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#this is why Jeremy is my favorite

beebeetheclown · 3 months

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I think Jeremy Strong with a beard is my current favourite Jeremy Strong. I don’t know, don’t make me explain myself.

My favourite Jeremy Strong era switches about once a month (don’t blame me, my man can pull off anything.)

I don’t know how many of you agree with this era of his being your favourite haha👀

#jeremy strong #succession #my favorite man #father #don’t ask me why I like his beard so much #I have a reason #but it’ll stay a secret

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covehearted · 8 months

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nO!! I don't like Shiloh!! I knocked him in OLBA!!!! I'm playing this for Jeremy don't REDEEM HIM TO ME

#xoxo droplets #jeremy is still my favorite but I'm LIKING Shiloh!!#that's not allowed!!#he made me so angry why am I liking him here!!!!#AAAAAAAAA

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bitchyblkqueer · 5 months

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i cannot believe i havent talked about how much I hate this my jaw DROPPED when I read it and I almost didn't finish the run 😭 women proposing to men gives me the heebie jeebies Bad. because it's always a hail mary to try and save the relationship but it Never Works!!!

look @ the reasons iris gives - it's like she's annoyed that she has to ask. these r not good foundations for a marriage!

i understand wanting them married again but since marriage has shifted from being about money - which it would have been in the silver age when iris + barry were first married - to love + legality, there's less incentive for women to be married. especially a career oriented woman like iris.

if her reasonings were something like i need financial security (barry is maybe loaded now??) or taxes or power of attorney i would understand. but marriage will not fix communication issues. and let's be very real statistically marriage does not benefit women. it kills them.

does iris have friends?? if one of my friends said that they were planning this it would be an emergency situation. im talking 51/50 (not really because I don't trust hospitals but u get it)

anyone would have told her that this was a bad idea (not that she would listen) linda would Love to talk about this with her! where are the girls mayday mayday diva down!!

and then when barry says yes im supposed to be happy for them..... free iris...... and barry tbh. free them from the shackles of heteronormativity!

and barry's face here pisses me off so bad HOWWWW is that your reaction

and i wanna know what's in the box. it has to be HER engagement ring right? men normally don't wear one but id be down if she had one for him.

im just lucky they didnt have her get down on one knee I would've been in jeremy adams mentions. i don't think he understands how the interactions he writes between women and their partners are being perceived (see also: hal carol and nathan)

anyway this is from flash 2016 #790

#i started reading the flash with OMW and almost stopped because of this like ain't no way #PLSSS i almost made a tik tok about this I was so mad #i SWEAR i posted about this before #i really went off and i could keep going #the fact that ur kids have kids is not a good reason to get married or have children #leave wallylinda out of it!#jeremy adams does not understand women or relationships #meta #aiyonna reads comics #panel posting #this is weird and antiquated is my point I think #me putting way more thought into this than jeremy adams #the thing is there is a throughline of iris being frustrated with barry why and how does that end in a proposal from HER #explain to me how getting the government involved would improve the situation #anyway i love a wedding issue #if we ever get there #me ranting about gender norms #one minute war is one of my favorite flash stories despite this #n yeah this is getting character tags #barry allen #iris west #i just feel like ur partner shouldnt have to die and come back for u to marry them #i had to get this off my chest #bitches get high and write character analysis (im bitches)

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genderlesssnake · 1 year

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FAVORITE INCORRECT QUOTES WITH SQUIP AND JERM GO

IM SORRY THAT ITS CRUNCHY

#I don’t know if you wanted me to write one #But this is my favorite #I don’t know why it’s so crunchy #Squip #the squip #jeremy heere #bmc #be more chill

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mouse-fantoms · 2 years

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Are we not gonna talk about how cryptic and sus Jeremy’s music is being 👀 well the lead up at least bc the JeremyShadaHQ page (which Jeremy’s promoted) as been posting artwork with no captions to them,

And then the JeremyShadaHQ page posts a story,

When you go to that account page, it’s just that post on their page that the JeremyShadaHQ account shared in their story and that page is followed by that account, Jeremy and Carolynn so like it’s something related with them 👀

Then if you click the link in their profile it brings you to a website but you need a password to enter SO LIKE 🤨

Something is happening soon and they’ve been leaving cryptic ass clues to it and I am hear for it

#WHY DOES IT MEANNNNN #it’s my favorite thing when creators are being cryptic about their project it’s like a game #jeremy shada #jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp netflix #jatp cast

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wesawbears · 16 days

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I think my favorite part of TSC is that we get the counterpoint of Jeremy's POV.

Not only because it's funny (it is) or because I love Jeremy (I do), but because it drives home the themes of AFTG in a way that Neil or even Jean's POVs cannot.

With Neil, we get the upperclassmen, but for the most part everyone he interacts with is so steeped in the mafia plot and the ravens, but also just so much abuse that we as the readers get kind of stewed into seeing things from Neil's perspective. It's why we have to remember that Neil is an unreliable narrator. (It's not a bug, it's a feature btw; I love Neil's batshit view of the world)

But with Jeremy, it gets thrown into stark relief that it does not have to be like this.The Trojans practice, and they go home. Exy is not a metaphor to them, or a lifeline, or an obligation; it is an activity. They have lives. They have friends outside of Exy, something Neil does not have.

So, I watch a lot of college gymnastics. I love the sport, but (like all sports), there is the looming specter of abuse. Every year, it seems like another coach is discovered to have abused their athletes. Weight tracking, emotional abuse, physical abuse and intimidation. Its something you weigh when you're a college sports fan, knowing on some level that this thing you enjoy on some level enables this.

And it makes me think of the line in TSC:

“What we don’t understand is how a grown-ass man took a bunch of kids and turned them into monsters for sport.”

Because this is what Neil's POV can't give us. Neil, and Kevin and Jean, the stakes are higher because of the mafia plot, it's true. But SO MANY OTHER ravens were just normal kids who got destroyed so some adults could make money and have a little bit of glory.

And, to be clear, this isn't a place to be like “and this is why I don't watch sports” because it's EVERYWHERE. In music, TV, school theater and choir- anywhere there is a power dynamic, there is the potential for abuse.

And by providing the counterpoint from the Trojans, it becomes even more apparent how unnecessary it all is.

#tsc spoilers #the sunshine court #aftg #abuse tw

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chibsandchill · 3 months

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See me

Fandom: Saltburn

Pairing: Felix x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Each room in Saltburn is bursting at the seam with memories with you, and Felix remembers some of his favorite moments as he makes his way to his prize.

Warnings: Felix, Mentions and descriptions of acts of violence and murder, NSFW content, MDNI, 18+, unreliable narrator (Felix), toxic relationship, obsessive tendencies, grammatical and spelling errors, p in v sex, oral sex (m receiving), Felix is a creep, themes of violence - self-harm and equivalent themes are prevalent through the imagine, some parts of their dynamic takes inspiration from Hannigram but with my spin on obsession

I am not responsible for your media consumption. Read the tags.

MDNI

Masterlist

:-:-:-:-:-:-:

It’s a cloudy day when Felix first saw you,

but with you came the sun,

warmth, empathy, love.

Oh, how he loved your heart. But, oh, how careless you were with it. It was a gift,

one meant for him,

from you.

Then why did you waste it on those beneath you? You chipped away at it to mend sobbing students, tore at it until it bled and thick scars rose like mountains. You took on their pain with a blindingly bright smile,

only Felix saw how their burdens weighed you down.

The sun was meant to warm, to burn from far away,

but they tore you down from your place in the sky so that they might leech your warmth until you are left barren. Their sorrows were cold as ice against you.

They stole you from him. Piece by piece they ripped at you with filthy nails. You became known on campus as someone who’d listen. Who wouldn’t judge. How could you when you felt their problems as if they were your own? The more they spoke those words dripping with poison, the more they tainted the very blood in your veins with their darkness.

‘Walk in their shoes’.

You didn’t need to. You could walk in their skin, feel their emotions as if they were yours. Heartbreak plagued you, sorrow fell on you like an ever present shadow. The death of a family not yours turned your face gray and your eyes misty.

Until Felix put a stop to it all. How could he stand by and watch it happen? The slow destruction of a bright star, who burned so bright that all envied it.

Jenny from history of art, Carl from math, Robert from physics, Matilda from psychology, Caroline, Jeremy, Han, Thomas, Harry, Derek, Henry, Linda, Nico, Mark, John, Hans, William, Frederic. All turned away at your door.

“Yes, I’ll tell her.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

Oh, how they believed his lies. Sweet, sweet, Felix Catton wouldn’t lie to them. Surely not.

But lie, he did. It spewed from his lips like honey. All to have his sun beam at him again. To wash away the taint of the others from your skin, your heart, your eyes. He would have you look at him with soft, relaxed eyes.

Him. Him. Him. Him.

Your protector. Even if you didn’t know it yet.

“Felix.”

He hummed.

Your eyes are heavy with sleep when you look up at him, but the affection is hard to miss. It makes you glow. Felix curled his arm further around you, bringing you closer to him. But even then it is not close enough. He aches. It’s a want deeper than skin, deeper than bones or even his soul. It was as if his very being was made of want, of longing so intense he was blinded by it. If God was indeed real then he had created Felix with a thread laced with obsession, with love transcending all else.

Even thinking about you made his heart race, pound.

“Can I braid your hair?”

“‘Course.” He said against your skin.

As if you needed to ask. All of him was yours.

You try to sit up but Felix isn’t ready to break the contact yet. He feels like a battery, no matter how bizarre a comparison it is, constantly needing to be recharged so that he might survive when you part. He’s constantly cold without you, he feels empty; hollow. His hands are too light with the lack of you, he breathes too easy without the weight of you on his chest. If he could he’d carve his heart out so that you could carry it with you, for that was how he felt anyway. He’d gouge himself hollow so that he could fit you inside. Never to be parted again, joined together by shared blood, flesh and bone.

It’s not easy with his hold on you, but you manage to shift so that you sit in his lap instead. It’s not ideal if you mean to truly braid his hair but Felix won’t complain. He pushed his head into your touch when your fingers hover over him.

“Patience.” You half-heartedly scold him.

Your fingers weave through his hair, nails scratching just right against his scalp. With deft hands you untangle the mess you’d created during the night. There’s not much to braid but more than enough for you to wrap around your fingers and tug. The action pulls a low groan from his throat.

He grabs your hips. Felix wonders if you’ve noticed how he’s caged you in. You probably don’t, as sweet and trusting a being as you surely wouldn’t peel back his layers to gasp at the thriving darkness beneath. With you he was his truest self. Could you see him? Would you run if he were to cast off the layers? Let you see him?

Maybe you already could. You had seen the others. Even the empty ones, the ones who had gouged themselves hollow and shoved the essence of what they thought he wanted until it spilled from every hole in their body.

Felix wasn’t hollow. He was bursting at the seams with life, same as you. And yet you stayed. Surely you knew. You had to. You and he were one. Two pieces of a whole finally reunited.

He breaths in your scent, noses along your throat before allowing his head to rest in the crook of your neck. There’s a bruise there hidden on your shoulder blade. Late one night when you’d already fallen asleep he mouthed it into your skin with the moon as his witness,

only,

it had started to fade.

He’d have to do it again. Closer. Marking you under the cover of darkness wasn’t enough anymore. An unspoken claim didn’t satisfy him anymore. It wasn’t enough. He was beginning to think it never would be. He could bruise every inch of your skin with his love and his skin would still itch to do more – to prove himself more to you.

Just as his hands slide down to rest on the curve of your ass the scene slips through his fingers like sand.

He blinks it away. He’s standing in the driveway of Saltburn. Your favorite statue is left in shambles on the gravel with his blood splattered across the white marble.

“What the fuck.” Felix’s hand shakes and burns with pain. His knuckles are split open.

It had been a slip of a thought he had once when you first came to Saltburn and you’d taken to leaning on the statues, the furniture, walls, pillars. He’d wanted them all gone. He’d be your pillar. He wouldn’t crumble with age, would never make you think they stood strong only for the core to be riddled with holes from pests.

Felix was whole and strong, had made himself such,

for you.

He’d burnt the tendrils of influence his mother had dug into him since childhood. Torn the threads of her darkness right out of the tapestry. Oh, how she cried when she noticed. ‘Felix,’ she’d whispered, a rare show of emotion plastered across her face, ‘what have you done?’.

She shouldn’t have worried about what he had done. No, she should’ve worried about what he was going to do.

He watched you for weeks before approaching you. He noticed what made you laugh, what made you smile, frown, scowl. And so he took that too. Cut out the parts of himself that would drop the smile from your face and sewed on the parts that he lacked until he was left a patch-work version of perfecting befitting a Mary Shelley novel. Pus and blood seeped from the stitches. The sight was unseemly. So he waited until he’d perfected himself, until the stolen was assimilated, until it was like another Felix had never existed.

Felix throws the heavy doors open and the maids scurry away from his sight.

Duncan emerges from the pack. Even after all he’d seen, his adoration for Felix remained. “Welcome back, Felix.”

He nods.

And then he’s off.

The route he takes is reminiscent of your first tour of the mansion. He’s even nodding along as if hearing himself introduce it all. The staircase where he “fingered” his cousin. As if. Your face had reddened with equal parts jealousy and sheer disbelief of ‘what the fuck’.

One of the smaller sitting rooms. The green one. He fucking hates that room. But you love it. He went down on you for the first time there. Right on the couch with his granny’s ghost knocking down a shelf of antique plates over his head. The blood had driven you crazy.

The thought alone made him hard.

But this was also the first room you’d held him properly in. He’d been crying.

“What's wrong?” You ask when he threw the door open.

You’d been doing some summer reading for uni, but your fingers clutched the opening pages with strength that betrayed your pounding headache.

“Fucking Ollie.”

Your brows furrow “Oliver?”

Felix lay down on the couch with his head in your lap. You smell good. And you’re soft.

“Yeah.” He sigh. “He was lying to us this whole time. Turns out poor Oliver Quick has both a dad and mum who loves him. Even siblings! They live in a lovely house in a picture perfect neighborhood.”

‘I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you!’

As if there was even a sliver of Felix that didn’t belong to you, that didn’t scream out for you every second you were apart. Had Oliver not been paying attention? Could he not see the need that permated him? It ran so deep, was so all-consuming that he couldn’t contain it all. He breathed desire, cried longing, even fucking pissed envy. Envy even over the very air you breathed, the clothing that hugged you, the sheets for the audacity to imply he wasn’t enough to keep you warm.

You hum as your fingers drift down to cup his face.

“He was in love with me.”

“Isn’t everyone?” You joke.

Felix’s eyes opened (he hadn’t realized he closed them). “You love me?”

“Of course.” You trace a scar on his cheekbone.

“Say it.”

“I love you, Felix.”

Even that memory fades, but your words linger.

I love you, Felix.

You always linger. Your kisses burn his skin and he wishes it left a scar so that he could look upon it and relive it all.

The green room is abandoned quickly, and he’s off.

“A blue room!” You exclaim, and to Felix’s displeasure you let go of him to take it all in.

“Yeah. It’s… blue.”

“What? No ghosts? No artifacts?”

Felix shakes his head. “Nope. Just blue.”

Felix sees himself leaning against the door while you spin around the room. It’s like a movie, almost. Only it’s his memories and he can remember every second he’s ever spent in your presence. Including this one. And the next one.

The one where you’re on your knees.

You’re pressing soft kisses to the tip of his cock, pressing your love into every inch of skin you can find as if you wanted to stay there, to have your love replace the tar that ran through his veins.

It’s odd. He can almost feel the tingles left by your touch, but he’s untouched. Felix’s hands form fists at the sight. Was it possible to be jealous even of himself? The envy boiling in his stomach certainly said so. He would not share you even with himself.

Felix strides forward and sinks into the place his past self sits. He unbuckles his jeans and frees his cock from his underwear. If he were not so deep in madness he might’ve felt the cold of the room, but he was, and so he felt the warmth of your hands, the wetness of your mouth as you wrap your lips around his tip.

He moans. He didn’t know what he liked the most about it. The vulnerability, the act itself, your presence, or that it left you with a part of him inside you. You’d kneel in front of him for as long as it took, but Felix would not have you be uncomfortable and so he slid a pillow under your knees.

Your hands cup his balls. He twitches. You take more of him into you. It feels like heaven to have you wrap yourself around him. Wet, warm, silky heaven. All for him.

Him. Him. Him. Him. His.

You moan around him. It sends vibrations straight through him. It pulls a low groan straight from his chest, one that makes you moan. His pleasure is your pleasure, and your pleasure is his, and so the circle begins.

His eyes roll into the back of his head when you begin bobbing your head up and down. You slurp. Electricity runs down his spine. It’s wet. Sloppy. Saliva drips down your mouth as you press your nose into his abdomen.

Someone drops a plate somewhere in the house and the spell is broken. Not unlike a reflection in a lake is the memory distorted, wrong. You’re on your knees without the pillow. He’s standing above you, not sitting. Your knees are bruised and bleeding. You’re crying.

Some small part of him, one that he’d allowed to fester for far too long, enjoys the scene. Enjoys the submission, thrives in the knowledge that it is not only he that longs and wants and would press and press until nothing remains if only to bring you a sliver of happiness. You smile around his cock. It’s not the pain that brings you to tears.

This isn’t right. This isn’t him. It’s Elspeth messing with his head. It’s Oliver whispering his lies in his ear.

He wants to vomit. Why would they punish him so? To make him see you hurt,

to force him to see himself hurt you, brutalize you,

humiliate you.

Why, when he adored you, worshiped you. If there was a puddle he’d lay himself down to let you walk over him. He’d drown himself so that you would not have to dirty yourself. Like a tumor he’d performed surgery after surgery to remove what you didn’t like.

And you did the same.

The image is restored, but he’s already on his feet.

He would wait no longer.

Felix runs up the stairs but is forced to a halt by the moans coming from the king’s bedroom. Another memory? The door is already open.

“Tell me your vows again.”

You’ve got your legs up in the air behind you, head resting in your hands as you stare at him.

“Dear,” Felix turns around from where he stood by the window. Your name sounds like prayer on his lips. “I’ve never been alone. People have flocked to me since before I can remember. But they didn’t see me. But you… you, I let you see me. It’s a rare gift. And it’s one that I’ve never regretted giving you. I’ve never felt more loved than in your arms. Do I need to continue, Mrs Catton?”

You laugh.

“Come to bed, Felix.”

The memory changes before he can enjoy the sight of you in your wedding dress. The happiest day of his life. Gone in a blink.

You’re no longer on the bed. You’re in his arms, crying yet again. There’s blood on his shirt. No finger graces your finger. Felix closes his eyes. He knows this memory. KNows very well what he’d have to endure to get back to you.

“Y-you killed him!” You shudder.

Felix shushes you. “There was no other way.”

“There’s always another way.”

“Not this time."

Truly, there wasn’t. You saw much, but Oliver was so good at pretending to be someone else that he even fooled himself into believing his own lies. And so, you thought nothing of it when Oliver offered you his bottle of wine. Had no idea of the drugs that he’d shoved in there.

“Are you scared of me?” Felix asks you. His voice shakes. He remembers his own fear, how his stomach churned. He could write a thousand words and not even chip at the surface of the emotions he felt. A thrill at the thought of you finally seeing the deepest deepest parts of him? Disgust that he’d slipped and revealed a crack in his mask? Such fear that it clung to his very bones, stopped his lungs from working and had his own eyes water with tears? All true. And yet all of them are false. There wasn’t a single emotion he could place, they all blended together to form a concoction of heart-wrenching pain and fear.

The memory fades away. He doesn’t remember the rest. All he remembers is how it ended.

The headboard bangs against the wall with the force of his thrusts. His hands are cradling your face, kissing away the tears of pleasure. You push your legs up higher on his back where you’ve hitched them, your own hands pressing against his own face to bring him closer. He’s inside you but he’s not close enough.

Felix leans down to cover your whole body with his. You squeak at the change.

“Oh god,” you throw your head back with a moan.

He moves a deft finger down to press down on your clit. He experimented with pressure, directions, even spelled out his own name with your pleasure. Felix feels as though he’s on fire, but still he wants more. He wants to be closer. Closer. Closer. Closer.

You clench around his cock, and he stutters.

The love in your eyes makes him falter, before he drives into you faster than before. The bed squeaks, one hard thrust away from breaking. Fitting. So is he. Your right hand moved up his cheekbone, past his ear and to the back of his head. Your touch is gentle, barely-there pressure as you guide him down to slant your mouth over his. His heart aches with love, adoration, you. You’ve made it your home.

Yet again he is denied release as the memory is gone. The room is empty.

“Fuck.”

It’s not graceful the way he stalks out of the room. No more interruptions, he thinks.

The last door in the corridor. Yours. And his. Your marital chambers, as Duncan would call it. Old fashioned bastard.

He pushes it open without as much as a knock. And there you are.

“Felix!” You cross the room in seconds and then you’ve thrown yourself in his arms. “We missed you!”

Your rounded stomach presses into him. He rests his forehead on yours, pressing long, soft kisses against your lips, even as you giggle and try to move away. When you do, he chases after you. He’s not done. Never done.

His legs feel like jelly, his soul is on fire,

but he finally found you.

In a house full of memories and vengeful ghosts he found you.

And you saw him, as you always do, and he’s tugged back into bed with the comforting weight of you pressing him down into the mattress.

And he’s almost content.

Almost.

Taglist:

@fedyascoffin

#felix catton x reader #felix catton #felix catton x you #saltburn imagine #saltburn smut #saltburn x reader #saltburn #felix catton smut #felix catton imagine

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joyflameball · 4 months

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If any other FNAF fans wanna throw in your favorite fucking insane FNAF facts PLEASE do

VAGUE explanations under the cut (please know I feel like that xkcd panel about overestimating the average person's knowledge of a topic right now)

the bite of 87 isn't important to the lore: It comes up ONCE in the first game, barely effects the lore, we don't even know who it happened to, literally its only lore impact is that the animatronics can't walk around during the day anymore. meanwhile the bite of 83 is incredibly likely to be the inciting incident that caused the murderer to do the murders. the "WAS THAT THE BITE OF 87" meme is not the bite of 87

golden freddy might have two souls: in the final fnaf 3 cutscene the bad end has golden freddy's head with two lights in it, and in the survival logbooks it's heavily implied there are two spirits rummaging around in there. there's more evidence but it's funnier if i don't tell you. the generally accepted canon is that golden freddy is possessed by a little boy named evan and a little girl named cassidy which is so genderweird of them

there are two purple guys and only one of them is actually purple: purple guy one is a murderer who killed at least six children. purple guy two is a rotting corpse who had his organs scooped out and possessed his own dead body to hunt down his father (who is purple guy one) and set him on fire twice. purple guy one is also a rotting corpse but he's in a fursuit

foxy has weird fucking genders: the foxy from the first few fnaf games is a guy and is referred to with he/him pronouns. in sister location, there's a foxy called funtime foxy, and when you select "girls night" in the custom night, they're one of the contestants. and in ultimate custom night, mangle (a really fucked up version of foxy) is referred to with he/she pronouns. this is canon and makes my gay little heart very happy

fnaf takes place in utah: fnaf takes place in utah

one of the novels had matpat mpreg: okay it's technically not matpat it's a guy named mat. however it's hilarious to say it's matpat. no this isn't a joke there was mpreg. with springtrap. i refuse to explain this

purple guy (the murderer one) might also be a yellow guy: in pizza sim there's a minigame with lore in it where you play a yellow mustard man who's a terrible father. it's theorized a lot that he may be the ourple guy because his son has grey text. no we don't know why he became yellow. he's never yellow again except when he's one of the comical amount of bunnies (there are like ten different bunnies in fnaf)

there are eight dead kids: we even know their names!

purple guy and his family are all british: in the opening cutscene to sister location, we hear the voice of one "mr. afton", who is the purple guy (the one who killed kids). he's british. throughout sister location, we hear the voice of a little girl, who is heavily theorized to be afton's daughter- elizabeth afton. one piece of evidence for this is that she is also british. and in the final cutscene of sister location, we hear the voice of someone named michael (who is the purple guy who's actually purple), talking to his father, and saying he's gonna come fucking KILL him, right before springtrap (purple guy) is shown and guess what michael's fuckin british. fnaf takes place in utah and no other characters are british. it's just the aftons.

there are three different jeremys and they all die: jeremy fitzgerald from the second game is heavily theorized to be the bite of 87 victim. one of the missing children is named jeremy and is possessing one of many bunnies. in the vr game a guy named jeremy is haunted by one of many bunnies and cuts his own face off. i personally find it hilarious to headcanon that jeremy fitzgerald is also jeremy from vr and maybe even the jeremy who got killed by william afton. especially considering the time traveling ballpit

bears are canonically extinct: in security breach, handunit mentions this in ONE LINE. it is not lore important. it is never mentioned again. objectively the funniest possible thing steel wool could've done

what the fuck is going on in fnaf: Buddy this is barely scratching the surface I haven't even talked about the child sized compartment in Circus Baby. You don't even know about the Charliebots or the Nightmare Gas. Do you even know about the Mimic. Do you have any idea what remnant is. There are ten different bunnies who are all also the same bunny. If you get into FNAF lore you will exit a changed man. Nothing here matters. There is a time travel ballpit

Anyway Cassidy isn't the Vengeful Spirit Michael is read that excellent Google Doc by @/whencartoonsruletheworld and THANK ME LATER

#cassie rambles #five nights at freddy's #fnaf

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