aren't listed on the Lost Media sections of the website, of characters from the show interacting with each other, only to cut out just as Wally is mentioned. Eye symbols continue to crop up, Deeper secrets of the WHRP become revealed where the line between reality and fiction start to blur, and among it all, is You. Wallys best friend.

That's all pretty much a surface level introduction to Welcome Home. If you're curious and want to experience everything Welcome Home has to offer yourself, I suggest you visit the Welcome Home website and just start exploring! Anything I could summarize, abridge or describe wouldn't even be half as substantive as what's actually on the website itself, and I feel like doing so would be a disservice to Welcome Homes narrative. Do be warned ahead of time that it IS a horror story dealing in themes of unreality and scopophobia when you dig deeper, so it's good to bare that in mind going in. That being said, Welcome Home's horror aspects are very subtle and understated. I wouldn't call Welcome Home R-Rated, if anything i'd say it's a wonderful introduction to the Horror genre for those who are easily scared, but i'll get more into that later. For everyone else: Harken and listen! For a nerdy trans girl is about to gush at length about topics of niche interest, literary devices of the genre and dissection galore! First things first, I might as well start with how I was introduced to Welcome Home. Which is to say, I don't remember! All I can remember is that I found it, and as soon as I did it sunk its little felt claws into the synapses of my brain and didn't let go. Which, considering the subject matter, is pretty fitting! But as soon as I did, I was enraptured. I found Welcome Home prior to the July 22nd Update, which was the largest thus far since I started writing this, so there was a lot less content to be found than there is now.

Best way I can describe what it felt like, is that it was like watching the Pilot Episode to Welcome Home. And I mean that in the best way possible. All that existed was various bits of art of all the characters, their biographies, a few secrets, and a final page that pulled back the curtain on Welcome Home being an ARG and more of its sinister secrets. At the time, I was entertained and intrigued, but there wasn't enough content for me to properly sink my teeth into. Which was understandable, when Welcome Home started, it seemed as though it was just Clown who was at the helm as the sole captain of the ship! However despite their being a lack of content at the start, what was there made me fall in love. One of the aspects about Welcome Home that I want to sing the praises of to the high heavens is how genuine it is. Lemme break it down like this: Mascot Horror is very popular nowadays, ever since the boom that Five Nights At Freddy's created. Take a nostalgic element from a lot of people's childhoods, twist it on it's head and turn it into a horror story, and go from there.

Now going into the deeper aspects of Mascot Horror, it's origins and effect on popular culture and the Horror Genre at large isn't even a can of worms, it'd be more like digging my hands straight into the Earth to gather every Worm to put on a Worm Boat, Noahs Ark style. BUT I'll summarize a bit, alongside my own personal opinions, in hopes to give some perspective. Now, I can't speak for everyone, but from what i've seen Mascot Horror doesn't have a good reputation at large. Five Nights at Freddy's jumped the shark and sold-out and that's JUST the games themselves, Bendy and The Ink Machine fell flat on its face and the scandals behind the scenes were numerous, Hello Neighbor was a desperate attempt to follow a fad and failed its way into success...somehow??? And to top it all off, Baldis Basics, a game that was intended to be a parody of Mascot Horror, started selling figurines in toy shops to kids because it stopped becoming a parody once children who thought it wasn't a parody actually took interest. Whilst one could argue the early era of FNAF held weight and still hold up to this day (and I wouldn't even argue against that myself), there are a lot of examples of Mascot Horror that are disingenuous, desperate attempts for some level of fame or fortune. If the media you create consists of something targeted towards kids, but also has horror elements for adults, you cast a wider net for your audience, and sometimes that's all people see. Welcome Home is different in one major way, and is one if the most fascinating aspects of it, and i'll describe it in a single sentence: Welcome Home didn't need to be a horror story. Now this isn't a criticism of Welcome Home, or me saying that it's Horror elements are superfluous! Far from it! But so many of Welcome Homes surface elements, in regards to the show being a piece of lost media, are created with such gentle, intentional, home-made style care and genuine love for the story of Welcome Home that I believe if you wiped away all the horror elements of Welcome Home and kept everything else as is, it would still have an audience. I mean, a fictional lost media puppets show with colorful characters, wonderfully crafted art, voice actors putting in their absolute best to portray such a saccharinely sweet cast of characters, with the melancholy of a majority of it being lost to time, juxtaposed by the love, the TRUE kind of love, that it takes for a group of people to recover and find the most they can about a show they might've grown up with? A show YOU might've grown up with? I mean come on, that's so fun and adorable! There ABSOLUTELY would've been an audience for that! Would it be as big as Welcome Home's audience is in reality, horror elements and all? Whilst I can't say for certain, my opinion is that it probably wouldn't. Not for a lack of effort, but as I said before: Mascot Horror casts a wider net. The demographic is far larger if it can cater to a younger audience and an older audience. That's just how advertising works sometimes, as dour and dull as that is to say.

But in spite of that, I believe wholeheartedly that there would've been an audience for that and that the sheer uniqueness of the concept would've sold a lot of people on it. Think about it: When was the last time you heard of an ARG that wasn't horror adjacent? What if you wanted an ARG that WASN'T a horror story? It absolutely would've worked, because the amount of commitment, effort, time, talent and love, pure unadulterated love that's poured into by the Welcome Home Team shines as bright as Sally Starlet herself!

However, as I said previously, I don't believe the horror elements are to Welcome Home's detriment. If anything, the fact that Welcome Home could've existed perfectly fine without a secret horror angle hidden deeper within, makes the horror feel far more tangible and real. As I said previously, one of Mascot Horrors tools of the trade is taking something familiar and nostalgic and corrupting it from within. FNAF worked so well because a lot of kids in the 80's and 90's went to places like ShowBiz Pizza or Chuck E. Cheese, and people who grew up with them tended to be in two camps:

They either looked back on their childhood memories fondly and yearn for the day they were 7, having their birthday party with Chucky & Friends, playing in the arcades and taking home a prize with their hard-earned tickets.

or

They were absolutely and utterly goddamn terrified by the animatronics and it gave them a fun new phobia. Like me!

That was extremely fertile ground for a horror story, and part of the reason it worked so well is because it played at audiences nostalgia and twisted it into something darker. It showed a world where being afraid of the animatronics up on stage wasn't irrational. It could potentially save your life. It took the memories the audience had of places like that and said in a low, gravelly tone of voice, rife with malicious intent, "What if?"

That sticks with people, and it works best when the nostalgic analogue the story is trying to replicate feels real! That there are people in the story who don't know they're in a horror story. Parents that don't know celebrating their childs birthday party at Freddys could harm them. People who don't know that Freddys wasn't going out of business due to lack of funds or a gas leak, but for a reason even darker than that. People who don't know why the animatronics smelled like rotting meat and never will.

Because the more that line is blurred, the more the audience can suspend their disbelief, and the more it drives them to want to know more. To dig deeper into that abyss, to truly hear the wails that come from within, even if they shouldn't. However, the issue that most Mascot Horror falls into is that the false-media that it creates feels flat and lacking of substance. To give an example, we'll use Bendy and The Ink Machine. As opposed to Five Nights at Freddy's using 90's Animatronics and Arcades, Bendy used 1920's Rubberhose animation. And one of Bendys greatest flaws is that it never used that inspiration for anything more than set dressing. You could take the cartoon aesthetic away from Bendy, and all it would be is your standard "Someone summoned Demons for their own gain and it went tits up" story. Aesthetically, Bendy didn't have any legs to stand on because the subject matter of Bendy the Dancing Demon and his silent cartoons didn't feel real or substantive! Bendy didn't feel like they were a cartoon character that had been corrupted from within by demons. Bendy felt like a cartoon character that was purposefully made to harbor demons because the writers couldn't think of a way to make Bendy stand out in a vacuum outside the horror elements.

Early Era FNAF worked because it was carried by a strong aesthetic, clever arcade game-play that created tension and anxiety, and a simple-but-effective horror mystery underlying it all that engaged its audience and made it far easier for them to suspend their disbelief and play in the space. Welcome Home does this as well, but it employs a different tactic: By making the show a piece of lost media, it evokes a curiosity that any other piece of lost media invokes. Starting off with cookie crumbs before building up to finding the cookie itself, but it's broken into pieces with large chunks bitten out, and the trail only gets more fascinating and crummier as it goes.

However, some folks will look at those cookie chunks and think to themselves "How does it taste?" They hold up a chunk to their mouth, take a bite, and are met with the comfort of a home-made chocolate chip cookie, the sweetness inciting them and giving them a sense of comfort and warmth. And just as it started, its gone. All that's left is a void where once there was joy, and a trail of crumbs, and the question of why someone would destroy such a wonderful cookie in the first place? Was it out of malice? Or was it for our own good? But there's no other way to know but to follow the trail.

THAT'S what Welcome Home is. Welcome Home is the metaphor cookie! It's Horror Elements supplement the Lost Media content, and also does something that i've not seen any other Lost Media ARG or Mascot Horror do, much less do successfully: Employ empathy. The cast of Welcome Home are all sweethearts, every last one of them. They're caring, they're funny, they all have different quirks that bounce off of each-other in ways that make them feel like a community just bursting with love! Which makes the darker elements feel less scary and more...sad.

All of Welcome Home's horror elements are draped in melancholy, information getting lost, memories forgotten, friends disappearing, loosing part of yourself to a hungry maw whilst the parts of you that are left wonder "Where did they go? Am I all alone now?" And that feeling couldn't be portrayed more perfectly than everyone's host whose the most, Wally Darling. Wally is special, not just because he's a curios little goober who is fascinated by everything around him, but because there's something that separates him from the rest of the cast. He's the only one who exists in the present tense. Lemme explain:

We only learn about the rest of the cast of Welcome Home in past-tense. In old audio recordings, lost story books, discarded animation cels, they don't exist within the present anymore. They only exist in the past. But Wally, darling Wally Darling, is different. Throughout the website you can find crayon drawings that materialize from nothing, almost as if they're drawing themselves or...being drawn by someone else. Clicking on them leads to small audio recordings of Wally talking to the listener, about how "He can see you", how "He has more eyes than he used to", and wanting to be "Let inside."

All of these audio recordings contain a level of dread, yes, but beneath that, a level of desperation as well. If you go through the website, you'll learn that one of Wally's core character traits is curiosity. He blythley asks questions that most people wouldn't, always fascinated by the world around him in a multitude of ways.

Now, Welcome Home isn't finished. Far from it, I get the feeling that it's only just starting! But with that in mind, there are a lot of things we don't know about the story and whats going on, but one of the core themes is lost memories and trying to find them again. A lot of the WHRP Staff is shown to be desperate for answers, that Welcome Home is absorbing a part of their mind and that they can't let go until they find out whats going on.

And this is only a theory, but I think the exact same can be said for Wally. Wally, as I said before, is the only character who exists in the present tense. He left drawings on the Guest Book for people who left their mark, and the image files of his drawings are him responding to the Guest in question. He's talking to them. He's talking to us. He sees us. He hears us. But only faintly. Only briefly. And he doesn't know why.

But chief among that? He's alone. None of his friends are here anymore, all that remains are the spaces they used to occupy. All that remain are their ghosts...and us. He's reaching out just as much as we are reaching towards him, and neither of us know what we're going to find on the other side. Or if it'll be worth it. Because in truth, Wally is probably just as scared as we are.

"But Arson!" I pretend to hear you cry because you're still not talking, and that's okay I don't want to pressure you but I need a hypothetical straw-man to bounce off of so i'm just going to pretend that you or someone else is refuting my statements so that I can further make a point down the road, but again I want to reiterate it's okay if you don't want to talk I don't want to pressure you and also thank you for listening to me this far in it's very sweet of you!

[Arson takes a large, exaggerated exhale after saying that entire run-on-sentence without taking a breath]

"But Arson!" You cry! "How do we know Wally can be trusted? How do we know he wont do something bad?!" Well i'm glad I am pretending you asked and also glad you're playing in the space! In truth, we don't know if Wally has ulterior motives, or if we're even talking to Wally or we're talking to """Wally""". There isn't enough conclusive evidence for us to figure out his motives, and there are hints that they could potentially have darker machinations. Some of the art that existed prior to the July 22nd Update, on the page that pulled back the curtain, showed art of Wally puppeting around an empty Barnaby walk-around-puppet without it's head on, cheering about how he "Made a dog", and one in particular where he can be seen in the Baphomet pose. However, considering Welcome Home has solidified its concepts more as the series has gone on, it's uncertain whether or not these pieces of art can be considered canon.

But at the same time: We don't know why Wally can see us! How Wally is able to hear our faint whispers, answer us back when we call his name, find the secrets that he himself is potentially leaving behind, or why video files suddenly cut out as soon as another character starts to mention Wally by name. Wally could be under the effects of some sort of curse that he's trying to use as a blessing, or he could be a wolf in sheeps clothing! We don't know!

But the aspect that makes him sympathetic, that makes me believe he's not just a villain, are his friends and how he interacts with them. To the audience, Wally may be some mysterious machevellian entity pushing past the barriers of the fourth wall, but to Barnaby? Frank, Julie, Poppy, Sally, Eddie, Howdy & Home? He's their neighbor! He's their friend! And he acts like it, too! He may be socially awkward and a bit dry, but you can truly tell that he cares for and loves his neighbors! His friends! Us!

Whether or not that love has been twisted, whether the road to heaven paves the way to hell, is yet to be seen, but the clues we do have don't really point at Wally being a traditional horror villain! An antagonist? Maybe, but he's yet to show any outward malice. Thus far...he's just shown hes scared. And all he can hear is us. And he wants to be let in...so...so badly. One last thing i'll go over before I wrap this up is the medium in which Welcome Home tells its story: The Website! Welcome Home's website is chock full of interactive pages full of audio, video, written stories, and secrets to uncover and find. Whether you're interacting with the lost media aspect of the story, or digging deeper into the ARG, there is always a sense of active participation on the audiences part. Like when a character in a childrens show asks a question and leaves a beat for the kids at home to answer, Welcome Home encourages and expects audience participation! You're just as much of a neighbor as the characters in the show! It's engaging, it feeds curiosity and it's a fantastic way to ensure audience engagement! It reminded me a lot of how HypnoSpace Outlaw gameified the process of exploring the early internet and turned it into a puzzle game! Honestly, If the budget is there, I could easily see Welcome Home's website being turned into a stand-alone video game removed from a deprecated browser in the same way Hypnospace works! But funnily enough, whilst the comparison to Hypnospace was what came to my mind first, the more I thought about it, the more Welcome Home reminded me a lot of Homestar Runner! Now, I already spent a large part of this essay/review/ramble/i-want-to-talk-about-something-so-i'm-going-to-write-seven-pages-or-more-about-it-thingy and expected my readers to at least have passing knowledge about FNAF & Bendy through cultural osmosis.

And considering how niche Homestar Runner is in the year 2023, i'm not going to go in-depth about it here, but to put it in very, very, VERY small perspective: Homestar Runner was a flash-cartoon series that began in 2000 and ran through most of 2010 (and still does update from time to time) that hosted all of its content on a single website made by its creators, The Brothers Chaps. One of Homestar Runners defining features were its Easter Eggs, that you could wander around the website and find secret pages and games filled with even more gags and jokes! Now, Homestar Runner wasn't an ARG, and it didn't really have "Lore Drops" in the same way that Welcome Home does except for that one time.

But a lot of its interactive elements and Easter eggs functioned very similarly to how Welcome Home tells it story! Which is a really creative way to iterate on how Homestar Runner worked! Now, I don't know if Welcome Homes interactive website was inspired by Homestar Runner, and my comparisons aren't meant to debase either Welcome Home or Homestar, I just find it fascinating how two different types of stories can use the same interactive elements to completely different effect. That being said, no piece of media is without its flaws, and Welcome Home can sometimes be a bit...obtuse when it comes to its secrets. Specifically in finding them, there are a few secrets that feel too hidden and their solutions too cryptic. The Safe Puzzle comes to mind, for those that know. I wouldn't have ever found that if I wasn't given a hint, because I essentially had to pixel-hunt for the one clickable link in a completely featureless white void. And maybe it's just me, but the answer to the Safe Puzzle felt a little unsatisfying. I essentially had the answer, but without spoiling the puzzle itself, I had to abbreviate the answer instead of writing it all out, and there's no way I would've figured that out on my own.

As for anything else I could criticize, I feel like they aren't substantial enough criticisms to warrant mentioning, especially considering how Welcome Home is still in the process of being told. It wouldn't be fair for me to correct a storyteller when they're still in the middle of telling the story.

To get more personal, i'll end it off with this: During the early stages of the Welcome Home website being up, it had a Guest Book, like how old websites would have one, where people who visited the website could leave their name and a little message for people to find. Since the July 22nd update, the Guest Book had been closed. Whether this was for a Lore reason, or simply to prevent excess traffic to the website slowing things down (Welcome Home is an independent project, after-all) people can't sign the Guest Book anymore, but they left the remaining signatures up for history's sake and...

I was able to sign it before it was closed. On Page 3, you can find me, playing in the space and pretending I grew up with Welcome Home as a kid. Wally if you're reading this, I'm very very sorry, I lied. I didn't grow up with your show, but I wish I did! I just thought it was a game of pretend. I was telling the truth when I said Julie was my favorite though, so I hope that makes up for it a little. Gomen nasai.

And something about that...it feels special. I was able to make my tiny little mark on Welcome Home and how much I loved it. And there's something magic about that, but sad all at the same time. For whatever reason the Guest Book closed is understandable, and I feel it would be indignant of me to tell them to open it back up, but i'm sad that there are some folk who won't get to have the chance I did.

I didn't even know it would be a "chance". In my mind, the Guest Book was going to stay open forever. It was always going to be there, and anyone could get their chance to leave their personal mark on Welcome Home. But now that's gone, and all that remains is what me and everyone else left behind. And I can't help but get this small, lingering feeling that maybe I could've left something else behind. But we can't go back, we can only go forwards and we can only live with what little remains...

Funny, how that works, isn't it?

---------

[Arson lets out a fluterry exhale, almost as if they're reminiscing on something.]

...Good golly, Miss Molly, I sure did go on for a long while, didn't I? I suppose I can't help myself, give me enough time and i'll start gushing about my favorite types of stationary or the stitches on my favorite skirt for another hour!

[Arson giggles] Oh jeez-louise, I should probably go get some tea, sometimes I just talk so long I almost loose my voice! I'm sure my arm isn't feeling very happy having me hold up the phone to my face for so long...

[Another bout of silence, broken up for a moment by the sound of Arson letting out a melancholy sigh]

Thank you for listening, though...I-if you're still there...

I hope you're still there. I guess I...don't really know if you were ever there to begin with but...I guess it's...fun to pretend sometimes. ...Goodbye, stranger...and...thanks for listening.

[Arson hangs up the phone]

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If you want to visit the neighborhood, go to: https://www.clownillustration.com/welcome-home

If you want to learn more about your neighbors, and learn about the people who made it, go to: https://www.clownillustration.com/from-me-to-you

If you want to help out your neighbors, and have a dime to spare, please support them at: https://ko-fi.com/partycoffin

If you want to know who drew the art of the cute trans girl, please visit: https://twitter.com/butlerkitty_

[zerodaryls]

4, 27, 37

4. What you think of when someone says "home".

Probably just my room, maybe specifically my bed and sleeping lol. Or some vague images of coziness, that kinda pass through my brain like ripples in water, of like... curling up with a blanket on a couch and reading a book in warm light, or a warm-colored kitchen... lots of warmth and coziness, idk.

27. Your earliest memory.

Tough to say because I had a VHS tape of my first year of life with different holidays and stuff so I think half the time when I'm "remembering" those moments it's just me remembering watching my baby videos lol. Uhh... first thing I remember outside of that was my childhood home before any of my siblings were born; I lived in a cul-de-sac from when I was like 3 to 7 I think. So hmm... first memory that comes to mind is being around 3 or 4 in my room and kneeling in front of my bookcase and looking at a postcard of young Anakin with his little pod racing helmet on from Episode I and just staring at it like O_O (because at that age I actually crushed on people my age instead of old men, lmao).

37. What inspires you/keeps you going each day?

Golly. Uh. Idk? It's less inspiration/motivation and more just like... that's just what you do? You gotta keep going? But what helps me not want to uhh give it all up, is remembering that life is a game and none of this is Real and it's just a lil learning journey for our souls so like there's literally no way to fail at life because every experience adds potential to grow and expand and yada yada and anyway we could be in a simulation for all we know so why not just vibe with it and find joy wherever I can and just be a nice person with my lil weird quirks until I go to the Great Beyond and see what the fuck is behind the veil.