#place is litered with sinkholes

[aisling-saoirse]

Sinkhole from Former Mine, Hewitt, NJ - March 8th 2024

#i ended up near long pond by mistake #place is litered with sinkholes #nature #photographers on tumblr #original photography #forest #new jersey #njlocal #hemlock growing in it lol #love those trees

[amuhav]

Hope y'all had a FANTASTIC Christmas 💖

and wishing you all a Happy New Year (+ personal update lol)

It may seem like something so small to get emotional over, but Christmas Eve, I burst into tears at having something ~resembling~ a living room for Christmas, AND seeing my desk space finally all set up and running. It has been a heck of a rough time these last 17 months since we moved into our new place, not to mention the 2 rough af years leading up to it. I included some images below from throughout for anyone curious (or just wants to see my cat in a t-shirt 😻), but big ol' venting rant under the read more, sorry if you open it but you've been warned LMAO.

We moved here in August 2022, and these pics really are only a small fraction of everything we've had to deal with. From plumbing leaks and years' worth of water damage, to mould-filled walls and a condemned boiler. TWO GAS LEAKS. One dangerously malfunctioning stove. The fear of potentially dry rot-infested joists. From ripping up and re-laying multiple floors (with more to still do...), to ripping out a fireplace and rebuilding entire walls. Having no bathroom to call our own and having to share my mother-in-law's tiny annexe en suite for 5 months. Having to ask permission to have a shower. Having no bedroom for 4 months and having to squish three of us into my daughter's room—the confinement of which stressed out my cat, Mina, so much that she overgroomed herself to baldness and required a shirt and then a babygro (even if she looked beautiful in them LMAO). THE FLEAS. My god the fucking fleas the previous owners left here.....

From a family of starlings deciding to nest in our eaves and wake us up ~every morning~ with the dawn chorus, to finding (no pics, I promise!) FIVE mummified rats in the attic and needing the whole thing ripped out, sterilised, re-insulated and re-boarded, two pigeon skeletons behind the fireplace (complete with a moth invasion that had been feasting on them 💀 nature, man... so fucky). Needing to get a whole-ass loft hatch installed in our bedroom ceiling because mice were getting in and we had no access to deal with them. R A T S. RATSSSSSSS. *shudder*

So many IKEA furniture building sessions lmao. 10 new doors installed throughout the entire house (with 2 more still to go). New boiler, new water tank, new radiators. New carpets fitted throughout upstairs. Every single room repainted. Cutting and fitting skirting boards and coving ourselves, the latter during a bad bout of medicine-induced low blood pressure, 0/10 do not recommend lest you want to almost pass out standing on a ladder over a flight of stairs... 💀 Honestly the number of things that could have literally killed me this year. Like the incorrectly wired socket that the live wire fell out a centimetre away from my finger........ EVERY SINGLE job we've done to fix or improve this place has been hindered and tainted by the incompetence and cost-and-corner-cutting of the previous owner, taking way longer and costing way more than it should, and/or literally endangering us all. Pretty much everything above was caused by them. Eg. The leak in the bathroom coming VISIBLY through the living room ceiling that they left unfixed for 4+ YEARS MINIMUM that they PROMISED us they'd fixed 🙃🙃🙃

And through this all, we've had no living room or really any downtime space, apart from my husband who has had his office. I've had to move my "desk" (an IKEA table that just about fit my PC+Monitor that bruised my knees to sit at) around like playing musical rooms, until our bedroom was ready, then me and my daughter "relaxed" in there for the last 9 months. The only TV we've had was "shared" with my mother-in-law in the kitchen (aka it's all hers lol).

A lot of this is complaining about first-world problems, I know, I know. We have a roof over our head and are surviving a cost of living crisis that is destroying the lives of many others. But tbh, the last 2+ years of my life have ~rewired my brain~ entirely because I have been in a permanent state of stress combined with an unrelenting limbo. Just... existing. Seeing the light at the end was impossible at times just from the sheer overwhelming amount needed to be done. We are still not finished. But having a living room, unfinished as it currently is, finally feels like that turning point. Having a SOFA HOLY SHIT. Having a space for me and my daughter and my cat to properly ~unwind~ each day. Just being able to have a Christmas tree and presents under it, even if it's not the full-size one we were meant to have, it's still not the tiny 2-foot one stuffed into the kitchen corner we had last year. Mina finally getting free roam of the place the last few days has lifted my soul so much, she's so happy just getting to sit with us and chill.

Bonus; in the new year, I'm finally getting my heart condition fixed permanently, AND then should be starting medication for ADHD.

So yeah. Here's to a turning point, a New Year's start that feels, for the first time in a long time, like a hopeful one. And I really, really hope that translates to more time here going forward, because what little I have been able to do has kept me sane. It'll likely still be spotty for a while, there's still so much to do, but I'm on track now lol.

Now, for anyone that got this far, a bonus happy kitty pic :3

#nonsims #saviourhide #blog PSA #anyway lmao TLDR #it has been... ~a time~ lmao #I am finally getting places with renovating this stupid fucking house #and I can FINALLY sense the light at the end of the tunnel #it literally feels surreal to be typing this at a REAL DESK #in a room I DON'T ALSO SLEEP IN #I can BREATHE. #starting to feel like a home #and not just a money sinkhole #a place to live and not just ~exist~ #also. I laid that living room floor and I am so fucking proud lol #why can't renovating be as easy as it is in the sims #those fuckers don't even lift a finger

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi Gallus, I'm doing some worldbuilding and you seem like you could be connected enough for me to find an answer to the problem of dwarven agriculture. Many problems are created by the requirement of no sunlight, as even the common response of mushrooms still need light to break down decomposing matter as a primary energy source. Currently, we're thinking that they use a special type of mushroom that breaks down rocks in an energy-producing reaction, giving them enough energy to absorb nutrients and grow - this would serve a second purpose in explaining why building a massive hollowed-out mountain fortress doesn't produce an equally large amount of gravel.

Any thoughts? We're grasping at straws kinda lol

Well, some thoughts:

There's plenty of cave systems (especially Karst Systems) that are at least partially open to Sunlight- especially the kind that have rivers running through them, which is something else that's really helpful for agriculture.

For Example: This Cool AF Sinkhole cave in china that has an entire Forest in it

Now There's a view to put outside the city Gates!

Karst specifically is a landscape where underground rivers hollow out the limestone underground and then the cave roofs fall in. This kind of landscape answers your gravel question nicely: the hollowed out mountain does produce an equal amount of gravel, but the gravel turns up as the sandy banks of the river system hundreds of miles away.

So, there's your sunlight that can be used directly, or reflected or magically transferred deeper into the cave system.

Or they just put more holes in the roof! Unless your dwarves are also vampires, there's no reason for them to not hollow out a few Skylights into the mountain too.

But let's talk some other cave ecology and agriculture!

For starters, your dwarves could be sitting on top of a literal gold mine that would allow them to trade for a lot of needed materials and crops.

And by gold mine, I mean Salt Mine.

Historically, salt comes out of hollowed-out mountains and is worth more than gold.

Also something the humans have historically fought a bunch of wars over, so there's some free political tensions if you needed that!

I can also mean the possible fucking enormous piles of bat guano that accumulates in Karst caves, which is the world's most insanely good fertilizer, and ALSO something that has been worth more than it's weight in gold.

Speaking of Gold, another thing that often lives in sinkhole caves in abundance is BEES. turns out, limestone stalactites are a terrific place to build a hive that is difficult for predators to reach, stays dry and the stone substrate means the hives can reach many tons in weight before they start having structural issues. That sweet, sweet insect-derived liquid gold is already important to Dwarves in a lot of folklore- it's really hard to have a Traditional Dwarven Mead Hall without the honey to make the mead, you know?

So you got your mushrooms, you got your sunlight-grown sinkhole crops, you got your traded goods and you got your source of alcohol- the only thing really missing from an ancient food pyramid here is a staple carbohydrate. To that end, may I propose our good Peruvian Friend: The Potato.

Grain crops aren't actually all that nutritious and were kept around in ancient societies more as legal tender that kept the peasants busy, because wheat or rice takes months to grow, an enormous amount of labor to harvest, and wheat also needs to be milled before it can be turned into food- all enormously time-consuming processes that keep peasants busy and easy to rule tyranically over.

Potatoes though? Pop one in the ground in spring and you can dig up fingerlings all summer, and if you make potato towers, you can harvest up to 40lbs of delicious, easy-to-prepare-and-store carb out of a single plant- a real space-saver for the limited sinkhole skyspace.

If your dwarves have cheese, the potato makes even more sense, because Potato+dairy is the easiest, most nutritionally complete survival food there is.

Finally, consider: Dwarven Vodka.

This post is open for anyone to comment suggestions on, but that's my take: put your dwarves in a Karst-sinkhole cave system, give them a highly in demand resource like salt or guano, bees, and taters. Boom. Whole agriculture, economy and political scheme starters.

[headspace-hotel]

So growing up I heard these kinds of statements: "X number of species goes extinct every year" and "Most species that go extinct are undescribed/undiscovered"

And I could never really picture what that looked like. What species were going extinct? Where? Why? If they're undiscovered, how do we know about it? It's only recently that I've been able to understand.

This is an example:

Since European colonization, 99% of old growth forest in the eastern United States was cut down.

In Eastern Kentucky, the coal industry led to waste and rubble being dumped in valleys, literally burying countless mountain streams in gravel and toxic sludge.

Colonialism and exploitation moved faster than leaf-sketching and bug-collecting European naturalists did. It's very simple, and very sad. When the coal mines polluted the streams, many species of fish that only lived in one specific stream must have gone extinct. When Native Americans were forced off their lands, we can presume that rare plant species found in meadows, canebrakes and oaks savannas dependent on particular anthropogenic disturbances went extinct. When old-growth tracts were logged, God only knows how many lichens, mosses, ferns and plants went extinct because the trees they lived on were chopped.

We can extrapolate from the diversity in the fragments that remain, and the number of rare endemic species in especially isolated areas, and guess what probably existed in areas that were obliterated early on.

Keep in mind: All is not lost. New species are still being discovered.

The Bluegrass region of Kentucky was once called one of the most peculiar plant communities of the South—an eastern island of oak savanna with an understory of Arundinaria bamboo and legumes. Early European settlers reported that the ground was incredibly rich and covered with knee-high clover and dense thickets of "cane" (bamboo) that made navigation next to impossible.

Some people say the Bluegrass was always a forest and the savanna theory is wrong. Bullshit! I know this because of several reasons:

The earliest records don't mention any sycamores at all in the Bluegrass, whereas river cane (bamboo) was everywhere. Arundinaria bamboos are fire dependent species, whereas sycamore is HIGHLY intolerant of fire. From this we can infer that the area had a history of frequent burning.

Everyone in the Bluegrass knows about the Old Trees. In horse and cattle pastures in the Bluegrass region, you will sometimes see gigantic, twisted old oaks, with great spreading crowns. Nowadays you hardly see an oak that properly merits the term "gnarled," but the gnarl of the Old Trees is crazy. Just look up google images for Kentucky tourism and you'll see one of those huge trees in the background of several of the photos, I bet. Hardly anyone consciously thinks about it, but these are pre-colonization trees. And they are all obviously open-grown—their growth habit over the centuries has spread out, rather than grown straight up as in a forest.

Early colonizers' records report big walnut and cherry trees in the area. Most of the old houses in the area are made of walnut wood. Those are mid-successional species—you wouldn't find them dominating in an area that was heavily disturbed regularly and recently, they're trees, but you wouldn't find them in a forest that had been minimally disturbed forest for centuries either. The fact that they got huge suggests that a regular disturbance pattern of the Bluegrass region was abruptly interrupted and mostly ceased.

It was a pretty special place, a savanna environment with a mix of giant twisted oaks, rolling prairie hills and bamboo thickets, with deep sinkholes connecting the surface to subterranean cave ecosystems. In places the limestone bedrock reached the surface, creating limestone glades—unique desert-like habitats with many rare plants including Opuntia cactus.

It was also one of the first ecosystems west of the Appalachians to be destroyed by settlers.

BUT! Just a few years ago, we discovered Trifolium kentuckiense—Kentucky clover. A unique species of clover that has only been found in two spots in Central Kentucky.

This means the Bluegrass species that probably went extinct because their habitat was ignorantly logged, plowed and grazed before they were studied by European science may not be entirely gone.

We have been able to fund exhaustive inventories of potential holdouts for big flashy animals like the ivory-billed woodpecker, but so many people view the place they live as "boring" and thoroughly explored, when there could be surviving plants hanging out just about anywhere.

But...I don't think most people realize how much of the Holocene extinction has already happened. Most of the losses are plants and bugs that you never knew existed in the first place.

I feel like lots of people are anxiously waiting for the mass extinction to "start" hitting, but that's not quite right. European colonization of the globe WAS and *is* the mass extinction (combined with climate change which is very related). It's actively ongoing in the Global South. In eastern North America, the major wave of extinctions hit between 100 and 300 years ago.

I feel so much grief for all that was almost certainly lost forever, but I also recognize that I live in a unique period of time where the future can still be changed, and in particular, the heavily damaged ecosystems of the Southeast can be restored and used to absorb carbon from the atmosphere and provide resilience to the entire globe. And I strongly suspect at least a few mysterious new plants will start popping up once that happens...because a lot of plants stick around in the soil seed bank for a long, long time, and seeds can happen to be preserved by freak accident and then sprout later.

we (researchers, scientists, people who work in this field) will desperately need to consult tribal nations for this though because from my reading into it, we don't know what the fuck we're doing. The most basic things like controlled burns are still struggling to catch on and in some places just, spraying herbicides willy-nilly on invasive plants without understanding what makes them invasive.

#ecology #plants

[perlelune]

I love literally everything you’ve ever written! Could we get an update on the reader in hunger? Maybe on the day of or after poor Henry’s execution

“I want you to see exactly what happens when you don’t do as I say,” Coriolanus whispers, warm breath fanning over your temple as his fingers painfully squeeze your chin, guaranteeing you don’t miss a second of your husband’s execution.

The noose is tied around Henry’s neck, a look of utter confusion and helplessness painting his features as he’s being dragged over the stage.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins, your pulse thrumming beneath the president’s palm.

The peacekeepers tug on the other side of the rope and a void opens under Henry’s feet.

It’s quick. Horrifyingly so. One second Henry’s quivering on the stage, claiming his innocence once more. And the next, he’s hanging lifelessly from the rope, his body limp as his feet dangle in the air.

A shaky breath slips from your mouth.

As you try to look away, Coriolanus’ grip on your face tightens. His body encases yours from behind, his other hand resting on the swell of your waist. He made sure you got the clearest view, on a balcony high above the crowd.

“Watch, dove,” Coriolanus urges softly. Your lips shudder, a hole ripping inside your heart as he forces you to gaze upon Henry’s corpse for long, tortuous minutes. His calm, low whisper against your ear raises goosebumps on your flesh. “I want this image burnt into your memory. So that each time you think of crossing me, deceiving me or leaving me…” His knuckles drag over your tear-stained cheek as he articulates, “You always remember dear, poor Henry.”

Following the execution, the crowd scatters and he nudges your reluctant frame inside the presidential car.

Your tearful gaze lifts to meet his face.

“Can I give him a proper burial at least?” you mumble, still in denial of what you just witnessed. Henry’s dead. Your husband is now a corpse lying on the ground.

You feel as if a sinkhole opened under your feet and swallowed you. None of this can be real.

Coriolanus’ icy stare strays from the tinted window to settle on you.

“Traitors do not deserve one.”

His frosty reply summons chills across your back.

“But he isn’t…Henry’s not a traitor.”

A wicked glint dances in his sea orbs.

“He was to the world, dove.”

“You’re a monster,” you hiss, all the hate you harbor for President Snow bleeding through your tone.

A lopsided smile blooms on his lips.

“Perhaps. But I’m alive, he’s not.” He bends over you, pushing his mouth against yours in a bruising, possessive kiss while holding your chin. “I can do this,” he mutters against your lips. Your breath catches when his other hand creeps under your skirt to tease your folds through your panties. Your appalled expression expands his smile.”…And this. He cannot.”

“Can I please go home?” you beseech.

Coriolanus snickers. “You’re not returning to this shabby place. In fact, I think all of it should burn.” You gasp. “There’s nothing of value there. The only valuable thing, I already have…right here. You will be staying with me, dove, in my house and in my bed.” His thumb sweeps over your parted lips. “Tonight and every other night.”

[visceravalentines]

cane-cutter blues

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

this was originally supposed to be a comfort fic. in reality, this is literally the opposite of a comfort fic. read this only if you want to be discomforted. did you know there is a type of rabbit in Louisiana called a swamp rabbit, or a cane-cutter? they can swim. i hope this information serves you well in the future.

1.9k words. dubcon through-and-through and Bo is an ass. reader is well north of Stockholm. the whole fic is a metaphor for god knows what. dacryphilia, an abundance of prey imagery and some gore. I feel the need to credit @ventiswampwater with the creation of this genre of fic which I like to refer to as fuckweird bc it is fuck weird.

He finds you. He always does. It's not like you were hiding, not really; you've long since given up any hope of that. The town and his brain are maps of each other. You can't hide from him here. 

He walks up to you slow, stands over you. You cannot look at him, or you won’t be able to look away. You curl in on yourself tighter like a grub in the earth. There is a sinkhole, ragged and sucking, cold in your chest. 

He takes a knee in front of you and says nothing. Your sobs are deafening in the silence of his stare but you cannot stop them; your diaphragm kicks below your ribs like a rabbit in a hawk's claws. You press your hands to your mouth and stop breathing, feel your lungs fold. Maybe, if you are still, he'll forget he ever saw you.

"Hey," he says in a voice like guncotton. The air in your lungs rushes past your lips to meet him with open arms. "Why you cryin', baby?"

You shake your head no. No, not crying. No, not baby. He puts his hand on your knee and you make a sound like something that is realizing it is dead. 

"Tell me what's wrong, pretty girl." 

His voice is soothing, solicitous. Your eyes are drawn up to meet his and there is sympathy there, thin and filmy. Behind it there is something else. You cannot look away. He scares you so bad and your whole jaw trembles and you need him to hold you even if he holds too tight. 

His brow draws together. "You hurtin'?" 

Too much. That is too much. You cry out and the hole in you groans and the floor begins to absorb you, you can feel it, feel yourself seeping into the carpet and the cracks of the boards below and the dirt below that, speckled with bones. Someday, you will crawl beneath the foundation of this place to die. 

He coos and gets on both knees, big hands sliding up your thighs. "Ohh, baby mine." 

He forces your legs open and scoots between them and you are exposed, a rotten log eviscerated, and how badly you want him to fill you with warmth and how badly you want to claw at his face until he leaves you alone. 

"Tell me where it hurts," he says, wiping his thumb through the damp on the curve of your cheek. "Is it here?" He draws his finger down the center of your forehead to the bridge of your nose. 

You shake your head. No. The brain doesn't feel pain, you learned once. Before you came here and got lost. Your brain hasn't been the same since the sinkhole. Since the first time you died. But you know better than to run those trails anymore. Nothing lives in that part of the woods.

He leans in to kiss your brow. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace for the impact. He cups your neck in his hand. His thumb can reach all the way around your trachea but he doesn't squeeze this time. His hand melts to the center of your chest. "Is it here?"

Almost. Almost. You whimper. Your heart is flinging itself against the cage of your ribs, desperate to be rid of you, desperate to be clutched in his hand. Your blood belongs under his nails. You picture him with gore streaking his face, the meat of you in his mouth. Handsome. 

He pulls the neckline of your tank top down with one finger and presses a kiss to your breastbone. His hair tickles your chin. His teeth scrape at the skin stretched taut over bone. Fleshless. You have lost so much of yourself, peeled off and dripped out along the back roads, sunk in murky water, tufts of fur scattered to the wind. 

He could fix you. You know he could. You've watched him fix cars and radios, roofs and windows. Once he pulled a thorn from Jonesy's paw with all the care of a surgeon. You want him to hold you like that. You want him to mend you. You know he knows how. He took you apart in the first place, slit your belly and dug through your innards for the best parts. Swallowed them whole and raw and salty. Surely he could stitch you back together again. 

He sighs, shaking his head. "Can't do a thing for ya if y'don't help me out here."

"There," you say hoarsely, pressing your hand to the gap between your ribs. "Right there." You can feel your pulse eddying beneath your palm. You want to take his hand and hold it there until the hurt stops. Until the blood clots. You want him to cradle you like something precious and domestic. A dog. A tool. 

He doesn't seem to hear you. Lately you've been speaking out loud but it's only in your head. Lately he doesn’t speak your language. He pushes your legs further apart and his tongue darts over his lips. 

"Is it here, baby?" He pushes his knuckle into the seam of your shorts, catching against your clit. You moan and it trembles in the air like a snare pulled taut. He’s got you. He’s got you.

An almost-smile skitters across his face. "Right there, huh?"

Your lip quivers. The world shakes. The rabbit thinks it can run. Your rib cage is collapsing like a house that is sick of being everything but a home. He strokes you in a slow circle and the fabric pinches but you nod. "Right there," you whisper, digging deep into the muck of yourself to find the bright side. Twisting your words into sounds he understands. This is how he loves you. This is how he fixes you.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He grinds his knuckle against you while his free hand works at his belt. Below the pinch there is a spark and you lean your head back against the mattress and choke. A fresh wave of tears brim over your lashes and they are hot as they streak down your cheeks. Your lips are swollen and stuck together. You lift your hips without being asked and he pulls your shorts off. The carpet is rough against your ass. You wait for him to put you where he wants you because that's how he does it. That's how he makes you whole. 

He pulls you onto the floor beneath him and the change in elevation spikes the pressure in your sinuses. "Daddy's gonna fix it, baby," he mutters as he pumps his cock. "Gonna make it better."

He prods at your entrance and you suck the saliva from your tongue and swallow. He burrows into you and you gasp and it hurts. You are too soft and too strong for this, and that's always been your problem, and maybe if you were hard and brittle you would have shattered long ago instead of tearing like wet paper again and again. 

Your nails dig into the carpet as he pistons his hips, groaning as you give way around him. The sting subsides like stings always do. The bloom between your hips is warm and honey-gold. You turn your palms to the ceiling and let his love diffuse through your blood, sigh and hiccup as it spills into the hissing void in your chest. 

He huffs with every snap of his hips. He pushes your knees to your ribs and you see his hands are filthy; he’s been working in the shop. Grease smudges your skin like sorrow. The things he adds to you are never the ones you would have chosen. The things he takes you didn’t know you could live without. 

He fancies himself a hunter, but you know he is a scavenger. He finds your hurt rotting in the undergrowth and skins it, turns it inside-out, pins it to the wall like a trophy. It isn’t his; it doesn’t belong to him. But it is easier to hang on the wall than it is to outrun the hawk.

“You been lonely?” he grunts.

Loneliness dogs your steps like a hunched and withered thing. Sometimes you think you are the only one alive in this place. Sometimes you know you are a ghost. Sometimes you wish he’d give you a baby just so you could hear a different person crying. “Yes.”  

“Been missin’ me, huh?”  

You miss him when he’s right beside you. You miss him when he’s asleep with his arm across your chest, suffocating you without meaning to. You miss him every moment he’s not inside your body and even then you are counting the minutes before he leaves you again. “I always miss you.”  

He cracks a smile. “Always, huh?”  

You miss a version of him you’ve never met. A version who never made it out of the womb alive. A version you dream about, sometimes, in the springtime when he lets you sleep with the windows open. 

The tears begin again. 

He moans. His thrusts pick up speed. “Pretty when you cry, baby. Tuggin’ on my heartstrings.”  His thumb finds your clit again and you whine and buck beneath him. “I know. I know.”  

The joints of your hips are burning. The carpet is scraping your back. You can’t breathe right; air comes in rationed gasps. You are pinned to the dirt and dying. But it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. You can’t remember why you were upset. The emptiness inside you is full of brown leaves and beehives and covered in vines. He’s too rough and it’s too much and you subsume yourself in it. The water is cool and it lifts you. An animal is screaming in the woods, under the bed, in your throat. The rabbit loves the hawk in a way without words. 

“Let it go, baby. You need this.”  

Your brain is misty and you can’t think backwards. The trail is lost. You don’t remember who you are anymore. You only ever think of him. His hands on your body, his lips on your skin. How many bites remain of your heart?  Is there any left for you?  

Where is his heart, and why can’t you have any?  

You are dangling by a snare-string, now and always, and you watch it fray and you feel it snap and you fall to the ground and into the sky. You kick so hard you break your own back and feel bliss. You feel bliss. He is drowning you in honey and you feel better. You feel better. 

"Yeah,” you hear him purr. “That's what she needs.”

He is always right, and you are something else. 

He fucks you through it. He’s right behind you, crashing through the brush, splashing through the mud, groaning and gripping at your bones. “Fuck…’m close, girl….”  

Your ears are ringing. Your eyes are elsewhere. The hum of the hive. The wind in the trees. Water up to your throat. He will finish, he will leave you. You will hide. He will find you. Sunlight through the canopy. Dirt beneath your paws. Bees in your chest. The view from the mantle above the fireplace. He takes your skin and chews your heart and leaves you to decompose. 

When he cums he claws at your underbelly but there is nothing vital left. You are bones. You are hollow. You are already dead. 

He eats and leaves and leaves a mess. He pulls out and honey seeps into the carpet. You follow it through. You rot beneath the house. You swim into the swamp. The sinkhole swallows you up. You disappear amidst the green. 

He says something, but you don’t speak his language. 

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair fanfiction #house of wax fanfiction #slasher x reader

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Perils of the Resplendent Realm

It seems as something out of a dream, a bucolic landscape riven by great shards of icy-blue crystal, diffusing the sunset into a panoply of unearthly hues. One could almost miss the signs of danger: the farmsteads left to years of overgrowth, the wagons left abandoned by the side of the road, the skeletons impaled on protruding spear shards, all left to moulder after the earth began to break.

Before the magical disaster that forced its inhabitants to flee, the Barony of Benshaw was just like any other, save for the fact that it was governed by a clan of high elves instead of a noble family. With generations that eclipsed the length of most human empires, the House of Ang’Bynshar had ruled the land since the millennia old fall of the elven empire, and were happy to swear fealty to whatever short-lived sovereign laid claim to the continent provided they could be left in peace. That all ended when the ascendant heir to the family,   Yhanryn fucked up some sort of arcane ritual, setting of the violent geological events that left the land riven through with strange crystal formations. 

Adventure Hooks: 

With the earth unstable beneith their feet hundreds were forced to flee the barony taking refuge in nearby settlements and rebuild their lives from scratch. A generation there is a silent desire to return to Benshaw, if not to reclaim it from arcane disaster than to atleast salvage a few precious menentos from long ago. Perhaps the party had family that was forced to leave a prosperous homestead behind, or are hired to recover the treasures of some mercahnt family forced into ruin. Perhaps if one of them has elven lineage they are distantly related to the Ang’Bynshar, sharing some of the common people’s scorn for the clan’s past recklessness. 

The upheaval that wracked the barony was only the first of the dangers set off by Yhanryn’s recklessness. Crystal growths opened up fissures and waiting sinkholes that are still making themselves known decades later, they burst damns and let fields be flooded, and residual energies means straying off the path may set off new violent growth like jagged mines. Worse yet they unleashed a number of rogue crystalline elementals that now wander the land looking for more interesting minerals to devour. 

Before he got himself and his minions trapped in crystal, Yhanryn was obsessed with the glories of the fallen eleven empire, a time when his people didn’t need to bow their heads and curry favour with short-lived ingrates, when the proper hierarchies were observed an others knew their place was BENEATH his family. To make his assumptions of superiority literal, Yhanryn intended on using a geode of elemental earth pulled from the world below to lift his family’s lands into the air. The humans would then be politely invited to leave, before they were forced off the edge at spearpoint. Should he be freed ( say as part of a chain reaction while the party raid his family’s castle) he’ll bury his prejudice long enough to convince the party to help him obtain a new geode under the pretense of healing the land. 

Should Yhanryn get the party’s aid (or another group of rubes should the heroes turn him down ) his second attempt will go no better than the first, this time ripping a hole in the world straight to the underdark. If the party end up opposing him, they’ll have to battle through his family’s loyalists, both those that were trapped with him and those that have lingered on in the kingdom's noble class. 

#Adventure #field #low level #Village #treasure hunt #Arcane #cave #mine #underdark #elf #Lowlands #mid level #villain #qor'ivel

[cult-of-the-eye]

(TW brief allusion to car crashes, monster horror)

Statement of Chitra Kulkarni, regarding the view out of her bedroom window. Originally given 27th May 2008, recorded 31st March 2024, by [REDACTED], Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, Manchester.

Statement begins. 

I don’t know what you want me to say, ok? I was literally just looking out my window and something seemed weird and now for some fucking reason, I’m here. No, I’m not gonna calm down, I don’t even want to be here in the first place. Jesus christ. [sounds of slumping in chair]

[unintelligible] 

Fine. I guess. I can start somewhere.

I.. am not the biggest fan of my room. It’s not like I’ve had many horrific experiences in there, just a lot of shouting and mental breakdowns. But yeah. Lately, I put a lot of energy into making my room…palatable, I guess. Fairy lights and the whole shit. As much as I hate to admit that it worked, it did. Little twinkly fuckers around my room kicked the brain chemicals into working. I guess. Anway, um, in the spirit of mental health, I got into a habit, of sorts. Every night, I would climb onto my washing basket, stretch open the window and reach my head out into the night air. I felt clean, in that cold water on a winter morning way. I felt like god, in that absolute sense of detachment from those below. I wasn’t the person at their door, metallic with alcohol and metal keys and nor would I ever be them. The air was sweet, sugar granules on a milky night sky and I would breathe, deep. Even on the days when all I could think about was the screech of cars and ambulance sirens, I looked down on my little world of street lamps and pavements drenched in darkness like biscuits in tea. Until one day, I saw something. 

It began as a flicker. At first, I thought it was the reflection of my fairy lights in the open window. Ha. I just. It looked like just some guy, in a hoodie and jeans and I remember thinking I had similar jeans, in a surreal calmness. But he had a stiffness to him as if he was being held up by a dissociative puppeteer. It could’ve been a million things, maybe he was just some weird guy, having a moment. And then it turned to me. I finally caught a glimpse of his face. It was split into a painful smile, filled to the brim of layers and layers of baby teeth. They didn’t look like they belonged to him. I reached into myself for a scream but found nothing but blind terror. Whatever peace I found in that night sky, was shattered by the knowledge that I was not alone. I was not separate, nor clean. Not when he was looking at me with those sinkhole eyes that never seemed to end, taking over the sky in its entirety.

I don’t know when I stopped looking. I don’t really think I had a choice. I remember the sun glistening through the clouds, reintroducing the rest of my body to my aching eyes. I remember the soreness of my joints and the phone call I immediately made to my boss to take a sick day. I know you might think it’s some kind of hallucination or drug trip and I don’t know how to prove it to you other than coming here and explaining it to you, but i just can’t afford to not be believed,

I see him every time I close my eyes, [REDACTED]. I haven’t slept in days, please, could you please make it stop- i’m begging you PLEASE PLEASE MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT-

Statement ends. 

I think I might, um, I think…I’m going to go get some air. Yeah.

[click]

#tma #the magnus archives #fan statement #tma fic #tma fanfic #the mag pod

[nightmare-foundation]

Rwby world building headcanons bc I have nothing better to do

-Dust grows like a plant, but specifically a really resilient plant. You can pop it down anywhere and before you know it, you have a little dust garden. Of course, when harvesting Dust you have to leave a little behind so it grows back, kinda like mushrooms. This is why Vacuo doesn't have a ton of Dust anymore; Mantle and Mistral both mined Dust so thoroughly they didn't leave anything behind. There's efforts to replant Dust though, and Vacuo is slowly getting better.

-Dust is EVERYWHERE, and since it's quite literally everywhere, it has... interesting effects, depending exactly on where and how much. Floating islands aren't unusual at all, and are common tourist destinations. There's thick jungles caused by plant Dust, and the reason why Menagerie has such a wide desert is partly because of Burn Dust. Dust creates many, many mystical sights. Because of how much Dust there is on the continent where the Grimmlands are, the weather and terrain is very volatile.

-Animals utilize both aura and Dust, and are generally far more intense than our animals. Animals have to compete with not just each other, but also humans and Grimm. Another note is that dinosaurs do, in fact, exist on Remnant. Imagine coming across an Ankylosaurus that has earth Dust in its tail, or massive scorpions that use lightning Dust. Yeah, this is the kind of shit people regularly deal with.

-Everyone and everything on Remnant is connected by a pretty minor telepathic field. It's how Grimm can sense emotions.

-Everything on Remnant varies a lot in size, and everything is generally more intense than on earth. Animals can be absolutely massive, and storms are naturally more powerful on Remnant. The power of hurricanes are a bit more strong than ours, and are very devastating. Animals are essentially buffed too.

-Humans/Faunus are far, far more powerful on Remnant due to a mix of evolution and aura. The most average of Huntsmen can easily lift thousands of pounds, and can run as fast as a cheetah. They also have 2 hearts to deal with the added stress on the body, and more powerful lungs (I'm not a biology nerd, don't ask me how it works). Size varies a lot as well, so people can be as small as 3-4 feet tall, to even up to 8 feet tall. They're also naturally far more intelligent, given everyone went from 1700s to scifi in less than a century and regularly make complicated mechashift weapons as children. The senses are also naturally boosted (and faunus still have far better senses. Good luck sneaking away from them).

-Vale is tropical and is much like Florida in terms of climate. Yes, there's tons of little lizards all over the place. However, it's colder in the winter, so they do occasionally get snow.

-Humans are far more resistant to things like temperature and radiation. Because of this, despite the constant blazing heat in Vacuo and the freezing cold in Solitas, humans could somewhat easily live there. It's definitely still possible to freeze to death or get heatstroke, though.

-There's many Oasis' in Vacuo that are there because of naturally occurring plant and water dust.

-Beneath Vacuo is an extremely large maze-like cave system. In the past, over the years, it was used as a sort of catacombs. Now, people are forbidden from venturing inside themselves. If you go in, there's a very good chance you'll never come back out. This cave system causes many sinkholes all over the desert, and Grimm and animals use it to travel.

-Around where Atlas is located, Solitas has a massive frozen sheet of ice connected to the rest of the continent. Atlas is located where the beach would be if the ice wasn't there.

-The naturally occurring metals on Remnant are far more tough, and the man-made metals are as well. These metals are often used to make Huntsman weapons due to their durability, and to reinforce and even make buildings in dangerous places.

-Years are 6 months long, but the months are twice as long as ours, being roughly 8 weeks long. Years are about the same length, but are a bit longer (rather than 365 days, there's almost 400 days).

-Humans naturally live a bit longer, if you don't consider the Grimm. The oldest recorded person was 120 years old.

-There's 4 zodiacs people use. The Grimm zodiac, the Dust zodiac, the animal zodiac, and the fairytale zodiac. Most of them range from 12-16 signs, but the Dust zodiac only has 6. Specific kingdoms are more likely to use specific zodiacs, such as Atlas using the Grimm zodiac, or Vale using the fairytale zodiac. The Animal zodiac was created by Faunus, and is slowly becoming widespread amongst Faunus outside of Menagerie. The White Fang use the Grimm zodiac alongside the Animal zodiac.

-Mistral is the most rich in resources, and while it's not the kingdom that has the most Dust, it still has quite a lot. Atlas is home to the most Dust-rich continent. The 'dragon' land in Mistral rivals it in how much Dust there is.

-Humans can be naturally born with unusual colors, like purple or red eyes, bright white hair, etc.

-Vale and Mistral are home to the oldest mountain range on Remnant, not unlike Appalachia. Yes, there's many superstitions.

-Ghosts do actually exist on Remnant, but they're more of a leftover of aura. They're not totally sentient beings.

-Each kingdom has their own language. Atlesian is the closest to English, but Mistralian can be compared to Japanese (with some places having languages similar to Korean or Chinese). Vacuan is similar to Arabic, but there's people who speak languages that are similar to Afrikaans or Xhosa. Valian can be compared to Welsh or Irish Gaelic, and there's also places where languages differ, and some languages can be compared to German, which is also widespread in Vale.

-Remnant in general is kind of a death world where everything wants to kill you.

-Theres descendants of the old royals of the kingdoms that are still alive. The King of Vales family, the Regalia's, are a wealthy and well known family, and even are part of the Vale council. The same can be said for the Mistrali Emperors descendants, the Yings.

#felix (host) #rwby #rwby rambles #rwby world building #rwby headcanon #rwby au #theres definitely more lol #i imagine Remnant has some crazy shit #like bioluminescent caves and oceans #and things are just fucking Huge

[ireallyneedaintrestinglife]

Security Breach Ruin Theory

I've thought about it for a bit longer and I'm not 100% convinced that who we are hearing at the end (with the elevator) is Gregory.

We never get straight up confirmation that Gregory is real in fact they make it a point to specially call out the fact that this might not actually be Gregory.

Cassie says "How do I know this is you for real" to which Gregory responds, "Is there another option" which I mean...fair.

I also wouldn't spend unnecessary time trying to get someone to listen to me in that situation but after watching multiple other playthroughs things just don't add up 100% for me.

But you might be thinking...so what about it maybe they just needed some kind of filler dialogue and who wouldn't ask about the validity of something after they literally just shut down an entire pizza-plexs worth of security for someone who wasn't there at all.

Well I just find it curious that once the 'real' Gregory gets in contact with us it becomes super duper staticky. Just like mimic does right before he, they, it?? reveals itself to us.

Which ok could just be that Gregory is trying to get in contact with us through A LITERAL WALKIE-TALKIE while presumably very far away from the pizza place but again its the little things that add up to make the big picture. And I mean are we even certain that a walkie talkie would be able to connect from that far away. I mean even if he's at the entrance of the pizza-plex that sinkhole is a good ways down right??

Next why lead us all the way to the elevator just to leave us trapped down there anyway. It doesn't really make much sense to me. Also how was he able to connect to the elevator intercom.

The ending speech once we get to the elevator is heard over the intercom speaker we hear a classic speaker sound and they even have Cassie look directly at the intercom. So how did he manage to do that??

It's one thing to connect to the walkie talkie which again is a little weird. It's not something Cassie and Greg already had that was hijacked by the mimic (Cassie finds the walkie talkie in the pizza-plex she didn't have it with her to begin with) so how did 'real Gregory' manage to get in contact with us over it. But it's something else completely to switch from walkie-talkie to intercom for quite literally no reason at all dude could have continued on the walkie-talkie.

I don't know much about electronics so maybe it's really easy to do something like that idk I just find it a bit weird. I also know that in the books it's also confirmed that Gregory or at least GGY is described as like an 'ultimate hacker' and we all pretty much agreed that GGY is more than likely a stand-in for Gregory. I guess some of the weird tech stuff can be explained away with that line of thinking but I digress.

This last piece is what really sealed the deal for me because while you are running away from the mimic every once and a while Gregory will say, "it's right behind you!!" and "almost there!!" And like how??? How would he know how close the mimic is and how close we are to the elevator. We never respond back to him like "yep got it" or "oh I see it" so how??

I don't know maybe I'm just in a state of denial or... maybe the mimic knew we wouldn't die from that height. Maybe it needed us to be mad at Gregory so that we would have a legitimate reason to stop him from presumably ending or hindering the mimics progress. Maybe the mimic needed an ally and instead of gaining one it made one.

Especially when he needs someone elses help to guide you through this last bit. He specifically says, "my friend has access to the building maps" not 'I have access to the building maps.' He also says the direction we need to go in at exactly the right time which I mean I am much more willing to take that as a gameplay feature than a lore one though.

#fnaf security breach #security breach ruin #fnaf #fnaf ruin #fnaf sb #ruin #sb ruin #security breach #security breach spoilers #security breach ruin spoilers #five nights at freddy's security breach #security breach theory #fnaf mimic #mimic #the mimic #security breach gregory #gregory fnaf #fnaf gregory #fnaf cassie #fnaf vanessa #security breach vanny

[magicaguajiro]

Swamp Witch Travels: Rainbow Springs

History

Rainbow Springs’ first human visitors probably came upon her waters well over 10,000 years ago in the form of paleo-indigenous groups. Moving further along, the Timucua and their neighbors used this spring, like many others for fishing, travel and funerary rites. After colonization, the area surrounding the spring was used for phosphate mining into the 1930s. This is where much of the waterfalls on the property came from, made with byproduct of the mines. From here, it became a privately owned tourist attraction offering many of the same draws as Silver Springs, like glass bottom boats, submarines and of course a dip in the ‘Healing Waters’. In 1990, the State acquired it, creating the park we have today. Its a first magnitude spring, and the fourth largest in the state. Like many springs, it was formed from a sinkhole around 14,000 years ago and freshwater bubbles up from it continuously.

Agua Dulce

Springs have always had a connection to the Indigenous peoples of the area. In the Caribbean, we find amongst the syncretic systems the concept of a group of spirits known by some as the Division of Agua Dulce, which literally translates to Sweet Water. This group of spirits is comprised of Indigenous ancestors who were from the Caribbean or transported there during colonial times. Some of the spirits are fallen heroes, past Caciques, or the Cemí and other Land spirits these ancestors have relationships with. Some of the Spirits in this division I venerate and work with are Atabey, the Supreme Creatrix and Water Mother, and Anacaono, a female Cacique from Ayiti (Haiti) who led a Taino Rebellion in the 16th Century. Within the practices of this division, we see that Springs are held as places of high spiritual importance, and are a direct connection to our ancestors, as their spirit is literally embedded in the Sweet Waters rising from the Spring. The word ‘canoe’ actually comes from the Taíno (kanoa). In espiritismo, one metaphor for the Bóveda I have heard is that it is your own personal Spring of spiritual energy and wisdom, deepening the importance of springs in my practice.

Springs in Praxis

When I visit any park, I always leave an offering by a tree upon entering. I believe in the notion of paying one to pay them all. This is usually tobacco and some coins, accompanied by a prayer. However, when I go to a River or Spring, I find it imperative to also make an offering to the Water itself. This allows me safe entry, and occasionally even some guidance and protection. Like many water spirits, shiny coins and singing make nice offerings to the Springs. Its always good practice to clean up trash and be respectful to the workers and environment. You should always ask permission and make an offering if you plan on collecting anything, as otherwise it may not lend you the virtues you are seeking. When I visit a Spring, I always fully submerge myself - baptism style - to cleanse and receive the healing and blessings of the spring. I also will collect some of the water if I need to use as an offering to certain spirits, as well as for spellwork. I empower the water to either call on the spring itself or for virtues of healing, renewal and growth. I have also heard of friends using the water for prophetic dreams and divination work, citing the connection to spiritual development in espiritismo.

Springs for Tomorrow

Many springs today are suffering various ecological problems, most of which are directly caused by humans. The best spiritual practice is to learn how to act in these sensitive environments, to prevent further degradation. I recommend the instagram @FloridaSpringsCouncil to learn more about the importance of our Springs and the issues plaguing them.

Bendiciones🕯️

#witchcraft #florida #bioregional animism #bruja #brujeria #florida witch #santeria #swamp witch #witch #traditional witchcraft #floridasprings #rainbowsprings #espiritismo #cuban #cubanfolkmagic #cuba

[gwenbrightly]

(Re)Building the Future Chapter 6

By all accounts, the path that Freddy, Gregory, and Vanessa take through the Pizzaplex doesn’t make any sense. In some places, they are able to find and follow the same route as Cassie. In others? Well, with the way she seems to have been able to travel through solid objects, it’s almost like trying to follow a ghost. Gregory is pretty sure they’ve discovered several places he didn’t even know existed before today, but it’s hard to tell, considering how different everything looks now. Even the places he knows he’s been to before lack familiarity in their state of ruin.

“One of the entrances to Roxy Raceway should be just up ahead,” Vanessa announces as they reach the end of yet another hallway filled with junk. Gregory tenses slightly. Hopefully they don’t run into the animatronic wolf. He’s pretty sure she still hates him for low key ruining her life. The kind of hatred that fuels rage strong enough to motivate you to chase someone through a flaming inferno. Literally.

She still seemed pretty upset about that when Cassie ran into her earlier from what Gregory could see on the security footage.

“Um… Maybe you should go first, Vanessa,” Gregory suggests as they reach the end of the hallway. “Just in case.”

“In case of what?” Freddy asks, confused. Gregory hasn’t displayed any self preservation instincts today up til now. It’s a little unnerving to be honest.

“In case, you know, Roxy’s right on the other side of the door? I don’t think she’ll want to see either of us,” Gregory points out. He’s probably right. Roxy had seemed a bit unhinged the last time Freddy saw her.

“Fine,” Vanessa says, “but you get to be the human shield next time.” She’s not completely sure Roxy hates her any less than she hates the others, but she does owe Gregory for all those times she tried to kill him, so she’ll do as he asks (this time).

Gregory only recognizes the storage room on the other side of the door when he sees what’s left of Princess Quest II. As with most other things in this place, it has definitely seen better days. It’s almost a shame, really. That game had some pretty amazing gameplay (for being 110% certifiably haunted). He rather enjoyed going swishy-stabby with glowing swords, even if he still doesn’t totally understand the game’s connection to Vanessa.

No sign of Roxy so far, he notices with relief. But the canyonesk decor on some of the walls tell him she could be close. They're definitely not far from the raceway now. Too bad he doesn’t have a real life glowing sword to defend himself with. That would make him feel a whole lot better about all of this. So much better. He’d look so cool with a sword…

“Now we just have to cut through Glamrock Salon and then head towards the sinkhole,” Vanessa announces, interrupting his sword related fantasies. “Hopefully the floor isn’t too damaged and we can actually get over there without having to backtrack.”

“The Pizzaplex has a salon?” Gregory is pretty sure he would remember seeing a place like that. Nothing comes to mind. Cassie could probably fill him in on it if she were here. She loves experimenting with different looks when she gets bored.

“Gregory… We passed through the Salon at least once while we were searching for a way to defeat Roxy,” Freddy says, “How do you not remember this?”

Gregory shrugs. “I have no idea. Maybe I was too distracted by how cool Princess Quest II was to notice anything else. I mean, it had an awesome glowing sword and everything!”

Freddy and Vanessa share a look that makes him feel like he’s being judged heavily (because he is).

“Okay. Well. Might as well keep moving,” Vanessa says eventually. She’s not quite sure how to respond to Gregory’s cluelessness.

It’s eerily quiet inside the salon itself. Which is weird, considering how messy it is. Though the rubble in the corner and the fallen signs are probably from the ‘earthquake’ that damaged the Pizzaplex months ago, the trashed furniture and mirrors are most likely victims of Roxy’s rage. And yet… the animatronic wolf doesn’t seem to be here, either. Gregory can’t help but wonder where she is. If they’ll actually see her. If she’ll even be the threat he’s made her out to be. He’s surprised his mere presence hasn’t summoned her to take revenge upon his sorry soul. Not that he wants that or is particularly sorry. Because he’s really not.

Roxy Raceway is an even bigger mess than the salon. Rubble, half filled shipping containers, and gaping holes create a maze of obstacles nearly impossible to navigate.

“How the heck did Cassie make it through here without getting trapped somewhere?” Gregory asks, weaving his way around a set of construction barriers. All of them are struggling and they don’t have the added threat of MXES and Roxy (who is somehow still totally absent) chasing after them.

“I dunno. But it did seem like I got places faster when I was wearing my V.A.N.N.I mask,” Vanessa remembers, frowning thoughtfully.

“Weird,” Gregory replies, saying what they’re all thinking. There are some things from the night of The Incident (and before for that matter!) that none of them really have explanations for. Things that don’t quite add up about the Pizzaplex and all that happened there. Memories that feel just out of reach. It’s something they usually avoid talking about.

“This whole day has been weird,” Freddy points out, “and I doubt that will change anytime soon. Look.”

They’ve managed to (finally) find a clear path leading to the final door before the sinkhole. The sight gives Gregory chills. He hasn’t forgotten what he and Freddy faced the last time they went down there. They were lucky to make it out alive! And now there’s another, possibly even bigger threat lurking below their feet.

“It’s not too late to turn back,” Vanessa says, gripping the door’s rusty old handle. None of them have fond memories of what lies beyond this door.

“We have to do this,” Gregory replies before he can talk himself out of it, “For Cassie.”

“For Cassie!” Freddy agrees (despite never having met Gregory’s friend). And so they begin their descent down, down into the abyss.

///////

“I gotta say, those sunglasses are a great look for you!” Helpy tells Roxy, trying to distract her from the one sided staring contest she is currently having with a still unconscious Cassie.

“Yeah,” Eclipse agrees, “I know that sunglasses are usually Monty’s thing, but maybe you can add them to your act once the Pizzaplex reopens!”

“Oh. Uh. Maybe?” Roxy is glad that the oversized sunglasses cover enough of her face that Eclipse can’t see her expression. She’s pretty sure the Pizzaplex won’t be reopening anytime soon. Or ever, for that matter. She’s also pretty sure she looks ridiculous, but hey, at least when Cassie finally wakes up again, she’ll have something to laugh about. If she wakes up. It feels like it’s been forever since the little girl woke up, screamed at her, and then passed out again. Roxy edges closer to her, trying to detect any changes.

“I don’t think checking on her every five minutes is going to make her wake up any faster,” Eclipse notes. Roxy rolls her eyes. What does he know? It might help. It definitely helps Roxy feel like she has some control over the situation. She’s about to argue this point when Cassie begins to mumble hoarsely.

“The eyes… the eyes! Why are there so many eyes?”

“It’s okay, Cassie. You don’t have to look at the eyes anymore,” Roxy tells her, assuming Cassie is talking about her freshly stolen pair of eyes.

“Nonono… they’re everywhere,” Cassie replies, gazing about wildly.

Well, if she’s not talking about It’s eyes, than Roxy hasn’t a clue what’s got her so freaked out this time.

“What’s wrong with her? There’s not even that many eyes,” Roxy says, turning to Eclipse in confusion.

“I don’t think she’s fully awake yet,” the daycare attendant tells her.

Oh. That does make more sense than any alternatives Roxy can come up with. But still. Creepy.

“They’re watching… always watching…” Cassie whispers, somehow clutching Roxy’s arm. Roxy is careful not to move for fear of hurting her. The little girl whimpers and mumbles something about nowhere being safe.

“That does it. As soon as this is over, we’re dumping whatever is left of your stash in the toilet,” Roxy announces, growing increasingly concerned about Cassie’s wellbeing.

“Hey Freddy… where’d your head go, anyway? You’re kinda freaking me out,” Cassie asks before Eclipse can protest.

“Aww but this is just getting good,” Helpy complains as Cassie continues to ramble about Freddy’s appearance. “Next time you guys drug someone, we should make sure we have a camera ready!” Both Roxy and Eclipse glare at him, but he can’t quite bring himself to care.

“Cassie, can you hear me?” Roxy asks, gently nudging Cassie. Cassie groans.

“No, I couldn’t possibly eat another slice of cake, Mom.”

Roxy considers shaking her harder, but decides that probably won’t do much of anything.

“Okay. We’ll save the rest of the cake for later,” she tells her, not sure what else to say.

“Mom… Mommy… Momther?” Cassie says.

“Yes?” Roxy says awkwardly (she is SO not ready to be a parent). How is one supposed to interact with a child who is clearly high on… something? Cassie’s real parents will be worried sick when they realize she’s missing (if they haven’t already).

“I don’t feel so good…” Cassie complains, finally letting go of Roxy to clutch her stomach. Thinking quickly, Eclipse just barely manages to grab an old cleaning bucket and shove it at her in time for her to start puking.

#myfics #fnaf sb ruin #fnaf fanfiction #roxanne wolf #five nights at freddy's #fivenightsatfreddyssecuritybreach #fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction #five nights at Freddy’s fanfiction #Cassie fnaf #eclipse fnaf #three star trio #fnaf helpy #nobody is holding the brain cell atm #I promise I didn’t mean for the Moondrop candies #to sound so sketchy #Helpy is a menace #Gregory just wants a sword

[ereardon]

oh my god oh my god oh my god!! i didn't see your post about anniversary requests until now and i'm literally begging, pleading with a cherry on top -

will you please write anything about my absolute loves maggie and bradley? i miss them so much!! how are they doing? please tell me they spent some time after everything just holding each other ugh

(can you tell it's one of my comfort fics that i go back to read when i want just the right amount of heart wrenching angst mixed in with fluff? i've re-read it so many times i've lost count!)

Alex!!! I love that you love Maggie and Bradley so much and omg that they are one of your comfort couples has me giggling! This is a self plug but I only have one other full-length Bradley series that's Bradley x Reader that you may like if you haven't read it! Lots of angst as well.

Not sure if this is exactly what you were looking for, but I went back and was re-reading and thought this would be a good place to add in the narrative of what we saw with Bradley and Maggie! In terms of how they're doing now – they are great!! They get married in a very small ceremony and have their son pretty quickly after. Bradley insists that after long nursing shifts, Maggie comes home and he gives her a foot rub, even if he's worked a 12-hour day, too. She loves that he smells like jet fuel and she gets really into sourdough bread and he adores how she always tries to make little treats out of the discard that never turn out well but she never stops making them. They only have one son, Nick. They use the rest of Maggie's trust to buy a small house in Colorado where they go skiing in the winter and drink hot chocolate by the fire and when Nick goes away to UVA Bradley has to convince Maggie not to call him three times a day and to only send one care package a month instead of five. To me, these two are perfect and I miss them so much!

This takes place around chapter 3 after Maggie gets wasted at the Hard Deck and Bradley brings her home, sleeps on the couch and makes sure she's OK in the morning.

“What?” you asked him. 

He shook his head, looking you up and down. Your hair was starting to dry. You had no makeup on, a ratty old blue robe and a pair of slippers. But the way he was looking at you felt like you were wearing an evening gown and full glam. It sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Seriously, Bradley, what is it?” you asked, self conscious under his gaze. 

Bradley gave you a small, sad smile. “Just realizing everything I lost, back then.” He paused. “Everything I could have had for the last eight years.” 

You turned back to the coffee pot, hiding your face. His words made tears prick at the back of your eyes. You wanted the ground to open into a massive sinkhole and swallow you whole so you never had to face the devastating truth that maybe, just maybe, Bradley Bradshaw had been the one all along. And the two of you had just ruined it the way only two kids who are in love can.

"Mags, I–"

"Phoenix is pretty," you interrupted, reaching for the mugs on the second row of shelves. You stood on your tiptoes the best you could in your slippers but it's not enough. Damn shelves.

A shadow appeared behind you and you felt the heat of Bradley's body as he crept up, one long, muscular arm reaching for the mugs, gripping them easily. He set one, then another, down on the counter space in front of you, but he didn't retreat. You had both hands on the counter, grounding yourself, as Bradley hovered behind you.

So close it felt like he was pressed against you, but it was the air tightening in every direction.

You closed your eyes. And for a moment you were twenty-one again. And he was just a boy you loved more than anything. And he was falling through your fingers, ready to flee at any moment.

You opened your eyes. "She's pretty," you repeated.

"She's not you."

The words clung in the air. You swiveled around, Bradley hovering only inches from you, his head tilted down so his chocolate eyes could peer into your depths. "Bradley," you murmured.

"Nobody has ever come close, Mags," he whispered. "Not a single girl in the last decade has ever challenged me or cared for me the way you did. And I fucked it all up."

"Yeah, you did." Pain flashed across his face. To your disbelief and Bradley's, you reached out a hand, running your fingers down his cheek. He felt so different and yet when he looked at you, it felt the same as it had ten years before. He had a way of looking at you like you were the only person left on Earth. Like the walls simply melted away and it was just you and him and the slow rise of your chests and the air swirling around your bodies and everything else was almost a distant memory.

"Have I said I'm sorry?"

"It's not enough," you replied. His face went pale. "Besides, we're just friends, Bradley. Sometimes your friend makes you upset. But you get over it. Time heals and all that shit, right?"

"Right," he said solemnly, backing away as the coffee pot hissed. You lifted it, pouring into the two mugs and holding one out to him.

"Cream?" you asked.

He tipped his head to the side. "Don't you remember, baby? We always took our coffee the same way."

You added a splash into his mug and then one into your own before opening the fridge and depositing the carton back inside. "I know. I hate that I know you like the back of my hand. I tried to forget you, Bradley. But forgetting is like trying to remember something you never knew. Next to impossible."

"I never wanted to forget you, Mags," he said, blowing on his cup of coffee. "Somehow I always knew we'd find our way back to each other."

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #anniversary celebration

[starlit-mansion]

okay so

here is my tentative understanding of the post ffps canon timeline as it stands

fazcorp still owns/reclaims the property where the pizza sim is location is, the building falls into a sinkhole/cave system just below the underground rooms, possibly due to secret extensive non-permitted underground infrastructure (not to be a nerd ass dweeb but those speleothems would take thousands of years to form. also i am not going to look up what cave systems in utah are like. i'm just saying that's presented as a natural cave)

at some point the work on the viddya gamb begins and old circuitboards are scanned in from somewhere. maybe the remains of the pizza sim animatronics, maybe just other possessed animatronics BUT most/all of the souls are put to rest so it's just like. agony. the bad vibes. the gunk. william's fingerprints but not the man himself

glitchtrap (henceforth referred to as the mimic in this write up, i think it's all the same entity tbh) manifests, and becomes more sentient as he torments jeremy, who is also probably firming him up in code. tape girl breaks him up (though her actions might not have actually been in an effort to help, considering her advice is either corrupted or misleading), which as the effect of keeping him around longer.

vanessa puts him back together and he is able to leap into her, though at this point she has some willpower of her own. she builds the "prototype" vanny mask to appease it, and eventually it is able to separate itself and its actions off from her conscious awareness (i think the "teleport" ability represents that. not that there's full on portal technology in 2050 or whenever this is set. though sure, i will give you hard light holograms, why not)

fazcorp builds the pizzaplex on the filled in sinkhole. because everything was off the books about the sunken building, it isn't tipped off in any paperwork/probably bribes happened. idk. fazbear ent is shady as hell on its own, separate from the evil fucking ghosts

vanessa is hired as security and is doing a lot of shady stuff while the mimic covers for her by changing/rewriting electronic directives. the primary utility of the mask is disabling security systems, as well as the mask itself erasing the wearer from bots' security (see the weeping angel endos not being able to follow you while wearing it, and the fact that the mimic is only luring the nearest minion to the player with the distress signal rather than them being able to find you visually)

the mxes system is set up in the bowels of the old location as a place for the mimic to hole up in. the nearby very old endos can be controlled by it with or without connection to the rest of the pizzaplex. also there are several disappearances. maybe they're juicing up the old remnant, maybe they're in the glamrocks, idek.

gregory is homeless and secretly sleeping in the pizzaplex or at least sheltering there a lot during the day, and occasionally befriending particularly lonely kids (ie cassie). he eventually becomes a target for vanny (who at this point has a new mask), but escapes an attempted murder by hiding in freddy -- cue security breach itself

in the meantime, vanessa (possibly aided by whoever's been obsessing over the princess quest games) has been working on something to trap the mimic (possibly literally involving the game cabinets. who knowwwwwsssssss. i think it would be fun. iirc they're like... custom cabinets?). while initially stressed out by a victim being present and resisting in the pizzaplex while she's finally trying to make her escape, she is able to use the distraction to twist the security system and trap the mimic in the server in the sinkhole

she and gregory escape together. good ending <3

they continue to monitor the situation, and the pizzaplex closes soon after due to the fact that it's already built on a sinkhole and a bunch of it is collapsing. it gets reported as seismic activity, then becomes derelict. the animatronics are somewhat more self-governed at this point, but still enacting the same corruption that was given to them when hunting gregory.

maybe some of the obstacles are intentionally created by the anti-mimic squad now that the pizzaplex is derelict (esp since people are breaking into it and could be stealing things (and anything with electronics or metal might be infected).

the mimic is able to get a few things out to the front of the building (possibly using the tangle, if it exists. the burntrap ending is very not canon imo buuuut lets say it has the one complete old endo (probably from springtrap or lefty or a combo of both, and a wad of remnant junk that can slither and dig) when setting up the honeypot (the prototype mask and walkie talkie) and just guides cassie in, creating a cat and mouse game where he drives her further into fake-gregory's confidence by constantly terrorizing her whenever she tries to look at anything too closely and chasing her further in with his minions

the animatronics are better able to return to their old personalities as his attention is split in multiple directions, and roxy breaks free enough to actually rebel and stop him, though cassie is unable to escape. likely, the tragic circumstance of her death and the fact that roxy was able to find her quickly after is going to lead to cassie possessing roxy with more autonomy than the forced possessions, ala charlie and the puppet. Much to think about.

The mimic is able to escape the pizzaplex now.

#sb ruin #fnaf #fnaf theory #ruin spoilers #sb ruin spoilers #five nights at freddy's

[yutaleks]

Some HC’s I have about Naga!Yuuta’s den

-big cave system/tunnels

-dark tunnels that are quite literally pitch black, but that’s fine for him

-a few giant cave rooms (idk what they are actually called my brain is fried rn)

-a skylight in the main one for sure that lets light pour into the room, aka the part of his den where he keeps you and sleeps a majority of the time

-Oh! And just maybe that cave/room area would be like a cave with its own ecosystem! I watched a documentary one time for fun about the giant sinkholes in china with their own forests inside, that sounds like it would be fun for Naga!Yuuta

-another cave would even have a natural hot spring! Perfect for yuuta to clean you off in

-his best is giant, and when he got you he made sure to make it extra soft and comfy for you

-you literally could die if you try to navigate the cave system on your own without Naga!Yuuta there to guide you through the darkness

-Sage anon

I do think they are called cave rooms! I’ve watched a lot of spelunking videos… caves are a very interesting place.

Can you imagine a reader who’s super adventurous but gets lost spelunking in a cave where people famously disappear (read: yuuta eats them).

#ϟ asking aleksandria #sage anon #cw.​monsterfucking #naga!yuuta

[jule1122]

Malex Fic - Kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight

Writer’s block is still my best friend, but Malex are engaged!  And if that doesn’t inspire me at least a little bit, all hope is lost.  I went back to my Malex comfort zone for this, plotless fluff where Michael and Alex are in bed, but they have emotional conversations instead of sex.

This is canon compliant through 4x11 and takes place some point after where all plot points have already been magically resolved. 

Kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight on AO3

Summary: They are back in their home, Alex isn't dying, but one thing hasn't changes.  All Alex wants to do is marry Michael.

Title taken from the Barenaked Ladies version of “Lovers in a Dangerous Time.”

Alex wakes up the same way he has every day for the last week, to Michael next to him, watching him like he can’t believe he’s real.  His eyes light up when he realizes Alex is awake, and Alex doesn’t think, just leans up for a kiss.

It’s not much of a kiss, just a gentle press of lips, but Alex keeps his eyes open, watching as Michael’s close when he feels Alex’s hand stroking his hair.  

“Morning,” Michael mumbles against his mouth when they break the kiss.

Alex rolls onto his back to stretch and notices the coffee mug on his nightstand, the coffee no longer steaming.  He frowns when he turns back to Michael, “How long have you been up?”  He used to wake up before Michael every morning, but not now, not since they came back.

“Not long,” Michael shrugs.

Alex’s frown deepens as he realizes there is a pattern he missed.  “You’re awake when I fall asleep at night and awake before me in the morning.  You need to sleep, too.”

“I never look away, remember.”

“That’s not supposed to be literal,” Alex wrinkles his nose.  He can see the lingering fear in Michael’s eyes, and he hesitates before continuing.  “You don’t have to keep watch.  I’m not going to disappear again.”

“You don’t know that.”

Alex takes Michael’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently before answering.  “Since you haven’t let me leave the house, and I am pretty sure there is no alien sinkhole to an alternate dimension in our bathroom, I think you can relax.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Michael counters.  He gives Alex a real smile, though, before lifting their joined hands and kissing Alex’s knuckles.

Alex doesn’t disagree.  Being separated from Michael, being thrust alone into a world he didn’t understand isn’t an experience he never plans to repeat.  Staying with Michael, in their house where they could focus on each other, has been the best way for them to heal.

There are things going on outside of this bubble they’ve created that Alex is distantly aware of.  Some follower of Jones Isobel is heping, Liz is trying to minimize the fallout from her mentor’s breakdown, there are parts of Jones plan they are still trying to discover.  But Alex doesn’t care.  Right now, he’s content to be selfish, to ignore the part of him that was bred to put duty first.  He and Michael deserve time to do nothing but love each other at least until after the honeymoon.  Which reminds Alex, they do have one important reason to engage with the outside world.

“We are going to have to leave the house for at least a little bit today.  If we don’t go to the courthouse today and get our marriage license, we won’t have it in time for the wedding,” Alex reminds Michael.

Michael drops Alex’s hand, some of the light leaving his eyes.  “We don’t have to do that right now.”

“What?  Get married?” Alex asks with a frown.

When Michael nods, Alex pushes himself into a sitting position and runs his hands through his hair.  He’s about to ask Michael if he’s changed his mind, if he doesn’t want to marry Alex, but he knows in his heart that’s the wrong question.

“Do you think I only asked you to marry me because I was dying?”  Alex asks instead.

Michael doesn’t answer but the way he averts his eyes tells Alex everything he needs to know.

“Michael,” Alex sighs.  He pulls on Michael’s hand until Michael moves to sit next to him.  “Figuring out I was dying didn’t make me want to marry you, but it did give me the courage to ask you.  I wasn’t afraid of dying.”

Michael makes a distressed sound at that, and Alex knows despite both Liz and Kyle assuring them that he is perfectly healthy, that wound isn’t going to heal any time soon.  He rests his head on Michael’s shoulder, lets Michael hold him close, but it starts to feel too much like the pocket dimension, and Alex wants this proposal to feel different.  He shifts them both around until he’s leaning against the headboard with Michael across from him, their knees touching.

“Hey,” he starts, waiting until Michael looks at him again to talk.  “I wasn’t afraid to die, but I was afraid to die without you knowing how much I love you.”

“I know you love me, Alex.  You don’t need to prove that to me,” Michael protests.

“That’s not what it’s about,” Alex shakes his head.  “I told Maria once that falling in love with you was the easiest thing in the world, but I’ve never told you that.  I’ve never shown you that.  We grow up on fairy tales - true love’s kiss and happily ever afters.  When I realized I was gay, I thought I could never have any of that,  But then you kissed me in that museum, under a fake alien sky, and all of that became real.  You were everything I never let myself hope for, and that love, that feeling of belonging, has never gone away.”

Michael surges forward, his hands framing Alex’s face as he kisses him.  Alex loses himself in the kiss for a moment, the soft slide of Michael’s lips against his, the gentle push of his tongue coaxing him to open his mouth.  When he feels Michael start to get up to his knees, he breaks the kiss and pushes Michael back down.  “Listen,” he breathes in the small space between them, Michael’s hands still holding him close, their foreheads pressed together.

“Fine, Michael huffs out a breath and drops his hands.  He looks back at Alex, eyes already starting to glisten.  “But if your wedding vows are anything like that, the ceremony is going to get cut real short or everyone’s going to get a show.”

“Stop,” Alex laughs before reminding him, ‘listen.”  There are things he needs Michael to know, to understand even if death isn’t hanging over them.  “I spent years being afraid that loving you was going to be the thing that hurt you.  I knew how to live without love, but I didn’t think I could live with you being hurt again because of me.  So I choose fear over love every time, and you paid the price for that.”

Michael looks like he wants to say something, but Alex shakes his head, silently asking Michael to keep listening. “I thought if I hid my love for you, or when I couldn’t do that, at least made it seem small, ordinary or replaceable, like my love for you didn’t consume the whole of my heart, I could protect you.  But all that did was ruin us.  You could never trust in my feelings, never believe I loved you because I only showed you pieces and then I took those away every time I got scared.  I pushed you away and let you go again and again and told myself it was to keep you safe.”

“Alex, it wasn’t all your fault,” Michael interrupts.

“I know,” Alex reassures him.  “But these are the truths I couldn’t die holding on to so let me share them with you.”  Michael sucks in breath, and Alex knows he’s bordering on cruelty to push like this, but he’s afraid this is his only chance.  Once they let the real world back in, it will be too easy to fall back on routine, to let “I love you’s” and kisses stand in for all the things he’s been afraid to say.

Michael nods, the hand that was resting on Alex’s knee squeezing tightly.  The pressure of his fingers against Alex’s skin grounding them both.  Alex leans forward to place a quick kiss against Michael’s heart, trying to soothe the hurt he caused.  When Michael brings his other hand up to cradle the back of Alex’s head, Alex stays there, resting against Michael’s heart until Michael relaxes and drops his hand, letting Alex know he’s ready to listen again.

“The funny part about thinking it was radiation killing me, is that I feel like I’ve been poisoning myself for years.  Pushing all the love that was meant for you into smaller and smaller places, pretending it wasn’t there was eating away at my heart.  And even in the last year, I’ve held some of it back, too afraid to show you all of it in case it was too much or  there were parts of it you didn’t want.”

“I want everything,” Michael tells him with certainty.

“I know,” Alex reassures him.  “The only thing that scared me about dying was not having the chance to make sure you know how much I love you.  I will never hide that from you again.  I knew that if I had five days left or five thousand, all I wanted to do with them is spend them with you, loving you.  Getting a chance to live hasn’t changed that. So Michael Guerin, will you marry me?”

“Yes, you romantic idiot, I will marry you.  And just so you know, I’m aiming for a lot more than five thousand days,” Michael wipes his eyes and smiles.

“I’ll take as many as you’ll give me,” Alex promises.

They just sit and stare at each other for a moment, the lingering doubts and fears they brought back with them finally fading away.

It’s Michael who breaks the silence.  “Close Encounters,” he blurts out.  “Close Encounters,” he repeats when Alex gives him a puzzled look.  “That was going to be the name of our dad band.  I was planning our future from the minute you handed me Greg’s guitar.  And no matter how bad things got, I never stopped hoping we’d get our happy ending.”

“Michael.”  Now it’s Alex’s turn to fight back tears.  Michael has so little reason to hope, but he’d never given up on them.

“You’re the only person I ever wanted to tell the truth about who I was to.  If things had been different, I probably would have told you as soon as we left Roswell, and I would have proposed the minute it was legal.  We weren’t together when it happened, but I still thought about you, knew you were the only person I could ever make that commitment to.”

Alex wants to protest, wants to tell Michael that he would have found his happily ever after without him because he never wants to be the cause of Michael’s unhappiness, but there’s a truth to his words Alex can’t deny.  He’s felt it too, that somehow their happiness was always meant to come from each other.

“When I found out Max saved Liz and gave up our secret, I was terrified, pissed too, but mostly terrified.  Then I found out Valenti knew and Cameron, and suddenly I was looking over my shoulder constantly.  I couldn’t trust them, hell I didn’t even like them, and they held my life in their hands.  One word from them, and all my worst nightmares would come true.”

Alex runs his hand soothingly down Michael’s arm while silently renewing his promise to make sure Michael was safe.  He would do everything in his power to make sure Michael was never hurt again, would never have to live with that type of fear again.

“But you knowing, Alex,” Michael continues, “it was a relief.  I was never afraid of your reaction, never afraid you would use it against me.  You were the one person I knew my secret would always be safe with.  And now I know my heart is just as safe with you.  So Alex Manes, will you marry me?”

“I already asked,” Alex laughs through the tears he didn’t even realize had started to fall.  

“I still want an answer,” Michael insists, unable to hold back the huge smile on his face.

“Yes, of course I’ll marry you, Michael.”

“Thank God,” Michael lets out an exaggerated sigh of relief.  “Sanders already rented his tux and it’s too late to get the deposit back.”

They are both laughing as Alex pulls Michael into his arms, sliding down the bed until they are pressed against each other, finally free to celebrate their engagement.

#malex fic #rnm fic #post rnm 4x11 fic #my fic #Alex and Michael are madly in love with each other #that is the whole point of this fic #Alex proposes again because he loves Michael that much #Michael loves him just as much