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why-are-all-the-users-taken · 6 months

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idk who said it, but someone was like "what happened if the main peculiar children just lost their peculiar abilities" and i- i desperately need go make a one shot for this so here y'all go :)

*this takes place around a map of days bc that's the book I've gotten up to at this point*

*third person*

Jacob woke up feeling quite odd, though he hadn't the faintest idea why.

He went out into the living room where all of his friends we're already up. They had all became quite time blind in the mornings due to the loop switchings, so they often woke up fairly early.

Olive and Claire were watching cartoons,and had made Bronwyn watch with them.

Millard was on a different couch reading a book with Hugh stumped against him attempting to read the novel as well.

Jacob smiled at his friends before walking into the kitchen where there was a wonderful aroma of pancakes and syrup.

It seemed that Miss Peregrine had forced Enoch, Emma, and Horace to help her cook breakfast. Though Jacob was fairly certain that Horace was willing to make it and had forced Enoch to help.

"Morning all," Jacob said as he started getting plates out of the cabinets to set the table with.

Emma brighten and quickly hugged him. "Morning!"

"Miss. Bloom," Miss Peregrine called out from the stove. "Can you keep these pancakes warm while I finished making the rest?"

"Course!"

"Mr. O'Connor, can you please finish the fruit salad instead of mopping around?" Miss P sighed.

Enoch muttered something under his breath but started cutting up fruit nonetheless.

Horace was humming a tune as he cooked the sausage.

"What on earth?" Emma's sudden outburst brought Jacob's attention to her.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

Emma rubbed her hands together and then held them our through the already baked pancakes and frowned. "My fire isn't working!"

Miss. Peregrine's brow furrowed. "Perhaps you used too much fire yesterday?" She suggested.

"Maybe..." Emma said but she's didn't sound sure.

"MISS. P!!!" Hugh came running into the room dragging Millard behind him.

At first Jacob didn't know what was wrong with Millard. The boy was just staring at his hands. Then Jacob remembered that Millard was supposed to be invisible, and you shouldn't be able to see his hands.

The other's in the kitchen seemed to realize it at the same time he did and they all gasped.

"You're hands are visible!" Horace exclaimed, stating the obvious.

"No shit," Enoch muttered and Horace elbowed him in the rib.

Millard ignored Enoch and nodded. "And my feet!" He sounded more amazed than concerned.

"Oh dear," Miss peregrine mumbled. "What day is it?"

"Um," Jacob checked his phone before saying, "October 13th, why?"

"Oh this is bad. I completely forgot." Miss peregrine stressed.

"Forgot what?" Emma asked, now concerned.

"Gather all of the others, I'll tell you all over breakfast."

...

By the time everyone got into the kitchen, they all has seemed for realize that something was off.

Hugh hadn't seen his bees all morning, Olive wasn't floating, Claire's back mouth was completely gone, and Bronwyn was having trouble lifting the things she would normally be able to lift.

"What's going on? !" Asked Olive as she took off her metal shoes and didn't start floating.

"Children calm down please," Miss Peregrine set the food on the table and then sat in her seat. "I will explain what's happening but I need you all to stay calm."

There was a chorus of "Yes Miss. Peregrine"s as everyone helped themselves to the food.

Miss. P started explaining. "Every five years on October 13, peculiars lose their peculiar abilities for 24 hours."

"Why?" Asked Millard. "And why hasn't it happened before?"

"It happens so that peculiars don't overwork their abilities. It's never happened before because it only happens after you've been in a loop for a long period of time, but it was always September 3rd in our loop so it never happened before today."

Everyone was quiet until Olive jumped out of her seat, excitedly. "I wanna go to the beach! I don't have for wear my metal shoes so I can go swimming!"

Claire perked up at that. "Can we?"

Soon most of the children were coming up with things to do.

Miss P hushed everyone and then faked a exasperated sigh. "I suppose you can do something fun today and skip the lesson, but finish your breakfast first!"

Everyone continued eating, but now there was much more chatter.

Olive and Claire were trying to convinced Bronwyn to taks them to the beach. Millard, who was rapidly becoming visible, had decided that he wanted to go to a book store, and had begged Hugh to go with him (he said yes of course). Emma and Jacob planned a day of just hanging out together and doing normal teenager stuff. Enoch complained to no one in particular that he had nothing to do so Olive (being the sweetheart she is) invited him to go to the beach, to which he reluctantly agreed.

At some point Miss P turned to Horace and asked what he was going to do because he hasn't said anything.

"I," he replied, motioning to himself grandly, "am going to take a nap, because I haven't had more then 4 hours of sleep all week due to these stupid nightmares."

Olive giggled at his over dramatics (though all of what he said was true).

By the time everyone finished breakfast Millard was completely visible.

Hugh, who was sitting right next to him, grabbed a handful of millards hair and examined it. "I never realized how long your hair is!"

Millard just shrugged. "It's not like there's a barber shop that cuts the hair of invisible people!" He joked.

Emma who was sitting on the other side of Hugh, scrunched up her nose. "It's a dreadful mess, that's what it is!" She exclaimed.

"Oh please, " Millard said, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear, "it's no worse than your hair on a day to day basis, and you can see what you look like!"

Emma gasped. "You take that back!"

"I won't," Millard huffed.

"Children, children! No fighting!" Miss peregrine clapped her hands to get everyone quiet. "Now, considering that it seems all of you already have your day planned out, you can go get ready and then do what you have planned, but no fighting please!"

By the end of the day Millard had gotten his hair brushed and bought six new books, Hugh had got a few new plants for a round the house, Olive and Claire had a wonderful day at the beach and had even gotten Enoch to crack a small grin at one of their jokes while Bronwyn made sure none of them hurt themselves. Emma and Jacob watched some of Jacob's favorite Disney movies and just had a calm afternoon. And Horace got to sleep for the whole day which he was happy about. All in all, everyone was happy that day even though it felt weird to not have their abilities for a while.

#Mphfpc #My writing skills and motivation are at peak around 12am and 12pm #Don't ask why bc idk why either #Literally started writing this at like 12am lol #One shot #Millard Nullings #enoch o'connor #olive elephanta #bronwyn bruntley #jacob portman #emma bloom #Miss Peregrine #Claire #horace somnusson #i had way too much fun with this #Hugh (idk what his last name is)

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veenxys · 1 year

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「What falling in love with Haikyuu Boys would be like」

⤷ Bokuto falling in love with him is the feeling of throwing your head back in your pillow after breaking out into laughter; it's feeling the stomach and the cheeks hurt. it's like glances and touches so small and unique that make your heart race in your chest. it's instinctively smiling because you are so genuinely happy to see each other. it's like random bursts of energy and dance parties in the kitchen at 3am. it's like hugging each other like it's the first and last time, even though you are only going to the grocery store. it's like the promises you make to each other through video calls in the middle of the night; to never hurt each other and love each other sincerely. it's like soft touches and rainy afternoons, hot tea, and your favorite cartoon.

⤷ Kuroo it's like the hot, delicious sensation you get on your tongue after eating sugary children's candy. it's like the way the cold winter air hits your hot cheeks after going out at night; it's the feeling of covering yourself with a warm, fluffy blanket on a cold, dark night. it's like laughing so hard your belly hurts but you would never want to stop. it's like an overnight trip to all his secret spots, with him humming softly along to the songs playing on the radio while a hand pats your thigh in time to the music. it's like lying in your bed after a movie night, not tired enough to fall asleep, but not awake enough to move, resulting in sleepy conversations and sleepy laughter. it's like the pit your stomach drops into after he backs you up against a wall, daring you to take the first step. it's like the weight of his hands around your body, not ready to let you go in the morning. it's like stolen smiles and even more stolen kisses.

⤷ Atsumu

falling in love with him is the feeling of promising to never leave each other and seriously fulfilling it. it's like being last at the party, laughing at each other's drunken antics while still feeling a little dizzy. it's like random teasing little gestures, from tapping the other shoulder to crushing your cheeks, eating the rest of your snack only to buy a new one for you afterwards. it's like the intensity evident in his eyes; but this gaze is reserved only for you. it's like calling each other stupid nicknames while hugging tight; gently caressing each other as if you didn't want this moment to ever end. it's like laughing at each other's problems but helping to fix nonetheless. it's like bold moves and flushed cheeks, defiant looks and fixed smiles; it's feeling adrenaline and fear when around him, but with the security of knowing he'll never let you down.

⤷ Osamu

falling in love with him is the feeling of stealing his hoodies and wearing them better than he is; it's feeling your heart racing when he praises you or looks at you with a pure and unique glow in his eyes. it's like calling him pretty and he can't even look you in the eye. it's like exploring anything and everything together, the exhilarating feeling of finding something new that will become your new passion. it's like telling each other everything, complaining freely about your days, annoying colleagues and family problems; being sure that the other will not judge you but hug you. it's like the subtle and sweet brush of hands or thighs when you sit back in a fit of laughter. it's like arguing if the recipe said two or three tablespoons of soy sauce. it's like exploring each other's bodies and getting lost for hours.

⤷ Oikawa

it's like the soft scent of his cologne always lingering on your clothes after he gives you long hugs. it's like the little pouts you two get when you have to get up earlier than planned; him pulling you impossibly closer and doing everything to keep you from leaving. it's like the light touch of skin when he hands you your favorite drink. it's the feel of his nose touching your neck and the back of your ears, with soft sighs escaping both lips. it's like the heat you feel on your cheeks after catching him looking at you with the most passionate look in his eyes and a wide smile to match. it's like the little protective hand on the lower half of your back, leading you to his group of friends. it's like the slight eye roll you can't hold back when he sends you a one-second voice note, yelling ok! from the top of his lungs. it's like the sweetest smile he uses when he calls you hot for no reason.

⤷ Nishinoya

it's like dancing playfully in the supermarket just because. it's like binge watching disney movies on lazy days. it's like chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream. it's like a strand of hair that never stays in place, but the other always tries to fix it. it's like laughing before the joke is even made because just the face of each other is enough to make you laugh. it's like soft smiles and sharp love confessions, making you both laugh and cringe at the same time. it's like staying in bed until noon just because you don't want to break the peaceful atmosphere. it's like the best friends of the lovers trope. it's like being the rock in each other's storms, like being the kindest shoulder to cry on and the best support you could ever have.

⤷ Kenma

falling in love with him is like the feeling of stroking each other's hair and him breathing peacefully against your neck. it's like his weight lying on top of you, feeling strangely comforting. it's like naming each of your animals after characters from games the two of you played together. it's like holding hands and walking through nature; pointing at the cute squirrels or beautiful birds in your path. it's like the surprise you feel when someone suddenly speaks in their native language; not being aware of the progress you make with each other. it's like the constant stillness and constant admiration in your eyes as you stare at each other, sharing a comfortable silence as you lose yourself in the immensity of each other's gaze. you cling to each other for life.

⤷ Suna

falling in love with him is like sending him a song and expecting him to feel what you felt when you first listened to it. it's like shyly praising each other, unable to meet each other's eyes without being embarrassed. it's like sharing all the meals you have or giving them to each other without question. it's like having the softest, most passionate expression in your eyes when the other isn't looking, and then the others ask with real concern if the two of you are okay. it's like talking to each other and losing your train of thought because you get lost in each other's eyes. it's like the unspoken promise of never judging the other and always being the help and safe harbor that the other needs. it's like warm, soft hands wrapping your own on a cold day. it's like doing everything together and never getting tired of each other.

⤷ Sakusa

falling in love with him is like the taste of that particular red wine, the only one that has this sweet aftertaste. like soft hugs and smiles for things only the two of you understand. it's feeling like you can rule the world together if you want to. it's like hearing him explain why you should never put cocoa powder in your coffee while you're adding more and more as he goes on. like the soft cotton feel of t-shirts and sweaters that are always too big but hug you so comfortable they make you feel right at home. it's like knowing exactly what the other is thinking at random times and knowing exactly what the other needs or wants. it's like warmer looks and warmer hugs. it's like the smell of a clean house. it's like helping each other put on their jackets. it's like the little protective gestures he only makes with you. it's like the teasing little moments that never fail to make you laugh.

⤷ Hinata

it’s like the way grass tickles your skin when you lie on it. it’s like the way your nose itches when you’ve been staring at the sun for too long. it’s like shyness running down your cheeks after mistaking your paint water for your cup of tea. it’s like silent whispers and shared secrets that you have the courage to say out loud after everyone else has left the party. it’s like the little frown that forms between your brows when the lyrics of a song seem a little too real. it’s like the soft touches and annoying prankster you’ve been missing after a period of time apart. it’s like lingering hugs and soft kisses anytime, anywhere.

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ginger-grimm · 1 month

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Hippidy-hoppidy, your OC is now my property...for this exchange, at least. While we may no longer be children and our Easter haul has been reduced to a chocolate bunny, that doesn't mean we can't use this platform and our OCs to exchange some little gifts.

So, if you will, enter one (or more) of your OCs into the basket, and let me give you some non-candied sweetness for the holiday. You won't even have to look for it! The poll was mostly positive so I hope you're ready and I look forward to doing this again.

The Rules and regulations are simple, but they exist nonetheless, so here they are:

The exchange, for now, is open until March 31st, though I may extend it who knows *Kevin James meme*

You may make 1-2 requests, but hey, I will probably reblog it saying you can make more once no one requests anything *Kevin James meme intensifies*

Please reblog this post to spread some awareness, please. You can like for remembrance but just a like doesn't count (you already know this, I know my 5 regulars who come here every time)!

As aforementioned, this is open to my regular drunks and new patrons alike, so please do not be shy. Think of me as I think of birds, I am more scared of you than you are of me.

Fill out the form linked below and find the password in the form!

Please only send me faceclaims with good quality and plenty of material to use. Also, no cartoon characters. Video game characters are all right if it's motion capture. I'm not trying to discriminate, it can just be really tough for me to find material for cartoons, animes, video games, etc. as I edit by making little video clips first blah blah blah. However, if you slide in my DMs we might be able to discuss some stuff.

Please, please, please fill out all the columns I need and choose at least two gift options. It makes it infinitely easier for me to make something for you. Just remember I can't read minds and it's worse when I can't find anything in your blogs.

Remember the pleases and thank you's, pleases and thank you's make my heart grow fond.

I don't do Harry Potter OCs or Stranger Things OCs and while I don't have a specific list of FCs I don't use, I ask that you do not request anything for overtly problematic actors, thank you!

I accept pretty much any gift in return, it can even be story reviews or playlists for people who don't/can't edit themselves.

I'm fine with gifts for any of my OCs - my master list as well as the link to my Pinterest is in my pinned post.

FOR ANY OTHER QUESTIONS OR CONCERNS FEEL FREE TO SEND ME A MESSAGE AND I WILL TRY TO CLEAR EVERYTHING UP!

TAGLIST: @waterloou @eddysocs @ocs-supporting-ocs @foxesandmagic @veetlegeuse @decennia @hiddenqveendom @arrthurpendragon @luucypevensie @kentaroranda @noratilney @wordspin-shares @oneirataxia-girl @endless-oc-creations @lucys-chen @andromedalestrange @far-shores @daughter-of-melpomene @bibaybe

#anna's easter basket exchange #yes i reused the rules from last time i'm too lazy to rephrase everything #the core value is the same #love youuuu

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anglingforlevels · 7 months

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Yours (Reader x Platonic Yandere!Imposter)

I can't walk on my knee, and apparently, knee-pain is the best motivator to write because I sat down and wrote this. Not sure if it makes sense, but alas.

CW: Yandere, monsterfuckery, reader has a brother, mental anguish, straight up no one has a good time in this story, not proofread, dead dove

Minors DNI

Today was an important day.

You hadn’t slept very well, still exhausted to the bone. Nonetheless, you had dressed up nicely for the occasion. A certain anxiety flittering and forcing you to fiddle around with trinkets and empty frames. You really should find a picture for that frame, then again, pictures was always more your brother’s thing.

The unrest culminated in said empty frame receiving a crash course in gravity, repaying the favor by glass shattering across the floor.

Damnit.

“Breaking the apartment?”

You were immediately faced with that question when you sheepishly emerged from your room to search for a broom. Asked by none other than your brother, James, who was lounging comfortably on the sofa, flipping through a magazine, he made a hand motion urging you to come sit too.

“Not yet. I dropped something, alas, my hands must be as smooth as marble, it just rolled right out of them.” You sighed and shrugged, awaiting the usual punchline expectantly. James made the grand sacrifice of looking away from the pages of his magazine to direct a raised eyebrow at you.

“Smooth as what now?” He asked, and your arms dropped, for a moment your expression did too, caught off guard. You collected yourself quickly though.

“Marble. It’s either this lame joke or self-deprecation.” At this, you dramatically sighed and lifted your hand to your forehead, “Oh, it seems even picture frames flees from my touch.”

James wrinkled his nose at this. “Ugh, no, I’d rather have Mx. Marble Hands back then.”

“I’m afraid they’ve perished. Marbled to death. Investigations still ongoing, my money’s on the picture frame.”

“Well, then they kinda had it coming, don’t you think?”

You gasped at this. “Vengeance is never the answer, haven’t you watched any children’s cartoons?”

“Not a child, so no.” He answered dryly. He had been a child at some point, so you weren’t sure what to make of the answer, feeling a bit at a loss, but you powered through.

“Mx. Marble hands deserved better than this. I’d hate to be them right now.”

“I’d hate to be them anytime. Now, please shut up about it and come sit down.”

“Despite how politely you asked, I can’t. Believe it or not – some of us actually have plans.” You said with a joking “hmpf”.

“Whaat, plans? No way.”

“Wha- what’s with the immediate disbelief? Today is an important day. Today’s… It’s…” You furrowed your brow as you faltered, not noticing the way James’ attention sharply focused on you. “…Today is important, isn’t it?”

But why? What was happening today?

“Oh, probably some kind of fight day or independence day? You were always sappy for those.” James laughed, and your expression relaxed as you rolled your eyes at him.

“It’s important to celebrate that kind of stuff.” You laughed, even though it still felt wrong. Feeling restless once more but without knowing what your plans were, you settled on the sofa next to James who abandoned his magazine in an attempt to convince you to play Street Fighter together, though at your continued rejection, he dejectedly played solo, shifting, and settling up against you as he played quietly.

Relishing the comfortable familiarity and domestic bliss, you closed your eyes with a sigh, enjoying the ache of your tired limbs coming to a rest, and most of all, enjoying the quiet. You liked it much better when he didn’t speak. And then, you felt startled at the thought, how mean it felt. You didn’t like the fact you had thought it at all, so you focused on something else.

You glanced at the sole item on the empty wall: The calendar. It was tacky and ugly, but you had some fondness for it, it was the first item you bought when you moved out to live on your own.

No, you didn’t live alone, you lived with James. Right, the first item for when you and James moved out.

You kept glancing though the date felt significant, it didn’t invoke memories of why, and you felt an odd sense of distanced anxiety at this, worried if you were possibly late for whatever your plans was, yet not feeling anywhere enough panic either, settled into lukewarm worry instead.

“You trying to make time fly faster or something?” James asked, not looking away from the video game he was playing (and losing). You looked away from the calendar at that.

“Maybe it’s just that painful to see you repeatedly lose Street Fighter. You know, you can crouch and kick on repeat, right?”

“I have something called integrity and honor.”

You glanced one last time at the calendar, the date keeping captive the corners of your mind, the ones that felt fuzzy and blurry – just out of reach from what you could comprehend. As you finally gave up on the calendar, you noticed the wall.

Had it always been this empty?

Somehow, the sight made you feel uneasy. “Hey James, why don’t we take some pictures?”

“…I really don’t like that kinda stuff. I’ve never understood the craze about phones and cameras.”

“Oh, I get why you’re bad at games now. You’re actually an old man.”

“Aw, shut up.”

You didn’t take notice of the way James looked at you, your own gaze fixed on nothing at all, an ambiguous expression on your face, as if unable to settle on an emotion among your conflicted, confused state. It was a buzzing, prickling sensation, like when regaining feeling in a numb limb, and it felt like you could unearth what these emotions were, if you just, held on a moment longer, if you let the numbness subsize just a little m-

“How about playing a song on the piano?”

“Oh? Uh, I don’t play the piano.” You said, disorientated, the numbness spreading again. James’ face dropped briefly.

“Then why don’t we watch a movie?”

“Yeah. Of course, sure. Can it be Beauty Squad” You answered almost reflexively. Happy for a distraction, you clung onto the suggestion, as if drowning your own senses in familiarity. James’ resigned compliance to your usual movie-choice felt like a warm blanket, a blissful cover.

The fatigue sitting in your bones made you give in to its warm embrace, how long had you been awake? It was hard to tell when being conscious and unconscious all felt the same.

Familiar tones played out, familiar lines, familiar antics. You thought James wouldn’t like you to rest your head in his lap, but he hadn’t said a thing in protest, silently letting you. Only the sounds of the movie filled the room as James absent-mindedly played with strands of your hair.

If this moment could last forever, then maybe everything would be okay. You could close your eyes to this moment and…

The music became chaotic and fast as the main character crashed down into their own graduation ceremony, saying a corny punchline before the cartoonish chase resumed.

“Pfft,” Your laugh caught James’ attention, and of course, he demanded to know what you were laughing at. “Ah, nothing, nothing. It’s just, this scene is just like when you accidentally interrupted your own graduation ceremony to take pictures.”

“…” James didn’t respond for a moment. And you looked at him… Right, he was in high school right now, wasn’t he?

“It’s… It’s nothing.”

You tried not to look at the empty wall.

You stood up. “Hey, the movie’s still going, sit back down.”

It took you a moment to respond, your mouth felt so dry, and a wave of dizziness hit. “I… I just wanted a snack. I’ll be back in a moment.” James looked blankly at you for a moment, and for a moment it felt as if he was examining you, like standing before a judge, and then he nodded.

You walked, part of you protesting needing permission from him to leave, but your mind wasn’t made up either, stuck in the desire to stay but feeling drowned, as if being swallowed by a vastness. You had to leave. To move. Something. Anything.

Drowning in the dark thoughts of your mind, it felt as if it would burst. Part of you wanted it to, tempted to hit your hands against your temple, as if to make everything spill, splash across the floor and far away from you.

Instead, you walked to the kitchen. One step, then the next. You wondered, in these moments, if he knew how it felt to die while breathing, to drown while on land. One step, then the next. It was all you could do.

In the kitchen, you opened the fridge only to be greeted by empty rows. No one had gone grocery-shopping it seemed. Right, that was your job, wasn’t it? Who else could it be? James was… he was a teen, right. Yeah, that’s right, you were alone.

No. Not alone. James was here, just, you were the only adult here. That’s right.

…

Grocery shopping, right. How long had it been since you went grocery shopping? When had you last gone outside? You looked down at yourself. You were dressed nicely. Right. Today was an important day, wasn’t it?

You felt lost and dizzy, seeking something to support yourself, your hand landed on the wall. The empty wall. Why was this wall also so empty? All of them was empty.

You mistook desperation for determination as you began to look through drawers to find an instant camera. You knew James had one lying around here. Your James had so many cameras.

“But James doesn’t like cameras.” You repeated joylessly. Nonetheless, in your hands, an instant camera. On clumsy feet you began to sneak toward the living room. James, unaware of your presence, sat on the sofa, waiting.

Click.

Looking down at the picture. It hadn’t developed yet. You’d find tacks or something so you could hang it. The sofa creaked as James stood up. He had heard the click probably, and noticed you standing awkwardly in the doorway, clutching something to your chest, of course.

You think, in the back of your mind, that James said something, but you head felt light, as you looked at empty walls. Temporarily empty walls. It would be better now, if you could just fill them out, your life could return to normalcy, and you’d return to the ground.

You looked down at the photo in your hand. Shapes were slowly starting to form, making way for imagery. It was only a flash, barked, hollowed skin, wrongly bent joints, and a yellowly glow, then something grabbed tightly onto your wrist, the photo snatched from your hand before it finished developing.

It was James grasping your wrist tightly, pupils dilated and a tight expression on his face. Then he sighed. “Playing spy, are we?” He smiled but the smile felt sharp and tight, and his laugh felt forced and bitter.

“I… I think I need to lie down.”

“Alright.” He nodded, leading you toward the sofa, but you weakly pulled against his grip, shaking your head.

“In my bed.” You needed to get away, his presence felt cloying, and the empty walls felt as if they closed in on you. You needed a moment. He didn’t stop tugging you toward the sofa, your limbs felt too weak to put up any real resistance.

“Don’t be silly. I can watch over you better from the sofa.”

You pulled harshly at his grip. “No!” He stopped and looked at you for a moment. And you felt little under his glance, unable to explain yourself properly. He was trying to help, but it was wrong, something was wrong. The walls was empty, the fridge was empty, the apartment was… “I… Just a moment, I’ll be out in a moment.”

After a moment, he released your wrist. “Okay.”

You stumbled a bit, having unconsciously relied on the support of his grip. It was the same old sensation of falling, yet your feet never left the ground, was it a dive into nothingness, or a flight into something worse? You never learned because each time, like an anchor, you’d be pulled to the harshness of the ground by a hand on your shoulder and another distracting line, it pulled you back but never caught you in your fall.

You wondered where’d you land without an anchor.

You hurried to your room and was greeted with shattered glass. Right. From earlier, you had needed a broom, and you had to hurry because today was an important day. Your foot touched the broken frame.

The empty walls were left behind, but the room felt even smaller, and you felt tired. Too tired to push against the pressure building, letting it swallow and choke you. There had to be… a picture. Something to put in the frame. Why else would you have it?

Looking through bottom drawers and beneath your bed, it was hard to tell if you had dived onto your knee or if they had simply buckled beneath the weight of your own desperation, glass shards dug into skin as you looked through cloudy eyes.

And, in the corner under your bed, hidden away by pieces of cloth and scattered objects, was a little box. You pulled it out, your hands shook as you opened the little lock with practiced ease, as if you knew the box already.

In the box was carefully placed pictures, all wrinkled as if having been held often. On the roof of the box was a date scribbled, today’s date. You were in many of the pictures, sticking your tongue out at whoever was taking it. And some of them, there was another person, usually laughing together with you.

For a moment, you almost wanted to ask; Who’s that?

Something within you felt like it was going to burst. “James?”

This guy whose smile was entirely different, whose eyes were different, whose build was different – who was different. This was James, and for a moment, you had forgotten. Someone you loved and held so dear; you had forgotten until reminded.

Each time you looked away, it grew hazy once more, and it took just a second longer to recognize the picture again. It felt as if you’d break beneath it all.

“Oh, you want me to pause the movie?” James’ voice called out from the other room. No. Not James. Whoever that stranger was, it wasn’t James, they didn’t even bear a semblance. You wanted to scream and cry and ask, no, demand answers from this imposter.

“Hello, you hear me?” His head peeked through the door-opening, and every word died on your tongue as familiarity enveloped you. It wasn’t… It was not James. Your grip tightened on the picture, as if to remind yourself.

“Hey,” he said, a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t respond, didn’t know how to. But perhaps you didn’t need to as he saw the scattered photos among bloody glass shards. “Come out, I’ll bandage your wounds.” Was all he said.

“You’re not him. You’re not my brother.” It felt like pushing a boulder just to say that. The words felt foreign in your mouth, but you held onto the truth the best you could.

“What’s different about me?” he asked. You hadn’t been prepared for that question. Retaliation, denial, anything but that question.

“It’s… Different. You…”

He laughed. “You really do need to lie down; you must be half-asleep or something.”

No. For the first time today, you felt awake. “No. I know I’m right. You’re not…” You all-but flung the picture of your brother at him. The picture now in view, the person in front of you grew unfamiliar again.

“Does it really matter? If you need a picture to notice we’re different?” Before you had a chance to even respond, he leaned closer, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look away from the scattered photos. “Try it. Describe him.”

…You couldn’t.

“But when you look at me, you remember. Who cares if the memories are right?”

There was a temptation of giving into the sweetness that clung onto his words, the sweet lie feeling more welcome than a truth you feared facing. But you could still feel the photos beneath your fingers, feel the sting of the shards in your skin.

“I care!” Your voice raised and cracked, sharp and jagged like the shards.

Frustration slipped into his sigh. “For now. But as always, you’ll forget again. There’s no point in this tantrum. You don’t want to remember anyway, you’re too fragile for loss, so just-“

His words were interrupted as you nicked his cheek with one of the glass shards. At this he stepped back, releasing your chin. His expression’s thinly veiled exhaustion and annoyance gave way for clear resentment and frustration.

When he spoke, his voice was bitter and low, an almost malicious edge to it.

“Do you even comprehend how much I hold back not to kill you? Every moment, it’s as if your very being beckons me to consume it, that’s why I showed up to begin with. To feed. But I decided to stay, unlike everyone else, I’m staying, I’m here!

Anything you lack, anything you miss – I’ll be that. Your brother, your friends, your old stuffed animals, your childhood, yours. I’m yours. Why don’t you und-“He stopped his increasingly fast rant, sighing in tired frustration. “It doesn’t matter. In the end, it’ll be the same as always. You stay. You always stay with me, just like I always stay with you.”

Your breath was caught in your throat. But… Even though you didn’t remember, you remembered the feeling of flying so high and swimming so far, now you were stuck at the bottom of the ocean, unable to lift from the ground as you drowned, and you longed to remember the feeling of not hurting, in the face of that, fear meant nothing.

“You can’t become my brother; you can’t become anything.”

“I can. I do.” He insisted. He kneeled next to you, reaching out to you as if to comfort you, as you flinched, he let his hand fall again, and part of you wished he hadn’t, longing for the warmth. “Hidden wounds don’t need to heal. And someday, I’ll replace even the blood gushing from those very wounds.”

Nothing about his words was a comfort, somehow it felt as if he was comforting himself with them. You wanted to explode in anger, continue an assault, use glass shards or words, but anger was flames and passion and action and – and you were just too tired.

“Do you hate me this much, to torture me like this?”

“Not hate.” At this, he breached the invisible barrier, letting his hand cup your cheek. “Every time you remember a little less, question a little less, and I hide a little less. Bit by bit. One day you’ll look at my true body, hear my true voice, and think nothing of it. All you’ll see is your brother. And you’ll be right, your brother, me, not him. Not some wasted grief. I’ll make you happy.”

“This doesn’t feel like happy.” All you could manage was a broken whisper. “Why?”

He was silent for a moment before speaking,

“I’ve fed on countless people. I exist only in the scope of broken dreams and wasted chances. Regrets is the proof of life, and so I remove those regrets, and with that, their very lives, and humanity slowly corrodes. And I – I cannot even have that. That one, painful semblance of life, and yet I continue to live.”

His voice was an odd mix of gleeful and resentful. You thought, somewhere in the back of your mind, that maybe he was happy to just bare himself at all, another part of you wished he didn’t, as he grew more distant from what you knew with each word, but you didn’t believe this speech really was for you, it was for himself.

“Reasons, what reasons did I have for living or dying. I was devoid of it all yet forced to play part of it all the same, in make-believe fantasies. And even so, it was never for me to comfort or be comforted, never for me to share a meal, never for me to hold a hand, never for me to hear the sound of someone playing the piano for me, never for me to fight and make up with someone, never for me.

In this world I lacked even ones to hate. And yet, all I could do was hate. Stuck in the dirt, all I could do was look up into heaven, cursing every leaf picked by the wind, every bird that could fly, everything that could move where I could not. Love where I could not. I was in hell but forced to act out heaven.

Every time it’d be a new face, a new regret, a new deception. Never me. Always something there isn’t there. But you… You saw, you knew – for a moment, you knew. And yet, you stayed. You didn’t fight, didn’t run. You closed your eyes to it, and clung to my delusions, clung to me.”

“And yet, here you are, pretending to be my brother.” At this, the corners of his lips quirked down, his figure looming as it seemed to grow, crooked and spiny. You thought maybe this was just a little closer to his true form.

“One day, you’ll forget why you clung to me. And then you’ll cling to me all over again. I know it, you are my one thing, my one person, the one thing for me. You infuriate me, you bring me joy, regrets, hopes, all of it – I can obtain it with you, through you, if I just hold on long enough.

Even if my body decays under the weight of hunger, I’ll stay for you without fail.”

”But I want you to leave.” The words sounded fake and hollow, even in your ears.

At this, he laughed. “Leave? And then what, you’ll be left in this empty apartment? Staring at pictures, rewatching old home movies? You don’t really want that.”

“Shut up, you don’t know what I want. You don’t-“ your words were like sand in your throat, forcing it to close until nothing could come out but broken sobs. He took the silence as cue to move closer, wrapping his arms around you – you hated the comfort of this stranger but felt unable to push away its familiarity, clinging desperately unto it.

“I can leave. Simply say the words and you’ll be rid of me.” He said with such ease because he knew you couldn’t do it. In the end, the only thing crueler than this torture was its absence.

#yandere #yandere monster #yandere x reader #dead dove do not eat #minors dni #tw monsterfucking #platonic yandere #not proofread #bad writing

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grendelsmilf · 1 month

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actually i will always defend the act of adults getting really invested in children’s media and overanalyzing the shit out of it, whether that be folklorists dissecting the implications of various fairytales through the framework of like, kristeva or derrida, or people writing wordy monographs on the geopolitical implications of naval warfare in atla, or whatever it is im doing when i get really up in arms about the grinch’s tragedy as a colonized subject or the marxist thematics of disney’s hit cartoon amphibia. not only is it fun to apply a more rigorous scholarly framework to media designed for a “less mature” demographic, but it is also necessary that people with the sufficient discursive tools to unpack the underlying implications and agendas of these stories actually do so, lest we end up with complaisant schlock out of neglect for the fiction our children primarily consume. target demographics are not the end all be all of who consumes art or how, whether along the axis of age or gender or ideology or otherwise, and it’s important that we keep our minds open to formulating critiques of media that may seem “beneath us” or otherwise “not for us” but are nonetheless formative and influential and packed with reflections on the conditions under which it was made and the point of the story it is trying to tell. to allow some of those formative memories to endure can be important, for there you’ll find a deeper understanding of what made a certain work formative in the first place, whether it was successful as a work of art (ie, whether it still holds up), and what it means to have the tools to dissect its underlying implications that a child simply lacks. so i think it’s okay to not grow out of your interests, provided those interests grow alongside you.

the only real problem here is that most adults who are obsessed with children’s media are simply really, really annoying about it -_-

#that said ill never understand adults who are really into bluey #it’s just aesthetically offensive to me #but swagever #o

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life-in-the-monster-haus · 9 months

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omg not u believing a quiz in a website made by a third party company solely for the purpose of a failed giveaway in australia that mixes up the movie and cartoon/doll continuities over an actual leaked bible from a huge 4chan (not reddit!) nickelodeon leak that matches up with stuff released after it that's firmly believed by all the trusted doll leak sources...

and what was that about twyla and venus?

Why is it y’all only have the guts to air your greviences to me on anon? I wont block you for disagreeing with me, I’m not sensitive or a wuss and I’m much more inclined to be polite to someone with a name and not a faceless nobody. Just an FYI.

An international branch of Mattel is a way more reliable source than Reddit & if you think it’s a flex telling me the “leaked show Bible” came from 4chan & NOT Reddit, BOY have I got some news for you about the legitimacy of 4chan.

Yes, the Live Action Movie & The Show have different canons… is there a point to that statement or are we just saying the obvious? Not everything is going to be quadruple confirmed in canon like Draculaura being Asian or Frankie being nonbinary (movie character, actor, TV character, voice actor) all things won’t be hammered in that hard so we gotta take what we can get and international monster high is fair game because Mattel has to approve everything they do.

That leaked show “Bible” is sketchy as hell & no Monster High enthusiast worth their salt has taken it seriously. If you know anything about children’s media there is a lot of language used in it that is not Nickelodeon appropriate and I’m not the only one who thinks so. We don’t know where it came from, who wrote it or who posted it. Y’all saw something that looks slightly official and ran with it and that my darlings is a fool’s errand.

Y’all need to be more critical of the information you consume and perpetuate. “You should believe in nothing that you hear and only half of what you see- Edgar Allen Poe.”

And we need to stop screaming theories as if they are canon. I PERSONALLY head canon Twyla & Venus as lesbians (not together, Twyla is obviously in love with Howleen) because UNLIKE Clawdeen who has shown an interest in boys in previous generations they have never shown an interest in actual boys as far as I know. (I also made a chart of Clawdeen being attracted to girls for equal measure) that is how I see them, I don’t go shooting off that, that is canon information.

I know a lot of you desperately want Clawdeen to be a lesbian, I am very, painfully aware of this head canon but it is just that! A head canon! Yes it’s a very popular & persistent head canon but it’s a head canon nonetheless. G3 Clawdeen appears to have a crush on Deuce, now we don’t have time to unpack that weird ass ship but it does rule out Clawdeen as a lesbian. It does NOT however mean she is straight! Clawdeen could very well be Bi or Pan or any other sapphic inclusive sexuality. I PERSONALLY see her as Bi (for the reasons stated above) but you don’t see me claiming it’s canon.

“But Jess! What about compulsory heterosexuality!” - Clawdeen was created by a gay man. Do y’all really think a member of the LGBTQA+ community would put her through something that was hell for so many of us!? I highly doubt it.

I do not make the canon, I just study and report the canon, if had my way everyone would be fatter, browner and gayer.

Please, for the love of your deity of choice: stop believing everything you read, always ask for a source and stop being so cool with people making fake leaks it’s not some fun new fad it’s intentionally misleading & a little cruel to those of us who aren’t so great at social cues.

Mattel makes the canon & if it’s not from Mattel it’s probably not real.

#monster high #clawdeen wolf #mattel #mh

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decepti-thots · 7 months

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there is a really really specific thing skybound #1 did that has me very excited which is not a spoiler per se, but i will cut nonetheless.

i fucking practically sat up and CLAPPED when jetfire and OP were like, "the war has been going on for a hundred years". the ludicrously long per-millions-of-years timescales the franchise has been forced to reuse as the default timescale cybertronians always use since g1 made it a millstone round their neck with random Big Numbers getting thrown out has always been SO ANNOYING. it doesn't matter in like, the g1 cartoon where continuity is a lie and it's a silly slapstick nonsense cartoon for children, but the moment you are trying to do grounded stories about these characters later, if you keep that dumb Big Impressive Number TM as the way cybertronians normally see timescales, you are immediately hamstrung. it's way too big to make sense to any reader in a concrete way, it introduces loads of logistical questions that you can't really answer easily, and the one thing it does acheive- making them seem grander and more long-lived than humans- could just as easily be done by. say. making timescales of a few thousand years. and it's such an EASY FIX, but nerd rage and G1 Is Sacred means they never do it. until NOW. they DID IT. that thing more than anything has me like okay, the guy writing this has put some thought into how to make this story work on its own terms, not just What Lore Needs Including, lmao. it's not a big flashy thing, but YES. they're talking in centuries, which are inhumanly long time periods but also fucking comprehensible to us. applauds. (eta: just to be clear, i'm pretty sure they were offline for millions of years, but the characters are talking as people who don't 'count' that as like, the norm.)

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tyrantisterror · 5 days

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To go back to that Willy Wonka/William Afton ask, if Willy Wonka did try to kill William Afton, what sort of crazy device do you think he would you use to do the deed? Given that most of his “victims” end up receiving ironic punishments, I imagine that it would be something that would turn him into a pizza, rather than some form of candy, which Wonka might then proceed to feed to the children of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. The only problem would be, if this takes place after Afton became a cyborg zombie furry, any pizza, or other food item, made out of him would probably taste like crap. The world of Wonka operates on cartoon logic after all, hence all the children in the original book survive the factory tour. Wonka definitely has the upper hand in this theoretical match-up and could easily destroy William Afton, but I feel like his own obsessive need to take Afton out using only his signature method, and to create a good-tasting food product while doing so, would put him at a disadvantage. (Not an insurmountable disadvantage, but a disadvantage nonetheless.) I doubt even Wonka could make Afton’s filthy, rotted corpse taste good.

Unfortunately, I am not Roald Dahl, nor am I an experienced Willy Wonka fanfic writer, so I do not know what trap Willy Wonka would use to kill William Afton.

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 1 year

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Hallelujah South Park!

By Maureen Callahan 16 Feb 2023 - 17 Feb 2023

Will their delicious take-down of privacy-hungry Harry & Meghan FINALLY make them see what insufferable hypocrites - and global laughing stocks - they've become?

Well, she said she wanted to be a cartoon princess. Now, thanks to the brilliant minds at 'South Park,' Meghan Markle is one.

In 'Worldwide Privacy Tour,' which aired Wednesday night, Meghan and Prince Harry were savaged as hypocritical publicity hounds who nonetheless demand to be left alone. After promoting his memoir, here called 'Waaagh,' the 'prince and princess of Canada' move to South Park, whose children cannot abide their insufferability. At one point, the outraged prince flashes his frostbitten penis — to a child! — while defending his wife.

As the animated Harry and Meghan toddle around the globe, holding placards that read 'STOP LOOKING AT US!' and 'WE WANT OUR PRIVACY!,' their entitlement, stupidity and lack of self-awareness was sliced through by a cartoon talk-show host with, in my view, better questions than Tom Bradby or Anderson Cooper.

Appearing on 'Good Morning Canada,' Harry and Meghan — the latter speaking inanities with a Valley Girl accent — sit down to a chorus of boos. The impeccable line of questioning beings.

'Let me start with you, sir. You've lived a life with the royal family, you've had everything handed to you, but you say your life has been hard. And now you've written all about it in your new book, 'Waaagh.'

Harry: 'Yes, that's right friend. You see, my wife and I —'

Meghan: 'I was like, totallllllly, you should write a book 'cause your family, like stupid, and then [unintelligible] journalists.'

Host: 'So you hate journalists.'

Harry: 'That's right!'

Host: 'And now you wrote a book that reports on the lives of the royal family.'

Harry: 'Right!'

Host: 'So you're a journalist.'

Yes! Exactly right.

Meghan: 'We just wanna be normal people. This attention is so hard.'

Waaagh!' indeed. You have to wonder what the mood is in Montecito this morning, the online reaction from us 'normal people' nothing short of a rousing standing ovation. Do Harry and Meghan get it now? Do they understand that they are laughingstocks not just around the world, but in the province Meghan values above all others — Hollywood?

'South Park': Grade A+. Chef's kiss. This was a perfect episode. The only possible criticism: What took Trey Parker and Matt Stone so long?Granted, it seems every week does bring a brand new hypocrisy. One must work hard to keep up. 'Because I'm from the States, you don't grow up with the same understanding of the royal family. And so while I now understand very clearly there's a global interest there, I didn't know much about him.

'That was Meghan Markle in November 2017, seated next to Prince Harry as they gave their first interview to the BBC as a newly engaged couple.A fair number of people — myself included — found it near impossible, laughable really, to believe that Meghan, creature of Hollywood and student of fame, had little idea who Prince Harry or the British royal family was. Or that this self-professed smart, savvy, well-cultured woman had not so much as Googled her fair prince before their first date. No social climber she!It all sounded very Yoko Ono, who, upon meeting John Lennon, claimed to have never heard of him.Now — could it possibly be — that Meghan was insincere? A newly resurfaced post on her late blog The Tig (think Goop, but more basic and obvious) reveals that Meghan was very familiar with the British royal family and with William and Kate's nuptials. She even wrote about the type of princess she, Meghan, dreamt she might someday be.

Hey, Harry: Don't feel too bad. Even Lennon fell for it. As he told Rolling Stone in 1971, Yoko had 'only heard of Ringo, I think.'Ringo! Not the world-famous half of the most celebrated songwriting duo of post-World War II Western civilization. When you're that well known, it seems, nothing is as refreshing as someone who claims not to know who you are or what you do or why people care about you. The implication, of course, being that said ignoramus sees through the veneer of celebrity to you. They like and love you for you, not the attendant wealth or social status or privilege or refracted fame that comes with being your other half. Here's Meghan in her 2014 blog post, fantasizing about becoming a princess while also mocking the entire idea, because she's just that cool and just that above everything, even a storied institution dating back over eleven centuries.

'Little girls dream of being princesses,' Meghan wrote. 'I, for one, was all about She-Ra, Princess of Power. For those of you unfamiliar with the '80s cartoon reference, She-Ra is . . . a sword-wielding royal rebel known for her strength. We're definitely not talking about Cinderella here. Grown women seem to retain this childhood fantasy. Just look at the pomp and circumstance surrounding the royal wedding and endless conversation about Princess Kate.

'Well, well, well. How will Meghan explain that away? Or as recounted by Harry, that upon meeting Prince Andrew she thought he was the Queen's handbag holder? Or, as she told Oprah in 2021, 'I went into [my marriage] naively because I didn't grow up knowing much about the royal family'?

youtube

By the way, Meghan's 'grow[ing] up' would have been at the height of the royal family's coverage in global tabloids: Princess Di's supernova fame, the first future king ordered to divorce, Diana's death and the subsequent wall-to-wall 24/7 media coverage of her funeral.

Meghan would have to have spent her formative years in the Yanomami Amazonian tribe, thoroughly cut off from the modern world, to have known so very little about the royals.

How will Meghan explain, as she claimed in last year's insipid Netflix doc, that she had no idea how to curtsy or why it was important to show respect to the Queen? As she sat beside her husband, who looked pained and humiliated, Meghan characterized her first meeting with the late Queen Elizabeth, one of the world's most admired women, thusly:

'I mean, Americans will understand this,' Meghan brayed, because 'we have Medieval Times, dinner and a tournament. It was like that.'

What must Harry, who wrote in his memoir that Meghan knew 'almost nothing' about the royals, be thinking now? Will he think to himself that his now-wife knew well and good who he was? As Andrew Morton wrote in his 2018 biography 'Meghan,' her friend Ninaki Priddy said that the future duchess 'was always fascinated by the royal family. She wants to be Princess Diana 2.0'

This seems to be the root of Meghan's self-obsessed rage, does it not? She married the spare. She'll never be the next Diana. If anything, Catherine, Princess of Wales, is carving out a similar beloved place for herself amongst the British people. Meghan is the also-ran, attempting to run a rival court out of a soulless Montecito manse while decrying the uselessness of all things royal.

But don't you dare not call her the Duchess of Sussex!

Lest we forget, Meghan's overarching message since joining this family has been the smug, insufferable, disingenuous utterance, 'Be kind.' It's what she said in that first interview with Harry, claiming that she made it very clear to their matchmaking friend she had one non-negotiable quality in a potential mate:

'And so the only thing that I had asked [our mutual friend] when she said she wanted to set us up was — I had one question — I said, 'Well is he nice?' 'Cause if he wasn't kind it didn't seem like it would make sense.'

We all know now that Harry isn't very nice. You don't take millions from your father and cling to your titles while disparaging and insulting him, then tell the world — for years — that they're a family of racists before taking it all back and blaming the press for your woes while revealing all manner of your father and brother's private pain and intimate information and get to call yourself a nice guy.

On top of all that, we're meant to feel sorry for Meghan and Harry.

You don't mock the physically disabled female teacher at your boarding school for kicks, as Harry did, and get to call yourself nice. You don't double-down and name this poor woman in your memoir, blame her for not being attractive enough to make you 'horny', then recount the serial humiliations you subjected her to without ever expressing an iota of remorse or guilt or shame and get to call yourself nice — let alone a humanitarian and a thought leader in mental health.

Mental health advocates — these two! It's just amazing. No matter how many discrepancies, these two evince nothing, not so much as a blushing cheek or a head hung in shame. They're like two dead-eyed sharks, moving ever forward through the chum in their wake. They don't seem to understand that credibility and authenticity is paramount when trying to launch themselves as personal brands.

They also don't seem to understand what laughingstocks they've become. After the priceless Jimmy Kimmel bit about Harry and his todger, after Stephen Colbert mocked the royal family to Harry's face during his appearance, 'South Park' — a show that gleefully flays hypocrites of all stripes — has focused their ire on these two professional victims. No one deserves it more.

As the young animated character Kyle exclaimed, 'It is seriously driving me crazy. I'm sick of hearing about them but I can't get away from them! They're everywhere. In my f***ing face.'

A cri de coeur for us all. Alas, Harry and Meghan seem to lack the one quality that might possibly redeem them: A sense of humor.

MAUREEN CALLAHAN: Do Harry & Meghan see they're now South Park jokes?

#tom bower #revenge #sussex #meghan markle #prince harry #worldwide privacy tour #south park #brand management #spare us #like a spare #Youtube #maureen callahan

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mask131 · 1 year

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The evolution of Wednesday Addams (3)

And now we reach the iconic Wednesday Addams, the one that everybody knows and the love, the one that actually supplanted earlier incarnations in people’s minds: the 90s Wednesday, the Christina Ricci Wednesday.

The main difference between this incarnation and the previous one is that the cheerfulness and the innocence of the “childish” Wednesday is gone. Despite being eleven years old in the first movie, Wednesday is here reimagined as a bitter, cold and cynic little girl who is always serious under all circumstances (and when she gets 13 in the Addams Family Values, it gets worse). In fact, it is quite interesting to see that while everybody remembers Wednesday as a “stoic, ruthless, clinical child who never raises their voice”, there is actually a difference between Wednesday’s behavior in the two movies. In the first movie, while she had a gloom, grim and unusually adult look at everything, she actually still showed childhood and “girlish” behaviours from time to time (she still carried her headless doll around and slept with her - a nod to Marie-Antoinette from the 60s ; she softened a lot as she struck a new friendship with Uncle Fester ; and we even actually hear her LAUGH! Yes laugh, as she stands outside with Pugsley, holding an antenna during a thunderstorm). But by the sequel, The Addams Family Values, the hardness, sarcastic and emotionless nature of Wednesday was exaggerated to the point she actually cannot even smile - it is not a natural thing for her to do. But again, given in the sequel she is a teenager, not a kid anymore, it might explain why she looks even sterner and joyless.

Due to the more violent and darker nature of the movies, Wednesday also gets augmented with a use dose of sadism and brutality. In particular due to us now seeing the deadly “games” the two Addams children try to “play” with each other, a sort of brutal competition to kill or harm each other - and unlike in the original cartoons, here Wednesday gets the upper hand! She ties Pugsley up with an apple in his mouth to practice her arrow-shooting, she convinces him to be strapped to an electric chair - we have a true inversion of the original dynamic where Pugsley was more of the “big brother bully” to the “little sister victim” Wednesday. But just like in the original cartoons, the two seem to maintain a good relationship nonetheless (in fact Pugsley does get the upper hand on Wednesday at one point in the first movie), and the minute a new child arrives in the family (Pubert), Wednesday focuses all her destructive efforts on him rather than Pugsley, who just becomes her accomplice and sidekick. In fact, Wednesday is the “leading” child of the Addams, truly assuming a position of “big sister” not only by being the more intelligent and pragmatic one, and treating Pugsley like a younger child, but also by clearly being the origin of all the “games” and “ideas” - for example she is the one who convinces Pugsley Pubert needs to die due to an old tradition.

Even though it should be noted that, even in her attempts at killing Pubert, Wednesday still wishes to make it a “game”. Her throwing the baby out of the tower becomes an experience to see if he will bounce back unlike a canon-ball, and her attempt at beheading him becomes basically a doll-reconstitution of the French Revolution. This ties with another recurring aspect of her character also illustrated here: her fascination for the macabre. She is explained to study the Bermuda Triangle and its mysteries ; her personal hero is her great-aunt Calpurnia who was a witch condemned to die at the stake ; and when she has to put on a play for a talent show at her school it is a true blood-shower...

Wednesday, throughout the course of the two movies, is... a really ambiguous and ambivalent character. For example on one side she is shown to be asocial and antipathic towards “regular” children (well by regular understand the “cute, sugary sweet traditional 90s American kid”), but on the other she has enough understanding of the psychology and nature of the privileged, vain, bratty girls of camp Chippewa to craft a ghost story specifically design to scare them. She personally wishes to destroy her little brother Pubert, much to the dislike of her parents, BUT she doesn’t stand it when Debby calls it a brat and shows yet a protective side of her towards outsiders. And while she sometimes sports the moral high ground (most notable: the Camp Chippewa play, that she hijacked to denounce the historical inaccuracy, blatant racism and historical/social injustice carried on by such works), other times she just seems like a true little sociopath (most notable, from the same movie as the earlier example: she is an animal abuser that buried a cat alive to “play funerals”).

Hell, this ambivalence and ambiguity between a “heroic” Wednesday and a “monstrous” Wednesday is even furthered by a forced rewrite in the Addams Family Values: it was planned originally for Wednesday, during her attack on Camp Chippewa, to actually REALLY kill people: Amanda was supposed to really be burned at the stake. But due to the producers insisting (if my memory recalls well), a scene showing her still alive in a plane was added later - which by extend seems to “soften” Wednesday character, when originally she was planned to be a full-blown killer child.

Speaking of ambiguities the second movie introduces another one due to her relationship with Joel Glicker. At Camp Chippewa she meets this introvert, nerdy, awkward boy that doesn’t fit with the rest of the camp, clearly has a crush on her, and seems to share some of the Addams morbid tendencies (from a dislike of Disney movies to a passion for a serial killer trading-card game). As they get “partner in crimes” to survive and escape the camp, a sort of budding romance seems to bloom between the two, ranging from Wednesday inviting Joel to her uncle’s wedding, to them finally sharing a kiss. However at the end of the movie a very bizarre scene plays out... As the two kids stroll in the graveyard, they speak of the future, and Wednesday expresses her disinterest for wedding and children, and how she would pity any man who wishes to be her eternal slave. As they stop by Debby’s grave, she points out how “sloppy” she was and pretends she would have been a better husband-killer than her. And as Joel asks her how, she explains she would kill her husband in the most efficient way... for example by scaring him to death. And quickly a hand grabs out Joel from Debby’s grave, prompting him to scream in panic, and as he howls in terror Wednesday just looks, smiling.

This scene still leads to a lot of debates... It is clear that Wednesday planned it all - because a constant of the movie is that Wednesday is a cunning long-time planner. She pulled a massive infiltration job on Camp Chippewa by pretending to be one of them ; and earlier in the first Addams Family movie she was here to bury the bodies of the villains - doesn’t matter if they were alive or not, graves were already prepared for them. And the question at the end of the sequel would be: did Wednesday intend (or managed) to actually kill Joel? Already when someone mistook her for being at the age where a girl “only thinks about boys”, she corrected “homicide”. As a result did she really felt love for Joel, or was she actually in love with the idea of finding a perfect homicide victim? We know that one of the reasons she got closer and more interested in Joel is notably because of all the serious sicknesses and allergies he had, some fully lethal (which are apparently a turn-on for Wednesday).

And even if we look into the original script for the movie we don’t have any clear solution at the Joel problem. Because on one side the script clearly shows that Wednesday is actually sensible and affected by Joel - most notably the script highlights that when he gives her Amanda’s retainer before leaving the camp, she is “very touched” which promptly leads to their kissing. But the reason why the script truly can’t solve the Joel mystery... IS BECAUSE THIS SCENE DOESN’T EXIST IN THE SCRIPT! The scene of Wednesday frightening Joel is not in the script, which just ends with everyone celebrating Pubert’s birthday. The same way Wednesday was supposed to kill Amanda, Joel was apparently supposed to become the official boyfriend of Wednesday - but somehow during the production those two things got reversed.

Another slight change in design for Wednesday, that becomes more apparant as we go further and further into the movies, is how she is a bit more... “girlish” in appearance. Not only due to her black dress actually getting patterns - even a floral pattern! But also due to her being seen wearing nail-polish, preferably red like her mother’s.

#wednesday addams #the addams family #90s movies #movie #the addams family values #christina ricci #joel glicker

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warcrimesimulator · 9 months

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Conservatives talking about gendered stuff is so fucking funny sometimes. "I let my two children watch whatever they wanted on TV, but nonetheless the boy chose boy cartoons and the girl chose girl cartoons, checkmate feminists" bro wtf is a "boy cartoon" or a "girl cartoon" 💀

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vibratingskull · 5 months

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Thrawn and Che'ri bonding time 🥹

Girl, don't get me started... This is so self indulgent, let me believe that it actually happened

DAD/DAUGHTER MOMENTS

So Thrawn never had any children as we all know, but she's definitively the closest he will ever have for a daughter and he's reveling in that bond they share.

He loves to teach, and teaching he will with her. He helps her with her homework, teaches her to fly, teaches the basics of self defense combat, helps her with her drawings.

He even brings her to a studio for live modeling drawing (they keeped their clothes, don't freak out) and she went "Buddy, my guy, my man... That's too high level for me, I can't. I just draw fireflies and landscapes." And he just supports her throught the whole session, telling that she got it, that she can do it, that it looks great. And it does look great! She's very pleased with her final drawing and will keep going to the studio to practice.

Like in the magnificient art (done by @jun-c, shout out to them) he occasionally brought her with Thalias on Csilla for some sledge sessions and a little bit of Ice skating, she has a terrible balance at first and need to hold his hand but she quickly gets the gist of it.

Movie nights! Plenty of them, he will sit through all the animated movies and cartoon with her, circling her shoulders with his arm. They even ended up sleeping on top of each other in the Skywalker suite and Thalias had to woke them up.

He gots her art supplies for her starday and can't wait to try them with her. Paint, clay, felt-pens, embrodery frames, she gets to taste anything and everything.

Do'nt buy her toys cause he doesn't really knows with what children her age play with, he lets that to Thalias. Tried ONCE to buy her plushy and she winced, she too old for it now. (she hugs it each evening nonetheless but shhhhhhhh!)

She will beat his ass at any video games, no question asked.

Of course his favorite moment is their monthly game of Tactica together. He goes easy on her as she tries to grasp the basics of strategics games, with a cheese platter next to them. That's when he is in his true element and thrives, that's when he's the most expressive and open about his affection, so she keeps playing despite having her ass handed to her each game.

She once called him "dad" by accident, and while gently chastising her, that it was improper, his chest puffed up with pride and love.

We all know he would be a girl dad, so he's 100% into their bound, he cherishes it so much, can't have enough.

Tells her bedtimes stories, especially at the begining when she was younger, less now that she's a grown up. It pains his heart, but he's proud that she is growing up.

He actually draw along side her one time, and it was not good! At least she had a good laugh out of it!

Visits her when she's ill. Even if he remains professionnal and aloof he comes see here everyday.

He would be so supportive of her and her crushes, even if would be a bit worried but she's almost a teenager, that's her time. He would be cheering for her on the sideline if she went on dates, and she would tell him everything after.

She definitively got adopted by the Mitth after his exile, 100% wears his familly name now.

Once an adult she took a ship and flied to the planet they exiled Thrawn for closure. She didn't have hope to find him or anything, she just wanted to see for herself the last place he was (Ar'alani never told her anything about the Empire) and she had a good, freeing cry before coming back to the Ascendancy.

And finally Thrawn will come back to the Ascendancy with his new Empire behind him, save the day, save them all, hug her and will retire somewhere where she will visit him often (This will totally happen, I'm not delulu at all)

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay

☆Tag list

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #che'ri #thalias #thrawn ascendancy #fanfic #vibratingskull

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randomfoggytiger · 7 months

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"Time Passing in Moments"

(Fictober, Day 4)

Courtesy of my first ever prompt: "Oooh, if you are taking requests: couples costume for fictober! or one dragging the other to a horror movie and needing snuggles to feel better!"

Thank you, anon!

*****

Scully knew that Mulder was on tenterhooks-- hopeful ones (with their corroborating eyewitness accounts and the bee as proof), yes; but tenterhooks, nonetheless. The wait was excruciating as top-down procedures dragged out endlessly despite the strings Skinner had been pulling.

In short, Mulder needed a break but refused to take one.

So, she decided to make him.

*****

It took an hour to gather her meager supplies and arrive, unexpected, at Mulder's Arlington building; and by then the street doors were already spilling out whooping little cowboys, ballerinas, and equal opportunity vampires. Scully let a hoard of chocolate-dirtied fingers rip open her mixed bag of candies and pass it around so everyone could get a piece. A few shy thank yous, one bold “I want another one!”, and a parental apology rippled through the group before they all parted ways, the children wobbling off to further plunder and Scully tapping, tapping her way, staccato, to her partner's door.

*****

Mulder answered after her first set of knocks, teeth glazed with a sticky Sugar Daddy. “Mm, Scuuhly, whah are you dooingh here?”

She held up her ravaged candy bag and another bag of Halloween odds and ends. “Trick or treat?”

He grinned-- got-- and let her in. “Treeht sounths….” Wiping at his teeth, he scowled.

Not a person in Arlington was as endearingly smug as Scully that night. “Well, since you’ve already been tricked, you might as well enjoy your treats.”

Mulder smiled-- got her this time-- and accepted her bag left-handed while pick-axing his molars with the right.

*****

“You got any 1-900-Spooky calls tonight?”

Scully reveled in peeking at Mulder as his head swiveled and eyes widened in the glow of cartoon reruns.

“Not that I know,” he bantered, game on, “I’ve been too busy wondering where my partner went. She's been missing since pilfering three candies from the pail in Kim's office--”

“Mulder, I did not take three--”

“--and didn't call until she showed up at my door, candy indulgent with half an assorted bag gone, a street urchin cover story, and party favors she bought but decided were less interesting than a rerun of Looney Tunes.”

The aforementioned ‘she’ would not be ruffled in her victory. “If I recall, Mulder-- and you’ll have to forgive me because my memory is a bit fuzzy about our recovery in McMurdo Station--”

Mulder’s face blanked, dread spilling from his eyes and collecting in the tight corners of his half-opened mouth.

“--but you said, and I quote: ‘There’s no other frosty I’d want to come down from a sugar high with’.”

“And as I recall,” his mood recovering with a quiet intake, outtake of air, “you said: ‘Tapering off of intravenous dextrose does not count as a sugar high, Mulder’.”

Scully popped another (the last) chocolate piece into her mouth. “It doesn’t. But I figured this does.”

Facing him fully, she watched Mulder’s expression softly undergo a few layered revolutions before he hemmed out a tender, “Like I said, there’s no other frosty--”

“No, Mulder. ‘Frosty’ died when you said the definition of solid stool would never be the same.”

"I still stand by my theory, Scully. It isn't the same."

Neither of them needed to say that Antarctica changed more than that. Sitting on Mulder’s body-warmed couch as their blood jumped in chaotic glucose spikes, they felt life and hope thrum between them.

"No, it isn't."

******

"Who knew that Looney Tunes could be so..." Mulder shook his head.

"Dark?"

"Yeah."

Scully stared, baffled. "Mulder, are you telling me you've never seen this episode?"

"You enjoyed this?"

"...Yes."

They both sat in silence while Mel Blanc belted out a chorus of tormented screams.

"...Well, it's not The Exorcist, but I can see the similarities."

"Mulder, they're nothing alike. ...Mulder. Go back, it's just getting good."

******

Scully knew Mulder spent his life counting the costs of his work: the X-Files weren’t theirs yet, his partner was robbed of a chance to stroll the streets with her own tiny ghost or goblin, and he would inevitably wake the next day and writhe some more on the tenterhook until, until, until. But every time her partner fiddled with his sproinging party headband (a twin to the outlandish one he'd found in the loot bag and good-heartedly smashed on her head-- “Matchy, matchy”) and flashed her his gleaming pearly-white-and-caramel teeth, Scully knew that he knew that she was still on the journey with him.

If I quit now, they win. And she wouldn’t quit, not on him.

*****

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event

#txf #fic #Time Passing in Moments #Fictober #2023 #Day 4 #mine #Looney Tunes (it could count as scary movie right?)#thank you to my first prompt anon!#I wrote fluff! I WROTE FLUFF #which is ironic because I read mostly (only) fluff and avoid angst unless in a one-week-a-month mood #but yay! Fluff!#Mulder #Scully #FTF #Halloween #Looney Tunes

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talenlee · 2 days

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Bluey's Diggers

The Australian character, it is said, was shaped by World War 1. The diggers, the soldiers we sent to Turkey to buy breathing room for Russia so it could push on Germany and reduce the impact on France. That is a good and comforting myth to have in which we get to do something cool and impressive and tough (partake in a war) while also thinking everyone involved is stupid (because they were) and conveniently ignore the complete lack of our own agency in it (why didn’t we say no?). It sort of crystallised the Australian character as liking and being impressed with war and death, accepting death as a potential consequence, and all that good grim military fantasism that paints us as hardworking even to the point of death, and also quite stupid in that we didn’t once consider if maybe the people we should be shooting at are the ones telling us to get shot.

But thing is, I have complicated feelings about Bluey.

If you’re not familiar with it, because you are somehow off the internet and also don’t have a four year old, Bluey is a Homestuck spin-off series about a kid named Bluey and her sister as she and her dad and mum and related family and friends get along. It is beautifully animated, charmingly expressive, deeply resonant, wholesome in ways its genre often struggles to express, and filled to the brim with thoughtful, attentive character work. In the ways that a kid’s cartoon show can be good, it is great.

This isn’t some sort of ‘waiting for the backhand’ way of things, like, not ‘it’s good for,’ or ‘it’s good but,’ or some secret interpretation thing. Bluey is just a really impressively well-made version of what it is and it underscores how many things like it do not exist and are often making media for children without the same mindset that these shows can be good.

But Bluey is also a show that deserves attention for how it is Australian. How exceptionally Australian it is. The characters all have Australian accents, as voiced by Australian accents. They reference Australian versions of things, Australian buses and trains, Australian wildlife, Australian sports, Australian school structures, Australian public works, Australian music, Australian infrastructure. It is a very Australian series.

In the episode that earns a lot of critical acclaim, Cricket, there is a shot of one of the dog’s dads,

This isn’t my observation. I knew about this before I ever saw Cricket, from the poem by Omar Sakr, called Bluey in the genocide. It’s a great poem, it’s a beautifully phrased piece of simple critique about the assumptions present in the work. Because this, this is where people want to put the brakes on the Australian-ness of Bluey. This is where they want to say, hey, okay, yeah, alright, we don’t know where this guy is, but if this is an Australian story about Australian characters, then where in the world that’s hot are you going to find an Australian soldier?

(The answer is the Middle East.)

It is an omnipresent normal that Australia likes our military, a service that has been called to defend Australia kinda, once, and called to other nations by the people who live there about two times and the rest of the time we’re being roped into the adventures of other empires. We are a colony that colonises, the normalised and included white-enoughs.

And this is part of the thing with Bluey, the complication of the Australian-ness of it all. Because like, this is a show for four year olds. This is a show that nonetheless, represents a kid’s interest in army, and makes the very realistic point that the kid’s interest in army is tied to that kid’s dad being in the army. That is extremely Australian, too. And then, while we’re accepting all these obvious things that are obviously about Australia and the obvious followup, that’s where we jerk to a halt.

Because we know we don’t want to.

Like, this dog being in the Middle East brings with it a lot of assumptions about the real world. This implies that there’s a Dog 9/11. It implies there’s a Dog Financial Crisis. It implies that there’s Dog Curtin Line and Dog Coolies and Dog Skeletons from Chinese Dogs underneath the Dog Sugarcane fields just an hour’s drive from Bluey’s House.

And like, that’s a bummer! That’s a bummer to think about! That’s not how we like to think of our history. We were crystallised by the Diggers, but only the good bits, only the bits that weren’t about a willingness to go and kill people who didn’t care for no good reason! It’s a better crystallising event than, say, the Eureka Stockade, where we fought against police trying to crack down on and control workers (and we burned down Chinese hotels) or the story of the Kelly Gang, where we fought against police abusing and controlling the poor. The crystallisation of Australian-ness is instead about the diggers.

About our military.

The military that reached across our country and has stories in it like the time we rioted against American soldiers with whom we were allied. Stories like the time we claimed someone was too European to avoid the draft, stories like the sinking of the Centaur, which was a hospital ship. Stories like Billy Hughes being racist at the treaty of Versailles, literally a subservient agent of racism for the community of powers above him.

We think of our military as normal, and not that bad, just like we think of ourselves as normal, and not that bad. We will always have the example of the empires we serve as being worse, so whatever we did is not so bad, because we’re not like those people we are working for and whose orders we follow. They’re the real bastards. They’re the ones who are benefitting from all of this. Right? We’re not so bad, we’re just doing what we’re told and really, we’re not even getting that much out of our obedience, right?

Happy Anzac Day.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Media #Politics

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