#Talking Cabbage Patch Dolls

[blackdollenthusiast]

Cabbage Patch Talking Kids

Cabbage Patch Talking Kids

[real-odark]

inspired by the unfortunately true story of my school's production of little shop's HORRENDOUS audrey wig.

[lyekisses]

listening to this pete podcast from 2011 for the 1 millionth time and he's talking about his top fashion trends for girls... and they're side boob and shaved sides. like okay lesbian.

[heckyeahponyscans]

One of the benefits of vending at real-life toy shows is you get to chat with real-life people. I complimented a guy's shirt and found out there are marble racing leagues, I helped a guy track down some Shopkins because the ones belonging to his daughter (now a college grad) had accidentally been donated to Goodwill and she was nostalgic for them, and I learned that the vintage action figure of Allura is still one of the few toys she's had.

I also talked with a woman who asked if I had any Cabbage Patch Kids in my booth. (I did not.) She said, "I had one as a child and I always wonder . . ." She smiled, looking across the booths full of toys.

She got her Cabbage Patch doll in 1983, the year of "the craze". They were THE big toy. No modern toy that can compare to that phenomenon. Parents were getting into fistfights over these dolls, buying them from scalpers, or standing in long lines.

The woman at my booth said her aunt was the one who stood in a long line to get her a Cabbage Patch doll; she smiled as she described the doll, she obviously remembered it so well.

Then she said: "I used markers to give her makeup. I wanted to make her beautiful, but my father didn't see it that way. He saw it as me ruining the doll that it took so much effort to get. In anger, he threw it in the trash right in front of me."

She kept smiling wistfully as she was talking, without any apparent ire, even though after all these years she was at a toy show "wondering" about her doll.

As a collector, I love finding a mint condition toy. But when I was a child I cut holes in the vintage baby doll diapers (because I didn't like baby dolls but did like stuffed animals) and I gussied up Little Red Riding Hood's hair with streaks of eyeshadow that never washed out. I do not think it is possible for a child to "ruin" a toy. (Unless they make it physically unsafe to be around).

The purpose of a toy is to bring a child joy, fun, and help them grow. Sometimes that will mean dolls with cut hair, action figures dramatically buried in a grave after an imaginary battle, or, yes, Magic Marker makeup on dolls "to make them look beautiful." And if a child regrets what they did to a toy, that too helps them grow. Learning that a doll's hair, once cut, remains cut forever is such a mild and safe way to learn the importance of foresight.

For an adult looking back on childhood, it can seem idyllic. But one of the main experiences of childhood is a lack of control over your own life.

But a child should at least have control over their toys.

Adults: if you want to guarantee that precious toy you spent so much money on stays pristine . . . buy it for yourself and put it on your own shelf. It is not a child's job to be a caretaker to an object for twenty years.

I hope that lady finds her Cabbage Patch doll.

[sailoryooons]

Here to provide an insane take that you both asked for and didn't ask for!

G.I. Joe: Jin

Troll Doll: Yoongi

Cabbage Patch Kid: Namjoon

My Little Pony: Hobi

Bratz: Jimin

Furby: Taehyung

Polly Pocket: Jungkook

ding dong i took a cursed 8pm nap and now i'm feeling evil and i wish to start some tumblr discourse. pls reblog/comment/send asks and tell me: who in bangtan is a barbie and who is a ken??? ✨💖🎀☁️👠

[sleepytoycollection]

So a funny thing happened today.

Today was the day of the local toycon, and I was very well behaved. I only bought things I'd already been on the look out for (not pictured, but I got replacement shoes for my Strawberry Shortcake dolls!), and no impulse purchases. Sadly a lot of the things I was hoping to find were not to be found, but oh well. Good for my wallet I guess. Still had a blast talking with other collectors. c:

One thing I've been hoping to thrift for a while is a Rainbow Brite doll (I know I could just buy one online, but where's the fun in that?) to go with her horse friend I thrifted a year ago:

But I hadn't had luck with that, so when I found one cheap at the toy fair, I bought her. (Got Rodger too, bc I've been wanting a small plush of him to go with my custom Jessica.)

Anyway, after leaving the con, my ride wanted to go by goodwill, and guess what I find there?

A Rainbow Brite, the exact same as I bought at the fair LMAO

Granted, the one from the fair is cleaner and in better condition, but there's a twist!

They're variants!

The one on the left (the goodwill one) is the Taiwan version, and the right (toy fair) is the Hong Kong version!

It's easier to see in person, but there's a lot of little differences between them despite being otherwise the same doll. Taiwan has more hair, but a blurrier face printing with lighter colors. The skin tones (and fabric skin tones) are different, and other such little details.

Goodwill had a lot of other 80's there toys too, I bought the 2 G1 MLP (I'll show them later), and another woman bought the Care Bears and Cabbage Patch dolls.

I can't believe I finally thrifted one the literal same day I finally decided to buy one elsewhere.

[ghostinacardboardbox]

@averagecygnet-blog i accidentally deleted your ask about my opinion on the themes in Black Friday 😶 sorry bout that anywhere here’s my thoughts.

So like first of all, like you’ve already said, the critique of consumerism is incredibly heavy handed. You are right. It is not at all subtle. We’ve all heard Made in America. But I really don’t think it was possible to tell this story and have it be subtle; this was always going to be an incredibly overt anti-capitalist message.

Starting with the real life inspirations of the premise, the “Tickle-Me Wiggly” is already a direct reference to “Tickle-Me Elmo,” which was a toy that inspired real life riots ending in at least a handful of injuries and arrests. In the scene right after the Wiggly Jingle, Paul and Emma discuss Cabbage Patch Kids. The Cabbage Patch riots have their own wiki page. The idea of parents literally resorting to violence over toys on Black Friday is something that already happens. So this musical is really just looking at those events, saying, “Wow, capitalism sure makes people behave badly,” and then pushing that concept to its most exaggerated form. The fact that it isn’t subtle is not a bug, it’s a feature.

I also see people bring up this theme almost entirely in relation to the song Made in America rather than connecting it to almost every scene. As if this isn’t a show that doesn’t begin with an advertisement. The opening number is an ad.

(Apparently an effective one, considering how quickly Starkid sells out of the Lord in Black dolls whenever they sell them. People literally watched a whole musical about how the doll represents using the product of capitalism to distract from societal problems and then went and bought the doll. And I would have, too, if I had the money. But I think about the irony.)

I'm not going to go through every scene and the capitalist imagery in it, mostly because I don't actually have anything particularly unique to say about it. Like most of them are fairly self-explanatory and I'm not particularly good at analysis. But do want to specifically bring up the lyrics of "Our Doors Are Open" since they usually get overshadowed by people talking about how much cunt Corey served (it's a lot of cunt. Record amounts of cunt served), because the entire song is both satirical and foreshadowing. Also the bridge of "First of Famine" and the dehumanization of the worker, etc. etc.

I'm also fascinated by the social dynamics in Black Friday. Lex is basically raising her sister due to their mother's neglect; Tom is a single dad; Becky is a domestic abuse survivor; and while Linda's family externally looks very well-put together, she's had multiple affairs, and it's revealed in the Nightmare Time episode "Honey Queen" that she blatantly plays favorites with her kids and has a terrible relationship with her father. Lex is a poor retail worker, Tom and Becky are middle class, and Linda is very wealthy. Black Friday more than any other Starkid show acknowledges the implications of social class, I think. I wonder if part of why a lot of people don't like it is because it's not really escapism the way a lot of other musicals are; it's pretty clear about dealing with real life problems, in a very simplified but obvious way.

I think all the time about the scene where Linda tells Becky, in front of a crowd, that everyone knew her husband was abusive and chose to stay silent. It's such an important moment because it's directly showing the audience just how cruel Linda is. It had been implied before but this was on another level. And it also serves as, again, a pretty basic depiction of how society treats victims. Like, saying that "bystanders will always look away as long as there's plausible deniability to preserve their own comfort" is pretty simple, but that doesn't mean it's a bad point to make, and I think it's made well. The title song also has the lines "I don't want your half-baked sympathy, / When did it save those in need?" which reinforces a similar concept; expressing pity isn't the same as actually taking any kind of action.

And then, of course, there is all the religious imagery. Every time I watch this show I notice more of it, it's everywhere and it's so cool. The show takes place during the holiday season so there are a lot of references to Christmas, specifically. Wiggly keeps saying it will be his birthday, and Linda will "birth" him, so they are tied to Jesus and the Virgin Mary, symbolically (While writing this I had the thought that Wiley possibly counts as the angel Gabriel, then). And I think that using Christmas works because of how commercial Christmas in the US is. If your eldrith god is using capitalist desires as a recruiting tactic, having him bastardize Christmas for his own purposes is a pretty logical step I think. It's also not just that Wiggly is associated with Christmas thematically but also in a sense the iconography of the holiday becomes Wiggly. The garlands on the balcony turning into Wiggly's tentacles is one of the greatest set design pieces I've ever seen. Even apart from the functionality of it as a low-cost set that can go unnoticed until it's needed, it so perfectly evokes the imagery of Wiggly literally corrupting the holiday imagery. The first time I saw that scene I was amazed. I don't feel like checking rn who did the set design for Black Friday but whoever they are, they're fucking incredible. No notes.

And then the music. This is by far my favorite Starkid score overall. I love it so much. Partially because I, known 80's pop-rock enjoyer, am obsessed with a good synthesizer, but also just because of how well the songs suit this particular story. The synths are used most in the songs that show Wiggly's influence (Feast or Famine, Adore Me, Wiggle). Is "non-traditional instruments represent the unknown and otherworldly" the most unique special concept ever? No. But I like it and it sounds cool so like idc.

Jeff Blim is an incredible songwriter who is so talented in so many genres, and I'm always impressed with the songs he writes for Hatchetfield. I think sometimes we don't appreciate enough that all of these songs are by one guy (also Matt Dahan's musical direction for the entire series and the underscoring for both seasons of Nightmare Time that works in the melodies of previously used songs so incredibly). All of the Nightmare Time songs are so different, and all three of the stage shows have a very distinctive sound that really makes sense with the story that's being told. And one of the things Jeff does best in my opinion is the use of repeated melodies and leitmotifs.

Hatchetfield is full of them. There's been a lot of discussion of it in Nerdy Prudes because that show has so many motifs (i.e. the Nightmare Time riff, the "I'm not a loser" melody), and one of them actually comes from Black Friday. In The Summoning, right after Wiggly says "fwendy-wends," the keyboard melody that plays is the same as the part in the song Wiggle that goes "We will build a portal just for [when he comes]" (The last few notes fade directly into the chorus of The Summoning). I'm not the first person to notice this or anything but I thought it was so cool when it happened.

And Wiggle itself is using a different melody: The Carol of the Bells. Again, it ties into the idea of Wiggly completely taking over the idea of the Christmas season. The lyrics of Wiggle also include the lines "He will rise up with joyful noise," and I didn't realize that not everyone would catch that as a religious reference until a friend commented about it but "joyful noise" is a biblical reference (Psalm 100:1). It all ties back to the religious themes.

This last one may not be intentional, but the last song also really makes me think of another Christmas carol? The opening lyrics of What If Tomorrow Comes ("Do you all see what I see, / What I know, / What I see?") really reminds me of the song "Do You All Hear What I Hear?" The melody is different and only vaguely similar so I may be reading too far into it, but I always got the feeling that I'd heard something like that before and wasn't able to place it until last year.

Anyway TLDR Black Friday is heavy handed but I think it actually works better that way, and I like how strong the imagery throughout it is.

[labrxnth]

BoC Chapter 1: Into Darkness (Leon x Reader Series)

In flower language, a cornflower means "Be careful with me, please, I'm delicate."

Tag List:

WC: 3310

CWs: some heinous forced father figure shit, human experimentation, PTSD, kidnapping, cannon level body horror, cannon level swearing and violence, body comparison.

AN: So, This monster is finally here now that Prison Break is done. I'm thinking of a schedule that I can accurately keep, maybe one chapter every two weeks. This series will span over all of Resident Evil, it's gonna be a big boy so strap in.

If you want to be on the tag list, comment and it'll be done.

Spotify Link: Listen along to the playlist I've curated for this fanfic

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

The first thing you experienced about the apocalypse wasn’t the loud sirens, explosions, or screaming. It was how quiet it was. The usual fluorescent lights of the lab testing floor you were on were still burning as bright as ever, your eyes trailing the multitude of doctors and nurses scrambling through the hall, clipboards and keycards in hand. 

Your hand placed itself on the glass wall, confused as to why the doctors and scientists were acting more skittish than usual. The feeling you had in your stomach turning into a deeper pit. Anxiety swelling inside of you. 

Even without any of the chemicals dumped into you through the many syringes “gifted��� to you, your intuition was off the charts. You knew something was wrong. 

Hearing the usual vroom of the door to your cell opening, your eyes turned to it, seeing the scientist usually in charge of you with a lead in hand. He stood in the doorway, his salt and pepper hair slicked back like it always was. His glasses were pristine, no scratches or dirt on them, his lab coat and scrubs eerily clean. 

“Subject 13, we’re moving you,” David said, his voice not leaving room for question. 

You nodded, walking up to him. David had been in charge of you since you got here at the ripe age of 10. A decade of being trapped in these four walls, not seeing the outside. 

The last time you were outside, the whole world felt like it was dripped in neon. The lights, the hair, the makeup, everything. All you wanted was a Barbie doll or a cabbage patch kid. Now, the world to you was white walls, white floors, and people wearing all white. 

David clasped the lead onto your thin collar, starting to walk the opposite end down the hallway that you were used to. You only ever walked to the left of your cell, not the right. Today you were going to the right, following all the other doctors and scientists. 

“Where are we going?” You asked quietly. 

“Hm?” David asked, not even bothering to look over you. 

You took a second, looking down at your feet while you walked. Taking a deep breath, you get ready to rephrase your sentence. “Father, where are you taking me?” You rephrased. 

He smiled back at you, his yellow cigarette smoke stained teeth being visible from behind his lips. “My flower, we’re relocating you.” He responded, then looked forward. 

Relocation….. 

You’ll get to see another part of the world. Maybe if you were lucky, you’d be able to see outside through windows. The idea thrilled you more than the fear of being sent to another location. But still, one thought loomed over you, the NEST had been your home for the past 10 years, why were they moving you now?

“Father, why?” You asked, watching people run by you. The hairs on the back of your neck were sticking up, matching the anxiety of everyone else besides David. 

“Because, My Flower, someone messed up on one of the upper floors,” He replied. His tone was always condescending, infantilizing you, talking down to you. He acted like you were still 10 like when he “found you”. 

“Messed up?” You asked. He never told you about stuff happening on the upper floors, you were hoping that he’d be willing to go into deeper detail if he was already in a talking mood. 

“Birkin…. messed with something that he shouldn’t have,” He responded and left it at that. 

Birkin…. That had to be a person by the way he was talking. You had searched your memory, trying to figure out if you ever came into contact, but couldn’t remember anything. 

As the two of you walked through a set of double doors, the hallway changed from white to a blaring red. An alarm was going off, along with the emergency lights, making the hallway a sensory nightmare. 

You squeezed your eyes closed, attempting to quell the migraine you were starting to get from everything. 

After going through another set of double doors, you felt yourself rising from the ground. Opening them in a panic, you noticed you were in an elevator, making your way to the surface. How long had it been since you were in an elevator last? It had to have been at the mall, while you were waiting impatiently to get to Orange Julius. 

The mall that had just opened up down the road from where you lived. The same mall where a strange man in a suit came up to you and asked you where your parents were.

The same one where you were taken from, never to see the outside world again. 

“Where will we go?” You asked, your (e/c) eyes meeting his face. 

“Where we go,” David replied dryly. 

You nodded, discontent with the answer, but pushing your feelings aside like you had been trained to do. If you dug too far, it would only spell more pain and suffering for you; curiosity was not a trait celebrated by Umbrella Corp. 

He led you down another hallway, the lead tugging at your neck, an uncomfortable feeling, making you seem like a dog. Your place was a lab rat, property owned by Umbrella Corp. You were truly David’s bitch through and through. Something he held over you. 

After a mind numbing walk through more hallways than you could count, you felt the cold air prick your face. Your nose breathed in the fresh air for the first time in a decade, tears almost welling in your eyes at the nostalgic feeling of it. It was crisp, but warm at the same time. Smelling like nothing, but everything all at once. Where the air smelled like cleaner and chemicals in your cell, the air here smelled of an electric charge, a storm on the horizon, and the calamity happening in the city. 

Looking around, you saw the city horizon line. There were more lights than when you were brought here, assuming you were looking at the same side of the building from before. You saw the misty haze sweeping over the city, the pine trees in the background surrounding the mountains in the faint distance. If you could see the roads, you would have seen the destruction breaking out around you. 

You would have seen the hell emerging from the depths of where you were kept. 

Looking forward, you saw a military grade helicopter, the same type they brought you here in. When you were first taken, you remembered every single detail you could with hope you could somehow make it out. 

Obviously, you were naïve. 

David ushered you into the helicopter, taking his seat in the pilot’s. Two U.S.S. (Umbrella Security Services) agents accompanied the two of you on the helicopter, guns drawn. One was pointed off the ramp, the other was pointed at you. At this point, you would have either been an idiot or had a death wish if you attempted to run. At this point you had the survivor mentality beaten out of you. 

Starting up the helicopter, David tied your lead to the bar separating the two of your seats. Your eyes were glued to the world outside, watching the rain hit the windows and windshields in awe. The world seemed darker since you saw it last, obviously because it was night time, but it felt grungier. Less like the neon wonderland you left and more like cigarette smoke and leather. 

As the helicopter flew above the city, the fires and crowds of people below were finally visible to you. The shock tore through your body at the sight. 

“The people… what’s happening to them?” You asked, your eyes following clusters of people attacking others. It looked like ants fighting from how high up you were, but you could still make out their shapes and sizes. 

“Birken’s atrocity. This is why I worked on more sophisticated projects like you, My Flower,” David replied, running a hand through your hair. An unfamiliar sound filled your ears, getting louder and louder by the second. 

David’s head whipped to the side. “Holy shit!” He yelled and jerked the steering sticks of the helicopter towards you. Your eyes widened as you saw a glimpse of something coming at the two of you, then the world went white again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

You woke up to a searing pain in your right arm. Eyes shooting open, all you saw around you were silent flames, engulfing the helicopter and licking up your right arm. You tried to lunged through the flames and get out of the helicopter, but a force pulled you back, the fucking collar and lead. Looking around the helicopter, you found a stray shard of glass and picked it up. Your hand instantly filled with a sanguine red, the glass cutting your hand from just holding it. Quickly and wasting no time, you sawed through the lead, gritting your teeth at the pain. 

David would surely forgive you for breaking your lead, it was life or death. Then again, he was a psychotic doctor that experimented on and tortured you for years. 

Once the lead went slack, breaking apart, you jumped through the flames, rolling on the floor of wherever you were to extinguish the flames on you. Catching your breath and feeling your heartbeat die down, you took a few seconds, waiting for David or a U.S.S. agent to pick you back up. 

When no one jolted you up to your feet, your eyes opened to find a dusty wooden floor beneath you. Pushing off of your arms, you looked around you and saw a hallway of some sort, a rather plain one, but not the white ones you were used to seeing by now. 

You stood up and looked toward the helicopter, seeing three bodies in there, engulfed in the flames. David and the two U.S.S. agents. 

You were…. Free. 

Free… 

David was dead. 

Your mind kept going over these words in your mind before you decided it would be better to move than stay still. While David had beaten the survivor out of you, you weren’t an idiot. 

The helicopter was cutting the hallway in half, giving you only one choice to go: behind you. You turned around and looked down the daunting hallway, feeling like it would’ve been better if you perished in the crash with everyone else. Nonetheless, you pushed forward into the darkness, your eyes adjusting to the darkness and your ears adjusting to the quiet. 

Walking down the hallway, you found the first door, a wooden door directly in front of you. On the wall, there was a sign that stuck out from it saying “Waiting Room”. As you walked closer, you found yourself having to limp, your ankle feeling less than ideal for walking a great distance. Your hand pressed up to the door, feeling the indents on the real wood. Every texture you had dealt with since you were taken was either slick, cold, slimy, or all of the above. 

It felt nice to feel something homemade, something that felt real. You cautiously pushed the door open and a sudden warmth filled the hallway. The room had multiple lights on, the type that you weren’t used to anymore. Instead of the fluorescent lights that made you want to gouge your eyeballs out, they were small lamps with a warm, orange or yellow glow to them. 

Closing the door behind you, you tried to find anything that could tell you where you were. You had no clue the size of the building you crashed into or where exactly you were. 

Turning to your direct left, you found a bulletin board on the wall with multiple posters. All of them said Raccoon City as the location of what they were advertising, so it was safe to say you were still in the city. 

Looking around more, you were startled as you heard the door behind you open. It was quiet, but you still picked up on it, your ears flicking slightly at the sound. 

“Are you alive?” A rather young voice asked you. Your hands went up slightly in surrender and you turned around. 

When you looked at who was talking, your eyes lit up. The question he asked puzzled you, but seeing someone that looked around your age was a relief in its own right. 

His face was unlike any other face you had seen. Most faces from your childhood blurred together, the only faces you really remember being your own, David’s, and the other scientists that occasionally worked on you for David. This young man’s features were soft, his eyes blue and kind, with an emotion at the forefront. You had seen that emotion in your own eyes before. 

He was scared and trying to hide it. 

“You’re alive,” He responded. You knit your eyebrows in confusion and noticed the gun he was pointing at you. Confused, you nodded and watched him sigh in relief, then lower the gun. “You, me, and Marvin are the only ones here that aren’t infected,” He added, reholstering his gun. 

“Infected?” Your voice asked. 

The young man looked at you, his eyebrows knit together, confusion matching your own. His eyes looked up and down your outfit, the white hospital gown and scrub pants that you had worn for the last ten years catching his eye. 

“Yeah…. Where did you come from?” He asked and took a step towards you. 

Instinctively, you took a step back, his eyes immediately softening. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you okay? I’m a police officer, it’s my job to help people.” He said softly. 

You remembered your parents telling you to find a police officer if you ever needed help when you would go to the mall alone. The day you were taken, you tried to tell one that a man in a suit was following you.

You were laughed at. 

Sensing your apprehension, he took off one of his fingerless gloves and held his bare hand out to you. “My name’s Leon, Leon Kennedy. If you want to survive, I might be your best bet,” He said. 

You looked at the hand and hesitantly reached your own out to his. But your name, what name could you tell him? Subject 12 wasn’t your name, it was used to get rid of your humanity, taking away your ability to even have a name. 

A name, you used to have a name, but what was it? Digging deep into your memories, you tried to remember it; tried to remember a friend saying it in joy, tried to remember a parent saying it in love, a teacher in anger. 

Nothing. 

Leon looked at you expectantly, trying to read your expression. Your eyes met his as your hand met his in a shake. All you could remember for a name was the sound of rock playing through your dad’s radio, him praising a female singer for her melodies and guitar playing skills. 

“Joan, my name is Joan,” You said, claiming the name as your own. 

“Nice to meet you Joan, got a gun?” Leon asked. He looked down at your hands and you guessed that you had held on for way too long judging by the look on his face. You let go and awkwardly smiled at him. 

“A gun? No,” You replied, your head tilting to the side slightly. “Why would I need a gun?” You asked. 

“Why would you need a gun?” Leon echoed your question, looking at you incredulously. His eyes then went down to the burn mark on your right arm and the cut through the palm of your same hand.  “Where did you come from, you haven’t been here?” He asked. 

You shook your head slightly, proving his theory correct. “I was in a helicopter, then everything went white and I woke up surrounded by flames in this building,”

His eyes widened. “You were in that helicopter? The one that crashed into the building?” He asked, his eyes almost bugging out of his head. You nodded in response and he dug through his hip pouches, producing a small box with a red cross on it. 

“Here, let me patch you up, take a seat,” He said and gestured to one of the benches. You limped over, his eyes catching which ankle you weren’t letting touch the floor and taking a mental note of it. 

Sitting down on the bench, you looked at the palm of your hand seeing just how deep the glass had cut you. Leon kneeled down in front of you and looked up into your eyes, then back down at the collar you had on. 

“I don’t mean to pry…” He trailed off. You stared at him, expecting him to ask a question, but he just shrugged and shook his head, saying something to himself that a normal person wouldn’t be able to hear, but you could. “Isn’t the weirdest fucking thing I’ve seen today,” He said to himself. 

You watched him take bandages and a small spray can out of the case. “Can I have your hand?” He asked. You gave up your hand, palm side up. His hand gently grabbed your wrist, his eyes darting to your face for any sign of discomfort, but finding none. 

“This will hurt a bit,” He said and shook the small can. As the spray hit your cut, a slight hiss left your mouth. “Sorry,” He said, his eyebrows knit in focus and sympathy. Leon was quick to wrap the hand in bandages and then wrap the burn loosely.   

His hand dropped your wrist and he gestured to your ankle. “Can I help that too?” He asked. You nodded and he took your ankle, resting it on his knee. Almost as quick as when he wrapped your hand, your ankle was wrapped and all set to go. 

“It looks sprained. If we were in a better situation, I’d tell you to stay off of it, but we’re not,” He said and looked up at you.

“Thank you,” You said and lightly smiled at him. Looking down at him, you got a feeling that you haven’t had in awhile. 

You felt like he could be trusted; instead of the churning sea that your stomach usually was, it was calm. A slight warmth spreading through your chest at his smile.

“We should head out, I have this puzzle that I need to solve for us to get out of here,” He said, fishing a small booklet out of his pouches and putting the box back in. 

Looking at him, you could tell that he’d been here for at least longer than you had. He might be useful to stick around; especially if he had weapons and you didn’t. 

“Sounds good,” You said and stood up, getting used to the new weight on your ankle. 

“Before we go…. I gotta ask,” He said, leading into a question that you didn’t really want to answer right now. 

“No you don’t,” You replied and steadied yourself, looking up to meet his gaze. 

“Okay, I guess I don’t,” He said, his head moving to the door he came out of. “Alright, let’s get moving,” He added. 

You followed him through the door, into the unknown. Maybe on the other side of the door, there would be a fully fledged freedom; the world that you were kept from. 

To you, you were free of the white walls, white floors, damnation you were sentenced to. Now, you were headed into hell on Earth that you were completely unaware of. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

Catch this fic and others on my AO3

[cipheramnesia]

hello i am giving u an excuse to talk about the chucky TV series because i generally don't like horror but i watched it and it was great

My friend... this goes so much deeper than the TV series.

DATELINE 1988! The horror movie slasher genre is THRIVING in the boom of video and cheap rental stores. Jason. Freddy. Michael. Already household names, nay! Heroes! Enter one Don Mancini, young and queer and ready to share some fear with a little idea knocking around in his head about a killer doll. With little more than a dream and few friends he tackled the enormous task of crafting the next horror legend. On the advice of a lawyer friend, he loaded Chucky up with distinct, trademarked features and made sure copyright on the titular killer doll was his and HIS ALONE.

Child's Play, the original Chucky movie, debuted to instant classic status. To modern eyes it may seem strange that a concept as silly as a killer doll could ascend to the heights of the holy triumvirate, but SIMULTANEOUS to Chucky we found such properties as Cabbage Patch Kids and My Buddy dolls - a virtual BUFFET of saccharine toys just begging for a counterpart with edge, and Chucky edged hard. The My Buddy doll never recovered as millions of children globally cowered from the mere TRAILER of Chucky and his slimeball snarl voice broadcast it's way to hearts and minds. But this wasn't all, no, for you see Chucky had a most peculiar gift, the gift of a soulful heart.

While many other slasher movies focused on a test of wills between survivor girl and unstoppable monster, Child's Play was first and foremost the coming of age story for Andy Barclay and his, Karen. In particular credit must be given to actor Catherine Hicks who never wanted to be in a horror movie, and made the conscious decision to play Karen as a straight dramatic role about a single mother and her son. In a sea of peculiarly good choices, it perhaps was hers more than any other that granted Child's Play a quasi-Spielberg-esque movie magic to transcend the genre stereotypes and absurd premise, to create something unique.

While she would not return for Child's Play 2, the die was cast with Alex Vincent as Andy and Brad Dourif as Chucky. We saw the introduction of street smart older stepsister played by Christine Elise. With a bigger budget, nastier deaths, and a truly grotesque version of Chucky, Child's Play 2 is likely considered the best in the series, as it predates the series' later campiness and had the delightfully rubbery 80s practical effects. Not me though, I love them all except of course Child's Play 3, the military academy one, which rounds out the first arc of Chucky. For a little while.

In 1998, just in time for a ten year anniversary, Chucky would RISE AGAIN, in Bride of Chucky. You see, while Don Mancini no longer had the rights to the Child's Play name, he still owned Chucky. Would this new chapter in the knife wielding minimaniac mean the previous continuity was dispensed with? NO, for this series was and still is violent killer baby of ONE MAN and his found film family. Instead, Bride of Chucky would introduce a new member of the family, Tiffany Valentine, played by the inimitable Jennifer Tilly. In this chapter of Chucky's tale, he and Tiffany took center stage, with no consistent protagonist, and a greater focus on absurd humor. Bride of Chucky and Seed of Chucky are both movies which give the sense of perhaps Mancini himself being more comfortable with his sexuality, more open and free. It was also the turning point where Chucky would go from a by the numbers slasher to a metatexual interrogation of the horror genre itself.

Besides playing with self referential comedy and genre references, Don Mancini introduced an in-universe awareness of Chucky's prior crimes, both as a human and as a doll, including the set of an in-universe movie (Chucky Goes Psycho) starring actress Jennifer Tilly. Hang onto your butts, because we're going in hot. If Bride of Chucky felt like it was going to weird places by having two dolls fucking and working on their romantic matters, Seed of Chucky abandoned all pretense, enjoying the presence of stuntcasting like John Waters and Redman (as himself) in roles specifically for gruesome deaths. But Jennifer Tilly was the central meta tornado.

Try and follow this. Real actress Jennifer Tilly plays Tiffany Valentine, who gets her soul transferred into a doll which is also voiced by Jennifer Tilly. Subsequently Jennifer Tilly also plays fictional actress Jennifer Tilly (who is otherwise identical to real world Jennifer Tilly), cast to play Tiffany Valentine in fictional fictionalized account of the fictional world real events of Child's Play 1 & 2, and also to voice the fictional Tiffany Valentine doll along with fictional Brad Dourif voicing the fictional Chucky doll, both dolls created for the fictional movie Chucky gets lucky. However, the fictional dolls get possessed by the real fictional characters Chucky and Tiffany, still voiced by real actors Brad Dourif and Jennifer Tilly. Eventually, Tiffany is able to transfer her soul into fictional Jennifer Tilly.

So, hang with me, in Chucky this means that fictional actress Jennifer Tilly (played by real Jennifer Tilly) is now possessed by fictional real murderer Tiffany Valentine (played by real Jennifer Tilly) who has to pretend to be fictional actress Jennifer Tilly (as played by Jennifer Tilly).

Beyond all this fuckery, Chucky and Tiff must cope with their new child who vacillates between Glen or Glenda, a kind of bigender or genderfluid character at a time when those ideas weren't very widespread, but which feels deeply informed both my Mancini's experience as a gay man, and also the long history of queers in Hollywood. At the conclusion of these two movies, it seemed like we were done with Chucky, with Tiffany living happily ever after as Tillyception and Glen/Glenda now living as two children, having their soul split into the twins fictional Tilly was pregnant with.

However, it seems that these five movies total instead were a kind of foundation for the next generation, when Chucky returned in Curse of Chucky and Cult of Chucky. Together these movies added a new layer of recursion, and might be called the Nica Pierce chapter. Both films featured less camp, and a more serious tone which, initially seemed to imply an intent to reboot the series. This was, of course, a fake out as Mancini not only revealed the new movies as a direct continuation, but also gave Chucky an illegitimate human daughter in the form of Nica Pierce, played by Fiona Dourif, the real world daughter of Brad Dourif. Not only that, but we would get the reintroduction of a long absent character, Andy Barclay, still played by Alex Vincent.

In the reprisal, Alex Vincent, an actor who was damaged and traumatized by being a child actor in movies like the original Child's Play, plays Andy as an adult damaged and traumatized by his experiences as a child in the original Child's Play.

Now, eventually Chucky gets control of Nica and Fiona Dourif does drag to play young Chucky and there's fucked up lesbians and gay kissing and a priest explodes, but all that happens in the TV series. What I'm really needing everyone to get at here is that from 1988 up to RIGHT NOW Don Mancini has kept continuity of plot AND ACTORS, with two seasons and an upcoming third which incorporates every single movie detail. A series which, while silly at times, always both respects its audience second, but FIRST is itself above all. Every single movie and episode has been something which set out to be its own thing, free from control or demands of conformity and it always has been, like it or not, love it or leave it. Somehow the killer doll movie has turned into a 35 year long and counting love affair, a found extended nuclear family both on screen and off.

And perhaps the best part is how much the queerness has been given a chance to flourish, going from a whisper of an influence in early films, to campy comedy later, to fully realized queer relationships in the series. Not only that, but it's always seemed to treat its atypical protagonists with a humanity and respect few other media properties manage. The young Andy works so well because he's an actual character, not just some kid, treated like a capable and thinking human. Tiff and Glen/Glenda are bizarre but never dehumanized, never treated as undeserving of human kindness. And Nica, a paraplegic, is amazing, with her disabilities informing the plot, but not innately treated as some definitive limit or inspiration porn. It's rare for so many disenfranchised characters to get such a human treatment, and frankly bizarre that the murder doll series is the one to do it. But that's kind of the real beauty of Chucky. Every character is human first, before anything else.

In fact, there is only one character who is genuinely human second, and it's Chucky himself. Now I'm not saying there's no room for complex antagonists, but in all Chucy movies, the one constant is this: Chucky is a total dick. Not evil, not a menace, just a pure all out asshole. Chucky is a piece of shit person first, murderer second, and that's GREAT. You will never be in a position where you hope the evil murder doll succeeds (Tiff excepted). You will never stop and wonder "Gosh maybe Chucky is secretly a good guy deep down." Chucky is always a gaslighting selfish prick who wants to live for ever and kill everyone, full stop. It's beautiful, it frees the mind to dwell on the humanity of other characters because you never once are getting asked to give the lying cheating manipulative little fucker the benefit of the doubt.

I don't know what it is, but Mancini just gets it. He gets the best and the worst of people and that's what makes this whole machine tick. It's huge and overwhelming to think of how many people and plotlines and stories are encompassed by Chucky and then like a falling air-conditioner it just slams into my head: "Oh yeah, this is about a killer doll."

[chezzkidsarchive]

One thing I want from horror media is a character or concept that isn't scary or looks intimidating intentionally.

I think some good aspects to use in horror around childhood is the uncanny valley. Skinamarink had something going on that hits well, along with the original Child's Play film.

Call me a little fucking hater for saying this but I think right now in most fucking media the 1980s is way too overutilized and just milks all of the cool things about it. It's gone. It's done.

Stranger Things and It 2017 was good but we as a society need to move away from the 80's as a time period.

Nobody ever fucking talks about how genuinely terrifying the 1990s were looking back on them to a point where it's almost funny.

There is so much untapped potential in the idea of the monster under the bed, or playground rumors outside of video games, like Mexican Jumping Beans actually being alive or the kid on Double Dare who broke their arm open during filming and you could see the bone.

Early internet was a nightmare with viruses, screamers and the anonymity of things like AOL. The amount of Weird Food that existed like Taco Bell Lunchables, that could easily be a modern Soylent Green or the toy fads.

The 1990's has a concerning amount of toys that could burn you, scalp you and pluck your eyes out. The Snacktime Cabbage Patch Doll gave hundreds of kids nightmares, people temporarily thought Tamagotchis were beeping messages in morse code, Skydancers would regularly throw themselves into fires and off cliffs.

I think it would be unbelievably fucked up to do a sequel to The Stuff but with Flarp or some shit from Halloween 3 but with a Viewfinder that stabs your eyes in or something.

There is so much inherent danger to the 1990s that people do not ever talk about and I really wish they would.

People back then were so fucking paranoid and then 9/11 kicked it completely off the ramp and made it a million times worse. Most of English-speaking countries were dead set convinced that Furbies could record conversations and give it to the USSR or something.

Everyone was completely pissing their pants over the idea of subliminal messaging, and completely terrified of things like the paid phone services like Freddy Freaker.

Max Headroom is right there. If done correctly someone could make a mascot similar to what happened with Bartmania and start a borderline cult with the idea of tie-in merchandise.

Don't forget about the fact that for almost a good 2 years McDonald's was routinely giving away cups with uranium in them, or the Burger King pokeballs that suffocated several people.

Even just branching outside the US, there's good ideas for horror. Mr. Blobby had a mascot costume that horrified people, the weird universal hate about how unnerving the Teletubbies were. Literally any scary Thomas the Tank Engine compilation has dozens of ideas.

Angela Anaconda is one thing that is still a childhood media trauma staple, The Ring, Delicatessen, there's so many good inspirations without dipping into the mundane.

Legends of the Hidden Temple was a death trap waiting to happen. One thing that used to freak out my friend's mother, who was a middle school teacher when they had free time in school and the kids asked to watch TV was the idea of one of the kids suffocating in the slime at almost any Nickelodeon game show because it was very, very thick and expanded fast.

There's also another classic horror trope anyone could use an abuse where a corrupted director becomes obsessed with one of his child stars who loses their shit and eventually kills him or something because of a lack of identity post cancelation and no way to see themselves outside of their role, the idea of someone like the little girl from The Land Before Time surviving her attacker and waiting to kill them because child stardom is a genuine curse is Fun.

There was always the weird dream like feeling of waking up at 3:00 in the morning and seeing the George Lopez show playing, or staying home sick and seeing reruns of telenovelas or talk shows that are vague memories in the back of your mind.

Staying up late with a friend to watch Adult Swim and getting scared by the bumpers, there is so, so, so much.

Please utilize other time periods. There is better horror sooner in the past.

[rhaenyyras]

steddie snippet for the prompt together for day 5 of @steddie-week (let’s pretend that I’m not super late posting this)

~

Steve sighs and tilts his head back, giving Eddie more access to kiss him there. He licks a stripe of Steve's skin along his jaw and Steve's eyes flutter shut. Eddie could swear Steve sighs his name before he seems to come back to it. Himself, the reality of the moment, all of that. Steve leans back, breathing heavy as he lifts a hand to Eddie's face, lightly caressing his jaw.

And suddenly all that Eddie can think about is how no one has ever looked at him the way that Steve is right now. He couldn't find the words to explain it if he tried. But maybe if they all make it through this, he'll find a way to put it into a song. As proof that it happened, this moment existed, Steve Harrington really looked at him like that, and they were here.

Together.

Eddie leans back, smiling at Steve. Softly, cautiously, as if aware that at any second this could all be over. He decides instead of blurting that out, he'd like to reassure Steve, to be a pillar of strength to him right now when he probably needs it most.

"I believe you. What you said before, that we'd find a way." Eddie says. "I know that we will. We're gonna be fine."

Steve nods, a flicker of concern darting across his face. Eddie knows they really should join the others now but before they go he wants to make Steve laugh one last time. Wants to make him forget about everything for one more minute. So Eddie grabs the Cabbage Patch doll and shoves her in Steve's face.

"Stephanie believes in you too. You're her hero. "

"Oh my god, stop!" Steve laughs, his eyes crinkling in the most beautiful way. "What is with you and this doll? Did you not have dolls as kids—"

"This one just reminds me of you."

"Stop saying that. I'm serious." Steve says, doing his best not to laugh. Then he throws Stephanie across the room. "Don't make me side with Henderson on this one."

Eddie gasps, feigning shock. "You wouldn't."

"I absolutely will if you pick up Stephanie one more time."

"Okay. Message received." Eddie laughs, and then leans in. Kisses Steve one more time. "Seriously, thanks for everything, Steve. I don't know how..."

To thank you. To put it into words. To show you what it means.

Steve seems to understand it now, all the unspoken things that Eddie wants to say. He smiles and nods at Eddie like he gets it, and even though they both want to stay, to keep kissing in the dark, to talk about their favorite things like books and trees and bands, they know they have to go now. Before Steve can untangle them, Eddie leans in and hugs Steve. Wraps his arms around him, tugs him in closer, and buries his head in the crevice of his neck.

And it's warm, and comforting, and nice, and Eddie would like to stay right there forever, thank you very much. Sadly, they don't have forever and they both know it. Steve hugs Eddie back, soft hand caressing his back in those same circular movements. Slowly Steve untangles them, though even with distance now between them Eddie can still feel the ghost of Steve's touch lingering on his skin.

[frazzledsoul]

Thoughts of Gossip Girl 1.07 and 1.08, which Frazzled is still slowly binging:

Okay, I feel a tiny bit sorry at Nate for having to narc out his dad.

Everyone is freaking me out with talk of Nate and Blair's "engagement". They are 16, okay? THEY ARE BABIES. Y'all are weird.

One plot thread involves a (relatively tame) burlesque club and the other half involves everyone encouraging Dan to hide his Cabbage Patch Doll (which they refer to by name) before Serena comes over to deflower him. Quite the juxtaposition.

I fully support Chuck scaring Lily away from his dad.

Legit cheered when Nate and Blair broke up and she jumped Chuck in the backseat. I'm sorry, but Nate is lame and Chuck may be evil but he gets her alpha female ways.

Now I'm starting to like Nate more. "Why don't you just take a guilty plea, Dad, because everyone knows you did it and no, I still don't want to get forcibly engaged."

Blair be looking like an Italian widow going to confession.

I do not support Rufus getting back together with his estranged wife, y'all are ruining my doomed adult ship. Please stop it.

I kind of sympathize with Serena for having to put up with Vanessa always being around but OTOH she clearly did not give a shit about Dan's family situation and just wanted him to tell her stuff first. IDK, it just gives me vibes of Rory Gilmore throwing a fit because she wasn't entertained for one night and considering that a dump-able offense when there was more serious stuff going on (though frankly Serena is a lot more forgiving by this point than Rory was).

Chuck and Blair are problematic AF but I don't care I KIND OF LOVE THEM OKAY?! I just feel they are destined to rule the world together and destroy everyone in their path and I am here for it.

[riverbills]

Task: Share an early memory your character has had at Woodrow House

Date:1989 & 1984

Location: The Music Room and a recording studio in LA

The size of Woodrow House wasn't what overwhelmed River. He had been in plenty of grand hotels in his short life and he grew up in a large house. However, instead of aging wooden surfaces and walls lined with large bookshelves like in Woodrow the house River grew up in was full of reflective white surfaces and walls lined with platinum records. More importantly the house he grew up in was home. Woodrow was never going to be home, he decided with his arms folded. He missed his playroom and the familiarity of home. Most importantly he missed his parents.

River sighed and rolled over to look at the clock on the bedside table. It was illuminated by the low light of a purple lava lamp (one of the few personal touches he had added in the brief time he had been at Woodrow). It was roughly one in the morning. It was still the middle of the day in California. He wondered what he would be doing if he still had his parents. He decided he would probably be jamming with them in the family music room.

It was always an exciting adventure when River was taken into town. It was a rare occasion and whenever he asked his parents or nanny why they told him the city was dangerous and a special treat. However, as he squirmed in his seat, being allowed to accompany his dad (or Uncle Marty as he was told to call him in front of people) didn't feel like a special treat. The adults were too preoccupied with recording music to pay attention to him. Occasionally he would lean over to talk to the sound engineers on the same side as the booth as him and he would be shushed. His cabbage patch doll and crayons could only keep him preoccupied for so long.

There was a brief break in recording because his dad had gone for a piss break. River decided it was his opportunity to introduce himself to the session musicians. It had been too long since he talked to anyone and musicians were always rad. The sounded engineers were too wrapped up in a conversation that sounded boring . It was the perfect opportunity for him to sneak into the other side of the booth. The drummer and bassist gave him an apprehensive look when he walked into the studio but didn't say anything. He would introduce himself to them if he had time but his attention was drawn to the guy on the weird keyboard thing. The man had a shirt with the first three buttons undone underneath a leather jacket. His shirt was white with various blue and pink geometric shapes. What River noticed from where he was sitting behind the soundboard were curls cascading down past his shoulders. Now that River was closer he could see that he had a hoop earring and smaller silver hoops further up his ear. He was cool in a way River couldn't describe when he was seven and for reasons he couldn't put his finger on

"Hello River greeted, enthusiastically.

The weird not quite piano player took a drag from his cigarette before replying."Hey" He answered with a bemused expression.

“I really like your earring. You look like a pirate”

“Hope you're not trying to say I look evil.”

"Oh no, not all pirates are evil. Some pirates in movies are actually nice but they're fighting a mean government.”

“It's always good to fight mean governments.”

“What does this do?” River asked, pointing at the weird not quite piano.”It looks like a piano but it makes noises that sound like a robot singing.”

“It's a synthesizer. It's basically an electronic piano and you can change the settings to make it produce a range of sounds. Do you want to have a quick go?”

River nodded excitedly. The synth player stood up and gestured for River to hop on the stool. He put his foot on the pedal to adjust the height once River sat down. River pressed a sequence of keys and squealed in delight at the sounds it made.

The music room was silent. River stared down at the piano keys. He breathed in deeply. It should have been easy to press a key. He had done it countless times before. But it didn't feel right. His limbs felt heavy and music didn't sound the same anymore. It was as if how wrong his life felt without his parents extended into music as a concept. Every note seemed out of tune. He lifted his right hand up and it hovered over the piano, shaking slightly. If he pressed a key he would feel like he was betraying his parents. He couldn't have music without them. He felt like he shouldn't have been in Woodrow's music room. He thought he shouldn't be at Woodrow at all. He wanted to go home. He wanted his parents back. He felt the tears begin to fall and it was difficult to breathe. He jumped off the stool on shaky legs before kicking it over.

[coldshinypearl]

FEM! SAKAMAKI SHUU HEADCANONS

physical appearance

Long blond-orangey silky hair, straight but always slightly curled on the ends.

Big dreamy blue eyes but always kept shut from her coping mechanism sleeping.

one inch or two shorter but still towers above some of her sisters.

pale and soft white skin with some almost invisible bruises on her neck because of the choker she wears.

tired and soft body language, her touch feels cold and refreshing.

smells like orchids and violin varnish, sugary but still has that subtone of toxicness.

her voice really low (rarely speaks up, too bothersome.) and not too much acute, feels like clean notes on choir when she talks.

long lashes and a natural pinkish tint on her cheeks.

nails always slightly grown but not too much, and if you get close enough you’ll see some signs shaped like lines on her fingertips from the violin’s cords.

slender, long arms and straight knees, long neck.

personality

A tired brat.

Spoiled and selfish, expects everyone around her to be quiet and stand still, like statues.

likes to be alone and always leaves the room when someone joins her.

you’ll see her sitting in the garden or her room.

Always calm and quiet, but still bratty and evil.

gets annoyed if someone asks her too much questions about something, and has her own ways to alarm the poor soul that dares to talk to her that they’re being annoying.

constantly changing her position, eyelids trembling and changing the song on her tiny mp3.

frowns and complains always, and the biggest hypocrite.

because she will complain if the new sacrificial groom tries to keep her company, but also whines if he’s not giving her physical attentions.

like sleeping in the same bed as her (his bed) or not being her personal carriage. (meaning that he’ll have to carry her on his back everywhere.)

ignores all of the arrangements that she gets set up into.

(when someone tries to discuss her how she HAS to get married and have heirs in order to rule the clan, she just slips off like ice.)

and likes to be a burden to her biological little sister ;).

relationships

fem!Reiji: LOVES to annoy her in any way possible, she’s more like a chill hater, she knows how much fem!Reiji hates her and uses that to get any reaction from her, will slap her ass if she’s passing by the kitchen and fem!Reiji is cooking, and if she sees that she’s having some moments she’ll comment : “Gosh i thought proper ladies never have unpleasant reactions~”.

fem!Ayato: Usually she’ll just make up stories to her or play along her silly little “fights”.

fem!Kanato: She kind of creeps her out, and tries to understand how humans are disgusting but cabbage patch cursed dolls are cute, but making some actual effort to understand her likings is too bothersome.

fem!Laito: In a strange way she’s a little frightened of her too… Like the way she lures guys into her arms to just squeeze all the hope off their brains like oranges, but still sees that under all that perverse behavior and exaggerated sexual body language, there’s still that little cute girl that she rarely met when they were still childs.

fem!Subaru: would be her favorite sister, since she’s the youngest and probably fem!Subaru would tell her the tiniest informations about her mother… For as much different they are, they like to stand quietly next to the other.

[slipknotfallon]

I had to write a thriller short story for English, could you guys tell me if it's good or not? Tysmm <33

Cold. All I felt was cold. I have been held captive in this dark basement ever since the 24th of December. I have no idea what hour or day it is now, but I don't care anymore, I don't think I ever did in the first place. I remember the day I went missing; it was during a meet and greet with Santa at the Riverside Mall, I'll never forget it. 

I remember waiting in line, watching all the boys and girls in front of me sit on the stout man's lap and whisper what they wanted underneath the tree. I wished what the average 9 year old would, a new Cabbage Patch Kids doll to complete the collection I had at home. I was about 30 feet away from the king of Christmas himself when suddenly I felt my arm being aggressively yanked and my body being dragged to a nearby storage closet. I didn't have enough time to react, considering I tend to faint when being snuck up on, I remember mom telling me it was something called Vasovagal Syncope. 

Because of the sudden scare, I felt my body become numb as I felt my conciseness slip. Oh, how I wish mom hadn't gone to the bathroom a few minutes prior to be there with me. And when I awoke, all I felt was the cold air chilling my skin to the point of goosebumps. I don't remember what all has happened since then, I don't remember much of anything anymore, all I remember is my mother’s face, and I'm starting to forget what that even looks like. But I do remember one thing, no one coming down the broken stairs to feed me, no one giving me anything to go to the bathroom in, just nothing. I'm surprised at how long I've survived down here; I've just spent my days talking with the rats in the walls or using a broken pipe to carve tic tac toe on the walls. 

But suddenly I heard a knock, it sounded like a door! But it's not the door lying at the top of the steps, it's something on the outside. I stare at the door, paint chipping from its broken frame, and I... hear something. It's like footprints on a wooden floor, and then there's a loud scream, it sounds like a man, "What the heck are you doing in my house?! You need a warrant to be here!". I listen in, still standing in the middle of the dark basement. "Where is she?!" another man shouts, then there's commotion and... glass breaking. The men must be fighting and knocking things down. "Could one of those men be my captor?" I ask myself as I back against the wall in fear. The footsteps become clearer, louder, and suddenly the door is kicked open! 

There's a policeman standing at the top of the steps, his flashlight shaking in his hand as he pulls his walkie talkie out of his belt. The poor man looks like he's seen a ghost, am I that hard to look at? "Finally, thank you so much, sir! I can finally go back to my mama!" I exclaim, running towards the man with open arms. As my arms attempt close around him, I realize something, my arms went right through him... My body falls forward, landing behind the man, which causes me to hit the ground with a thud. “What was that?” I ponder to myself. As I turn around to face the man, I see him staring at something. I walk beside him and gaze down at what his eyes are fixated on. I watch in horror as the man clicks a button on his walkie talkie and says, "Chief, we've got a body down here, it seems to have been rotting for years now. It looks horrible, we'll have to DNA test it." 

Do NOT be afraid to criticize anything, I want all the advice I can get to improve my writing journey! :)

[rorywritesjunk]

I JUST REMEMBERED ANOTHER ELEMENTARY SCHOOL TIDBIT

Only because I'm still mad about it to this day.

Now, I don't exactly remember the name of my doll. But our teacher had given us a print to work with. I think it was to draw a picture of whatever and write something about it. Well, at the time I had a bunk bed (yet I'm an only child and had zero sleepovers)

Not important though. I chose one of my favorite dolls. I be live it was one of those cloth ones with the yarn for hair, not quite sure. Now, I named this doll myself. I know for a damn fact I spelled her name right.

My teacher had crossed it out and respelled it. I've been mad ever since.

(Yet I can't remember to eat half the time but I'm 18 and remember random bits from my childhood at random times)

This brings me to another memory. We had a spelling test but our teacher talked us through it. Since, well, it was a spelling test. It couldn't exactly have been written. But when she asked us to spell together, she accidentally spelled/sounded it out. And that's how I've always remembered how to spell together. To-get-her.

My mom used to make me use the back of the paper that had the words we needed time spell on it (so we could prepare for the spelling test) and I had to write each word five times. I didn't like it but then again who likes homework 💀

Teachers are wild tho about spelling sometimes. Also I love that your doll was named after you. Did it have a plastic head because it sounds like a cabbage patch doll (I still have mine!)