#(also it somehow sounds creepier in writing)

[lilacsareinbloomagain]

Ik you said you’re on break but that’s okay! I can wait lmao

I’m obsessed with your yandere lu writings. I would love a yandere Time x fem reader where he like extra creeps on reader? I’m talking like spying on them n shit and maybe stealing an article of clothing just bc it smells like them

Lord help me that sounds so weird

Why am I like this

Help

Thank you so much for requesting for my boy Time!

Notes: No no I like your way of thinking, give me your worst. Me, personally, I can be way worse than that lol

In fact, I may have accidentally made this creepier than I meant to, idk

By the way, when I said underpants in this I meant those white pants thing Link uses, which is probably called tights or something, but I didn't want you guys to read this and imagine reader with, like, fishnets by accident lmao

Time has anxiety and I'll not elaborate

I was gonna post this tomorrow, but ya know

TWs: Yanderism, stalking, suggestiveness, clothing stealing.

Yandere! LU! Time x Reader

In a way, Time was like a cat.

There was no way you could just ignore random articles of your clothes going missing every time you went to bath.

No matter where you went to clean yourself, it was like one part of your outfit was picked out by hand and evaporated, be it your undershirt, underpants, socks, and sometimes even your underwear!

You tried everything to prevent it, hiding your clothes, setting up traps… You only drew the line when it came to anything to do with poison, since you couldn't bear to possibly end up killing an innocent animal just for the sake of clothes.

Even if said clothes somehow always ended up randomly returning unscathed to the rest of your laundry.

Time and time again, this topic was brought up in conversations with the men you traveled alongside. Yet, for some reason, the matter was also time and time again swept under the rug. It never got solved, neither did it ever get discussed, more often than not.

Starkly different from your point of view, Time found it pretty cute how you got all fussy over some little clothes, clothes which he could easily just make you throw away and buy new ones, it's not like he was lacking the rupees for it, after all.

Yet, he couldn't find it within himself to keep pressing on that matter, not when you looked just so embarrassed protesting against the idea of throwing away your under clothes, stressing about how comfortable your clothes were and about how they were your favorite because of that exact reason.

From what he's noticed, you barely ever wore anything else, no matter how many clothes they could offer you, which was proof of just how much you adored that outfit, each part that composed it having been carefully thought out before being picked out by your hand back when they first went to the market to look for an appropriate Hyrulean attire for you.

It was more than obvious by now that you weren't planning on getting rid of it any time soon.

Still, despite all your best attempts to keep your clothes safe, you couldn't really stop them from randomly disappearing, that is, unless you stopped bathing, and that was something you obviously couldn't even consider doing.

So, you simply sighed with resolution as you took off your clothes to once again go into the river next to the camp, wanting to wash off any grime that may have rubbed on you from the last battle the Links went through before you guys left for the next village.

A little ways down in the same river, you knew the other men were washing themselves, that way, a scream would be all they needed know to come over to help you, should anything happen.

Not that anything had ever happened to you while you were bathing.

You kind of felt like you were being watched, but then again, you learned to not pay attention to that, after all, your brain always seemed to like playing tricks on you, be it making you think you saw the shadows in the corner of your eye moving, or strange noises coming from bushes, all of which always proved to be absolutely nothing at all. Especially the strangely distinctive smell of Time rubbing off on your clothes...

Besides, whenever you looked around yourself to see if your senses were correct, you'd only be able to hear the calm silence of the river waters, almost as if the fish itself held back from swimming every time you tensed up.

The regular calming ambiance noises returned when you finally stopped being paranoid, going back to washing yourself with a relieved sigh, knowing the feeling of being watched was just a product of your tricky mind.

Sound doesn't travel much underwater. Should it be sounds of heavy breathing, sounds of something much larger than the river fish swimming, or even the heavy sounds of metal boots sinking into the sandy floor of the river with every step their wearer took.

Time observed with certain amusement as you walked around the shallow part of the river, your head just above the surface, your feet dangling dangerously near the deeper part. One wrong step and you could risk drowning.  

However, you seemed to be having fun while cleaning yourself, enjoying the cool, clean water. The elder, though, was having his own fun watching you.

He had to give it to you though, no matter what you did, your movements were always so captivating to him. He had already seen a lot in his life, many races, creatures and even monsters. Yet you had such a… Human way of behaving. Even if humans were so alike hylians, you still seemed different in a way, a very good way in his eyes.

What was even more interesting to him was the fact that you were still different from the other humans he'd met through his life.

More often than not your actions were unpredictable and random, not at all serious, it was like you somehow weren't very phased after getting kicked out of whatever universe you originally belonged in and into another. An universe that was extremely dangerous and distinct from yours. His universe.

You were very, very far from your home, yet he could still see some of it in the way you spoke, behaved and reacted to the things and beings around you.

Sometimes, he'd catch himself becoming infatuated again with the stuff that he was already used to, simply because you seemed so surprised and excited by them. 

Things he saw in his everyday life and just happened to ignore. Places, people, animals, creatures, plants, you name it. You gave him a renewed view of life, the whole "enjoy the small things in life" a concept so simple that still managed to make him feel truly alive again.

When he was with you he felt like Hylia and the Golden Goddesses themselves were paying him back for all heroic deeds he performed. In his eyes, you saved him.

In no time, watching the stars with you became a new routine, you were always so interested in them, yet still didn't seem to mind when he preferred to do something else, as to avoid looking at the moon.

Therefore, counting and catching fireflies was the next best thing.

And before he even noticed, he had bought an extra satchel at the market just so he could collect and buy those things that reminded him of you, things he noticed you pointing out whenever you saw. Pretty rocks, shiny crystals, colorful shells, and even those silly little trinkets that, in his eyes were useless, yet brought happiness to yours.

You'd even managed to make him blush the other day, when you told him he was acting like a cat, placing gifts by your bedroll at night, while you were asleep.

Yes, you made him blush. Him, The elder, The Hero Of Time that was also The leader their group, a group made up of the strongest men known in the history of Hyrule.

But, in a way, you were actually correct. 

Cats are very attached to their favorite person, enough to follow them around and watch them do the most simple things, like sleeping, or bathing.

He didn't feel like admitting to those things though, especially not to stealing your clothes.

At first, he assured himself that he was doing all that watching just to make sure you were safe, after all, bathing time was the only moment of the day when you were “fully alone” or so you thought. Time would never forgive himself if you accidentally got hurt because of his lack of attention to you, even if the “hurt” in question was merely a scratch on your knee from accidentally slipping while bathing.

He knew better than anyone that too much peace meant something bad could happen at any time, and too little peace was even worse! Therefore, there was no middle ground, you needed to be protected at all times. And the fact he also got a little fun out of guarding you didn't hurt anyone. After all, what the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel.

He didn't even try lying to himself about stealing your clothes, he wasn't that delusional, after all, liking your smell didn't sound like too good of an excuse to tell you, should you find out about that little habit of his.

In a way, he wasn't even hidden right now, per say, he was just not in plain view. 

In fact, sometimes even hoped you saw him, so that he'd be able to stop just watching and join you already.

After all, you wouldn't be able to get hurt if he was right there beside you, right?

Let him keep pretending that's the only reason he wanted to join you in the bath.

#tw: yandere #yandere x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #linked universe x reader #yandere link x reader #lu time #lu time x reader #yandere lu time #yandere lu time x reader

[smilingangel582]

Right right right! Also I accidently deleted someone's request for oshi no ko... I think they wanted to do one together with me hehe...

Sorry buddy pls send me another ask... I'm so clumsy! Teehee

Anyway, I'll write one as a sorry

Soooo watch Oshi no ko the new anime

Soooooo warning spoilers alert as always I saay!!!

Btw way have I ever told i aquamarine, and midnight blue are my fav colours geeeheee u know why I love him!

Ai always had to be cheerful around them. Aquamarine Hoshino, looked at his own childish form as he had been reborn as her child. He enjoyed it to such a great extent but then again, he had so many troubles with it despite his mentality being of an adult more older than Ai.

He watched his twin sister Ruby, the clingy otaku, who's more creepier than himself. Her side eyes showed rivalry and she had more affection as a girl. Not like Aqua desired any...

He began watching the room and rolling over like any baby, but then Ai lifted him up.

"Aww, my little Aqua is more grown up than me!!! Riiiight?" She teasingly giggled now spinning him around. He didn't find much thrill in it but then again her smile was alluring.

Ruby was alseep, so they were alone this time. Seeing how she was petting him and cuddling him, he felt anxious and had concerns for his mental rights. This could be harassment for his part, but in appearance is a motherly love.

Gaaah! God, why did you make me have memories now of all time! Aqua huffed now.

Ai pouted. "Are you upset, baby?"

Aqua widened his eyes realising a mistake he made, shaking his head he gave a smile and a grin that was childish enough.

"Aww so adorable, thats my Aqua, cuter than most boys!"

He blushed but then jumped at the tingling touch at his sides.

"Oh... ohh?" She teased more."Are we ticklish?"

It's strange how Gorou was actually ticklish in his previous life but somehow assumed he grew out of it, but it's been a while since he's been tickled like this.

He curled to her side to escape the touch, unintentionally being a child for his appearance.

"Well, Ruby has her laughter and bubbly joy despite not being ticklish, but I guess it's luck that you..." she poked his belly again "happened to be sensitive... rwaaar! Tickle monster's attack!"

Mostly, Aqua's squeals and laughter made Ruby open her eyes from her nap. Speaking of Ruby, Aqua was bewildered that someone of her personality was not in the slightest ticklish!

"Mahaha... hahaha, maa..." he was embarrassed by that unwilling sound he said to call her. She was more joyed by it and buried her nose into his belly again "kawaiii (cutee) kawaiii needed Aquaaaa chaan!"

Aqua noticed how Ruby was snickering at him but then Ai picked her up too who was clueless to why she wasn't ticklish.

Disappointed by that Ai's purple eyes glimmering softly "Aaah seems Aqua inherited Ruby's ticklishness as well... which is why he's this sensitive"

"Oh, I'm gonna enjoy that, oni chan!" Ruby giggled making Aqua uneasy as he was constantly being picked on by his little sister from then on.

At least he made Ai smile...

That's what's worth of all this humiliation.

#ai #aqua #ruby #oshi no ko tickle fic #lee!aqua #ler!ai #ruby hoshino #aqua hoshino #ai hoshina

[joshisurcrush]

''The Fault in our Stars'' by John Green

🌻

Gnome-Review that barely scratches the surface because I don't have much to say (nothing new on this blog LMAO). 

The Fault In Our Stars gets an 8 on the Josh-Index for getting my hopes up and then kicking me in the balls. Metaphorically.

The book is about cancer, and it's not super-cliché or anything. Sure, chronically ill girl falls for chronically ill edgy boy. This story did it nicely somehow. 

Hazel Grace is cynical, she's rude, she's funny, she's kinda sweet and she seems like she smells like daisies. Hazel Grace is seriously depressed because her cancer makes her feel like a burden, and Hazel Grace loves reading and has barely any friends (we're so different fosho). Well, one day in a self-help group she meets this August guy and holy muffins, he's hot. Sexuality is fluid and August makes me want to kiss him on his lips. I'm not gonna spoil the plot here, because it's actually worth reading, but I feel like mentioning that the book ends horribly. It guts you and it spits on you. No happy endings, all loose endings. Everyone who used to be happy is either dead, blind, drunk and/or grieving. My friends have read it, they all told me “Noo why are you reading TFOIS you’re gonna cry :(” because people seem to hate the ending, but it really didn’t bother me all that much. I’m just dramatizing it for my easily-invested audience.

Aside from the okay-written ending, I like the way the story explores what social isolation does to a person, how it writes love. That's really my favourite part about TFIOS. How it writes a love story out of a girl's perspective is pretty good even though that's the only type of book that I avoid STRICTLY. The narration in here isn't gross-out cheesy or overly obsessive, it genuinely shows her romantic appreciation for August, and she acknowledges his flaws, and she's relaxed with it, and has other interests and stuff outside of her relationship with beautiful smug sexy August, who is everything I strive to be. It does the "cute girly romance story" without making me want to rip my skin off. Props to the author for that.

TFIOS has a solid 8 on the Josh-Index, and I'd like to add, as a footnote, that I read it in the beginning of the school year because I saw it in a shop window and it reminded me of my middle school classmate whom I was friends with who used to sit alone on the stairs at break reading TFOIS as I watched them from across the hallway. Sounds creepier than it sounds. We were cool, and they liked Kaczynski before he was commonly accepted as based and redpilled. I haven't heard from them in three years but I'm fine with that. I'm glad I read the book because of them though, it was fun.

Also: Someone told me that TFOIS is a “horrible disgusting book” because the author apparently “hates kids with cancer” and “is a terrible person” etc. etc. and I'm pretty uninformed on that so please don't come after me, if that's actually the case and the person isn't making shit up the way that they usually do. I'd be happy to listen to someone explain it to me, but I'd like to disclose that I like the book because of how it wrote teenage love. 

If you’ve gotten this far into my review I’d run away with you, leaving our old lives behind to go live in a little house in the German Alps, tending to a garden of orange flowers and a small group of cows. Hold my hand, fellow tumblrian. I appreciate your time.

#ONLY HOLD MY HAND IF YOU'RE BETWEEN THE AGES OF 15 AND 18 THANK YOU VERY MUCH #gnome review #books #review #bookreview #book reviews #booklr #reader #writer #writerblr #reading #writing #romance #romance lover #john green #the fault in our stars #mini-review #short review #long review #rant #comedy #romcom #tfios #tfois book #hazel grace #joshposting #jorty rambling #first post #new to tumblr #idk what im doing

[glowyjellyfish]

October Halloween Movie Fest Day Nine:

I wrote up this entire thing and then it got eaten. ARGH I hope my hasty rewrite covers everything, I had so many thoughts and it was so hard to remember them!

Tonight I finally watched another movie I hadn’t seen before, The Shining. Now, I read the book a few years ago, watched the Simpsons parody approximately seven billion times, and watched a few reviews of both this movie and the miniseries, so I pretty much knew basically every step of the way… and it is still damn good. Probably never going to be a personal favorite I watch over and over, but I know quality when I see it. My god, the sound design alone. It was effective despite my brain constantly playing Simpsons parody clips at every famous scene, and that is saying something.

I’m resisting the urge to illustrate this post with dozens of Simpsons parody gifs, and will instead restrain myself to these two that accurately describe my viewing experience:

I’m sure there are tons of reviews out there made by people paying far more attention than me, but there are a couple of things that struck me while watching. First, I was surprised how much this movie reminded me of The Haunting of Hill House, and I have no idea whether that similarity is in the original source material for either. The vibe I got was that Jack was just psychically sensitive enough to be vulnerable, and not understanding what was happening plus mental issues made it even worse; knowing Stephen King, I wouldn’t be surprised if this was part of the source material and not just my take, but I don’t remember the book well enough. The major difference between this and The Haunting of Hill House is that The Shining was entirely focused on the critical event and the process of Jack being driven to madness and consumed by the ghosts/hotel, while The Haunting of Hill House—the series at least—explored the aftermath and psychological trauma caused by living through such an event.

Secondly, much like when I watch many a Twilight Zone episode, I wondered how much this whole thing could have been nipped in the bud if they just like. communicated a little. had therapy. maybe got a divorce. marital problems don’t get fixed by locking yourselves in a building together for five months. that’s how you get murdered. I mean, I know that is kind of the point—like my beloved Silent Hill, a lot of the best horror comes from taking a character’s personal issues and twisting them and cranking them up to eleven. It’s just that I can’t really buy Jack Nicholson as a Normal Guy for a second; right from the beginning he came off as someone liable to snap at the slightest provocation. Which is part of what makes him terrifying, but it also makes me wonder why they wouldn’t have just gone to therapy or something. The book probably explains all of this, but of course I can’t remember.

On to Treehouse of Horror 9! (Hell Toupee/Terror of Tiny Toon/Starship Poopers)

(I need to edit in my gifs later, tumblr has been fighting me for an hour and I need to sleep. Technically it’s already day ten but posting in the morning feels wrong somehow.)

Maggie’s first starring role! I can only remember one other time she stars; it must be hard writing entire stories around her. And I like this one! It has a fair amount of great lines, although not as many as some, and I found it a little more Actually Creepy than 8 was. Apparently, I find it most creepy when the family’s in mortal peril, especially the kids, especially when it’s other family members trying to kill them, varied by how realistic and gruesome it is. The atmosphere’s weak compared to 8, and the volume of great lines is much lower, but ultimately I ruled that Actual Creeps are more valuable traits for a THOH to have, since they are fairly rare. I also made a point of comparing THOH9 to 2, to make sure, and although I find 9 slightly creepier than 2, 2 pulls ahead with its atmosphere, nostalgic charm, and great classic lines. Look, it makes sense to me. I don’t want to have to go back and quantify all my rankings I’m just running on vibes and gut feelings here. My list is now 1, 5, 4, 7, 6, 3, 2, 9, 8.

#Halloween #Halloween movies #October movies #October Halloween movie fest #the shining #the Simpsons

[your-turn-to-role]

Trent’s letter, transcribed (for anyone who wants to angst more about the fact that we’re now apparently at the feast: the sequel)

“Bren.

It has come to my attention that you are visiting the capital this day. I must say, word of your patriotic deeds for the empire give my old heart a warming glow. As I suspected, it seems some pupils can only thrive when you let them go to find their own path in the wild. I am quite impressed by your accomplishments thus far, and would greatly appreciate the presence of you and your companions as dinner guests at my manor tomorrow evening. Astrid and Eodwulf will be joining us as well, so consider this a proper family reunion.

I do hope you consider my invitation, Bren. I gather we both have much we would like to say.”

#fuck i hate him #but i wanted to have this in writing #also jesus fuck he found out fast #so while we could have guessed he was watching #he was definitely watching #and i feel very vindicated in my 'trent's not done with caleb by a long shot' meta from over a year ago #you guys ready for next week? bc i'm not! #(also it somehow sounds creepier in writing) #(i think bc you can read it as he intended and not... caleb attempting to read it out loud while barely breathing) #cr spoilers #cr2 #c2e109 #caleb widogast #trent ikithon #text

[darthfrodophantom]

Ectoberhaunt Day 5: Ouija Board

Summary: To get into the spooky season spirit, Tucker and Sam convince Danny to play a video game late at night, and Danny isn’t pleased about the subject of the video game.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34303123 

Too Close to Home

“Let me get this straight,” Danny interrupted. “I fight ghosts - real ghosts - on a nightly basis. And now that I actually have a free night you want to take up the time that I should be sleeping to fight fake ghosts?”

He shook his head as he looked at his computer screen, the only light in his entire bedroom aside from the digital clock that showed the hour: 11:45. From the first-person view of the computer game on his screen, he watched the avatars of both of his friends attempt to throw basketballs into a hoop.

“But this is way more fun,” Tucker’s voice said over Danny’s headset. “And it hurts a lot less! Ah! Dang it Sam - you messed up my throw!”

Sam cackled triumphantly. “Better pay more attention to your timing then.”

Tucker groaned as his avatar abandoned the basketball for spray paint cans, which he chucked at Sam. “Besides Danny, we’re not fighting ghosts: we’re hunting them.”

“Fine, fight, hunt, whatever. I still do both of them,” Danny argued.

“Not like this you don’t,” Tucker grinned. “God he’s gonna get creamed.”

“You know Danny, maybe we should let you go to bed. You’re gonna ruin my perfect streak,” Sam teased.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Or maybe you’ll actually do better because you have a true ghost hunting professional on the team,” he defended. He had no idea why he was bragging - he’d just been given an out and given the late hour he should take it, but now it felt like he needed to defend his pride as a ghost hunter. …That thought sounded a little too similar to something his parents would say and he quickly dismissed it. “Besides, I played the tutorial, I know what I’m doing. I’m just trying to figure out why we’re doing this.”

“Because it’s spooky season,” Tucker replied with a hint of sarcasm.

“We are only five days into October, Tucker, and if you’re gonna keep doing this all month I am going to hit you with the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick,” Sam threatened.

“I dunno, it might be worth it,” Tucker teased. “What do you think Danny?”

Danny shook his head, even though none of them could see it. “As the only person in this group who has actually been hit by the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick, I would back off,” he advised.

“Listen to Danny Tucker,” Sam chuckled as her avatar walked over to the white board to set up the hunt. “He’s actually speaking wisdom for once. Now come over here and pick out your gear.”

The playful teasing between best friends stopped as they actually got serious and picked out the gear they would need for their mission. Since Danny had no money, he couldn’t really participate in the conversation, but it seemed like Tucker and Sam had played this enough to know what they needed to bring. Sam started the mission, and their avatars found themselves inside the trailer looking at another whiteboard.

“Alright, looks like our ghost is named Thomas Clark and he responds to all of us,” Sam informed the group while Tucker’s avatar walked over to the shelves to equip supplies.

“Well that’s a dumb name for a ghost,” Danny complained as he looked at the bulletin board next to the computer. He had to squint at his screen to read them, but the articles were fairly legible and contained ghost stories he remembered hearing his parents talk about. It also had a recent article that he actually remembered running in USA Today proclaiming Amity Park as the most haunted city in the world - he didn’t know whether to feel proud or annoyed.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sam agreed, though her voice was laced with sarcasm. “He should have gone with Thomas Phantom instead.”

Danny rolled his eyes as Tucker burst out laughing. “Oh yeah, now that sounds like a proper ghost,” Tucker added between laughs.

“I knew I was going to hate this,” Danny groaned under his breath. “Can we just get this over with?”

Sam’s avatar turned to face the new whiteboard. “Alright, fine. Objective one: find out what kind of ghost we’re dealing with - standard. Objective two: witness a ghost event.”

“I am a ghost event,” Danny smirked, causing Tucker to burst out laughing again.

“Objective three,” Sam snapped, “capture a photo of the ghost.”

Tucker’s avatar grabbed a camera and snapped a picture of Danny’s avatar. “Got one!” he proclaimed, which drove both boys into laughter.

“Objective four,” Sam said louder, “get a ghost to walk through salt.”

“What? That’s dumb. Everyone knows that’s an old wive’s tale,” Danny complained as he shook his head. Did the creators of this game actually do any real research before they made this game?

“Are you regretting this yet Sam?” Tucker asked as he finally stopped laughing.

“Let’s just get in the house,” she groaned. Danny smirked in triumph, and he could tell Tucker was sharing a similar smirk on his end.

They divided up equipment between the three of them, but not before Danny could comment on the inaccuracies of each of the pieces of equipment and how useless they’d be in an actual ghost fight. From faulty science to just being plain incorrect, Danny made sure to have pithy comments about all the equipment. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that it had to be accurate - he was not his parents - but as a ghost and a ghost hunter, it just felt a little more personal than he wanted to admit.

Because he was the newest one, Danny got stuck with the Spirit Book (“What? Are they trying to imply all ghosts can’t write? That’s alivist!”) and the EMF Reader (“...Okay that one’s actually accurate”) because they were apparently the easiest to use. Laden down with their gear they walked up to the small house. Sam’s avatar unlocked the door and they headed inside. Danny noticed the tonal shift immediately. Outside he could hear wind and crickets chirping, but once he stepped inside the doorway, an oppressive silence covered his headphones. It reminded him of the sensation on a pressurised airplane and it unnerved and unsettled him...a lot more than he planned to admit to his friends.

“Alright, spread out,” Sam instructed. “See if you can find the ghost room.”

Ghost room, right. He remembered that from the tutorial. It had been the garage in the tutorial, so he figured he should start there. He walked back through the dark house, turning lights on as he went. It wasn’t because he was scared - absolutely not, he was a real ghost hunter! - it was just much easier to see. He pulled out the EMF reader and walked into the garage. It had an eerie quality to it, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he remembered seeing the ghost there last time (a mean looking (and inaccurate) ghost covered in blood and holding an axe) or if it was because he was alone and the room was so large, but he did not like being in here.

“You know, in the tutorial, the ghost was a bloody axe-man,” Danny remarked over the walkie talkie.

“Yeah, I think he’s standard in the tutorial,” Sam remarked offhand. He did not want to admit how good it felt to hear her voice in the oppressive silence of the house. They were clearly focused on their tasks, and that was a good thing, but it felt a lot better hearing their voices.

“Red blood,” he continued, simply to trigger more conversation. He didn’t get any EMF readings, so he gratefully left the garage. “Not ectoplasm. It’s like they didn’t even try.”

“Ugh, Danny, they’re going for a horror aesthetic, not something real,” Sam sighed.

“What? Ectoplasm-stains are horrifying,” he countered as he walked through the rest of the first story. Still no EMF readings.

“Only when it’s yours,” Sam said, and the weight of those words echoed in the silence of the house that made him stop moving for a moment. “No cold spots upstairs,” Sam informed them to break the silence.

“Yeah, no EMF downstairs,” Danny added. “I’m gonna check out the basement.” That’s where they loved to hang out in the real world, so it seemed the next best choice.

“Oh hang on, if you’re going down there I’ll go with you,” Tucker spoke up.

Danny stopped halfway down the stairs. “It’s fine, I’m pretty used to basements,” he joked weaky.

“Yeah, well the last time you went into a basement alone with untested ghost equipment you died.” Tucker said it light-heartedly as a joke, and it was one they’d said a bunch of times before, but somehow it just didn’t feel the same in this tense environment. It felt too...personal.

He waited for Tucker’s avatar to appear before they walked down the stairs together into the basement. Unlike Sam’s basement or his own, this basement had a much creepier feel to it, with the foreboding worn brick walls and discolored cement flooring. Honestly he was glad Tucker went down there with him because it just felt better having another person there.

“Sam, maybe you should get down here with the thermometer,” Tucker mentioned as they both walked through the basement. “Because we’re not--”

Danny whirled around as he heard something thud hard against the ground behind him while he jumped in his chair. The EMF reader in his hand jumped up to three dots and blared at them while he stared at a box of tools now on the ground. The ghost was clearly in the room. Danny half-expected his ghost sense to go off, but he had to remind himself it was just a video game. There wasn’t actually a ghost here.

“What happened?” Sam’s urgent voice said over the walkies.

“Ghost knocked something off the shelf down here,” Tucker said as his avatar walked over to the toolbox. “Ooh! We’ve got fingerprints!” he cheered as his avatar shined a light on a glowing handprint.

“Oh that’s so not how that works,” Danny complained, just to help lighten the mood. Honestly he felt a bit jumpy knowing that the ghost was in the room...and he couldn’t sense him. He’d dealt with invisible ghosts before, but his ghost sense always gave him a vague idea of where they were...except for now. He turned in his chair to check the room behind him. No ghosts, no ghost sense. It’s just in the computer game.

“Figures that the ghost would be in the basement,” Sam remarked as her avatar walked down the stairs and opened her journal. Right! Journal. Danny opened his and placed their one piece of evidence inside. The sooner they got all of those the sooner they could leave, and he really liked that idea.

“I’m not seeing freezing temperatures, but it is a little cooler than the rest of the house,” she continued. “So let’s start setting stuff up in here. Tucker get the DOTS up and I’ll place the camera. Danny place the spirit book.”

Okay, this wasn’t so bad with the three of them in the room. He could hear them moving around and he could see them, so it made him feel a bit better. And there was still no sign of the ghost. He put the spirit book down near the toolbox and looked away from it. Maybe the ghost wouldn’t write in it while he was watching? He didn’t know.

“Ooh!” Tucker cried excitedly.

“Did you see it in the DOTS?” Sam asked.

“No - Ouija board! Oh yeah!” Tucker cheered. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Oh I love these,” Sam agreed. Danny’s brow furrowed as he looked at the screen. Why were they acting so happy - didn’t they forget there was a ghost in this room with them?

“Hang on, let Danny try the Ouija board,” Tucker suggested. “You know, because he’s never seen it before.”

“Ooh good idea,” Sam agreed. Danny walked over to where they were and saw Sam’s avatar set down a light brown board.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sus about your motives right now,” Danny said. He had a bad feeling about this...

“No Danny, it’s fine. These are actually pretty cool in this game,” Sam assured him. She quickly explained how the Ouija boards worked in the game and what questions to ask, and against his better judgment, he walked over and activated the board. The numbers and letters glowed orange against the light color of the wood.

He decided to start with something easy, so he swallowed and forced his voice to come out clear. “How old are you?” He jumped in his chair and his avatar backed up quickly as the planchette moved across the letters.

“Y - O - U - N - G,” Tucker read. “A young ghost.”

“Oh God, I hope that doesn’t mean it’s the crawling baby ghost,” Sam sighed. “I really hate that one.”

“Ask it something else,” Tucker encouraged.

“I don’t know,” Danny hedged. For some reason the Ouija board set him on edge. Something deep in his gut did not like this. Even if it wasn’t real and he kept telling himself it wasn’t real, he didn’t like it.

“No dude, it’s okay,” he assured him. “You can ask two questions before a significant sanity drop. Just ask it one more and you can go back to the truck.”

He very much wanted to go back to the truck. He just needed a chance to regroup. He was a ghost and fought ghosts for a living and he could not understand why this game unnerved him so much. But Danny Phantom wasn’t scared of ghosts, any kind of ghosts, and he wasn’t about to show it on a video game. “Fine,” he groaned as he picked up the board again. “Who died?”

This time he knew what to expect, and didn’t jump as much as the planchette started moving. First to the D, then to the A. Over to the N, then looping back to the N. It ended on a Y.

All three of them stopped moving. The silence became even more deafening around them. Danny dropped the Ouija board and backed up as far as the game would let him. He felt a cold sweat drip down his back. Danny. It spelled Danny. How did it know his name?

“...That has got to be a coincidence,” Sam finally said after the silence that seemed to stretch on forever.

“The ghost’s name must be Danny,” Tucker suggested, voice full of forced bravado.

“...No it’s Thomas,” Sam said slowly. “It must just be reading your username to scare you,” she decided.

“No my...my username is GhostBoy,” Danny reminded them, finally feeling like he could speak.

“Is this game actually haunted? Danny, what did you do?” Tucker accused, voice bordering on hysterics.

“What? I didn’t do anything!” Danny yelled back. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He put a hand up to feel his breath - still normal temperature. He looked around his room. There wasn’t a ghost here. But how did it know his name? And that he did almost die in a basement? “You’re the one that told me to use it!”

“Okay, let’s just calm down,” Sam interrupted. “It’s gotta be a coincidence. Let me try it and see if it says the same thing or gives me my name. It could be a new update that checks the name on the Steam account or something.”

Sam moved closer to the board, but before she could touch it all their flashlights flickered.

“Shit!” Tucker yelled.

“Run!” Sam cried in a panic.

Danny followed them up the stairs to the main level. The idea of running from a ghost, not fighting it, was so foreign to him, but he had no choice. He was powerless here. No ghost powers, no weapons, no thermos. He was completely helpless against this ghost.

He bolted for the garage, the one other room he knew how to get to. Sam’s avatar was running next to him. He could hear footsteps behind him and he swore as he ran towards the garage. Sam diverted into another room, but he continued into the garage. He found a locker he’d opened before and rushed into it. He barely remembered to turn off his flashlight and he waited. Seconds passed and he realized he was holding his breath. No...not holding his breath. Not breathing. He looked down at his hands and saw the glowing white gloves. When...when did he change into his ghost form?

Sam’s voice over the walkie startled him. “What the--? Oh my G--” The walkie feed cut to static and then nothing.

“I...I think it got Sam,” Tucker’s voice said over the walkie. Danny turned on his flashlight and saw that it was no longer blinking. He threw his head back in relief. The hunt was over. He climbed back out of his locker, keeping the door open again just in case.

“Dude, she was running right next to me. It must have followed her instead of me,” Danny told him. “Ugh, well what are we going to do now? She’s the only one who knew what she was doing!”

“Wait, I thought you would be a pro because you’re a ‘professional ghost hunter’ - isn’t that what you kept saying?” Tucker teased.

“Yeah, well I lied! This is nothing like ghost hunting!” he argued as he walked out of the garage. He was going back to the trailer. “Real ghost hunters would bring some kind of weapon and wouldn’t just run around helpless! We should just call it.”

“What? No! We’ve got two more pieces of evidence to collect. And we haven’t done any of the objectives! Tucker retorted.

“Fine!” he snapped as he walked down the main hallway. “if you want to keep looking for clues you can, but I’m going back to the trailer to check--”

The front door slammed shut. His flashlight blinked again.

“Shit!” Tucker cried.

Danny could hear the footsteps behind him. He could feel a heart thumping in his headset. He started running off to a room but stopped. No, he was not running again. He was going to stare this ghost down and prove that Danny Phantom was not scared of some ghost. His image struck fear in the hearts of ghosts and his name carried respect in the Ghost Zone. He was not going to let some video game ghost get the better of him and spook him with some Ouija board trick.

He turned around to face it, camera at the ready. If he was going down, he was getting a picture of it. The ghost blinked in the hallway and Danny saw the cause of his anxiety for the first time. The ghost floated down the hallway, with white hair and a black and white jumpsuit. It...it was him. The ghost was Phantom.

He completely forgot to take a picture as his own image rushed at him. He saw two gloved hands cover over the screen and then everything went dark. He heard the crash of breaking glass, saw a strange underground cavern for a second, and then he was back in a foggy blue version of the house.

The ghost of Sam’s avatar approached him, and he heard her laughing over the headset. It sounded like she’d been laughing for awhile. “Oh my god Danny, did you see the ghost?” she asked between laughs.

“It...that was...oh my God,” he groaned. It all made sense. Spelling Danny was likely an Easter egg, a cute nod to his name of Danny Phantom. The fact that it happened in the basement was just a coincidence, because it’s a creepy spot and a commonly haunted area. He hadn’t summoned anything. He wasn’t being targeted by some ghost in the computer. It was just an Easter egg paying homage to him.

Suddenly all the stress left him and he laughed. God, it felt so good to laugh after all that panic. This game had gotten him so worked up and over what? Over a ghost that looked like himself? Suddenly it all seemed so silly that it scared him that much. He had felt actual dread and fear, enough to trigger an unconscious transformation out of a need to protect himself, but there weren’t actually any real consequences. Now he just got to walk around unhindered in this ghostly version of the house, but nothing else actually happened.

Sam laughed along with Danny. “So you did see it then?”

“It was...oh my god Sam it was me! It looked just like me!”

“I know!” she exclaimed. “As soon as I saw it I forgot to keep running and stared. So of course it killed me. I did get a picture though,” she bragged.

“Oh man. I meant to, but I was just too stunned.” Now that he felt much better, he decided to wander around the house following Tucker who, for some reason, was still trying to finish the level on his own.

Sam suspiciously stopped her laughing. “Wait...Danny, your voice sounds weird. Are you...are you in your ghost form?”

Danny bit his lip as a slight blush graced his cheeks. “I don’t want to hear it.” But the telltale whoosh of the glowing rings turning him back to his human form seemed to be all the confirmation she needed. Except, he didn’t hear her laugh.

“...Danny, I wanted to apologize,” she said, and that made Danny stop moving and look quizzically at the screen.

“What? Apologize for what?” he asked.

“For goading you into playing this game,” she clarified, her voice surprisingly serious. “While I’ve been hanging out here in the spirit world, I realized why this game set you off so much.”

“What do you mean? I never said it set me off,” Danny defended. How could she possibly know that? He thought he was playing it pretty cool.

“Oh please,” she scoffed. “You’re in your ghost form and you were panicking after the Ouija board thing.”

“Hey you would panic too if--”

“Danny I’m trying to say that I get it,” she interrupted. “Being near a ghost without your powers? Without any weapons? Being powerless? It’s one of your biggest nightmares, that your powers will fail when you need them. And this game, it’s too close to home.”

Danny stopped moving and stared at the screen, because she was absolutely right. This was too close to home. How many times did he have to check to make sure his ghost sense wasn’t actually going off? How many times did he keep thinking about how similar everything felt to his own experiences? How unnerved he was about a ghost in the basement? It was too similar to his real life...except he had the tools he needed in his real life. Not a flashlight and some dumb spirit book, but actual real tools and powers and weapons, but here they were all taken away from him. Everything he relied on to fight ghosts had been stripped from him in the game and trapped him helpless in a house with his friends. Of course that bothered him. It was, as Sam said, one of his more recurring nightmares.

“...Yeah I think I’m good never playing this game again,” Danny admitted, the closest he planned to get to acknowledging everything she said was true.

“Honestly? I don’t blame you,” Sam agreed softly. “I think it’s easier for us because we’re used to this role: when there’s a ghost in the area, we help figure out what’s going on and support you. It’s not all that different from this game,” she explained. Her ghostly avatar followed Tucker out of the house and he followed after them. “But when you’re used to doing the fighting and defending and can’t...I guess it’s probably harder to separate yourself from the game.”

He reached behind him and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. It was too similar to his daily life, and as he tried to argue at the beginning, he didn’t need to hunt fake ghosts poorly when he knew how to fight real ghosts well. “You know you sound like Jazz,” he pointed out, trying to lighten the mood and change the subject.

“Wow, you’re going to insult me after I tried to help you?” Sam scoffed. “See if I ever help you again!”

Danny smiled at the screen, glad to be back to the teasing. He definitely felt more relaxed and more like himself. “Oh look, Tucker’s finally calling it quits,” Danny observed as Tucker closed the door to the trailer.

“God, I can’t wait to find out if he saw you.” He could hear her grinning through the headset and honestly he felt the same. Out of all of them, Tucker would be the most excited about this addition.

The screen changed over to the menu screen, showing all their accomplished objectives. It also meant that all three party members could talk to each other again. “I can’t believe you left me!” Tucker complained. “It’s even worse when you’re in there on your own! Do you know how much more evidence we needed to collect? Um, a ton!”

Sam laughed, and Danny had to join in. “Okay so we are sorry about that, but Tucker did you ever see the ghost?”

“No, which is probably why I’m the only one that survived!” he complained.

“Oh my god Sam, he didn’t see it,” Danny groaned.

“Oh my god.”

“No wait, didn’t see what?” Tucker asked. His voice had calmed down a bit and was colored with curiosity.

“Tucker...the ghost was Danny,” Sam told him.

“Uh no, we clarified his name was Thomas,” Tucker corrected.

Sam and Danny both groaned. “No Tucker, the ghost was Danny Phantom. It was skinned to look like Phantom,” she clarified.

Tucker’s line sat silent for a long time before he finally exploded in a shower of shock, excitement, and regret. “NO WAY! No! That is so cool! I mean I knew the developers were fans, but this is so cool! Like literally the best tribute ever. Oh my god I can’t believe I missed it! No!” he cried. He was so loud into the microphone that Danny had a hard time believing Tucker didn’t wake his parents.

“It’s why both of us died,” Danny explained. “We were just too shocked seeing it.”

“We’re going back in. I need to see this,” Tucker demanded.

Danny bit his lip. He was not going back in. He meant it when he said he was done. He almost had his explanation on his lips before Sam spoke up first. “I doubt it’ll show up two times in a row. I Googled it and the skin will be here for the whole month of Halloween as a random draw, so you’ve got time to see it. But if you want to try again tonight, I’ll keep playing if you want. Danny...he needs to get some sleep.”

“What? No, it's so much easier with three people. Come on Danny,” Tucker pleaded.

“Nah, Sam’s right, I should go to bed. Gotta be rested for those real ghosts tomorrow,” Danny chuckled. “Besides, being killed by my own image was a little weird.” And also a little too close to home, considering some of his memories of Dan.

“Yeah, this game isn’t Danny’s jam,” Sam explained simply. He had a feeling Sam would talk to Tucker more about what they discussed while their avatars were dead, and honestly he didn’t mind. He didn’t want to keep secrets from Tucker, he just really didn’t want to talk about it any more tonight.

Tucker sighed. “Alright, fine, you’re off the hook. At least you gave it a try though.”

“I did, and you’re both gonna owe me one for doing it too,” Danny reminded them.

“Dude, pretty sure you’re in the negatives when it comes to IOUs from us,” Tucker pointed out with a good-natured laugh. “Testing out inventions, excuses at school, doing your homework, remembering the thermos when you forget it, distracting your parents…”

“Okay okay, I get it,” Danny groaned as he left the screen and exited out of the game. “Well fine, then I’m less in the negative now. And on that happy subject, I’m going to bed. Good night guys.”

“Good night Danny,” Sam replied. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Danny almost hung up on their private Discord server when he heard Tucker speak up. “Hey Danny, wait.”

“What?” he asked curiously, his mouse still hovering over the disconnect sign.

“The type of ghost...was a Phantom.”

I’ve never cross-posted on tumblr before, so this will be a first! I hope you enjoy!

#ectober month 2021 #ectoberhaunt trick #ouija board #Danny Phantom #phasmophobia #light angst #2k21 prompt ouija board #2k21 day 5

[hoodoo12]

Play and Funtime

I’ve seen lots of screenshots and fanart, but where is the written Robofizz smut?  sigh  Just have to do it myself jk jk

Although writing your first fic in a new fandom is nerve-wracking, I’m excited to do it and I hope you guys like it.

NSFW; Robofizz/imp!reader, TENTACLES YOU THIRSTY PEOPLE

@go-commander-kim @monsterlovinghours @mimiscappinisideblog @jesterfestivle @beetlebitchywitch @realmonsterboyhours @yankyo

Enjoy! `

It wasn’t your choice. You were clear on that.

But coerced by so-called ‘friends’ you found yourself in the very front row in front of the stage, with excited, chattering implings around you and excited, chattering friends on either side, all eagerly waiting for the show to start. You’d even been forced to enter the big top early, “to get the best seats!”, so now you were a combination of both bored and a wee bit anxious.

That clown always unnerved you.

The sparks, the glitches, the unnatural movements that were much more fluid than you thought should be possible--if anything was impossible here, with enough imagination or lacking that, determination and money--the AI that seemed a little bit too good . . . the Robotic Fizzarolli was not your idea of family entertainment. 

But here you were. You vowed to keep your head down during the show, to avoid seeing the robot and his animatronic backup band, then when it was over you could all leave and go do something actually fun.

When the lights went down you dropped your chin. Everyone else was cheering, so no one would notice you were not. 

Just as you remembered from your early imphood, the spotlight lit up and the Robotic Fizzarolli burst onto the stage in full song. The rest of the audience clapped and sang along. You remained steadfast in your resolve to just wait this out, your eyes locked on your clasped hands in your lap. 

Which meant you were completely taken off guard when a hand slipped under your chin and lifted your head. 

You found yourself face to face with the robot, who was focused solely on you, grinning widely, showing a large number of sharp teeth. 

“N-n-not having f-fun?” it asked.

“Wha-what? N-no--I mean yes,” you stuttered in surprised response, inadvertently sounding like you had a glitch as well. 

The robot cocked its head a bit too far to be natural, its optic sensors giving nothing away while it studied you. The crowd in the stands, including your friends, were watching with breathless anticipation. 

“I th-think you could be having a better t-t-time,” the Robotic Fizzarolli concluded, but to your immense relief, it released your chin and returned to the stage to finish its number, to the return of screams and cheers of delight. 

Soon after, the curtain closed and you sighed in relief. Loudly, you told your group, “You got your show. Now let’s get out of here.” “No, look, look!” the imp next to you exclaimed. “You got a token!”

Confused, you wrinkled your brow. “A token?” “She got a token!” “She got a token!” The imps you’d come in with crowded around, more excited than during the show. You even saw some of the imps who’d been leaving the tent turn and give you what looked like envious glances. You had no idea what any of this meant. “Look look look!” Finally you had the wherewithal to realize they were talking about something in your hand. It was exactly what they said--a flat, oval token etched on both sides with the jester’s face, and what looked like circuitry embedded in it. Very tiny letters around the edge spelled out, “Robofizz’s Play and Funtime!” You had to squint to read them. You had no idea where it came from. Your friends continued to talk over each other in their excitement.

“Robofizz gave it to you! When he came down and talked to you!” “Oh my gosh--yes! That must have been it!”

“You’re so fucking lucky! I’d kill to get one of those!” All the chatter didn’t make you less confused. The Robotic Fizzarolli must have given it to you somehow? You’d been so startled when it touched you and addressed you directly you had no clue it’d slipped something to you. Your hands had been clasped so tightly you hadn’t noticed the small token. Feeling overwhelmed, you offered it to them. “Then you can have it! Take it!” But as excited as your friends were, they all declined with explanations that it only worked for the imp it was given to, that there was some technology that imprinted on the imp who touched it first, so as jealous as they were, it was useless to them. You had never heard about anything like this before, but then again, you always bolted out the exit when the show was barely over.

Still feeling overwhelmed and now lost and stupid, you asked, “What do I do with it?”

“You get to go backstage and meet Robofizz!” 

That was something you did not want to do, but your friends would have none of that loser talk. They insisted you were selected, it was a rare treat, you were not letting them down by pussing out on having a private meet-and-greet with the star of the show! Despite your weak protests, you were herded along to a discreet door hear the stage. They--not you--knocked, and when a small window opened and suspicious eyes appeared, they--not you--told whoever was there that you had a token.

“Show me,” a low voice ordered, though the door. Resigned, you held up the disk.

There was a grunt, and the sounds of multiple locks disengaging. In another moment, the door creaked open. There was no one in the hallway beyond. “Come on, let’s go!” the same voice ordered. Your friends pushed you through the doorway, shouting good luck and have fun! The door slammed shut on them and it same clanking of the locks came again to secure it. It was much more ominous on this side. The hallway was dimly lit with flickering bulbs that seemed ready to die, but there was no where else to go, so you carefully made your way down it. 

⁂

You had no idea where you were supposed to go or what you were supposed to be doing. Keeping hold of the token so tightly your fist hurt, you figured it had gotten you past the door so it would get you past anyone or anything else that may ask what the hell you were doing here. But there was no one to be found. In the wavering overhead lights you wandered up some stairs and found yourself on stage, behind the curtain. The animatronic band was silent on their stands, creepier when immobile and staring than when they were booted up to perform, which you had never imagined could be the case. 

The Robotic Fizzarolli was not with them. That surprised you. If these robots were here, where was the star of the show? Chills went down your spine and with a horrible thought, you glanced up into the catwalks above the stage, as if expecting to see it there like a spider waiting to drop onto its prey. 

Nothing. 

“Hello?” you finally called. 

Nothing. 

You started back towards the hallway, thinking this was a mistake. Your soft footsteps echoed oddly in the silence. You would leave and tell your friends there was nothing, that you knew it was all a waste of time. 

“H-hello there. Wel-wel-welcome!” 

Startled, you spun fast enough to trip, and were caught by the robot that haunted your nightmares. 

It leered as it groped you into standing stead on your feet again. “You were the-the one who wasn’t having fun at my sh-show! I’m so-so-so glad you decided to join me!” Your tongue was stuck to the roof of your mouth but you managed to babble, “I wasn’t--I mean, your show was fine, it was good--” A glitchy, mechanical tsk cut you off. “No, no, no--I c-can tell. And th-that’s no good, not having fun. You seemed like you needed a little ex-extra convincing, and I’m pro-pro-programed to accommodate.”

You were sure your friends would know exactly what that might mean, but the leer had not left the robot’s face and it sounded more sinister than anything. You had seen the signage about “Peronal Companion”, but never spent too much time thinking about it--

It seemed to be waiting for a response. “I, uh . . .” You cleared your throat. “I have . . . a token?”

If it was even possible, the light of its eyes shone even brighter at the sight of you holding the disk. “Now those are fun,” it exclaimed, “for both of us. Let’s g-go.” Without another word and without warning, you were dragged deeper into the gloom further backstage. You stumbled to keep up, but that didn’t slow the robot down. There were turns down hallways that seemed to go on longer than should be possible for an amusement part theater, but finally, when you were out of breath and completely turned around, you were hauled to a stop outside another door. 

“Before w-we go in, g-g-giving or re-receiving?”

The glitches in its voice made it even more difficult to understand what the hell it was saying. Several moments passed while you untangled the question in your head. The Robotic Fizzarolli waited with mechanical patience and an unsettling stillness, although its eyes never left yours. “Uhmm . . .” The token had been given to you, like a gift, so would it be odd to ask for more? But you were the guest here. “ . . . receiving? I guess?” That leer returned to its face. There was a faint clicking noise, as if something was shifting inside the robot’s body, and it said, “Excel-excellent choice.”

It opened the door and ushered you inside. 

The room was designed for imps in mind. Well, imps of a certain predilection. Whips, handcuffs, ankle cuffs, ball gags, harnesses, various sizes of dildos--also in various shapes--hung neatly on the walls. Some wooden contraption with shackles at various points stood in a corner. There was a bench that looked as though it could be raised to various heights with the same shackles, but also a split for a tail to fit through if the imp secured on it was on their back. There were other instruments and adornments you had no name for, as your eyes swept the room.

“D-don’t l-look so worried,” the robot assured you, although you weren’t reassured in the least. “All that is only if-if it’s chosen. The selection is com-completely randomized.” You tore your eyes away from the implements in the room. “What do you mean?” “The-the-the token. Put it in the slot, and we’ll see wh-what prize you get.” That made little to no sense, till you realized Robofizz indicated a small slot on its side. Carefully, you raised your hand and pushed the token into it, which made the robot give a full body twitch like an extra jolt of electricity ran through it. You jerked your hand back; the sparks that flew from it haphazardly were one of the things you disliked most about it. 

There was a clanking noise, like the token was hitting and bouncing off things inside its body, plus a odd, whirring noise. You realized a panel on its chest was actually a screen, and something was spinning inside it. It was a blur, but gradually began to slow enough that you could see whatever it was had words etched on it. Now it was slow enough you could read them as they moved into and out of the screen. bdsm tentacles

vibration

Round and round they went. The words continued to flick past, gradually becoming slower and slower.

With a dawning that took you way too long, it became apparent whatever the last word was going to be was the decision. Maybe other imps or demons would use the Robotic Fizzarolli as personal companion and know exactly what they wanted, but there was also a randomizer feature to keep things lively!

The robot continued to stand eerily still as this continued. It was like both of you were holding your breath in anticipation.

The roller slowed enough to halt. The final outcome that you weren’t even sure you were prepared for blinked on and off in tiny white lights on his chest--

“Tentacles,” Robofizz announced.

⁂

“Tentacles?!” you squeaked. 

You got a nod in response. “A very pop-pop-popular feature. Would you like to remove your clothing, or simply re-relax and let me do all the w-work?” “But-but . . . there’s no bed or--” you cast your eyes around the room again, looking for anything that would lend weight to your argument that maybe just a simple handshake and an autograph would suffice. “No bed n-n-needed,” Robofizz countered. “I am designed to not need to sit or lay down, and-and I am pro-programmed to support you in m-multiple positions.” He was between you and the door, and now the aforementioned tentacles made their appearance, slipping out from some unknown port in his back. They were striped and limber, flexing as though they’d been kept in too small an area for too long and needed to work out the kinks. That couldn’t be the case, being a machine, so all you could figure was that it was designed to imitate life. The first of them--you weren’t even sure of their number--moved through the space between you and the robot. “Fizzarolli--” “Oh, such f-formality! No n-n-need for that either, baby.” That was the first time it’d used a pet name, again probably designed to make this all more personable. “Call me Fizz,” he cooed, all the while still showing too many teeth, invading your personal space, and managing to wrap you up with two tentacles. They pulled you into his torso, which wasn’t as cold as you expected it to be. Neither were the tentacles, now that you thought about it. More of them began to nose around you. “Some rules, baby. This can go as hard as you want. J-just say the word. N-n-nothing’s off limits. My-my-my next show is this evening, so you have me-me-me till then . . . you want ex-extra time, you gotta p-pay for it. “Q-Questions?” Dumbly, you shook your head. “Then let’s b-begin.”

⁂

You’d never be able to give enough detail about the encounter. You’d been asked, multiple times, and simply couldn’t put it into words. How could you describe the unusual sensuality of tentacles sliding under your clothing and removing it from you? How could you impress how strong but delicate they were, wrapping around your limbs with the perfect amount of pressure, raising you off your feet so you felt like you were floating? How you could possibly tell them that other tentacles roamed your skin, tickling you, exploring, awakening new erogenous zones you were unware exisited? How could you admit that all of that lasted an indeterminate amount of time, until you were writhing against the restraint, not to get away, now, but to try and pull him--the Robotic Fizzarolli was no longer an genderless it in your mind, but a him--closer while begging for more? When tears filled your eyes at the force of your pleas, he moved in closer to you, almost close enough to kiss. He seemed fascinated by your tears, and from between his sharp teeth came what must be the robot equivalent of a tongue. It lapped at your cheek, collecting the wet. You had no idea what that was all about, but in the next moment couldn’t devote any time to wondering. As promised, Robofizz accommodated. You’d asked, and another tentacle from Robofizz filled you in smooth, firm motion. You arched your back at the pleasurable friction it created inside you.  

How could you continue to admit that your begging didn’t stop, but increased, wanting, no needing more while being fucked suspended in mid-air by an amusement park clown? That the random showers of sparks that you hated before became something you craved, each little spark leaving a mild burn on your skin that didn’t hurt, but only served to make your nerve endings sing out? Or that during it all he’d talked, the rasp and glitching words of dirty encouragement to, “take it deeper” and “you’re soaking w-w-wet” and “gr-greedy little slut”, which only added to the debauchery, that although it was obvious he could and would be rough and aggressive he gave you just what you needed, and all you wanted was more and more and more-- Even after all that, the finale that would be hard for anyone to believe, including yourself if you didn’t experience it: Robofizz telling you, after you’d been wrung dry from countless orgasms, that the tips of his tentacles--and other, specific, parts of his body--were laced with nano-circuitry to simulate nerves, and he could feel every single internal clutch around his tentacle--

The session ended with you sucking on the tips of multiple tentacles, like an assortment of cocks, while still being fucked to a few more orgasms. When you were finally released, your legs were weak and you were drenched between your legs. You’d drooled so much you were laved with spit. It took you a bit of time to collect yourself and get your clothes back on; your hands trembled with residual bliss for long moments. Robofizz, whose tentacles disappeared again, walked you back to the corridor you’d come in. “Five m-m-minutes till showtime,” he told you.

You had no idea if robots had a sense of humor, but you tried anyway. “That was a pretty good show you just put on.” You got that unnatural head cock again, but he grinned and reminded you, 

“You want ex-extra time, you gotta p-pay for it.” “I know,” you replied, already trying to calculate how you could afford to return and book another private “Robofizz’s Play and Funtime!”. You were eager to try out different features. “How do I . . .?” “The-the d-door will remember you. It’s h-his job,” the robot answered your unfinished question, as if it was one he got frequently. You nodded as if you understood, then impulsively stretched upward to kiss him. He wasn’t startled--he was a robot, after all--but you gave him a smile and slipped back through the door to the front of the theater. You had to find your friends. It wasn’t your choice, sitting in the audience to watch a robotic jester entertain a crowd of imps. 

But next time, it would be. 

fin!

#writing #fanfiction #Robofizz #the Robotic Fizzarolli #helluva boss #tentacles #robo fizz #robofizz x reader #robo fizz x reader #Loo Loo Land

[androgynousblackbox]

I've seen a lot of discourse pop up on my feed all of a sudden condemning proshippers who lewd characters voiced by minors because its "involving actual minors". I definitely get the concern, but like- one, it's just a voice? Two- some of the ages of the actors aren't confirmed (and imo its kind of creepier to go out of your way to find out if a VA is of age just so you can lewd their voice (yes ik how ridiculous that sounds)). I'd get the concern if this was lewding live action characters played by minors, but its just a voice?? These people are also into content w underage so do they just imagine all their characters have the voices of fully grown adults? If canon voices come out and the characters are voiced by minors what will they do then?

Sorry, idk why i care so much (i havent even seen the movie in question and i don't even WANT to lewd those characters nor do i actually like that content (its not to my taste)) but one person replied with "so dont make proship content of them" which??? Kinda feels like we're being a bit pick and choose w what proship allows now. I get being uncomfortable w it (im not exactly all for it myself) but calling other proshippers creeps and wrong for it? It's the pot calling the kettle black a bit don't you think? (I was curious as to your opinion on this cause whilst I see their point it doesn't seem 100% fair to me either)

"Pro ship content" somehow has turned lately into "problematic content", which was never the actual point. Like people, most especially antis, REALLY want to get out of their way to make it seem like "pro ship" = problematic = pedophile content. They have always done this but lately it has become more like a matter of fact that the two terms are directly linked like that, when in reality... most people are pro ship already (as in, tell them that someone is being harassed for fanfiction and they will react with shock and disgust) and most people are also vanilla as fuck on their consumption. About the thing with voices, like, unless someone is getting out of their way to cut lines of actual dialogue from the show to make porn animation then there is really nothing involving the irl minors? People are going to be making fanart or fanfictions of the characters so, like, if the issue is the voice, then there is no real issue since nobody will be actually using their voices. Someone might have them on their minds while writing dialogue, but that is not the same and how would you even know that? The examples of people using the canon voices I have seen is just memes, shitposting or gen fanworks. Now, if someone was doing what I just said above? No, thank you. I don't like that. Just no. I don't want to get involved on any of that. I also do agree with you that there is something creepy about going out of your way to investigate the VA just to have an excuse to yell at people for lewding the character or see if you are "allowed" to lewd them at all. I can see someone going so far as to harass staff for that purpose alone and like... there's also an option to just leave it alone already?

[writer-k-pop]

Letter to You

난 그 감정들을 지키고 싶었어. I wanted to protect those emotions.

Description: You find a letter Wonwoo wrote to you about the day you two first met. Warnings: None Genre: FLUFF, BF!Wonwoo x Reader Word Count: 1.4k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

Dear y/n,

Today wasn't a good day. I've seen a fair share of bad days but this has to be the worst I've seen so far. I don't know what was wrong and until you're ready, I know not to ask. I didn't know what to do. I got home and you were crumpled up on the couch with tears cascading down your cheeks. All I could think was to hug you and tell you everything was okay. Even now, I'm praying that it was enough.

You're sleeping now. After sitting, wrapped up in my arms for a few hours, you just passed right out on the couch. So I carried you to bed, something I haven't done since the early days of our relationship. (Which reminds me, please let me carry you more often.)

Though I don't know if you'll ever read this. I'll probably put it in a drawer or box or something and then forget about it cause that's what I seem to do best. But maybe one day we'll be cleaning out our home and it'll fall out of somewhere random.

Even if you don't read this, I'm writing it because you had asked me why I wanted to stay with you when you were such a mess. I wanted to remind you of why I stay with you. It's a story. The story of the day I first met you. You always tell everyone I tell it better so I'll tell it to you to see if that statement's still true.

Let's see. It was during my time at the University. I had a favorite cafe that I would go to consistently, like almost weekly. You also frequented that cafe but I had only known you as the chick who always took the good corner table with the outlet. Though that's a detail I would never say to anyone else. Anyway, it was nearing the end of a semester and I was in total panic mode cause, you know, finals. I got to the cafe, ordered my usual and found the next best seat to the one you had already taken. The seat I found that day conveniently had a nice view of you reading possibly the largest book I have ever seen.

... You know, now that I'm writing this out, that sentence sounds creepier than I intended...

Moving on.

The barista had called out my drink order so I got up and made my way towards the counter. I got distracted by a text as I got closer and when I blindly reached for the cup, I grabbed it along with another hand wrapped around the cup. Turns out, you had ordered the same thing as me and you had ordered first. We exchanged some words that I don't remember. So then, not only did I embarrass myself in front of you, I had to do the walk of shame back to my table while the whole cafe watched. That should've been clue #1 that the day would be filled with you but of course, I missed it.

A few minutes later, the barista did called out my actual drink and up I went again to the counter. Though this time I wasn't distracted by anything so I clearly saw the post it note stuck to the lid. I still to this day have no idea how you got that post it stuck there without me noticing. And yes it's possible you did it while I was sitting distracted at my table but some of the details still don't add up. And you still won't tell me. You just giggle every time I ask and say "it's a secret." One day, one day I'll get it out of you.

The post it had your number and name written on it. When I got back to my table, I glanced at your table and I could tell you were trying so hard not to look at me, which only made me chuckle cause damn, it was cute. I quickly added your number into my phone and then, like an idiot, didn't text you right away. I don't know why I didn't. Maybe it was my notes staring me down or the looming embarrassment from our first encounter but whatever it was, I still regret not texting you right then and there.

Eventually I somehow gained the courage to actually text you. I think I sent something lame like "Hey." I hit send and then a tsunami of worries suddenly hit. So in a nervous trance, I glanced up at you just as you pulled out your phone. I watched you smile at my little text but before you could text me back, somebody walked up to your table and you became distracted.

Slightly disappointed, I went back to my studies but my mind was pretty occupied with you. I tried, please trust me when I say I tried to get through my studies but I chose the wrong day to procrastinate my studies. I gave up like halfway through I think and decided to give myself a break.

I just happened to glance over at your table where you and your acquaintance were still in deep conversation. Your eyebrows were scrunched together and your mouth was hanging open in shock. Then in the span of, I swear, only a few minutes, you went through so many emotions that I lost count. If I can remember correctly, you went from shocked to annoyance to sadness to determination to joy. I'm sure there were more but I can't remember them anymore.

But anyway, as I watched you go through all those emotions, I made a decision right then and there. I wanted to protect you and make sure that sadness never took over your features completely. That is if you let me. (Which thankfully you did.)

I guess I had been staring a little too much cause you looked over at me just after I mentally made that declaration and gave me the sweetest smile and giggled. I nearly had a heart attack in that cafe seat. That smile, that was the one I wanted to keep on your face forever.

Obviously, life has other plans and doesn't always follow what we want it to do but my declaration to myself still stands. Though sadness does cross your features every so often, I try to do everything to whisk it away and bring back that smile that I love. And even though you feel you don't deserve me and you wonder why I'm still with you, I hope you know that I will continue to protect you because I love you every day of every year.

I hope I can show you that you never have to question that ever again. Then again, you will probably never read this so you won't actually know about any of this. But hey, I'm your hopeless romantic so I'll hide things like this until a really sappy moment.

Well, it's getting late and you're starting to toss and turn in bed. Your arms, I think, are searching for me so I should probably go and join you before you wake up and find me writing this.

I love you, (y/n). Every single part of you, every single day.

Love from your hopeless romantic,

Wonwoo

My hand floats over the written words, nearly trembling. The last thing I expected to find shoved in the back of the closet was this. I was packing up clothes for mine and Wonwoo's move to a new house and out slipped this letter enclosed in an envelope.

"How's it going in here?" Wonwoo asks walking into the closet.

"When did you write this?" I ask, turning and showing him the letter.

He stares blankly at the paper in my hand and I can see his gears working as he tries to remember what exactly I'm holding.

A few seconds later, his face lights up and he snaps his fingers. "That! I wrote that like two years ago. I totally forgot, wow, that's where I decided to put it?" He wonders incredulously.

As he runs his left hand through his hair, the light catches the ring on his ring finger. Nearly 6 months married and moving house and he's still showing me new sides of himself.

"You know, you did mention you would forget where you would place it." I smile, walking up to him.

Wonwoo opens his arms and wraps me up, "Anything else I said that still is true?"

"That you love me." I mumble into his chest.

His chuckle rings through his chest, "That most definitely is still true."

#seventeen #seventeen imagine #wonwoo #wonwoo imagine #jeon wonwoo imagine #jeon wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo imagine

[rodolphus-lestrangex]

❤️ - What is your favorite part about writing your muse? Why?

👍 - What inspired you to take up this muse?

👏 - What’s something about your character that you wish you got to explore more?

💚 - Is there a muse you wish your own muse could interact with more? Why?

❤️ - What is your favorite part about writing your muse? Why?

(see answer in the other reply)

👍 - What inspired you to take up this muse?

Funny thing, I was bingeing Bellatrix fanfics in 2018 and somehow stumbled upon Tumblr and @crucioslut’s portrayal of Bella. I proceeded to stalk her Tumblr page for about 3 months before I decided to create my own page to be able to RP. So basically I was looking for a character that was close to Bellatrix and so Rodolphus came to mind. Now I couldn’t imagine RPing someone else. I just love Roddy. This sounds creepier than it is by the way…I hope. Sorryyyy @crucioslut 😂

👏 - What’s something about your character that you wish you got to explore more?

His relationship with his family, especially his brother Rabastan, but also his parents and his time at Hogwarts. Oh and working at the Ministry right after Hogwarts when no one knew he was a Death Eater yet.

💚 - Is there a muse you wish your own muse could interact with more? Why?

Oof, so many, honestly. All of the fellow Death Eaters pretty much, the Dark Lord, Barty, but also Bella‘s side of the family, like Regulus, Andromeda, Narcissa and Sirius and the Marauders or other muses that are on the “wrong” side because as much as I love his soft side with Bella it’s interesting to portray how he acts with other people, especially those he considers inferior.

#hp rp #hp musings #hp ask #hp roleplay #hp headcanon #rodolphus lestrange #death eater #bellatrix lestrange

[aflyingcontradiction]

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 79 - Hide and Seek

Tim: Yeah, and then he said, “Sorry for everything”. Something’s up. Martin: You don’t think he’s going to… y’know… Tim: I don’t know. But he’s going to do something, and it’s going to be bad. And I don’t mean like ‘sneaking a cigarette’ bad. Like properly bad. Martin: So we need to help him? Tim: We need to stop him.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure that what Martin is thinking here is that Jon might harm himself whereas Tim is much more focused on Jon potentially harming someone else (I mean, Tim is kinda right here, but only because Jon was being a complete and utter idiot!)

Martin: Court? Tim: Yeah. Er, tribunal if we’re lucky, inquest if we’re not.

I'm not sure if this is UK-specific terminology, but I sure as fuck didn't know what Tim was on about and kind of ignored it during my first listen, so now I've looked it up. For anyone as clueless as me "tribunal court" is the kind that you'd think of when someone says going to court whereas an inquest court is specifically about examining an unexplained death. Yikes, Tim.

Martin: You did use a new tape, didn’t you? Tim: Yeah, I took one off the pile. Martin: Was it blank or… Tim?

I'd say "Priorities, Martin!" but the fact of the matter is that I've got some shit I recorded on tapes as a child and teenager that I would also be pretty crushed if someone just went and taped over, so I can understand Martin's anxiety here.

Tim: Martin! What do you think is happening here? This isn’t office politics. It’s not like he’s had one too many at the Christmas party and started ranting about the Greeks.

That's ... really specific, but an oddly plausible group of people for a racist from the UK to rant about in an inebriated state.

Martin: So you really think the Institute is, what, haunted? Tim: I used to. Now I think it’s worse. Martin: Worse how? Not!Sasha (breaking through doors, screaming distortedly): JooooOoooOn!

Perfect comedic timing by the Not!Them!

Jon: At least it didn’t leave me trapped in some corridor hellmaze… a different corridor hellmaze, at least.

I was, at the time, wondering why Distortion!Michael kept being so fucking helpful? I mean, helpful in a terrifying, disturbing way, but still, helpful. I guess in hindsight some motivations have become a bit clearer.

Jon: God, I’m an idiot. Smash the table, kill the monster, stupid! Lazy, sloppy assumption. Of course the table was binding it. The table is webs and spiders. Spiders are something else. They don’t help each other, they oppose, they… they weaken. It was caught in a web, and I… All the pieces were there. And I just… I couldn’t see it.

YOU DON'T SAY!

Tim: I… I’m not just going to leave you down here. Martin: You were all about quitting. Tim: Oh, for God’s sake, this isn’t about you. Martin: It never is.

Oh. Oh, ouch. Yeah, maybe this counts as a bit manipulative on Martin's end, but I think it's also a genuine expression of abandonment issues tinged with self-loathing. The way I read Martin, I don't think he's standing there thinking "How do I get Tim to stay", I think that's just a side effect of his emotions bursting out of him, bypassing the brain-to-mouth filter.

Martin: No, no, okay, because there’s two of us and there’s one of you, okay. He’s not killing anyone! Tim: Martin, look at his hands! Martin: Oh.

Oh god, somehow this scene is so much creepier if Michael's NOT revealing his full distortion form from the start. You've just got the inhuman sounding voice and yeah, they must know he's not actually human but they don't yet know HOW not human he is and then he slowly distorts, so gradually that they don't even notice there's a change. Or maybe - maybe there was never a change at all... Oh, I like this version of the scene a lot. It's just become so much better in my head!

Jon: I just hope this tape works the same, that my voice remains intact. Even if I’m gone, even if it wears a face that people think is mine, pulls me apart, becomes me. Listen, it’s not me! Whoever hears this: it is not me.

Oh god, shivers all over. He's so desperate, so scared and yeah, dying and being replaced so that none of your loved ones ever knows it's not you (or that they're in horrible danger for that matter) would be so much worse than just dying. Even if you're not around to experience it either way, the thought alone...

Jon: I don’t even remember what she looks like. Even now that I know, now I’ve seen it twisted and… I still don’t remember her. The only face I can picture is…

And now you've gone and made me sad.

Not!Sasha: I’m going to wear you, Jon. I’m going to wear everything you are. Like you never existed. No-one will even know. And it will hurt. Oh, yes, it will hurt. It hurt Sasha.

And back to being creeped the fuck out while also being a little sad.

Not!Sasha: So the monster got its friends to carry the table all around, and it still got to take faces and scare people.

Oh, okay, Breekon and Hope were specifically "hired" BY the Not!Them somehow.

Not!Sasha: Then one day it was sent to the house of its enemy, which had the biggest eyes you ever did see.

I'm loving the fairy-tale tone of this. Also, in hindsight the "biggest eyes you ever did see" is just so ... I'm not sure how to describe my emotion about this line but it does make me squee a bit at the writing.

Jon: I’m sorry. Martin, Tim… Sasha. I’m so sorry. I should have… I didn’t… I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.

And back to being sad again at Jon's final words (or what he thinks will be his final words) being an apology, a cry for forgiveness at his inadequacy, that he should have been better, that he should have somehow prevented all this...

Not!Sasha: I wonder, if I wear you, will I really become the Archivist? Rob the eye of its pupil?

These lines are SO MUCH BETTER now that I know what they mean. I think I just sort of glossed over them on my first listen.

My impression of this episode

In one word: Woah! There's just a lot going on here. The magnificent horror that is Not!Sasha finally revealing herself. All the personality-revealing details of Tim and Martin's conversation. The emotional roller coaster that is Jon's absolute desperation. Michael being his usual self. And then that last minute rescue by a mysteeeerious figure, which made for a very nice cliffhanger at the time (I remember that I was very glad I'd come to TMA late so I could just go on to listen to the next episode without having to wait for a week.)

#tma relisten #the magnus archives

[irondad-not-ironsad]

WandaVision Episode 1 Reaction

Spoilers below!!

I enjoy the music over the marvel logo

But also a 43 second logo feels kinda long for a 29 minute episode- is it just for the premier or is this gonna happen before each ep?

Also I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that there is a title sequence, which will probably be similar in length. Combine that with the lengthy credits people have been complaining about, it seems that the percentage of the thirty minutes that is actually the story is lower than it should be

not that I don’t love a good title sequence! But I’ll take a well fleshed out episode over fancy logos, title sequences and credits any day

now that I’ve got that of my chest, on to the actual show

I like how they have the frame shaped like that of an old timey tv, combined with the black and white it really adds to the old timey sit come vibe

I like these bells

Ok I know I complained about to much time being wasted with logos and such, but i LOVE how cheesy this theme song is and I love them showing vision and Wanda driving tp there house in wedding attire

“A regular husband and wife” 2 seconds late *vision disappears into a cloud of sparkles*.... 1 minute 8 seconds in and I love this 

Even there acting is reminiscent of an old timey sit com this is amazing

feel like I should note he title sequence ends at the 1.36 mark approximately, which may not seem like a lot but again the show is less than thirty minutes so it adds up

Wanda talks with a fifties accent: I already love this show

Also I wish I had magic I could use to clean, I’m moving back into my dorm right now and Wanda’s powers would be SO helpful

Also I LOVE the laugh track

Also Wanda’s short curly hair is so cute

I love how neither of them knows what the heart means so they play it off by being like “yeah of course I know what it means, how could I forget? Do YOU remember what it means

Also Vision is literally part computer shouldn’t he have a photographic memory? 

Also how old is Wanda? I could have sworn someone said she was 19 in civil war, which would make her like 21 here? I think?? Idk tho, as a 19 year old I don’t think she has ever looked 19 in the movies, even back in Ultron she looked at least in her mid twenties

The face Vision makes when he makes himself human is so funny

Also Vision blowing Wanda a kiss and her reaching back to grab it is the perfect amount of corny that makes it still cute

Also I wonder what vision’s job is

The backing music is so funny

I can already tell Agnes is going to be some great comic relief in a show that’s already hilarious

“I assure you, I’m married. To a man. A HUMAN one!” I know I’ve said before that I was never the biggest fan of Wanda or Vision but I love Wanda in this show

Obv there is something clearly off here, but I feel like I need to mention that it’s clear this is some warped reality. If I had never seen any of the MCU before, I may believe it was just  witch and her robot husband living in the fifties, but the little details really make it clear to the audience (the majority of whom I am sure are familiar with the mcu) that something is off. This scene is one of those, where Wanda cannot seem to recall how long her and Vision have been together and plays it off by saying “It feels like we always have been together”

Is Agnes giving Wanda advice for the bedroom? is this really what I’m watching? Or have I wildly misinterpreted this?

Love the old timey lingo

Vision working a desk job is so funny

Love that vision doesn’t even know what they do at his job, I know it’s part of the false reality thing but also lowkey relatable

“you’re like a walking computer” “I most certainly am not! I’m a regular carbon-based employee made entirely of organic matter”

I started this like twenty minutes ago and have only gotten 7 minutes in because I keep stopping to type my reactions. I am going to try to shut up and watch, and stop screaming about every little detail for a bit 😂

Real quick though does Vision just go by Vision at work?

Ope apparently he does. 

I wonder if Vision took Wanda’s last name

Or is he Vision Stark-Banner since it was Tony and Bruce who made him??

He probably isn’t called that but I think it would be funny if he was

Love that instead of writing “dinner with boss” or “Dinner w/ Harts” or even just “Harts” he drew a freaking heart like im dying

if my lack of emojis seems weird I’m typing this on a computer which I never normally do and I’m to lazy to pull up the emoji keyboard, so basically imagine there’s a cry laughing emoji after everything funny

“No skeletons in the closet?’ “I don’t have a skeleton sir.”

Yup I was right, Agnes is giving her sexy time advice

“you should stumble when you walk in a room so he can catch you. It’s romantic!” that is the only way I will be flirting from now on

Also I got to say, I'm guessing it’s a fifties thing but those pointy bras don’t look comfortable

So she answers the phone “Vision Residence” Is Vision also their last name now? Does he go by Vision Vision??

They make the best facial expressions

This phone conversation where Wanda think they’re having a date night whereas Vision is talking about his boss coming for dinner is comedy GOLD

also I love the fact that they’re giving us stereotypical sitcom drama while keeping it clear that there are bigger problems than dinner with the boss

Fake commercial break is at 9.56 (these time stamps are for myself I want to calculate how much of the episode is actually the story)

I do love the fake commercials tho! And I suppose in a way they ARE part of the show

They missed the chance to make it the toastmate three thousand and make every ironman fan cry

The beeping toaster sounds like a ticking bomb..... also the little red light is the only color we’ve seen this episode I think

Commercial ends at 10.46

Also love that it was an SI toaster, still wish they had made it 3000 instead of 2000

How did Wanda confuse Mr. Hart with her husband? Not that I’m complaining, her coming out in a robe and covering Vis’ Boss’ eyes is HILARIOUS

“This is the traditional Sokovian greeting? Didn’t I tell you my wife is from Europe?” “How exotic!” “We don’t break bread with Bolsheviks”

Visions pants are SO high waisted

“It’s our anniversary!” “Our anniversary of WHAT?” “WELL IF YOU DON”T KNOW I”M NOT GONNA TELL YOU”

Poor Vision is trying to figure out what kind of company he works for this is sooo funny

Agnes coming in clutch with a full meal

So Wanda needs the ingredients in order to magic a meal she can’t just make one appear

Vision breaking into song was amazing

How did one chicken turn into like 30 eggs

Vision is singing old McDonald with his bosses wife this is great

“Diane!” “That must be my wife summoning me!” “She calls you Diane?” “Yes... it’s her pet name for me” “I’m coming... Fred”

So many clichés in this show but it’s done in such a purposeful way that it’s still funny

Also we have only seen three rooms: the kitchen, the living room and Vision’s workplace

“Well I think tonight’s going SWIMMINGLY”

Mrs. Hart is SO NOSY

But I love that they don’t know the answers

Wanda looks SO disturbed when Mr. Hart is demanding her and visions story, you can tell her mind is fighting itself and it’s so sad

Mr. Hart is choking, is it bad that I think he deserves it?

Mrs. Hart keeps cheerily repeating stop it, and gone is the stereotypical sitcom camera angles and and the backing music is switched for something eery

This is lowkey scary, Mr. Hart Dying while his wife keeps cheerily saying Stop It and it just feels creepier the more she repeats

Wanda looks distressed and vision is just looking to her for what to do, her old timey accent is gone and she sounds nearly robotic as she tells Vision to help

Poor Wanda, she is so clearly going through it mentally right now

Laugh track is back, and just like that the Harts are leaving, despite only having one bite of food

And somehow Mr. Hart is impressed? Was Wanda rewriting reality to make them so?

I know that this is clearly some alternate reality and nothing is right, but wanda and vision deciding to choose that day as there anniversary and this little convo here is soooooo cute

Aw her making them rings and them both saying I do is soooo cute

And vision saying “and they lived happily ever after’ is so sweet but also so sad in context

What is that little remote vision is holding meant to be?

And love the hexagon closing in on them with the cute music playing to end the episode

Are the people in these credits real? Because it lists the start as Wanda Maximoff and Vision but are the rest actual people?

So there is some sketchy dude watching the maybe fake credits so there's something going on there

The actual credits start with 7.13 left and I’ve been told there's no mid or post credits scene. I’ll let them play while I finish this up anyways

8 minutes and 49 seconds of this show is the logo, title sequence and credits. Out of 29.36 total this means only 20 minutes and 47 seconds is the show, which I suppose is standard for a sitcom but I think I felt deceived by it showing as 29 minutes

Also 50 seconds of “commercial takes the show time down to 19.57 if anyone was wondering

I swear tho I’m not all that bothered by the length, just did the math in case anyone was curious like I am. 

I thought I was going to really enjoy this going it, but it still really surpassed my expectations and I can’t wait for episode 2!

This is my raw reactions, but I’m sure that as I mull it over more I’ll be posting more about the show

This is somehow a perfect combo of lighthearted comedy and mild horror

I wanna let this episode stew for a while, so I prob won’t watch episode 2 for at least a day

Also what are your guys’ thoughts on this format of reaction? Did I write to much?

Also what did y’all think of this episode? Feel free to let me know what you think of my reaction, and whether you agree or disagree. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

#anna reacts to wandavision #anna reacts #wandavision #mcu #marvel #avengers #scarlet witch #vision #wanda maximoff #disney plus #wandavision spoilers #wv spoilers #mcu spoilers #marvel spoilers

[mimosaeyes]

It’s the fear, not the miles, that wears them down.

Jon and Martin take a break from trekking through the apocalypse. Nebulously set post-164. Quick fluff, 1.5k

Beta-ed by @distortion-noodles (main blog: @nifeandaccurateprophefies) and @sequoiawintersnight. *Tim voice* Double beta?! Indeed. You both spoil me.

“Right,” Martin says, on what he thinks is their third day walking without a break. He’s probably underestimating, too. “I don’t care if the natural laws of the universe have been re-written. It can’t be good to keep going like this.”

It takes Jon a moment to surface out of his reverie. “Hm? Oh. We could stop for... I was going to say ‘the night,’ but, well.”

They come to a halt anyway, after struggling out of a field of tall grass that seems oddly reluctant to let them go. Which is a little sinister, even in a world where the sky looks back at you. For good measure, they climb a nearby hillock, all the while brushing bits of vegetation off their clothes.

Martin stands at the top and squints at what used to be the horizon. He doesn’t do that a lot. Now, when he tries to find the points where the sun used to rise and set, his eyes tend to be drawn to the Panopticon instead.

Also, one time he’d seen something in the distance that looked alarmingly like livestock falling out of a glowing cloud. He’s not eager to witness any other such phenomena.

Jon’s elbow brushes his arm as he comes to stand next to Martin. “Do you feel tired?” he asks, also staring out across the landscape.

I feel like I should be. Even as Martin thinks this, his mind snags on the tentative, almost brittle note in Jon’s voice, and the way he placed a faint emphasis on you. Jon always sounds cautious when he asks Martin a question, from the effort of trying not to compel him, but this is different. “Oh, don’t do that,” Martin says, turning to look at Jon disapprovingly.

Jon blinks. “I’d say I have good reason to enquire after your wellbeing in the middle of a dystopian hellscape.”

“You always use more polysyllabic words when you’re uncomfortable, I don’t know if you’ve noticed. Anyway, I wasn’t talking about you fussing.” Martin flicks Jon gently on the forehead. “I was talking about you spending the last hundred eldritch-kilometres moping about being a monster.”

“Actually, even though London is a little over four hundred miles from the Scottish Highlands, we’ve walked about five hundred miles so far,” Jon says helpfully. “You know, insofar as distance has any meaning anymore. We’re like that song by The Proclaimers.”

“Stop trying to distract me with pop culture references, you... post-apocalyptic pedometer.”

They stare at each other for a long second, then burst out laughing. It slightly eases the tension that’s been building up in Martin’s chest.

As Jon’s laughter peters out, he sighs and looks at Martin, still smiling. “Alright, yes. I admit, I may have spent the last while thinking about how, unlike you, I’m no longer human enough to get tired. Or apparently, take a shortcut through a Distortion corridor. I wouldn’t call it moping—”

“Yet he supposedly knows everything.”

“—but,” Jon pauses to give Martin a flat look, “I can’t imagine how you got all that from four words.”

“What can I say? I’m well-versed in Jonathan Sims-ese.”

Martin’s small smile falters before he even realises he’s going to continue. “And, well. Worrying about you gives me something else to do, besides feel terrified and angry all the time. That’s what I’m really sick of, I think; not the walking.”

“Angry?” Jon repeats quietly.

Martin just shrugs. “Magnus used you. Of course I’m angry.”

His hand has clenched into a fist unconsciously. He only notices when Jon reaches out to take it. “I think I can help with the other thing,” Jon muses. It’s not quite an offer.

“How?” Martin stares at where Jon is slowly unfurling his fingers.

“By showing you something. If you’ll let me. I — I know you didn’t have the best experience of this, with... Elias, as we knew him at the time.”

Your mother simply hates you. You want to know what she sees when she looks at you?  

Martin shudders despite himself.

Then he whispers, “Okay.”

Because it’s Jon, whose scarred skin is so familiar against his. Because some part of him knows that all the pain in the world couldn’t make Jon’s touch ungentle.

“This is what I see,” Jon tells him, “when I look at you.”

Distantly, he hears the static that accompanies Jon using his Beholding powers. It drowns out the noises of the apocalypse — the unnatural wind, the cries, the wet slip of flesh. The distant bagpipes and gunfire and buzzing of flies that Martin still hasn’t left behind, not really.

He’s no longer standing under an acid-trip sky. He does a double-take before he figures out what he’s looking at: himself, or at least the top of his head, pillowed on Jon’s belly. He recognises their bedroom in the cottage, even if he doesn’t remember this moment. They’re dozing, insouciant, even breathing in tandem. Light spills from the window and pools over them, golden and heavy.

“I promise, this is the only time I watched you sleep,” Jon says, but not the Jon whose eyes he is seeing through. “Before the world ended, at least. While slumber was still peaceful.”

Martin has the absurd, intuitive impression that his voice arrives directly in his mind, bypassing his ears. This doesn’t freak him out as much as he thinks it should.

“It’s not like you haven’t done creepier things around me,” he points out, instinctively speaking in hushed tones.

Dream-Martin huffs and snuggles even closer to Jon. Martin frowns. “Hang on — isn’t that where you’re missing a rib? Aren’t I hurting you?”

“I thought it was sort of poetic,” Jon says ruefully. “You, in the place of something vital that protected me.”

They both watch as Dream-Jon lifts a hand from the duvet and cards his fingers ever so lightly through Martin’s hair.

“Armour and anchor,” Jon muses, almost to himself.

It doesn’t escape Martin’s notice that he hasn’t actually said no to his question. The sentiment still makes his breath catch in his throat.

With a slight effort of will, and little idea beyond that of how exactly he does it, Martin separates his perspective from Dream-Jon’s. Instead of gazing down at himself, he finds himself standing off to one side, feeling even more of a voyeur to his own past happiness. He’s suddenly very conscious of the grime that has accumulated on his trousers and boots, from wading through various bogs filled with nasty surprises.

Martin turns to his right, knowing before he sees him that he’ll find Jon standing there. This Jon looks wary and travel-worn, his hair hanging raggedly around his sharp, angular face. He offers Martin a faint smile.

“Maybe you should try writing some sappy poetry,” Martin says at last, but too softly for it to come across as teasing.

Jon seems to hear what he means underneath the words. “I thought this might help,” he murmurs, pleased.

Martin steps closer, close enough to tuck the grey locks behind Jon’s ears. “You know,” he says slowly, “you said this is a world where we can’t trust comfort.” Jon’s face begins to harden with old guilt. Martin quickly continues, “But I trust you. So... so maybe think about that, the next time you need to stop being all mopey.”

Jon’s shoulders sag. “Oh,” he says. “Alright.”

A dreadful thought occurs to Martin. “This — this is real, though. Right? Where we are, this is a real memory.”

“Yes.”

“So we’re... in your mind, somehow?”

“You wouldn’t want to be in my mind right now,” Jon says, his tone matter-of-fact. His eyes flick briefly to the bedroom door. His expression darkens, perhaps at the thought of what lies beyond it. “This is where I come for some quiet from — from everything, when it feels like I know too much. You might say it’s the... eye of the storm.”

A beat. “Can I smack you metaphysically for that joke?”

“Rude.” Jon manages to make the word sound impossibly fond. He grips Martin’s arm, and eases them out of the memory with another wave of static. Or perhaps he lets it fade away from them. In any case, Martin blinks, and they are back in the end of the world.

It’s still pretty dire. But the tension, the feeling of being perpetually braced for worse — that’s mostly subsided. At least for now.

“Better?” Jon asks. He scuffs his shoe against the ground, almost shy.

Martin smiles fully for what feels like the first time in ages, cups Jon’s cheek, and kisses him. Thank you, he thinks, and I love you, and You could never be a monster in my eyes.

Jon hums as they pull apart, then presses their foreheads together for a moment. His breaths break warm and soft on Martin’s skin. Martin kisses his forehead, too, before holding out his hand for Jon’s.

Once more, they look out at the long way they have left to go. Then, holding tight to each other, they start walking again.

[also available here on AO3]

[my TMA fics on AO3]

#the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #mimofic

[ieatmypizzawithaforkandknife]

TMA: Episode 14, “Piecemeal”

Summary: Jonathan reads the statement of Lee Rentoul, regarding “the murder of his associate Paul Noriega.”

Even with the things I’ve been spoiled for later in the series, I didn’t see much in this episode that I know will come up again. I don’t mind, because as always it was a fantastically horrific and well-done episode, but it makes me wonder if I’m missing things or if I just haven’t been spoiled for these things yet.

There were a few people that I’m kind of hoping show up in the future though. First, at the very beginning of the statement, Lee mentions that he came to the Institute in the first place because his friend Hester had gone there when he was “seeing ghosts”, though it turned out to be infrasound “messing with his head.” While plausible, I would actually really love it if we got a statement from Hester himself later on and it turned out that whatever he experienced was indeed paranormal, whether or not it’s connected to the larger plot. The second one is Salesa, the “front” that Noriega met with at the docks on the night Lee killed Noriega. I wouldn’t have thought he was important if it weren’t for the fact that Lee says he “dealt mainly in stolen art and curios” and that he was “paranoid as hell”. The “curios” part in particular interests me - the Leitner books could be considered “curios”, and so could that goddamn annoying table. It’s not a direct connection, and barely even counts as a possible hint, but the fact that Salesa is given a name at all (instead of just being referred to as a nameless “front” that Noriega happened to be meeting) makes me hope it was a tease and that we’ll see him again.

One character I feel more certain we’ll see again is Angela. I don’t know what kind of power (or connection to power) she has that she caused those things to happen to Noriega or Lee, but those weren’t party tricks. I hate to actually use the word “magic”, but there’s some kind of very powerful dark force behind those things, and Angela has some kind of access to it.

I’ve been doing a lot of wondering about Angela. First of all, her jigsaw puzzles. Was that just a detail thrown in for the creep-factor, or is that how her subjects always die - bits at a time? Toby says he found out about Angela through some girl who hired Angela to get rid of her ex-boyfriend, but we never hear any details about the ex-boyfriend’s death. We also never explicitly hear whether that girl survived, though I’m thinking she did. Lee’s death smacks to me of him interfering in whatever curse was laid on Noriega, causing it to be transferred to him. From what we’re told, all of Lee’s injuries mirror Noriega’s perfectly, right down to the hundreds of boxes found in Lee’s apartment after he disappears.

Angela knew Noriega’s full name at her first meeting with Lee, and while I’m leaning towards Toby giving her the name, I wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow just knew it. More concerning is that she says she is “well-compensated for the service she provided”. What kind of compensation? And more importantly, who or what is compensating her?

I am also very concerned by her saying “some hungers are too strong to be denied.” On the surface, this is a dark joke about Lee chewing off his own hand moments later. But was that its only meaning? Basically I’m just suspicious of everything in this stupid podcast at this point. But more to the point, there was what I can only describe as some kind of creepy static or interference in the recording when Jonathan read that quote. This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed the subtle static/interference, but it’s the first time I actually made note of it. I always just assumed it was them trying to make the podcast sound creepier, but now I’m wondering if there’s some in-universe reason for it. I wish I’d marked down when it happened before now, but I didn’t and at this point I’m not listening back to all the other episodes just to listen for this one thing. Off the top of my head, I want to say it was also in episode 1 during the “Can I have a cigarette?” lines, but honestly I could be misremembering that, and I can’t recall any other specific instances prior to this episode, though I know it comes up again after this.

I did a little happy dance at the end of this episode when Jonathan mentioned Martin: “I sent Martin to look into this “Angela” character – not that I want him to get chopped up, of course, but someone had to.“ He sounded entirely too happy about the prospect of Martin getting chopped up and then called him a “useless ass” and basically I’m just loving Jonathan’s grumpiness way too much lol. I’m still pretty early in the series, but I can definitely see why people ship it. I’m well on my way towards being one of them.

This post is part of a series where I write my thoughts about each episode and obsessively connect dots in an effort to figure out The Big Mysteries of the series. All posts in this series are tagged “is this liveblogging?” Comments and messages are welcome but I have only listened to season 1, so I ask that you not spoil me for anything beyond episode 40. In the words of Jonny Sims…thanks for listening!

#personal #liveblogging #is this liveblogging? #The Magnus Archives #I've had The Sound of Music running through my head ever since listening to this episode again #specifically 'My Favorite Things' #dark humor ftw

[moonlightflower21]

Turtle language

A/N: in italics is the turtles talking in their own language. I figured this was much easier than writing 'chitter' constantly throughout. Happy reading :) <3

"Oh look, they're both here" Donnie sighed, letting out a series of chitters to his brothers who looked up. "Casey too?" All four turtles paused when they saw you, in a conversation with both males trying to show off.

"Look they're trying to impress Y/N, what losers" Mikey let out a couple clicks with his tongue, grabbing a comic. "Tell me about it, trying to take credit for things they've never even done" Leo smirked, sitting down to sharpen his katana blades.

"Can you imagine Vern trying to fight? He'd probably run away crying" Raph let out a chuckle, doing some push ups. "Nah bro, he would wet himself then run away" Mikey laughed, reading through the magazine's. "He would faint, if anything" Donnie cut in, wiping his glasses.

"What you guys saying?" Vern came up, smiling at all four turtles. All he could hear was a series of sounds and click, wondering if the turtles had lost their ability to speak in english.

"Oh look, big man is trying to talk to us. I bet your mom still cleans you" Mikey chittered underneath his breath making the older turtles chuckle. "Huh??" Vern looked at the younger turtle who simply raised his brows. What was going on??

"You better not talk to me like that you stupid shit, I'll send your ass all the way to mars. Look at this entitled human" Mikey narrowed his eyes, making Vern blink rapidly. Leo was trying to suck in his cheeks to stop laughter from his lips, Raphael was biting his lips but the smile continued to grow further. Donnie was sniggering behind his computer screen and Mikey was just full on laughing.

"What you guys saying?!" He raised his brows, huffing looking at each individual turtle. But all four turtles simply smiled knowingly, concentrating on their individual activities. You walked into the living room, giving Casey an annoyed look as he rattled on about his life. You would've chatted to the turtles but in about 20 minutes you had to go see your friends.

"Poor Y/N, someone should do something before her ears fall off" Donnie whispered and Raph and Mikey slowly looked at each other, giving each other smirks. "Oh watch.."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Look at him, comes in here acting like he's some sort of a bodybuilder when he can barely do a push up" Raph chittered laughing when the two men were struggling to lift their bodies from the ground."You guys, this is so mean. Talking bad behind someone's back-" "technically we're not talking bad, we're being honest and he's in the same room as us" Donnie pointed out, placing his glasses futhur up his nose while Leo rolled his eyes at him.

"Wow she's so pretty" Mikey sighed dreamily at you. You grabbed your bag, smiling at the turtles. "Okay well I'm going to head out, see ya" you smiled and all four turtles waved back.

"Want us to come with?" Leo asked and you shook your head. "Nah, I gotta meet my friend anyway" you giggled, placing in your boots. "stay safe!" "see ya tomorrow!" "catch ya later!" The turtles called out grinning, watching you leave.

"Hey Y/N! I'll walk home with you. And y'know.... help protect you" Vern raised his eyebrows suggestively, making you gag. "Uh, no" you shot him down, giving him a stern look and walking away. He looked to Casey who once again heard the weird sounds the turtles were making.

"Vern reminds me of a leech, acts the part and even sorta looks like one" Raph commented, picking up a comic. "That's a good one bro" Mikey chuckled, high-fiving his older bro.

Both Casey and Vern slowly backed out from the lair, finding the turtles creepier with every second. They didn't know if they were both going deaf or if the turtles just truly forgot english and somehow plotting some murder.

Fun fact- that's also how Vern became Leech when referring to him in turtle language.

I didn't proof-read this, sorry for any parts that don't make sense or misspelled words 💛

#tmnt x reader #tmnt x reader fanfic #tmnt raph #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt mikey #tmnt leo #tmnt leonardo #tmnt x reader funny #tmnt x reader funny moment #tmnt 2014/16 #tmnt x reader cute blurb

[kinetic-elaboration]

November 2: The Wanheda Tape, Writer’s Commentary

Today, some notes on The Wanheda Tape, my take-off of The Blair Witch Project.

This was my first idea for Chopped Choice: Horror, and the one I initially thought was more developed/easier, because I had the whole general structure for it: Octavia finds a tape, the tape has a ghost-hunting adventure gone wrong it, scary stuff happens, the end. As opposed to what became Mad Women, which was just two unconnected images at that time. But when I realized the Blair Witch idea was a literally a story in a story in a THIRD story and that I didn’t have any concrete ideas for the innermost story, the legend upon which the main ghost-hunting story would be built, I backed away and decided to work on developing Mad Women instead.

Then I finished that fic earlier than anticipated. And I still really liked my Blair Witch idea because I love the super cliche, traditional horror stuff: ghosts, witches, woods, autumn, etc. Sci fi horror was fun but it didn’t scratch that particular itch.

So one day after work, I took a walk, and suddenly all of the disparate, scattered ideas I’d been having for The Wanheda Tape came together, and I knew I just had to write it.

The big problem so far had been, as I said, the legend. I’d already decided I wanted to include Princess Mechanic exes as one of my tropes, and I wanted the legend to relate to them in some way, even just as a thematic parallel. I wanted the witch of the legend to have a lost love, too. I also figured the legend would have to be fairly old. And I toyed early on with the idea of like a utopia/commune/separate woods-y community that goes wrong.

The canon legend Wanheda was an immediately attractive option to base the rest of it around, because what’s creepier than a witch who controls death, a witch in some way associated directly with death? Plus I like canon parallels in modern au fics. But Clarke was already in the story, so that seemed impossible. I set it aside.

I thought about using the Grounders, and paralleling the woods-y community/main town war with the inter-clan wars of the canon. Perhaps Lexa as the witch, and Costia as her lost love? This was plausible but it didn’t seem to fit right, I think in part because Lexa isn’t a minor community leader; she’s not a separatist. She is the main one in charge, the Official Commander. Plus, it seemed complicated, trying to parse out Grounder drama and turn it into a legend that would then parallel a modern delinquent au.

What suddenly fit into place for me was using Wanheda, not despite Clarke’s presence in the modern au, but BECAUSE of it. The parallel between the two would then be immediately obvious, with really no work at all on my part, and it would allow me to try to do a story with multiple interpretations. I’m not the biggest fan of ‘maybe it was supernatural, maybe it was all in x character’s head’ but this was the sort of story that lent itself to ambiguity, plus I could always heavily imply that the supernatural reading was right.

So in other words, modern!Clarke and Wanheda would be paralleled, connected in the text, and it would be unclear if the creepy things happening were directly the witch’s doing, the witch through Clarke, or directly Clarke. Then Jasper, Monty, and Octavia would summarize the three possibilities in the final scene, to make it more clear. Octavia sees her as the mastermind of everything: she lured her friends to the woods, killed them, escaped herself, and got away with it. Jasper sees her as a tool used by the witch, even if his version doesn’t quite sound properly supernatural: something happened to her, through her, in the woods, and that broke her. And Monty sees her as a victim of the witch just as surely as the other three were. (I admit the three weren’t quite as separate as I’d wanted...and this was after re-writing!)

I’m not sure if all three possibilities are really equally convincing, but I do like to think they’re plausible, even that Clarke was somehow doing everything: going to the woods was her idea; she was in charge of navigation, and could have gotten them ‘lost’ on purpose; she was the last person to see Miller, and she wasn’t with Murphy and Raven when they saw the fire. And then of course Murphy sees her chanting in the woods--or he sees someone who he identifies in dialogue to be Clarke, and who seems to be her based on dress, although I was careful not to have the neutral observer of the camera actually name her, because--is it her? Really?

But still, there are distinctly unnatural phenomena going on, and distinct witch-iness. And Clarke’s involvement seems undeniable. That she either innately has or has created a connection to Wanheda is clear. To what extent the witch works through her, uses her body, and to what extent the witch exists as a completely separate, even physical, presence is what I hoped would be ambiguous. Is the figure Murphy sees a possessed Clarke, or the actual Clarke, or a bewitched Clarke (like Miller in the final scene)? Is the person holding the camera in the end a possessed Clarke? The witch herself? If the latter, where is Clarke? Dead? Still lost in the woods?

Wandering the streets of Arizona?

Does it matter that I chose to include four figures in the woods in Monty’s memory, and not five?

I didn’t answer all of my own questions, but I do have ideas that I worked off of, mostly to keep continuity.

First, Clarke imo is very good at lying and doesn’t mind lying if she feels she has a good reason to do so. So she is a liar in this fic, on at least one occasion. When she takes the book from the tree, it is not empty. She keeps it for the writing inside.

Another possible lie: that she doesn’t know why she thinks the witch is real. I think it’s plausible she’s been to the woods before and had weird things happen to her, or felt some inexplicable presence, in which case she is manipulating her friends by not being forthright about what they’re doing. Alternately, this is her first woods-y expedition, but her inherent connection to Wanheda allows her to ‘feel’ a presence the others cannot.

Second, the general outline of Wanheda’s journey and Clarke’s are the same: both using magic they cannot control and shouldn’t be messing with to defend/protect their loved ones, perhaps particularly motivated by residual feelings for lost loves (Wanheda’s need to avenge her lover in particular, Clarke’s need to protect Raven in particular), and both face consequences for their actions.

Wanheda was always a witch, and benevolent magic allowed her community to thrive, as the village believed. But after the villagers attacked, she turned to black magic for her revenge. It was successful, but the price she paid was that her community never thrived again. (Yeah this is kinda a moralistic story lol.)

Clarke tries to use witchcraft too, when she sees her friends being threatened--like Murphy, she reads the strung up dolls as a warning. So on the second night, after reading the book, she tried to protect the group using the circle of stones. It wasn’t successful, but the more magic she tried, the more caught up in it she became, losing herself in the process. Whether she was the active tool of the witch or a more general casualty, like Miller, I left open.

I didn’t think too much about the gender dynamics of it--except for the Wanheda legend, which is obviously about Competent/Independent Women Being Threatening, and the chaos that comes from men’s reaction to that--but now that I’ve rewatched the actual Blair Witch Project, I kinda want to poke at that more. Not totally sure I’ll like what I’d find in my own work lol. A tale of two women punished for their hubris? Maybe.

Still, it’s more problematic if women are punished where men are not. At least Wanheda and Clarke actually did something. At least they tried. Wanheda made a deal with the devil (perhaps literally) out of understandable rage and sorrow, and Clarke, called to that history, the physical manifestation of that memory, flew a little too close to the flame. To the extent that she and her friends are punished for their curiosity--this is just a trope of horror, which is in so many ways about allowing us to imagine what we cannot really see, and showing us the worst case scenario of the curiosity we can’t satisfy in real life.

#the year 2020 #2020: writing thoughts #the 100 chopped #the wanheda tape