how much do i have to pay you so that you can at least ATTEMPT to add frebby fazbear into the magnus protocol
This tickles me a bit, because thinking about it, we have kinda done some mascot horror in Protocol, but whereas chuck-e-cheese is the archetypical American version, we've drawn horror out of a 90s British mascot. And I'm pretty confident which of the two is more fucked up.
Five Nights at Freddie's does interest, though - I grew up when there was quite a rich array of horror stories aimed at kids: Goosebumps, Are You Afraid of the Dark, the Point Horror books. Now it seems like a lot of that stuff have been supplanted by franchises like Five Nights at Freddie's, which is aimed at kids but marketed as though it's not, and does a lot to try and launder its intended audience. It's interesting to me, though I don't feel like I have a well-developed thesis about it.
6K notes
·
View notes
"Be careful who You trust, Sergeant. People You know can hurt You the most."
Some situations inspire you to create renders, like in this case.
Turns out not every Ghost is trustworthy. Sometimes someone will stab you in the back and I guess that was my lesson.
2K notes
·
View notes
i am thinking how much poorer, how much less colorful the world would be if art was only made by "professionals." if all the music, all the stories, all the sketches & paintings & craftwork of the world was created only by the small category of people able to make a decent living from their art. imagine if the only people allowed to create were the experts & the renowned & those aspiring to the top. what a grey world that would be. how much joy would be bleached away! i love you people who create for the sake of creating, i love you artists who do art for tiny audiences, i love you people who make things even just for one person, even just for themselves, even if no one's watching, thank you thank you thank you for decorating the world in which we all exist
11K notes
·
View notes
something bad happened to you, and you died, and you came back wrong.
not wrong all the way. the little ways. you forget important dates, stopped going out with friends. it's harder to make you smile. you're apathetic towards things you used to love, afraid of places you used to go to cheer up. quieter. flinching. different.
you came back for love. you're still here for love. what pulled you back was a brightness so loud that even death couldn't outshout it. death heard the call and smiled at you and said okay. go home. somebody is waiting for you.
but you came back different. like lot's wife; you've turned into salt. you used to chirp through life in hops and skips; but now you lose skin just standing up. you have to move slower, skimming across this world without-touching-it. most things feel dull - until they're suddenly all-too-much. life, and being alive just rushes up and over you and you get hopelessly crushed.
you try to explain it to them: it is ugly, but this is what you are, now. the huge golden hoop of your halo now a little bronze ring. you are still watering your plants and wearing the same clothes. after all, you worked hard to come home. this life; so odd and off-color, now that you are wrong.
but they waited for you - it's just that they wanted the "you" that happened before this. the "you" that could sing in the show and hug people tight and look at a blade without breaking down to cry. the you with a smile in pictures. god, holyshit, it's like looking at a completely different person, isn't it. that other-you; the one they actually wanted.
you are the consolation prize. you are the body that forgot the ghost. you are the memory of the bad thing, and the death after; like you are wearing that memory as a banner. you are a fragment, an assembly. simulacrum. you don't make eye contact in mirrors, afraid the light will glance off and your true nature will flash back at you.
you hear them talk about it in their hushed, desperate whispers. sometimes they even admit it to your face; harsh and violent, acid thrown at christmas dinner. god, can you just fucking be normal again. you do not remember what normal is. you had to climb so far to get back here; you are far too exhausted. you want to open the glass door of your heart and show all the gears. can you help resolve whatever got messed up?
you try so, so hard. you came back for them. because you believed they would love you, even when you were so horribly broken. because you believed they would be patient. because you believed unconditional meant "without exception." you cannot do things the same way. you just get tired too quickly these days.
you want to put them on a couch and pour them the tea with hands that shake more than they remember. you want to line them up and draw them a map of where you have had to wander. you want to show every bruise in a backsplash; the little helpless ant of your soul carrying all that weight, over and over. you want to say: yes! it is different! but i did it for love!
you want to say: "i'm not the same, but i'm yours and i'm here. can that be enough?"
14K notes
·
View notes
Prim's name wasn't the only one in the reaping bowl because the entire point of Prim being chosen is to show that life in Panem is random and cruel. These kids truly are selected and die for nothing, based on nothing, most of the time. There is often no grand cosmic plan or 4D chess conspiracy at play in awful circumstances unfolding, just systems of oppression working as they were designed. And you can do everything right to the letter - be the youngest eligible tribute from an unknown family whose name is only in the bowl once, not take out any tesserae - but it still won't save you.
9K notes
·
View notes
something that always gets me clapping and cheering when i watch something is when theres a female character who fights bloody and raw and nasty. especially if she isnt notably more competent of a fighter than whoever shes tussling with and is just throwing whatever she can at her opponent with desperate abandon. ESPECIALLY if she just barely ekes out a victory with blood dripping from her teeth
2K notes
·
View notes
im just saying that if i had been in charge of s6 of doctor who, i would have fully leaned into the horror of amy's pregnancy, the loss of her own agency in it, the way she was used as a vessel to create a child she would never hold again, amy pond who never indicated once that she even wanted a child and was made to have one anyway against her will, and once they were done using her, they even took away any choice she might make about it in the future.
and i would have had this be a factor in amy and river's relationship going forward. how do you interact with a child you never knew, never got to decide if you wanted to have, and she's also already your friend, you love her as this miraculous, insane woman who has saved your life more than once. she's always known more about you than you could about her, but now you know exactly how much she was keeping from you. it's not like she could have told you, could have stopped it, but all this time, she was your friend and she was your daughter, and how do you learn to live with her?
1K notes
·
View notes
I need Aziraphale learning very quickly that being kind and considerate gets him nowhere in Heaven, so he tucks away his goofy, big-hearted nature and just turns into a maliciously compliant Bitch™.
This is a man who canonically has "discouraged" multiple mobster groups threatening to burn his bookshop, who has successfully scared hundreds of customers away by being just unpleasant enough and who dropped down three octaves to correct Furfur when he messed up his name.
He swallows his pride, puts on a power suit and starts executing a Corporate Nightmare upon upper management in Heaven.
4K notes
·
View notes
The most important part of Hazbin Hotel is that when you go to Hell you will probably become a furry whether you want to or not. That’s just how it is, man.
1K notes
·
View notes
one of the best things about house md is that throughout all 8 seasons both house and wilson randomly bring up tidbits of queer culture that they would have absolutely no reason to know if they were straight
2K notes
·
View notes