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lovelyfirebouquet · 10 months

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Okay, so. I had this really cute idea that player/MC/(Y/N) is playing GoGM and Jack gets jealous. After all, why play a game about a ghost when his sunshine has a perfect loving ghost right here? Spicy implications but nothing directly explicit. Short (~1030 words) because I’m just getting back into writing and stretching the creative muscles. Criticism and feedback are welcome!

The Groom of Gallagher Mansion and Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack are both 18+ games, minors DNI! Thank you!

--- Leg bouncing excitedly, I adjust my headphones over my ears and grin at the familiar music. Both spooky and jovial, I hum along as I admire the tattered blue wallpaper on the game’s title screen, decorated with roses. The momentary blackness as I begin a new game seems far too long. Taking a gulp from the water bottle Jack had so kindly left on my desk earlier, I let out a tiny, excited cheer and began clicking through dialogue. Having just recently added voice acting with the new update, I’ve been eager to play all week. Listening along, one line causes me to chuckle. ‘G-g-g-ghost clown?! No!’ ‘Poor Taylor would be screwed knowing me, poor guy.’ I think to myself, lifting one side of my headphones. The sound of splashing and happy humming from the kitchen told me Jack was still doing dishes, so I fixed the device back on my ear and smiled. ‘Thankfully, my ghost clown isn’t too scary.’ Moving through the familiar dialogue, my character begins their performance and I can’t help but follow suit, dramatically laying the back of my hand to my forehead. “Alas, my poor aching heart!” I grin, leaning back with a theatrical flourish. Before I can give my next line, I hear Jack’s heavy footsteps approach. “Sunshine?” He leans against the doorway, broad shoulders on display in his normal white shirt, his jacket presumably left somewhere in the kitchen. “What are you doing?” “Oh, well,” I pause a moment, a tad embarrassed, “I’m playing a game, actually. Did I disturb you?” “No, of course not.” He flashes his signature grin, slipping his gloves back on as he comes to stand beside my chair, glancing down at the screen curiously. “What kind of game?” “Well..” I’ve explained a fair bit of modern technology to Jack in the months we’ve known each other but disclosing the idea of a romance game still seemed somewhat embarrassing. “It’s a… romantic visual novel, which is just as it says. It kind of acts as a choose your own adventure book, with added sounds and visuals.” He nods along and listens intently, though he raises a brow at the mention of romance. “So, what’s this game about then?” At that I grin, nerd brain taking over as I click idly. “It’s about you and your college friend, Taylor, summoning a ghost in a spooky cursed manor. You make choices to see who you end up with, but I always choose Elias.” Coming to the beginning of Elias’ dialogue, I unplug my headphones and raise the volume, smiling as the familiar line echoes from the speakers. “Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains the stony entrance of this sepulcher?” I mouth along with the words and click through, watching Elias’ ghostly sprite fade into view. As I glance back at Jack he wears an odd expression, furrowed brows and pursed lips forming a slight pout as he stares at the screen. “Jack? What’s wrong?” I return the game’s audio to its normal level and spin my chair to look at him fully. He studies me a moment, warm brown eyes reflecting unknown emotions. Before I have time to process, he grabs my hand and presses a warm kiss to my knuckles. Immediately my face turns a bright shade of red, heat emanating from my ears as I stutter. “I- you… Why?” Smiling lovingly, he lowers my hand and brings his gloved one to my cheek, brushing his thumb against it. He brings his face closer, pressing his forehead against mine. “Why play a game when I’m right here, Sunshine? Fantasies can be fun, but too much can be bad for you.” His hot breath fans across my face, blue hair tickling my cheek. His body is so warm looming over me. “Maybe you should take a break?~” He hums, tilting my chin upward slowly, taking a single breath to examine my flustered state before pressing his lips to mine. All at once soft and sweet and intoxicating, I find myself leaning into him, reaching upward to hold his hand on my cheek and wrap my arm around his neck. Locked together like this, we kiss until my lungs begin to burn, aching for breath. I pull back first, taking a great gasping breath as I recover. Looking up at him, his cheeks are dusted a light red and his breathing is more ragged than before. My face burns like hot coals as he looks at me, purest love mixed with building desire reflected in his eyes. “(Y/N)?” His tone is sweet, and yet it sends a shiver down my spine. “Yes?” He grasps my forearm gently, pulling me from my seat and carefully guiding me to the bed. My heartbeat thumps like distant thunder as he nudges me, motioning to lay upright against the pillows. Within a moment he straddles me, his arms acting as a heavily muscled cage. Leaning down to my neck, he plants a knowing kiss, murmuring into my skin. “I love you.” I gasp at the sensation, craning my neck unconsciously. “I love you, Jack.” With those words he melts into my arms, peppering me with kisses and divine praises. Our bedroom is filled with laughter as I am enveloped in a warm embrace, arms and legs cocooned under his hold. A sunny grin takes over his features as I weakly wiggle, seemingly proud of his capture. “Good.” He chuckles, leaning down to peck my cheek. Rubbing my arm lovingly, I notice his expression shift subtly as he glances back to the computer, still softly looping the game’s background music. “You know… I’d love to show you just how I feel,” he sighs, running his hands over my sides and gently teasing my inner thigh, “but if you’re busy…” I groan, looking back toward my desk and the sprite of Elias waiting patiently on the screen. Looking back at Jack, acknowledging my own arousal, I make up my mind. “I guess it can wait a liiiiiittle longer.” Jack got off the bed, quickly powering down the computer and fixing the desk chair before returning to his perfect, waiting sunshine. He’d make sure to delete that game later.

#minors do not interact #minors dni #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #The Groom Of Gallagher Mansion #Snaccpop #SDJ #GoGM #sunny day jack #oneshot #original writing #please be kind I am nervous #I don't write often anymore

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little-yandere-ish-blog · 1 year

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Programming: Robot Canada x creator! reader

The finishing touches on your brand new program! You smiled excitedly you had made a companion to accompany your work. He would have your program but artificial intelligence to fix any issues of his system and upgrade himself. He would be constantly learning. Now you needed to implement the final personality programming! You smiled as you created Matthew Williams. Your personal robot, he looked so human it was freaky but he was perfect!

You turned on the final switch and unplugged him. You stepped back waiting eagerly. Was this it? Was this going to be the burden lifted off your shoulders and creating a brilliant mind similar to your own? You smiled as his purple eyes light up to life.

“Huh? Where am I?” He blinked looking at the garage analyzing everything. His eyes soon fixated on you. His system immediately recognized you from his programming you had implemented

“Oh (name)!” He immediately softened up, he greeted you like an old friend he hadn’t seen in years “ Its so good to see you, its nice to see you in your full form” He stepped towards you.

“ Its good to see you too Matthew, I’m extremely happy to have you here, many many many months of work and here you are, this form of yours is extremely realistic! I programmed and put in so much in you!” You wanted to ramble about every detail of himself to him.

Matthew smiled softly “ its okay, i’ve been conscious since you connected the motherboard to an energy source, you are so persistent with your works. Im so happy to have you be my companion.

Time skip~

Its been about 11 months since Matthew was launched up and everything was running extremely smoothly. He’s been a joy to have and absolute lovely to have in the lab. You thought maybe he needs another robotic companion! It must be hard to be alone when you have to work. So! You've been working on a gift for Matthew!

“Matthew can you please come into the garage?” you called out to the canadian male

Matthew took off his oven mitts “of course, is there anything you need? I can help until these cookies finish baking.” He looked up seeing another robot...it was like him extremely similar except....a cowlick and the bluest eyes you could ever imagine.

“Matthew, this is your technically older brother. I had his parts for much longer, he was an earlier prototype his name is Alfred” You smiled introducting them

“hey dude!” Alfred hugged Matthew “ its weird seeing you outside of the programming, you look fantastic!”

Matthew froze up...why did (name) make him? Was she not satisfied with Matthew dedication and service? Was she not happy with him? Maybe...maybe he needed to fully prove himself to be capable of handling all of their tasks...just (name) and Matthew not this fucking clown called his brother.

Alfred let go looking to (name) smiling, Matthew wanted to disassemble him right then and there. He wanted the fake blood running through Alfred’s false veins to spray all over the walls. He wanted to make (name) realize all they needed was him and only him.

Matthew smiled “ well I’m so glad i have a companion and a brother to hang out with while you are at work” His analysis intelligence could recognize the emotions...how happy you were....seeing Alfred's signals sending romantic feelings to Alfred’s central processing ...no..no no no!!

Time skip a few weeks later, y/n POV

I was exhausted waking up to banging coming from the garage. Damn raccoon i’m sure, i went to the garage opened the door looking to see Alfred completely ripped apart and the fake blood spreading across the floor. I looked meeting Matthew's glowing purple eyes.

“oh..my god” Those were the only words I could muster from this horrific scene.

Matthew stood up “I didn’t want you to see this...he was a bad program” He looked to Alfred with disgust

“Matthew, what have you done?! You destroyed him! HES NOT EVEN ABLE TO BE BACKED UP!” I yelled, confused. The programming and those important central parts were destroyed

“This is what you programmed me to do, to make sure we stay friends. to make sure you’re protected and safe. I don’t understand” He said quietly approaching me. My heart started pounding, oh god was he gonna kill me? I don’t remember programming this possessive behavior!

“I can see your temperature rising and your heart rate getting quicker, your stress levels are increasing dramatically” He said analyzing my entire body as he approached me

“Yeah NO SHIT!” I snapped, scared and angry.

“ you made me like this, cant you see? or maybe my intelligence has surpassed you. I am god. I can create and destroy! Illness or age cannot effect me!! Not even water! NOTING!” He smiled...those purple eyes turning red.

Before I could get in a word he grabbed my face harshly “Can’t you see (y/n)? You need me...without me you’re nothing! You made me perfect for you. You made me with you’re own hands with love....It’s now me loving you back! I will love you back! I’ll I’ll fill you with my love” He said, his eyes flickered down there . My stomach churned “you...you have no idea what you’re talking about nor the parts or capacity to do such a thing” i said trying to correct him

He giggled innocently “ I made my own parts and figured out the correct protein and genetic combinations, with a constant supply of the foods i consume, my body can produce its own functional sperm, along with the proper male genitalia to stimulate and its fully fictional, I can fill you with my love and so much more” He said proud of himself.

I felt disgusted, the artificial intelligence was so much more horrific than i imagined, i never calculated he improve himself like this. I felt sick to my stomach. What have i created?

#yandere hetalia #yandere canada #robot canada #yandere robot #hetalia canada #hws canada #aph canada #matthew williams #yandere canada x reader #yandere hetalia x reader

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miscellanyofmusings · 8 months

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Rifftrax Sentence Starters

“______, didn’t I dispatch you to hell earlier?”

“ ______, shut up forever.”

"Alright. That does it. I officially have no idea what we're looking at, why we're here, or even who I am anymore."

“And I pray that I never have to emote any more than I just did. I'm exhausted.”

“And if you're ready, _____, may I offer you a wide-awake nightmare?

“Aw man, I thought we could trust the slimy loser.”

“Being a creepy evil creep is a reward in and of itself.”

“Bland? I mean, honey? Can I make you some bland milk? I mean, warm bland? I mean, warm milk?”

“Careful, they might miss at you.”

“Die! Die in a fire! Live again and then die!”

“Did you guys just see that or has my brain fully melted?”

“Do you think you can do me the teensiest favor and just kill me now?”

“Feels like an NPR audio essay is about to break out.”

“Forgive me, Father. I killed like eight guys today.”

“Fuck you. Pay me."

“Having knowledge about things is not really my specialty.”

“He died as he lived: looking dumb as Hell.”

“He has all the fighting skills of a sock monkey."

“Hell is other people and stuff.”

“I’m condescending for no reason, got it?”

“I've tried nothing—And it's not working!"

“I can’t answer your question because that would acknowledge you exist.”

“I can’t live with myself knowing there’s something out there I haven’t murdered.”

“I don’t want to oversell it, but it will fill you with sadness.”

"I find words difficult because I can't punch them."

“I have a two part question. One, will I ever feel joy again? Two, what did I do to deserve this?”

“I hope you like really tough burnt meat and shitty scotch.”

"I love it when a plan sort of slowly congeals together."

“I thrive on your ignorance.”

“I tripped and fell up five flights of stairs and landed here.”

“Is your torture basement even up to code?”

“It’s not what you said; it’s that you exist.”

“It irritates me too that I can defy logic, time, and physics."

"It is pleasant to be happy because it increases our amount of gladness."

“Let's carpe diem and mumble and mope like we've never mumbled and moped before!”

“Mind if I dial up the gay?”

"Never have I cared so little about so few for so long."

“Nothing calms a kid more than a poster of a deranged clown.”

“My philosophy is to see how many Pop-Tarts I can eat in two minutes.”

“No, don’t, ____, please! Seriously! I will kill all your enemies! Please!”

"No good story ever starts with ‘so there I was, pouring gasoline all over the dead girl’s body.’”

"Oh good. Something else for the Gallery of Things That Should Not Be."

“Oh, thoughtless sociopath, you’re my best friend.”

“Okay, so I’ll take that ominous cryptic answer as a firm yes.”

“Our hero— again, fighting like a sociopathic four year-old.”

"Please don't ruin this moment by surviving!"

“Rush in blindly! A plan can only hinder us!"

"Screaming? Laughter? At this point, what's the difference?"

“So where do you think you’re gonna dump my body?”

"So…You give up here often?"

“Society as we know it would disintegrate if people knew the truth about whatnot.”

“Thank you, most boring sounding person in the world.”

“That’s a very friendly murder threat.”

“That sounded a lot more menacing and less gay in my head.”

“This is my bullshit lecture!”

“Wait a minute, I thought you said ‘pass the time,’ not ‘destroy all hope in the universe.’”

"We are reconciled now through the cleansing power of violence."

“Well, that was neither fun nor interesting, but at least it gave us no new information.”

“Well, time to pretend I know stuff.”

"Well, whoopty-shit."

"Welp... Forgone conclusion ain't gonna forgone conclude itself."

“Who can resist an asshole?”

“Women, right? Always like, ‘This seems fatally stupid!’ Blah, blah, blah.’”

“Yeah, I do feel my own mind drifting through thoughts of Socrates—in that I want to drink hemlock and die.”

"You're a lying liar who lies! You lie!"

“You're not allergic to severe acid burns, are you?”

“You taste like libertarianism and cigars.”

“Your evil is reassuring.”

“Your violent, misogynistic criminal vibe lets me know I can trust you.”

#rp meme #sentence starters #rp starter #meme #memes #murder ///#violence tw #chaotic sentence starters #rp prompts #roleplay prompts

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jazzzzzzhands · 8 months

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So nobody asked for this but According to the dialogue So FAR Howdy has 6-7 siblings, one Aunt, and maybe a cousin -Drew is a maybe because he said "Her (Sue's) brother" and not "Our Brother" like he tend to do with the rest. -The same thing with Henry. Henry is "Barley's cousin" not "Our Cousin" -Barley is either listed as both a brother AND a cousin OR there is two "Barley"s in the family -His father was mentioned, but we don't have a name yet Also "Wooly" Aunt Molly I think could be a Moth, since moths are very fluffy, and she seems to be an obscure relative I also think that there is a possibility that the entire family is grown into butterflies, while Howdy remains a caterpillar, although he is fully grown as well. But that's just my little thoughts BUT anyways, these are just silly observations and I hope we get to hear more about his family!!! Transcript of the OG conversation below:

HOWDY: …So my brother Charlie tells my sister Dolly that our brother Barley’s cousin Henry is turnin’ over a new leaf! But if ya ask me, Barn, a caterpillar’s always turnin’ over leaves! …We just call it a salad!

BARNABY: So you don’t believe the poor guy? Sounds like you’re just given’ him the short end of the stick.

HOWDY: Short end of the- [Befuddled sound] We’ve given that clown the whole branch!

BARNABY: So he’s a clown too? Now you’re speakin’ my language, Howdy!

HOWDY: You wouldn’t believe what happened next- So my brother Chuck wished our brother Buck good luck on gettin’ that cluck Henry to straighten up and fly right!

BARNABY: Fly? Wait, wait, wait- he’s a butterfly? I thought he was a caterpillar!

HOWDY: [Lets out a small laugh but quickly catches himself, tutting Barnaby] You’re bein’ a wise guy, Barn, but I’m serious! Then- You’re not gonna believe this- Outta the blue comes our sister Sue and her brother Drew talking to my sister Dolly about gettin’ Henry on a trolley to see our aunt Molly-

BARNABY: Woolly Aunt Molly?

HOWDY: Woolly Aunt Molly, Barn! On my father’s left hand side- My left, not yours! Maybe… My upper left hand-side!

BARNABY: [A hint of playful sarcasm] How could I get that confused?

HOWDY: But long story short- Molly tells Henry to listen to our cousin Barley and my brother Charlie who insist they’re through with my sister Sue and her brother Drew and to get back on that trolley and talk to Dolly about gettin’ his act together!

BARNABY: Oh brother-

HOWDY: No no, Dolly’s my sister!

[A brief pause, then both start laughing uproariously]

HOWDY: [Slowly winding down laughter] I know I can always talk to you, Barn. I tell ya, havin’ a big family ain’t easy- Too many things to keep track of.

BARNABY: You’re right about that- I’m just listenin’ in and I can barely keep track! The only family I got to keep track of is my dear, sweet Mama.

HOWDY: That’s right- Y’know, next time she comes around, you oughta let me serve her one of my strawberry soda pops!

BARNABY: Nobody makes ‘em like you do, pal. Speaking of which… How’s that drink treating you, Wally?

#jazzisaspazz #i dont even know what to tag this #welcome home #observations #whps #howdy pillar #family tree #yall like my handwriting? ahahaha #this is actually neat for me #i usually write much worse #but i tried to make it readable #i legit love this conversation SO MUCH #it sounds like a dr. suess book #it is DELIGHTFUL to hear over and over again #anyways anyways back to drawing ahahaha #text post #i put a cut cause i dont like a lot of texty things on my blog #i like pictures!!!#very rarely do i put texty things and i will always tag them if i actually do

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dadsbongos · 2 years

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halloween

Stranger Things x Horror Movie Collection

American Psycho / Halloween / Scream / Friday the 13th / Fear Street / Jennifer’s Body

4.9K words

warnings - descriptions of wounds/violence (blood n gore n such), halloween au

summary - On Halloween night, you’re stuck babysitting a gaggle of nerds when the phone rings. The person on the other end, however, isn’t eager to answer.

“I’m about to drop dead,” Chrissy mumbles, eyes straying to the ceiling.

“As opposed to what?” you glance at the kitchen when you hear a giggly shout, “Levitate dead?”

“So funny,” she gasps mockingly, “Have you ever considered being a comedian? You could be a regular Elayne Boosler.”

Dustin leans out of the doorframe, hands up as if to beg forgiveness, mouthing a ‘sorry’ before running back in.

“I wish I was there, I think our kids would have fun,” Chrissy has been babysitting Layla Loomis since the redhead was a newborn, but even that close bond can be tiring, “I also just want to get out of this damn house. They’ve got weird clown paintings.”

“Just take the paintings down, dumbass,” your eyes stick to the kitchen door frame, where muffled, joyous conversation is trapped, “Also, Layla is nine, I dunno how well they’d actually get along.”

“Isn’t Erica Sinclair eleven?”

“Spiritually, she’s - like - nineteen with addiction withdrawals. The mean symptoms, not the shaky ones," you shrug, "She's kind of a bitch."

Chrissy gasps genuinely this time, your name slipping out like a hiss, "You can't call her that! She's a kid!"

"You've never met her, have you?"

She confirms your suspicion with silence.

“Yeah, I figure,” you look out the window and across the street when a house’s light flickers, “S-O-S, very funny, Annie.”

Chrissy giggles, “Aw, she’s just sad I was pissy with her when she dropped Benny off.”

“Why’re you watching Benny?”

She sighs out the answer you should’ve been expecting, “Her boyfriend’s visiting.”

“Ew,” you fold your arms as the flickering gets quicker. S-O-S to simple violent flashes. The living room’s overhead stays on for a long while, “I gotta go. Talk to you later.”

“Alright,” she groans overdramatically, “Happy Halloween.”

You return the phrase and hang up.

The living room light cuts now, and no other lights are turned on.

Annie’s always been melodramatic, this isn’t anything extremely new. So you pull the drawstring of the blinds and walk away to the kitchen where your group of nerds is herded.

“Are you dum-dumbs done?” you lean your hip into a counter while Erica and Max seem to be competing over who can throw more popped kernels into Lucas’ mouth.

“You seemed busy,” Dustin grabs the big plastic bowl of popcorn and shoots you a look as he passes, “Are you done with your phone call?”

“Yes, actually, I am,” you flick the back of Dustin’s neck as he leads the way to the living room.

Ten minutes into the horror movie Max practically strong-armed you into getting for the group, there’s the screeching of Annie’s dear boyfriend’s, Johnny Traimer’s, car through a sunset road - one not yet cluttered with kids.

Three minutes later, the phone rings. Erica pauses the film and you lean to the couch’s side table to answer, “Sinclair residence- "

The opportunity to finish your greeting is killed when you hear a deep groan, right from the barrel of someone’s throat. Then another, then a gasp and strangled yelp.

“Oh, gross, you two!” this was bad, even for Annie’s standards. The phone shakes as you slam it down and you sit on your knees to look through the blinds.

Still no light in the house.

Erica plays the movie when you don’t speak further.

Your head feels light - you’re left falling in and out of sleep even despite the screams and bright, flashing TV lights. Despite the popcorn that flies in front of your face, and despite the fully-fledged teenager clinging to your arm like a child. Only when there’s a sharp synth spike and a scream on screen (and subsequently in your ears by three adolescents), are you woken up.

You jump, eyes flying open to see a topless young actress slaughtered by a hulking, masked figure with a kitchen knife.

“We can change the movie, you know?” you yawn, sitting up straighter on the couch, “Just ‘cuz it’s Halloween doesn’t mean you freaks have to watch a slasher.”

“No, no, no, no,” Dustin shakes his head vigorously, squeezing you tight by the arm, “We wanna watch.”

Erica buries half her face into your shoulder, one eye peeking at the screen, “Yeah, we wanna watch.”

You glance down at the floor, where Lucas and Max are huddled up beside your leg. Lucas’ hand is tightly wound in Max’s - his brows furrowed and lips pressing tightly in anticipation.

Sighing, you sit back and give in, “Alright, but nobody’s mom hears about this, right?”

A chorus of “right!”s follow suit.

Honestly, sometimes you think the only reason the kids request you as a babysitter is because you’re not hesitant about renting R-rated movies for them. For the most part, anyway - you refuse to get them even a morsel from the X section, for obvious reasons.

The camera lingers over the killer’s shoulder as he moves down a hall - another poor girl, screaming and big-breasted, runs ahead of him. It’s quiet except for a simmering chase theme, though even that is dim. Erica and Dustin tense beside you, their nails digging into your skin harshly. Shallow crescents left in their wake.

Briiiing!

Dustin jumps, squeezing your arm so harshly he nearly cuts off blood circulation, and Erica’s hands fly over her ears. Lucas backs into your leg with a gasp and Max just laughs, a finger pointing right in his petrified face.

It’s just the phone, for God’s sake.

“Oh my God,” you stand with a huff and pause the movie, “No more. Lucas, grab Cheech & Chong, I’m cutting you all off.”

“Aw, boo!” Max cups her hands over her mouth as she turns to the couch, just to really twist the knife in Dustin and Erica.

The phone rings again and you shoot a silencing glare at the teenagers before answering, “Sinclair residence - Charles and Sue are out at the moment but I can take a message.”

There’s a sharp laugh and you roll your eyes at the sound, “Jeez, don’t you sound positively chipper?”

“Bite it, Steve,” you slide to sit on the arm of the couch, sensing Dustin loom over you at the name of his impromptu brother, “What do you want? Thought you were with Nance.”

He hums - testy and hollow of his usual amusement, “About that. We sort of broke up.”

“Sort of?”

“It’s a long story,” he sighs and you can practically see him run a hand through his stupid hair, “Can I just come over?”

“Oh my God, hanging out with kids on Halloween? How far the mighty have fallen, Harrington,” you look over at where the four kids are staring at you like the titular kids in Children of the Corn, “Yeah, hurry up. And get us food on your way.”

“What am I? The milking cow?”

“Yup,” you slam the phone down and turn to the awaiting faces before you, “Hair’s on his way.”

Erica raises her brows at you.

“Yes, he’s bringing stuff to eat.”

She nods assuredly and leans back into the couch with folded arms.

You nudge your chin towards the Sinclair’s television, “Seriously, if I hear a peep about this from your parents, I’ll throttle you all.”

Max nods boredly, head tossing onto the couch cushions while Lucas settles in beside her. Dustin sits wide-eyed at the TV in wonder with Erica trying (and miserably failing) to keep her cool at watching a movie her parents loudly protested the opening of.

But before you can christen the night and let the stoner comedy play, the phone rings again. You smack Dustin in the shoulder for laughing when you flinch and pick up the receiver,

“Hello, Sinclair residence - Sue and Charles are out but I can take a message,” you sit and wait.

And wait.

You get up from the arm of the couch, brows knitting, “Hello?”

You feel the childrens’ eyes on you and pointedly ignore them. This time, when you really press your ear to the phone, you can hear faint breathing. Faint, but hefty. Like the person had just finished slinging weights.

“Billy, I know you might not know how to breathe through your nose yet, but can you at least say something?” you turn, coiling a finger into the phone cord.

Max tenses and you see it in your peripherals, Lucas grabs her hand and the two share a look.

“It’s a sleepover, Hargrove. She’s allowed to be here.”

And she is. Susan herself got the okay from Neil and gave Max the okay under the impression it would only be you and Erica while Lucas and Dustin were out with Will and Mike.

The breathing continues - slowly growing more ragged, slowly increasing in volume. You shuffle away from the children and as far from them as the phone cord will allow.

“Alright, listen, asshole, I get Halloween is the time for pranks, but just forget it. I’m wrist-deep in bullshit with babysitting, so take this house off whatever damn list you have.”

You hang up and sit on the edge of the couch. Erica leans into your side, though not nearly enough to wrongfully be accused of being scared and needing her babysitter. Still, though, you throw your arm over the back of the couch and let her fall into the gap left at your side.

Erica’s too big to admit she’s still shaking from some cheesy horror movie, so she doesn’t, and if it comes down to it - you’ll go ahead and claim to be the one shaking.

The phone rings again.

“That better be Steve,” Lucas sits up on his knees, still clutching Max’s hand.

You groan and move, leaning over the arm of the couch and feeling it dig into your ribs as you answer the phone, “Hello?” when nobody replies, you roll your eyes, “Sinclair residence.”

Erica takes your free hand, hidden from the others’ view, “Who is it?”

Shrugging, you settle the phone between cheek and shoulder, “Seriously, I’ve had it. If there’s something you want, just spit it out, sicko.”

But no. It remains silent. Then the breathing. Slowly growing louder - you stand, releasing Erica’s hand, and shake your head.

“C’mon, just hang up,” Dustin removes his cap to run a hand through his curls, “They’re gonna keep calling.”

But there’s something in your gut that tells you to stay on the line.

“Yeah, let’s go, this is enough,” Max huffs in her brave front, eyes narrowing, “It’s just some asshole. Get it over with.”

But even so. You move towards the window, index and middle finger parting two of the slats. The breathing heavies.

The street is bustling with kids - ranging from babbling babes being pushed in strollers to kids you recognize from the halls of Hawkins High - most in monster costumes. Typical vampires and witches and zombies and ghosts. A couple of kids - the older ones - have thrown on a bloodied hockey mask and called it a costume. Parents are scarce, pretty exclusively with the children who can’t talk for themselves.

Jack O’ lanterns dot houses on the other side of the street and a handful of parked cars are visible on the edge of the road. Candlelight is swamped out by street lamps that bathe the concrete sidewalk in sickly orange. Sickly, pale, and spotty.

But one body towers above the others - one body strays behind a car longer than the others.

“Okay, can you just leave it alone? I can see right through you,” you glare at the figure, heart thundering into your ribs and honestly you’re hoping that the shape can’t see you, “Two-people scams are so out, it’s unfair. Get over yourselves and leave us alone.”

The shape persists. The breathing heavies.

Your hand shakes around the phone but you don’t let down. Lucas stands at your side now, fists clenched as if you’re gonna let his child-self fight whoever it is that’s on the phone. A kid runs into the shape and it still refuses to move.

“Now you’re just being a dick,” you hate the way your spine tingles - fear. Hot and heavy and lathering your arms in prickled flesh.

The breathing heavies. Like he’s growing closer. Ever closer. Like he’s behind you - breath on your neck and in your ear. Like you should run.

Heavy knocks thud on the door but the shape persists. The breathing heavies.

You jump as the knocking continues, a scream you cut short is released and even Max flinches. Dustin huddles to Erica and Erica won’t admit that she huddles right back. Lucas holds up a hand as if to take the phone from you and right when he does, you hear it.

Loud, obnoxious, screeching laughter. A hand slaps a knee as the person on the other side heaves in giggles.

“Oh my God!” you wrench yourself back from the window, “Fuck you, Munson! Who’s out there?”

Of course, only Eddie would try and terrorize his own friends with a Michael Myers mask.

“Just Harrington, sweetheart, be a doll and let him in, will ya?”

“Dick,” you huff but gesture Lucas towards the front door, “‘s just Steve.”

Not a minute later, Steve Harrington is barreling through the door with a small stack of pizzas on one arm. Stupid big grin on his face.

You peek back out through the slats and see the shape trapped in a thicker crowd of trick-or-treaters than before. As you wave to local puppy-boy Steve, you speak into the phone again, “Alright, Munson, you can come in now.”

The shape is still there, though. You look away as someone pops through the kitchen - Eddie’s hands are on his hips proudly. He shoots you a wink and takes Dustin into his arms, squeezing the boy to his chest dramatically, “You should really lock all the doors and windows when you’re home alone, Laurie Strode, never know who has the balls to break in,” he pouts, “My freshmen disciples in your care and you can’t even lock a door.”

Steve ‘tsk’s as Erica storms to the food in his hold.

But you couldn’t care any less.

You hook the phone and hold your stare on Eddie, “You were…?”

“Outside,” Dustin shoves himself out of Eddie’s grasp, the latter nudges his head towards the kitchen side door, “I didn’t fuck with anything.”

“No, it’s- “ you peek out the window, the shape is missing.

Children pass by freely.

“You okay, Chunk?” Eddie steps forward.

Erica quirks a brow, glaring at the metalhead, “No food or references - Goonies or otherwise - for you until we can trust you’ve washed your hands,” she points down the hall, “Bathroom.”

“No,” you snap at the boy, “Did either of you see a guy on the other side of the street?”

“A guy?” Steve ‘hmph’s, “Figured it was a shitty Myers stand.”

You shake your head, peeking through the slats again, “He’s gone.”

And the doors are unlocked.

“The doors are unlocked,” you blurt, pointing at the other two older teenagers, “Doors and windows - check and lock them.”

Lucas goes to follow you upstairs while Eddie takes the basement and Steve stays on the first floor. His face is earnest, worry-wrung, “I wanna help.”

“No,” you keep him back with a stiff arm, “You stay down here and look after the others, alright? I’ll be right back.”

You can see it in the twist of his lips, his knitted brows, “I want to help.”

Both hands settle on his shoulders and you smile at the poor boy, “You can help plenty by just making sure the others are safe. Alright?”

He shakes his head but finds his way back to the group so you can go upstairs. You hate to say it, but as you come upon the landing, you sort of wish you’d taken up the chance of company. The quiet is eerie and drawn out - like you should be waiting for the other shoe to drop - like the still before a storm. Darkness pervades. Not quite inky, more flashes. Moonlight and street lamps illuminate the upstairs through thin curtains and slotted blinds.

Distantly, you hear the sounds of children screaming and giggling in Halloween delight. A single floorboard creaks and you could throw yourself over the banister at how pathetic you feel jumping from the sound.

This is ridiculous, you think - you’ve got kids to take care of, you can’t stay upstairs all night.

So you rush down the hall to Erica’s room and get to work locking her windows. You like Erica’s room, it’s got D&D miniatures sat out on a desk and a nice lavender bedspread. It’s more comforting than Lucas’ room, of no fault to him. Sports memorabilia and pictures of Max and even more intense D&D decor. It just reminds you of high school boys’ rooms you’ve been in and subsequently hated.

The window right above Lucas’ bed is jammed halfway and no matter how hard you press, it refuses to budge. It’s not nearly enough to sneak through, but even so, it could be opened. You leave his piggy bank at the sill in case someone does creep in and move on.

A kid shrieks from outside and you hurry to the master bedroom.

Neat and tidied, nobody has been in this room since Charles and Sue Sinclair left five hours ago. But there’s the chill of a Hawkins fall night that blows through and their pristine white curtains billow in the breeze. Your skin chills and you close the big window to the right of Sue’s antique dresser - it shutters and you think for a moment that the very glass shakes. You click the lock into place and continue.

When the upstairs is squared, you return to the group. There’s a gaping splotch in the gaggle of teenagers.

“Where’s Munson?”

“Thought he found you,” Steve shrugs.

“Why would- “ you cut yourself off, “Whatever.”

There’s a crash upstairs. Glass cracking and a thud like a full furniture set being dropped.

Dustin blanches at you, “I thought you locked the windows!”

“I did!” you huff but race to the kitchen, grabbing a knife. But one of the knives is already missing.

Oh.

Steve follows you, one hand going to your shoulder and his head tilting in a silent question.

“Get the kids out and go, go to a neighbor and call the cops,” your heart is thundering.

But come on, you’ve fought Hawkins’ demons and survived - you can handle a douchebag with a knife, right? Right! Of course.

Of course.

You run upstairs before Steve can ask further questions. He’s reluctant but follows your orders, herding your kids out the front door like the good shepherd he is while you check each room.

The knife glints in fractured moonlight, shaking in your hand as you peek through the doorways. Slow at first, sticking to the walls before carefully moving inside. The house creaks and you try to keep your breathing quiet. Footsteps still. You wait with bated breath.

For the other shoe to drop. For the storm to commence.

For a man to burst through the closet.

There’s no man - you cut through the rooms and find nothing but a tumbled full-body mirror now shattered in Erica’s room. You creep close and find no explanation for its sudden fall.

You’re almost excited to get back downstairs. Your hands speed to the couch-side phone and dart over the numbers to the house Chrissy is sitting. Just to warn her before it’s too late. Unless it already is.

The phone is ringing but Chrissy won’t answer. She never lets the phone ring long. You press your ear closer, hoping desperately for some - any - response aside from this mechanical tone. It rings. And rings. And you can’t hear the man behind you.

Steve turns to look at the Sinclair house once the children are out, he goes to step inside but Erica snags him by the shirt.

She isn’t one for verbally expressing her concern unless it was a quip, she isn’t prone to vulnerability that way; whether it be because of her young age or a result of their Hawkins’ trauma, he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care much. But now, he can see it in her eyes - rich with anxiety.

“You better not be thinking about going back in there, just wait for the cops. She’ll come back out,” Erica squeezes her hand in the material of Steve’s shirt, “She’ll come out.”

“I can’t take the chance,” Steve grins down at her, “We’ll be okay - we’re a good team, Sinclair.”

Steve detaches from the girl and runs back into the house. No plan, no ideas, just him and his typical inability to win a fight.

And he sees you struggling in the middle of the Sinclair’s living room. Eyes bugging, legs kicking, and hands ripping at the cord wrapped around your throat - a hulking, masked figure dragging you back into his chest.

Steve is quick at what he does best and what he does best is running into fights. He throws his body into the man’s, tackling him at the side. You’re dropped to the floor, knees burning against the rug while you heave for air. Your fingers drag across the indents forming from the spiraled cord.

“Keep him…” a thick sputter and cough rags through your sore throat, “inside…!”

The man in the Myers mask lifts Steve by the collar of his shirt, almost laughable in its visible simplicity for him. You don’t laugh though, not when your heart is thrumming like a jackrabbit and not when you can hear Steve’s fists land on the man’s chest like it’s a thick wall.

Scrambling, your hands pat blindly under the couch for the knife that’d fallen from your hand during the altercation. Handle meets palm and you drag the blade out as Steve kicks in the man’s hold. You turn, armed, and stab the man’s calf - it takes muscle, force, more than you use for anything in your typical life. More than you’re comfortable with. Cloth and skin rip around your blade and Steve is dropped. His body hits the floor like dead weight and the figure buckles.

You wretch back the knife and crawl away, shaky, to Steve’s side. You grab him by the sleeve and drag him closer to the door.

The man collapses, his hand smacking on the glass table hard enough to crack it.

Coming to your feet, you hurriedly tug Steve onto his own - knife still in hand.

The man rises, his head tilting. Something so reminiscent of a movie that you can’t help the “oh, fuck you!” that comes out. Steve takes the knife from your hand and pushes you behind him. His hands are shaking worse than yours.

“We need to keep him inside,” your eyes stay on the figure as you whisper to Steve.

The sirens are faint but they grow closer.

“Keep him inside,” Steve nods, “Got it.”

Steve slowly moves closer and you hesitate to grab him. On one hand, you know it’s foolish of him to approach, but if the man reciprocates and you’re holding Steve back then you’re both fucked. So you watch, back to the door, and legs jelly as Steve attempts to go toe-to-toe with the Michael Myers wannabe.

The sirens grow louder and you can see the man’s shoulders tense. He charges Steve.

And despite the knife quickly lodged in his side, the man throws Steve right back to where you are. His body hits your legs and you barely have the time to snatch the knife from his limp hand before you’re being cinched by the neck.

Hands shake with how hard he’s squeezing, you can feel your throat forcibly tighten. His fingers dig into your skin and you try to gasp through his hands. You take the knife to his forearm, slashing at his skin and breaking through his jumpsuit sleeve. He hisses and jumps when you manage to stab his shoulder but when he leans forward and jams you between himself and the door, you’re left with his hands locked around your throat.

His chest locks yours in place and you tear the knife through his rib, as far as your arms can possibly stretch while your vision spots. Yellow to blue to black splotches decorate the room and hot tears scorch your cheeks. Shallow, you wheeze and beat at his arms with both a fist and knife. Still, he leans and twists his clenched hands around your throat.

You try calling Steve’s name but all that manages to escape is a coughed grunt. Your muscles give, vision dark, the knife tumbles and hits the tiled flooring with a tink, your arms fall. Legs twitch.

The sirens grow quiet.

Your head lulls back.

Glass shatters and you drop to the doorstep like a sack of cement. Sputtering and gasping and clawing at the raw skin of your neck blindly. Your eyes don’t adjust well at first, hazy and blurred but enough to see that Steve is the one that smashed a vase against the back of the shape’s head.

Quickly, the sirens return to their previous volume - no, louder. Nearer. Steve manages to get the man on the ground. Kids scream outside but this isn’t the overjoyed cheer of trick or treaters - it’s terror and panic and urgency. It’s your kids.

You collapse back onto the ground as you wheeze through a crushed windpipe.

The door bursts open as the man grabs the knife, raising it above his head while Steve screams. Through the gap of the doorway, you see your kids screaming. Dustin is bright red in the face and Max and Lucas are clinging to one another. Erica is wide-eyed and frozen on the lawn. They blur and darken as your eyes flutter.

Your head feels light - you’re left falling in and out of sleep even despite the screams and bright flashing lights. Despite the police and sirens that cry in front of your face, and despite the fully-fledged teenager clinging to your arm like a child.

Only when you’re in the back of an ambulance with Max and Erica at your side, are you woken up.

Carefully, you tilt your head to check your vitals. When your head is facing forward, you can see the girls looking at you - at your neck.

It aches and burns at the back of your throat, but you swallow the saliva stuck there. Voice ragged and thin as you croak, “How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad,” Max is entirely honest, brows furrowed, “You’re gonna have a fuck-awful bruise.”

“Battle scars,” you cringe at the sound of your roughened voice and the pain that comes with using it.

“That was stupid,” Erica glares at you, lashes narrow and brows knitted, “Capital ‘S’ stupid.”

You shrug and her disdain grows harsher.

“Stupid.”

If protecting your kids makes you stupid, then you’ll gladly play the fool every single time.

You peek around the space just to ensure nobody else is listening, “We’ve seen worse.”

But none of those previous times have you come quite so close - quite so immediate - to death. Never before had you actually had your vision go black and feel the body-trembling fear of genuinely being about to die. It almost makes you miss when the only thing to make you break a sweat was a drooly, toothy screech in your face. Almost.

The ambulance doors are tossed open, Steve standing outside with Dustin and Lucas on either side. His lips are pressed and he nudges his head for the other girls to get out.

Steve takes their place, his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip.

“You look like you have to puke.”

“I do,” he’s quiet. Uncharacteristically, “They found Eddie. And Chrissy. And Annie. And Johnny.”

You grunt, uncomfortably shifting so you’re upright, a new thud pittering your heart. You can’t find yourself to speak, though. Stomach frilling and chest aching.

Something stirs. Sickens. Rots.

You just stare. It’s all you can do.

You don’t even want to ask.

Where?

How?

Are they…?

You don’t have to ask.

“Dead,” Steve grabs your hand when your muscles freeze, he squeezes, “All dead.”

He wasn’t told the details, but he saw Eddie. Pinned to the wall of the Sinclair’s basement - chest to brick - with a kitchen knife. The blade sat deep in the metalhead’s chest, only the handle was visible. Eddie’s head was turned directly right, chin to shoulder, eyes wide in terror.

He overheard from the officers in passing - brief flashes of gore. Of Chrissy’s neck slashed until it was hanging by threads of muscle. Of Annie’s face bashed into the counter until her jaw was mere pieces. Of Johnny’s throat rubbed red and bloody and raw by a phone cord.

“What about the kids? The ones they were babysitting?”

Steve remains silent. Your stomach lurches.

“And him?”

The shape.

Steve squeezes your hand again.

Children chatter outside and you can hear officers telling citizens to back away. There’s nothing to see here.

You swallow thickly, an ice chill crawling along your skin. Your flesh prickles.

“Steve,” you feel twisted, wrenched, “What happened to him?”

He releases your hand and peeks through the small, square windows on the ambulance’s back doors, “The guy…”

You wait with bated breath.

“Myers.”

For the other shoe to drop. For the storm to commence.

“He got out of the cuffs.”

For a man to burst through a closet.

“They can’t find him anywhere.”

#eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #the party x reader #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #erica sinclair #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #steve harrington x you #dustin henderson x reader #lucas sinclair x reader #platonic duh!

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pdaliceliveblogs · 2 years

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So. That happened.

Belos is less dead than I thought, though who knows how much power he can actually have in about a cup-ful of phlegm. I’ve wondered before if this little shack was originally the Wittebanes’ house— it doesn’t look old enough, really, but it could be built on the same site— which means he might have an equivalent to his old home as his new home base. Oh boy.

(This might be a little scattered; I’m careening headfirst into finals and I have a shitload to write some of which I probably should have done over the course of the weekend I was at the con oops)

Eda’s lost an arm. That’s gonna be permanent; the arm disintegrated. I wonder if she’ll get a prosthesis? Probably, right? Plus she’s right-handed, going by the shot of her writing her to-do list in Requiem, so drawing glyphs is going to be a pain in the ass for a while until she gets used to the prosthesis. Ow. Not that it’s clear there’s going to be an opportunity to get one, while outrunning a child chaos god.

Actually, that gives me a thought— when the Collector says they want to play Owl House, everybody’s kind of gonna turn to Eda to figure out what the fuck that means; they all know she’s the Owl Lady. So at least she’ll probably get to give King a hug at some point.

Raine… god, Raine. I don’t think they’re dead, but I do think they’re in a bad, bad way. All the Head Witches are, probably. I know we all whiffed it real hard on expecting Raine to be scarred and fucked up from the cocoon Kiki put them in, but I do think that probably all the Head Witches are going to have some lasting effects from this.

Darius putting his hands up when the Healing Head threatened Eber… ow. That hit me harder than I expected it to. That’s his best friend. And Hunter going immediately to check on him, too… goop man and his family matter a lot to me, and I didn’t expect that to happen.

Hunter… has been through a lot lately. I mean, everyone has, but holy shit. In the past couple weeks he’s gone from fully worshipping his abusive uncle to finding a better father figure and making friends for the first time, discovering he was never loved by his uncle (who’s also a genocidal maniac), discovering he isn’t even the species he thought he was, nearly getting killed multiple times, being homeless, being kidnapped, losing said better father figure to the draining spell and not knowing if he’s alive or dead, watching said abusive uncle be splattered on the wall right before his eyes, and now he’s in a completely new world with only four people he knows.

On the slightly lighter side, he was probably confused as fuck when Belos saw Flapjack and suddenly roared out… his flyer derby alias?

Assuming the Palismen made their way to the Human Realm with them (and we know they’ll function there bc Owlbert did), Flapjack can probably fill him in on some things, possibly with Gus’s assistance seeing as he saw some of Belos’s memories when he was using the mirror.

God, Gus breaking down. That broke me. He’s so young. They’re all so young, but damn. And Hunter with his arm around him at the end, full on big brother instinct, just going to take care of that kid even though he really needs some taking-care-of himself.

Luz trying to take on all the pain herself, and then King turning that around on her— that hurts a lot too. King might be a Titan, but he’s just a little guy. He’s taken so much on, playing along with the Collector.

The Collector themselves is so fascinating to me. I mean, I already have a soft spot for jester/clown imagery and also sun/moon imagery, so I was well set up to enjoy him as a character, but holy shit. This casually cruel but also very honest and forthright little godling, immensely powerful and not really cognizant of how much harm their play does. Or, rather, they know it does harm, they just don’t really have a concept of why they should care. The musical theme that came on when they popped out into the physical realm, too! Fantastic stuff.

Camila’s suddenly gonna have six teenagers in her house. Good luck, Camila.

(My weird headcanon that Hunter has a human style digestive system and that’s why he’s so scrawny… what if he fills out and has a huge growth spurt on Earth bc he’s finally not malnourished anymore)

This is a hell of a place to end a season.

They’re going to be fighting like hell to get back.

#owl house #the owl house #owl house liveblog #owlblog #pdaliceblogs #owl 221 #toh spoilers #episode wrapup

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cats-thoughts · 2 years

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An Angel from Every Dimension

(What’s this? A post that ISN’T Branzy focused?? Woah. Also, first like, fully story based post I think. Hopefully my writing style isn’t infuriating, I’m used to only writing for myself lmao. OH YEAH ALSO I was the Angel Branzy anon that sparked Watcher Branzy, I am. SO sorry shbdhsb anyways there is actually some angel Branzy in this enjoy!)

Ivory has been to every dimension at least once. It’s not fully on purpose. She has lots of places to be and sometimes she gets a little lost getting there. Of course, EVERY dimension is a bit of an exaggeration. She’s been to many, of course, but the Universe IS infinite, and all. Either way, she’s been really about everywhere. She’ll note down the interesting ones to return to later, or just to remember them.

The Maze: She’d stepped out into a clearing with high rising walls and more than a little lava. She’d left soon after- this was CLEARLY not the SMP she was aiming for, likely a bit too far to the left- though just as she stepped away, wings shrouding her, she could have sworn she saw a man clothed in red with dark sunglasses staring from the giant holes in the walls. Likely the exits into the twisting corridors she could see past them. Vaguely, when she later thought back on it, she recognized his similarities to a good friend of hers’ rival, Redoons. She is reminded often that not everyone is able to leave their dimensions, and instead has a separate replica of themselves. Who is the original? She doesn’t bother pondering. There is only One Ivory Cello, after all. She’d made certain of that. (Later, a man in a suit and red sock over his face had explored where he’d thought he’d seen a woman, and found nothing but a few white feathers, somehow pristine and unsinged by the lava.)

The Deadliest Game: This one she was familiar with. Both due to how close it is to another server of hers, and due to a good friend of her’s residence there. The admin hates her, she’s well aware, side stepping his careful protections without barely acknowledging that they’re there. Mostly, she’ll locate her friend, The Jester, whether he’s mid battle or attempting to sleep, and force him to fight her. Why? No one else is any fun to spar with, of course! His purple friend, who he’s very fond of, is terrified of her. She’s unsure how the cowering man is at all an echo of a colleague of hers, but, well, that’s how echos are, she supposes. Still, he’s useful, because when Clown is being particularly defiant and refusing to fight her, she just has to mention attempting to spar with Branzy (and what a silly name, that is, but she changed hers too so, who is she to judge?) and he’ll drag himself into it for his sake.

The Rabbit’s World: She’d found the Deadliest game an empty server, and determined they’d moved on as she’d seen others do. It wasn’t hard to locate the new one, the echo of a colleague was not hard to track, though her good friend was nowhere to be found. She then left to search for him, actually deliberately stepping into a server in which she was uninvited. Clown had made certain to tease her for how reliant she was upon his entertainment when she’d found him, and she swiftly and elegantly silenced him with a punch to the gut. The Rabbit, the unknowing Admin, had asked her which dimension she was from, and she’d only smiled and replied “whichever I want.” And disappeared. She now pops into the Rabbit’s World to challenge Clown. He was right, she is rather reliant on him.

The Echo: She doesn’t visit this one often, actually actively avoids it, but her colleague has a certain pull many angels get caught up in. He’s tried to stop it, but there wasn’t much to do. So, occasionally, she’ll find herself in a world of caves and cliffs, and usually will step right back out. Unless she happens to require, on the rare occasion, advice. She tells Borealis of his pathetic echo and he laughs, agreeing that “He is quite odd, isn’t he?” though ever fond. He does love his mortals, that one. Sometimes, he will stop her before she leaves. “Cygnus,” He will ask, “How is Circinus?” and she will, once again, be forced to break the news. That Circinus had fallen. And Borealis would only get a distant look in his eyes and nod, and she would have to remind him again someday. Every time, she fights to urge to lie. She owes Borealis the truth, at least, she convinces herself. She owes him the truth.

The Lucid: This one she only visits to pay respects. The Lucid running the place was unpleasant, at best, and the Child would certainly attempt to rope her into battles that were not hers to fight. Still, she visits to pay respect to Circinus, and nothing more. A simple poppy, the Mourning Flower. She dislikes Lucids, truly. There is only one she cares much for.

The Cow Cannon: It was the first thing she’d noticed. A cow cannon. And then a fish cannon. And then a cow trampoline. And a cow pit. And whoever holds domain over these lands must REALLY hold resentment for cows? She meets the man, the Lucid, once, and once is enough. He’s... impossible to describe, really. Voice of silk doing Nothing to disguise his sheer insanity and pension for death. Still, when she struggles to think, she finds herself at the Cow Cannon, watching cows pass like sheep, and her mind will come up with something, anything, to give her reason to leave the endless agony of cow death. (And the Scent...Ivory has never considered herself much of a complainer, but she has lines to draw in the sand, and the scent that world reeks of is something else, something far past the sand.)

The Life Games: She’d never come across one in action, but she’d seen the scars left, the world whispering the rules. She never stuck around long. Always got the sense of being watched, while she was there.

The Seasons: She only came across their older worlds. She’s been tempted to hunt down the builders who’d made these lands, but decided she prefers to explore what they leave behind. Sprawling towers, megabases with love and care written in the foundations. The places in dirt where a wheelchair had run over hundreds, thousands of times. Cat fur scattered about. Feathers in a nest of blankets. A bottle under the ocean. The touch of the void left here and there. And the mines, don’t get her started on the mines! Sprawling, endless, precise down to the placement of torches. Games and stores and a whole society. She returns often to these worlds, amazed, and there is always something new to find. In the eighth world she finds, she discovers two copies. One that is well intact though smaller than the others, and one that is shattered, bits and pieces scattered in the endless void. She glides around and finds, where there once was a tower of boats, there is only the distinct touch of a powerful watcher and some desperate vex tossed in as well. Back in the complete version, she discovers an old man. The owner of the mines, she recognizes, the True Hermit. She’d questioned why he wasn’t with the others, and he’d only laughed. “Oh, I’ll catch up later. For now, don’t you have somewhere to be, little bird?” And he was right, she did. When she returned later, he was gone.

The Empires: There were two, she’d found. The first a little worse for wear, though she’d seen glimpses of what it had once been. She’d pet the dogs and visited the axolotls. She’d even found a lost empire, reclaimed by the jungles. In the next, she’d took the time to chase off a nasty fog creature from a sleeping young witch, and did what she could for another queen’s curse. She’d gone to each empire and seen what she could, and she left little golden trinkets and feathers where she’d been, as silent markers of her presence. She left soon after, before any awoke.

The Escapist: She’d found the place where a world once was, and cradled a broken mask in her wings, a silent Thank You for all it had done for her. She left it there, though, and did not return again. Some things were best left in the past.

There were many more she’d seen and noted, of course, and there would be more in the future too. These were just a few of the many. A few of the infinite.

Isn’t that what made them special?

#ivorycello

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residentdormouse · 1 year

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Good God, We’ve Gotten to: Find the ‘G’ Word Tag Game

Thank you @mrsmungus for enabling these hijinks! It's now a highlight for the day 😂 We're almost a third in!

My Words: Gone, Gather, Grief/Grieve, Giant, Ghost

Words for You: Hope, Helpless, Healthy, Heavy, Heart

OPEN TAG - Please join in on our absurdity! Always more room in the clown car. Its fun in here!

Gone

Going down the stairs, Glen found himself lagging behind. He had nothing to resolve; everything he needed to know he gathered from Stu and Hayden’s retelling. And with Fran sticking closer to him over Harold, he had a sense she shared this sentiment.

The smell was nauseating, almost unbearable the further they went down. Most doors had been closed to them, but they were able to access what looked to be a central hub. Unfortunately, the technology had gone out some time ago from the looks of things. Papers didn’t reveal anything further than what he had surmised. This was a man made creation, released by a man in the west, and it spiraled out of control.

A book was lying on the floor next to an official who had obviously punched his own ticket, and Glen picked it up. A collection of Yeats poems. Certainly not a book that belonged in this setting, so he held onto it. Maybe it was a symbol of something good to be found amongst the destruction. Maybe it was just a book. At least now he could say they didn’t leave empty handed.

Gather

“So what I’m hearing is, ‘Hey Max, can you clean up our mess?’ That about right?” The girl was not taking any of Bateman’s condescending requests passively, and the smirk that formed on Harold's face could not be contained. If he had popcorn and a chair, he would be fully ready to enjoy the show. And not to disappoint, Max continued on as Glen just looked over at her with his usual blasé but amused expression. “You damn well know that we have no idea where anything’s at here, so we’re obviously not running on your track and gather mission. And you’ve already got Harold on transport… So why not just ask? ‘Hey Max, can you clean up our mess?’”

For the amount of sass thrown at Glen, it was again Hayden who pushed back. “Max; this isn’t ideal for any of us.”

“Hey Lloyd, you want to help me clean up the dead things in the basement?”

For coming from Vegas, Harold would have expected more attitude from him. More aggression. Just More. Instead, he was this sullen, panicky mess of a human. Even now, he seemed unnerved to be thrown in the midst of the argument.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

“See? It’s not hard to ask.” She flashed a smile at Bateman, and gave a mock salute as she headed towards the hallway.

Grief/Grieve

(For my source material, I'm kind of surprised this hasn't come up more. 5 times between both. And my other instances of this pretty large spoilers.)

"If they need the institute, then burning it to the ground solves everything. They can have the ashes."

"Oh, yes. Fantastic.” Frustration caused her hands to immediately fly in the air, as she began to pace the open space. “Why hadn't I thought of that? Oh, wait, you want to know why? Because it's fucking suicidal, and would never work without—"

"Without what? A foolproof plan. You're never going to have one, and we're out of time.”

Grief was certainly affecting her actions, but her logic was still sound. They had been at this for months now, and while they could get a small win here or there, there was nothing of true substance. No clear direction, no sure-fire way to execute a successful offensive.

Giant

Huh, striking out again. Guess I just need to write more 🤷‍♀️. (If only brains worked that way)

Ghost

(And again, I am shocked this is the only instance of ghost. I need to remove myself from the horror section; fail.)

"I can't believe he's gone."

Harold just stared at the ground as he muttered the words from the center couch, the loss affecting him a great deal. He assumed it was because not only was Teddy gone, but the new persona he made for Harold had gone with him.

From what little Harold did share with the group as a whole, Glen was sure ‘Hawk’ only existed because of Teddy. The nickname would not have been something he saw the prickly young adult making for himself. The Harold he knew from the road would never have wanted something like this, but it was obviously something he needed. An inclusion that was never requested. Teddy gave that to him. A friend, without question, offering easy acceptance with no strings for probably the first time in his life.

‘All of them.’

Nick added onto Harold’s comment and hung his head with a distinctly somber tone. There was no question to them that Harold’s comment was directed to Teddy, but he was not the only one lost in their trip. Larry had fallen as well. Ray. And even without an great understanding of sign, both Glen and Harold knew what was said.

Only small pieces of what happened back in that home could be heard, and vision was limited in the chaos, but Glen could still piece together what had happened. Nadine was there. Another ghost from their past that showing up in a time of crisis, one with a solid connection to Larry. While the reason was still unknown, the frequency of paranormal sightings was going to be another thing to discuss in the increasingly large list of things that would need to be addressed when they were all together again.

#oh man - we're chipping away at this #mouse's tag games & reblogs #alphabet tag game

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storiesofsvu · 1 year

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happy thursday fuckers... you know whats up

Here we go… backwards viewing. We starting with OC. Let’s see if I give two fuck about whats going on…

That therapist looked and sounded super familiar… where do I know him from? Was he fins rope guy? Brb…ugh… its not on imdb yet… *sigh*

Not me looking like a clown reading the opening credits of all THREE shows for guest stars waiting for my fave to pop back up…

I JUST realized that when I was TRYING to fucking watch the last episode on citytv the app/site kept glitching and freezing and I never finished it… that’s why I have NO idea whats going on LOLOL

This show would be so much better without Elliot… also If they gave Ayanna her wife back..

I literally like every detective on this show except for Elliot.

Jamie’s bomb. Also hot. 10/10 would bang

Welp. Okay. That felt over quick yet also took 5 hours to get through this damn episode.

Onto mothership;

Yeah fuck this guy… you’re in nyc… you’re gonna step in some shit. I want to punch you.

“morales” are you kidding me? Can we stop reusing names of recurring characters?? I get, diff show but still same universe.

I would prefer this show if it was just Mechad & Odelya… OH and Kate.

Completely unrelated; someone pls remind me to put together a grocery list/meal prep list of things super easy so I stop ordering fucking delivery. I need to get that shit together.

Mechad just *yelled* and I *felt things* jfc

What TF is senator paley doing here?! Where is keane to spit in his face. Get this man off my tv pls.

Ugh fuck this asshat. This is horrible. But also… we’ve done this storyline in older episodes… alex & casey have both gotten people out of ICE. Cmon sam… where was your paperwork…

OOF she brought her big balls to this… hello m’am

FUCK defence attorneys who attack the character of a prime witness just because they’re there illegally. Like, fuck off, you had her detained in the first place.

Wow okay, fucking heartbreaking ending, way to just hurt Sam.. baby.. is okay… I will cuddle you back to happiness.

FINALLY, okay here we go svu. Ive heard some interesting things about the ep… let’s see

I don’t know if I’m ready for this…

DID WE REALLY HAVE TO REVISIT THE ROLIVIA GOODBYE?!?! AS IF I HAVE NOT SOBBED OVER IT ENOUGH!??

DID SHE LEAVE THE FUCKING CHIPMUNK?? WTF?? IVE HAD SO MANY QUESTIONS ABOUT IT FOR YEARS

Ugh…. The fin amanda dynamic was always such a fucking good one… I will miss them

Okay I d love that Duarte still watches out for/hangs out with muncy

Who… once again is wearing plaid… like the queer she is…

When is mcgrath gonna fucking meet his rotten end… I need him gone…

Oh THANK GOD noah doesn’t fully witness this?? I was so concerned.

Somehow… that wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be? And I KNOW this is probably leading up to other shit that certain fans really want to see, but like, can we give olivia a damn break please? *eyeroll*

Also it’s just plain pathetic to only have two detectives. Like… I know molly replaced kelli, but we really still need another one… OR make the ada a more prominent feature, add in huang/a shrink, the ME, make there be more of a larger rotating cast like s8/9….

Omg fin lololol

“you have a visitor…” andits FUCKING MCGRATH ugh what a way to make things worse…

Okay… m’am… you were doing so well this season, and now we’re back to the super breathy acting.. why…

Im glad they keep mentioning Phoebe, like, the writers haven’t forgotten about her so that’s a good sign.

Im SORRY. She keeps a SHOTGUN in an UNLOCKED closet?? WITH NOAH IN THE HOUSE?!?!

Anyone else super confused as to how her ribs aren’t broken? Or at least cracked? Like… it really seems like it..

Okay… her lingering on amanda’s empty desk is giving me s13 flashbacks, like, amanda would have reached out…. She’s literally married to someone olivia sees on a regular basis.

I’m hot for Duarte now and I fully blame @bulletproof for that….

Wait… I just saw a commercial for Chicago PD… I watched the new ep right before my l&o viewings… was Hank even in this week’s ep??

Omg muncy was so fucking excited to take off the blazer lolololol

Who TF is this guy… detective Bruno…. I swear I know him from somewhere

Oh… okay… he’s been on svu 5 times before… (as different characters… the one being the husband of the woman who accused Stone of assault)

This ep is meh. There’s too much fin and olivia and this new fuck I don’t care about, give me the characters I *want* to see pls.

Seriously… why must police always think that people know about their HALF siblings?!? People be whores… I didn’t know I had THREE half brothers til I was 14…

Overall… this was underwhelming.

I know it’s a three parter (I believe?) so like, there’s more coming, but like… underwhelming as a whole. I’m not even going to bother to gif any of it this week. Sorry not sorry besties.

#law and order svu #law and order #law and order spoilers #svu spoilers

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janis-1987 · 2 years

Text

Under New Management (Fizzmodeus)

Chapter 7

Masterpost X

< x >

Fizz doesn't feel any nerves as he prepares to take the center stage for the last time at the circus, in fact he feels relieved, knowing that he'll likely never be here again.

That's when Blitz comes up behind him, "It must suck to know you've become obsolete." He says with venom in his voice.

Fizz rolls his eyes and flicks his tail in annoyance, "Yeah, glad you've come to terms with the fact that you'll be fired soon."

Blitz growls, "Not me you noodled limbed asshole, you. You're being replaced by a fucking robot. You've become washed up."

Fizz bites back a growl, "Only because Mammon is greedy and cheep, nothing can top the original, I still do shows throughout all of hell. And the robot that's replacing me? It's part of a line of sex dolls. So clearly, my popularity isn't going down hill anytime soon. I would say I can't say the same for you, but you would have had to have actually been popular for it to be true."

Blitz snarls, "Ugh, you think you're so much better than every other imp here. You'd be nothing without those limbs of yours."

Fizz tenses, "Shut up. I'm allowed to think I'm better than everyone because I am better. I'm definitely better than you, I always have been. You couldn't even make a stupid balloon animal correctly. You're a sorry excuse for a clown."

That makes Blitz snap, and he tackles Fizz, pushing him out onto the stage.

The crowd gasps in shock. And Asmodeus and Mammon rise from their seats, almost insinc.

Fizz snarls angrily, "What do you think you're doing Blitzo?"

"Putting you in your damn place!" He screams, attempting to rip off one of Fizz's arms.

Fizz kicks Blitz off of him and stands up, dusting himself off. He knows he's in front of an audience and reporters, he can't afford to mess up, "Aww is the joke of a clown jealous." He teases.

The audience looks uneasy, unsure if they're meant to laugh at his remark.

Fizz doesn't seem fazed by the lack of laughter. He needs to get the show going and make this look good. "Hah, oh wow." His arm stretches and grabs the microphone, and the spot light focuses on him, "What a way to start a show, huh folks? You know, I told him starting a fake fight wouldn't make anyone laugh."

Blitz hisses, getting back up to his feet and trying to tackle Fizz again.

But Fizz just slips out of the way, causing Blitz to land on his face. The audience laughs.

Fizz joins their laughter with a smirk, "Well, that's one way to make a fool of yourself, that's for sure." He makes his way to the center of the stage, a smile on his face, though, he's mindful not to lose track of Blitz, "Anyways folks, we have a great show for you today, the new face of Lu Lu Land is here to present himself. And don't worry, it ain't the fool who can't seem to catch a break."

Blitz scowls and is about to make another attempt to attack Fizz when he's pulled off stage by security.

"I'm happy to introduce, the only thing that could possibly fill the big shoes I've left after leaving this place, can I get a drum roll folks?" Fizz calls out, a big smile on his face.

The audience humors him, doing a drum roll, as Asmodeus and Mammon sit back down.

Another spot light clicks on and the curtain opens.

"The robotic Fizzarolli!" He says, gesturing to the robot who bows. Fizz hands the microphone off to him and stretches up to Asmodeus' viewing box.

As the show continues, it's mere background noise to Ozzie who looks over Fizz, very worried.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" Asmodeus asks as he checks the imp for injuries.

"I'm fine Ozzie. I'm honestly surprised he had the balls to do that." Fizz replies, he was mostly fine after all, just a few scratches. Though he could feel pain emanating from his lower back, he wasn't about to tell the already worried prince that.

Asmodeus shakes his head, "You handled it well, though I doubt anyone is going to fully believe that was just part of the show."

Fizz shrugs, "Eh, they will, as long as I show enough confidence in it, no one will doubt it."

"How do you know that Fizzy?" Asmodeus asks, eyeing the reporters.

Fizz sighs, "Its not that first time that dick weasel has tried to ruin one of the shows by doing that. I've learned all his tricks now though, it ain't easy to keep me down. I'm a resilient little thing." He says with a smirk.

"And Mammon just let him keep performing with you?" Asmodeus asks in utter shock.

"Yeah, well, Mammon has never been too worried about my safety, besides the worse he is, the better it makes me look." Fizz replies, sitting in Ozzie's lap, "Don't worry about it too much, just relax and enjoy the show."

Asmodeus nods his head a little, trying to do just that, but I was hard. While it wasn't surprising to learn that Mammon didn't care about the little imp, he was. He may not know the full extent of the imp's injuries but just watching the fall he knew it must have hurt, "Are you going to be okay to perform at the club tonight?" He asks softly.

Fizz looks at Asmodeus in surprise, he'd never had anyone care enough to ask that after Blitz pulled a stunt like that, "Wha-? Yeah Ozzie, I'll be fine, I'll just take a few more pain killers for my back."

"So you are hurt?" Asmodeus asks in a hushed shout.

"Well, I mean, a little I guess. But it's fine, I'm fine." Fizz says, both for himself and for Asmodeus. He couldn't let a little stunt like that rattle him.

"Should we leave early? I'll let you rest and get yourself a break." Asmodeus says, starting to work himself up.

"Are you crazy? The reporters will definitely notice if we go and that will only cause trouble." Fizz whisper shouts, as much as he appreciates Asmodeus' concern for him, this was not the time or place for him to express it.

Asmodeus looks sadly at the little imp, "But, he hurt you."

"Oh Ozzie, it's alright, I've been beaten up worse than that and still got back on stage." Fizz replies, trying desperately to not be an asshole towards the only person to ever show what felt to him like genuine care.

Asmodeus sighs, "Alright little one, but after the show, we're going to leave the party early to get you cleaned up and so you can have some well deserved rest before the show at my club."

"Okay, okay, fine. But really, you don't need to, I'm okay." Fizz replies, honestly really content with the idea of being able to relax and not run from performance to performance. He stretches a little and a quiet whimper escapes his lips as a chorus of cracks come from his spine, each one a painful pop.

Asmodeus eyes widen, he wanted to stand up right then and take his Fizzy home. But he knew Fizz would only get mad at him for babying him like that. He wishes the imp hadn't been through so many years of abuse with Mammon. Maybe then he'd be more willing to let Asmodeus take care of him.

Finally, the show comes to an end and the audience files out. After the regular attendees leave, the royalty makes its way to a separate tent for the after party.

Fizz sits himself on Asmodeus shoulder, hoping him not moving around as much and staying close to the demon prince would help Asmodeus feel better about the whole situation.

And it did, Asmodeus felt a lot better knowing the little imp he was so deeply in love with was safe on his shoulder and no one would dare to even attempt to touch him.

Of course the reporters come swarming, asking a million questions.

"Fizzarolli, was the attack really part of the show?"

"Do you still work for Mammon or are you soley working for Asmodeus now?"

"Are you and Asmodeus a couple?"

Fizz resits the urge to groan, all the questions were making his head hurt, he clears his throat and gets down.

"Alright, alright, give me a second will ya? Anyways, yeah the attack was all an act, it was all coordinated ahead of time and I'm completely fine." Fizz starts to explain, "I do still work for Mammon but Asmodeus is the sole owner of my contract. And that last question is just laughable, a little imp like me with the embodiment of lust? Come on now, you're just looking at things that aren't there." He says with a laugh.

Asmodeus keeps a straight face but couldn't deny the last answer Fizz gave stung, he wanted to be with Fizzarolli, he truely did. But now he was almost certain that the imp who had captured his heart didn't return the burning feeling he felt in his heart everytime he saw him smile.

Fizz gets back onto Asmodeus' shoulder and as the reporters go away he sighs in relief, "Sheesh, those assholes never get off my back. Sorry about the last answer, I know we fucked and all but neither of us need that absolute shit show of press. I mean, can you imagine how they would have twisted that?"

"Mhm." Asmodeus says absent mindedly.

"Ozzie? Is something wrong?" Fizz asks concerned.

"Yeah... Yeah, everything is fine. I'm not feeling well either, we should head home."

"Oh, uh yeah, okay." Fizz says, now worried that he did something wrong.

Within a few seconds they're back at Asmodeus' house, sitting together on the bed.

"Okay spill, what's buggin you Ozzie?"

"Fizzy... I... I love you."

#helluva boss #helluva boss asmodeus #helluva boss ozzie #helluva boss fizzarolli #helluva boss fizz #helluva boss blitzo #helluva asmodeus #helluva ozzie #helluva fizzarolli #helluva fizz #helluva fanfiction #helluva blitzo #helluva blitz #helluva fandom #helluva fan #angst #gay fanfiction #gay

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vinkumakkara · 2 years

Text

insurance fraud in srr is really weird. not the activity itself but how it’s framed. the Mogul actively wants to throw themselves in front of cars but the woman who runs the actual scam is like “YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS IT’S A DIGITAL SCAM I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU GET HURT I’M NOT COMING OVER TO SCRAPE YOU OFF THE STREET WHEN SOMETHING BAD HAPPENS” the Mogul sure is weird and fucked up for wanting to do something that’s a staple in this series at this point, oh these crazy kids

compare it to sr1 and 2. in the Stilwater games the Saints/Boss didn’t really stand out as freaks or something super extraordinary because the baseline for “normal” in Stilwater is so completely fucked up by default. sure they were extra ruthless and violent, but the wackier stuff Boss does is kinda regarded as business as usual - that’s why it was so “fun”, you’re just like yep this is how this world works, this is how insurance scams work, the characters fully accept it so you accept it as well. Volition didn’t appreciate their work on it but Stilwater truly had a great balance of humor, sr2 especially is supremely funny without feeling the need to put on a big idiot clown wig and a honking red nose to make sure you absolutely Get It (at least most of the time imo)

speaking of which - when you look at the Steelport era and srtt, the framing was basically the exact opposite compared to srr but the balance was still equally askew. Boss is just reduced to a bland everyman character so their reaction to insurance fraud is basically “WOW can you BELIEVE how crazy this shit is it’s SOOO fucked UP who’d even THINK of such a THING WHOAHOOAOHOAH”. what counts as simply normal for Stilwater is a spectacle and extraordinary in Steelport - you’re supposed to feel like the characters you follow (especially Boss) are in way over their heads, fish outta water. sure it doesn’t really work because Steelport is such a dull lifeless game environment and the cast is so limited in scope you don’t really get a good feel of the city like with Stilwater and Santo Ileso, but you know. it was the whole purpose of the “new direction” they went with srtt

anyways it’s just interesting how the balance of this stuff varies from iteration to iteration in the series. i know what my favorite is

#gta self made posting

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the-clowners-blog · 2 years

Text

Yoyo gasped and quickly ran toward the kitchen, he usually went there during these awful fights..

He slid under the table and covered it’s head.

“YOU WENT THROUGH MY SHIT?!”

Sal cries, feeling like xe was being stolen from or even cheated by xyr own boyfriend.

Yoyo stayed quiet, holding onto a bottle xe had in xyr office. It doesn’t want Sal to have it.

“Dont fucking- stop hiding! Oh my god- do you understand how expensive that shit is?! Give it back!!! It’s mine!!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took off his hat, trying to stop himself from getting *too* angry.

“..it’s not good for you..”

An eerie voice called back to him. Hearing it made Sal clutch his hat aggressively and angrily placing it back on his own head.

“It’s my problem! Stop giving a damn and give me my booze!!

Ugh…you’re impossible…you did this to Clyde as well right?! Moron.”

Sal steps back for a moment and turns red, trying to calm himself down. He put a hand on the wall and gripped it tightly hoping Yoyo wouldn’t respond to his stupid remarks.

“…clyde…”

Yoyo mutters and holds the bottle tighter. Remembering that name made it want to cry.

“Enough about clyde…you can’t just mention him in every argument we have thinking you’ll win because of it…”

Sal looked at the floor. An impossible anger flooded into him as he tried to keep himself straight, the ground twisted and twirled to his drunkenness and soon he blurted out.

“Why can’t you be more like giggles huh?!”

Realization sets in. He continued to step back until there was no more ground to tread on.

“…..giggles…”

The jester mutters, putting the bottle down and getting out from under the table.

“…Yoyo I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

Sal was interrupted by the abrupt movement of his now somewhat terrifying boyfriend who walked toward the door humming a sickening tune that somehow made xyr vertigo worse.

It put its mitten on the door and then abruptly turns its head around to a worried Sal.

“….have I ever told you how funny you are…?”

It said, Its voice cut through the tension from the argument like a freshly sharpened deli knife into a thin slice of meat and made Sal more anxious.

The toy smiles at xem and then walks out. Slamming the door behind it.

“Wai-“

Sal flinches at the loud noise and brings himself into a hug, holding his own shoulders tightly and taking a big inhale.

A day passed. Sal couldn’t even focus on his work anymore. Staring at the computer screen made his head spin.

Suddenly a purple mitten pushed the door to his office open. Sal stands up in relief and briskly walks toward the door.

“Love!! You’re finally-…”

He opened the door fully. Seeing Yoyo who no longer had a face. Only two lights in the place of its eyes. The sight sent him backwards and he hit his back to his desk.

“Yoyo?!”

“….you didn’t forget about Yoyo did you….? Yoyo would be-[[ever feel down? Ever wish you had more friends? Well meet your new best friend, Y——òøœÿœ çłœwññ…]]

Yoyos voice filled with static. It walked toward Sal slowly, it was holding something.

“…yo…yoyo?? Hey you need to relax okay? I’m sorry and-

….whats…that in your hand.”

Sal points a shaky finger toward yo-yos mitten. It had a bloody mask entwined with its hand.

Yoyos body twitched.

“You want yoyo to be…[[Bigger and better!!! New cirque italia toys will leave you-]]

D ea d…”

It clutched the bloody mask.

“….Yoyo…you- you’re scaring me-“

Yoyo then placed the mask over its broken face.

…it…it was giggles’ face…

“…Why dear..? You want me to be—[[all new! Giggles the clown!!! Only in stores for a limited time so get her while she’s still—]]

A li ve…”

It inhumanly walked. Unsettling. The way her face was plastered onto his… it made Sal sicker and sicker as Yoyo only grew closer and closer.

“I’m…tired. Of being compared to her…

But, hey.”

It places a mitten on sals face.

“Now there’s no one to compare me to..”

Suddenly it trips over a bottle and whirrs around like a broken machine. Soon it falls backwards and goes into a sudden sleep.

Sal shakes in fear. Not wanting to wake his boyfriend up. Then he noticed strings on his desk, then looked back at Yoyos shattered face.

“…I can…fix this.”

He said.

This shit was brought to you by Mod Bug!

#the clowners #cirque italia #horror writing #bruh this took longer than I wanted it to

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askglamrockchica · 2 years

Note

*Allen looks over at her* T-thank you Chica... *He shivers again* I'm just so nervous to talk to them... Ahhh... I think... I'd rather tell Mom first than talk to them... *He turns to go but the doors burst open and two different models appear both with white hair and silver eyes and a mark over the left eye. But one model had a giant claw for his left arm and still looked human but had an Alligator tail and his jaw opened fully rather than just his mouth. The other looked smaller and had no tail or any Alligator features and was similar to Clown with the cloak he wore, and he wore toon like gloves on his hands* -Allen(Skate)

There he is! *The larger model hugs Skate with one arm* There is my Grandson! How have you been? Have you been eating well? Are you feeling alright? I heard about what happened and you did not deserve that at all! *He picks up Allen and carries him inside* Oh... Hello Devon... *He looks over at Devon and Chica* Who's your friend there? -Perform

*The smaller model smacks him on his shoulder* Oh be nice Perform! *He turns to look at them* I'm Playtime Allen and the one next to me is Original Allen, but you can call him Perform and me Crown! *He does a showman bow and reveals a silver crown on the right side of his head* Plus... I'm guessing you're the new Chica? Charmed to meet one of the new Fazbear animatronics. -Crown

Lovely to meet you both! And yes you are correct I’m the new chica! It’s wonderful to meet you

#fnaf ask blog #fnaf chica #ask glamrock chica #fnaf #fnaf sb #fnaf fandom #fnaf security breach #glamrock chica #fnaf glamrock chica #security breach

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queerbuckleys · 3 years

Text

Okay but what if the hostage thing puts Eddie even further on the edge only to be pushed over by the shot buried alive thing and that’s why they switched it.

#I’m fully clowning over this but oh well what’s new #911 #911 spoilers #911 s5 speculation #911 s5

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dreamkidddream · 2 years

Note

Hey, for your 800 special, could you write a Megumi Fushiguro with Prompt 13 - Accidental confession, please? Thanks!! 💞

Did y’all see the movie yet cause OMGGGGG IT WAS SO GOOD‼️‼️ and the end credits song>>>>>>😩 okay sorry for rambling lmao. Also just noticed that Megumi had different eye colors (blue in the anime and green in the manga), so I just went with the manga (and also cause I like green). Reader is gender neutral!

CW: minor language

“Accidental Confession” Trope with Megumi!

Dream’s 800 Follower Special 📖

“i just don’t get wht u like so much abt him (Y/N)!”

“I mean I get it but at the same time…I don’t. He’s kinda boring ngl”

You shouldn’t have to explain yourself- but if this is the hill you die on, then this is the hill you die on, proudly. Defending your crush on Megumi was the mission right now, and you will succeed.

“Megumi is not boring- just say you have bad taste in men and go”

You didn’t know where to start- it was just so much to say. Megumi is just so pretty that even thinking about it now has you distracted. You were so jealous of how his eyelashes frame his emerald eyes that you would get lost in so much, the walks back to the dorms that you would cherish so much, how your heart would race at the rare chance of seeing him smile- you feel so childish kicking your feet and rolling around in your bed at the butterflies in your stomach. Were you being clowned in your group chat on a daily basis? Yes, but it was worth it to feel the high that he always gave you.

You ending up getting a text from Megumi. Him texting this late wasn’t new, but it didn’t stop your heart from skipping a beat. Here you were, grinning ear to ear as you and Megumi just talked about anything- upcoming missions, Yuji and Nobara sharing one brain cell, Gojo being Gojo- just anything that came to mind. You kept switching back between his messages and the group chat, still justifying your feelings in one and annoying the person in the other.

With graduation nearing, so was the window for you to confess, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Every time you thought about it, you could only imagine the worst case scenarios and your stomach would twist and turn at them. You couldn’t risk pushing him away, but you would never forgive yourself if you didn’t tell him. He’s a powerful sorcerer- no doubt he’ll get sent overseas for missions like Yuta was- and you can’t live with the regret of never knowing what it could’ve been if you did tell him. Why did love have to be so confusing?

Well you didn’t have to worry anymore, as that day came sooner than expected- and to your horror.

“LOOK I can’t help it if I’m in love with Megumi okay??”

“…”

“Is this a joke?”

“HAHA very funny- y’all were just clowning me and calling me a simp for Megs. You guys tell me to shut up everytime I profess my love for him lol so why would this be a joke”

“(Y/N).”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“This isn’t some kind of prank?”

“Did Yuji put you up to this?”

“Look I joke about a lot of stuff but loving him is not on that list and never will be y’all know that”

“…”

The bubbles kept appearing and disappearing until they were gone. Why weren’t they responding? Now you were starting to feel annoyed-

Until your phone vibrated once more and your mix of annoyance and confusion turned into sheer and utter dread.

Those messages did not appear in the group chat- instead they were sent to the one person that was never suppose to see them.

Oh no.

It felt like an ice cold bucket of water poured over right and seeped into your veins. You couldn’t move, only staring in terror at the fact that you made the one mistake that could ruin your life. It fully didn’t process until you saw that he did read the message- and that the read receipt was from more than ten minutes ago. Meaning he saw it- Megumi Fushiguro now knows that you like him as more than just a close friend, and hasn’t responded.

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole- even getting swallowed by a curse sounds better than having to face this! Maybe if you ask now, you can beg Gojo to send you to wherever Yuta is at- anywhere that wasn’t here.

But trying to joke about it didn’t stop tears of frustration welling in your eyes. How could you be so stupid? Not only did you make things awkward between you, but now it’s a chance that you could’ve lost him forever, no longer having that special bond and instead having to distance yourselves because of your carelessness. Now you’re being rejected and losing someone dear to you in the process, and it’s all your fault-

Your phone was vibrating and audibly gasped. The phone felt like it was burning your hand and you were so close to throwing your phone against the wall. The screen displayed a photo of you and Megumi together, him looking away while you pulled at his cheeks, a bright smile donning your face and a light pink donning his cheeks. This had to be your favorite photo, and you would have continued to admire it if you didn’t remember that he was calling you. You almost threw your phone at the wall.

You didn’t want to answer it- you wanted to go to sleep and just pretend that any of this never happened, that this was all some sort of nightmare. Maybe you could play it off as a joke after all, like a “wrong text” prank or something? It could work- but at the same time, you know that it wouldn’t be fair to him.

You felt sick when you tapped the green icon.

Your mouth got instantly dry, your hands were sweating, the prickling sensation in your skin only worsen-

“Hello?”

“Um…hey, Megumi.”

“Hey.”

Then it was silent again. Your mind was racing trying to figure out what to do, what to say- should you play dumb? Should you lie and say that it was a joke? Should you just apologize and cut ties with him now to save him the trouble-

“Are you really telling the truth?”

This was the moment that could change everything. Anything that you say now will change the course of your relationship, whether for the best or the worst.

“Do you-“ You heard him swallow, and you can just imagine how conflicted he looked right now- how embarrassed he probably is. You would only catch him like this a handful of times, and while you would savor it and try to tease him, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it in this moment. “Do you really feel that way about me?”

Your words were caught in your throat, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He sounds so…nervous?

“I-“

Now or never, (Y/N).

You steeled your nerves and sealed your fate.

“I do. I really do. I just- I was going to tell you but I didn’t want to mess anything up between us. I’m so sorry if I ruined our friendship and I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore.” You rambled on, trying to calm your shaky breathing and put on a brave face, even if this is tearing your heart apart piece by piece.

Megumi didn’t say anything for what seemed like forever, and you just wanted to scream into your pillow and cry yourself to sleep. You felt numb, and you could only think about how you both would practically be strangers because of this-

“Can I come see you?”

You would be lying if you didn’t feel a spark of heat shoot through you, only to be replaced by the miserable feeling. He just wants to talk things through one last time before parting ways- you didn’t want to do that, you never will- but if it meant being able to soak in the warmth of being in love with him for the final time, then so be it.

—

You weren’t expecting him to get here so fast.

Standing outside of your dorm was Megumi. His appearance was a bit disheveled, like he just threw something on and came as soon as possible, yet he still looked graceful as ever. You started to believe that maybe he did rush here, especially with how pink his cheeks were.

“Can I come in?”

You wordlessly stepped aside to let him by, the door clicking shut. The atmosphere felt tense and it was too quiet, and you had no idea how to fix it, or if there was a way to fix it. Just get on with it please Megumi, you thought. For the both of our sakes.

You kept averting your eyes from his own, not wanting to get sucked back into something you find yourself lost in every day. Until he cleared his throat and said your name so softly that your heart almost stopped. You took a deep breath in, and locked eyes with his own, balling your fists into your shirt.

“I-“

You couldn’t stop squeezing your eyes shut, not wanting to cry in front of him.

“I feel the same way.”

What? You didn’t hear him correctly, did you?

Your eyes shot open, mouth agape, disbelief written across your face. He felt the same way?

“It didn’t feel right to tell you this over the phone.” Megumi rubbed the back of his neck, now averting his own gaze from yours. He cursed under his breath, and his face scrunched up, “And I thought Yuji put you up to this, so I needed to see for myself that you weren’t lying.”

“Why would Yuji have anything to do with this?”

“Because- he knew that I had feelings for you and wouldn’t stop bothering me about it. I thought this was his plan that he wouldn’t shut up about.” He sucked his teeth, and it sounded like he called him an idiot- or himself with how frustrated he looked.

You couldn’t believe it- Megumi had feelings for you this whole time? He wasn’t rejecting you?

You weren’t going to lose him.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long to say something but- I just needed to be sure.” He trailed off, and his cheeks look even rosier than before. Now would be the time that you teased him, but you could only think about how much your heart was fluttering, the warmth making you feel like you were on cloud nine.

Your feet carried you before your mind processed it, and you ran straight into Megumi’s arms. He let out a grunt, and you’re sure his face has to be too red to try and hide anymore, but he made sure to catch you. His hold on you was light, but you could feel how much he stiffened up.

With each breath he took, he relaxed. You could feel how quick his heart was beating (just as quick as yours) in your ears, but yours was the pure euphoria you’ve were feeling just being in his arms finally.

There wasn’t much left to be said, and even if the future remained unknown, you didn’t want to leave his side ever.

And giving you a light squeeze, Megumi found himself feeling the same.

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