#also the way they were allowed to be scared in more than a cartoonish way. like. they were so freaked in that episode. it was great!

[mbat]

also fuck everything else about an adult adaptation of scooby doo, i just want one so theyre allowed to curse and show blood and stuff like they did in scoobynatural. like. i didnt realize how i wanted that until i saw it

[collar-shocked]

Axe'ing the hard questions. (THE SINDAY SPECIAL)

Authors note: So. My history on this website, from like.. Age 15 'til now, I've been SFW and lurk-friendly to all audiences. (Only for the most part, in my later years.) This is my first time publishing content with sexual tones, and actively participating in Sinday! Rejoice!! Crossing my fingers I make a good first impression😅

TLDR: Strade can't control his aggression upon finding his fox in distress, threatened by his dime-a-dozen prisoner. Not only is he quick to remind them of that, but Ren is quick to remember who holds his leash.

He's so weak.

Ren, hiding away in his room, stayed curled up with his arms around his stomach in bed, completely under the covers. He hasn't been allowed to eat for the past two days after mindlessly ruining some of Strade's furniture, and then resisting upon a rightful punishment- something he terribly regrets. He was just scared. He doesn't blame him at all. A man does what a man has to do, even if it's hard- the bad must be punished.

And boy, has he gone from bad to terrible.

Filthy guilt plagues him as he begins to think. His stomach pinches in distress, it's too much to bear any longer! He has to find something to eat! Crawling from his bed, he stumbled his light feet to the door, peeking out with his ears pinned against his head. Strade should be busy... He knows his schedule by now.

And also knows he made quick work of someone new.

He tip-toed downstairs, ears flicking against the distant noises picked up in the other room. A bead of sweat rests against his temples knowing the risk he's taking. Quietly, he slipped away into the under-door, creeping down the dark steps. This is something he has become adjusted to when Strade decides to withhold food- and he is none the wiser. The bodies usually have enough damage to be able to scrape from and have it go completely unnoticed. Something to sustain himself until mercy is given..

The silence invites him in. Holding his hands nervously, he began to sniff the air, the scent of blood drawing him in like a cartoonish hand made out of aroma. Before him lies the body of a person, horribly mutilated, with many of Strade's signatures littered throughout their beaten form. It hurt his heart. At least, wherever they've gone, they know that something good has come from their early-parting. He is thankful, and very grateful for their sacrific-

"Eee-!!"

He jumped back in a panic- they're still alive!! Ren felt his joints begin to shake all at once, watching them groggily sit up and moan hopelessly. He shook and shuddered as his eyes began to sting, becoming wet. They stared at each other in mutual confusion.

"...Wh-.. What.. Who are you? What are those?.." They asked, voice coarse and worn.

Ren wasn't sure if he should even respond. However... "..My.. My ears? A-And my tail? ..Yeah, they are real." This was.. Nice. A normal conversation. "I- um.. I can put them away, too. But I'm not really.. Allowed to do that.."

The stranger scanned him curiously. It made him nervous, but they were calm. Quiet. A very nice change of pace. The moment their eyes ran over his legs, it seems like their features had softened, spotting his decorated legs. "..I see. So, what?.. You're like.. An animal?"

"..Kind of. I'm a beastkin.." Ren turned his eyes downward, picking at his cuticles.

"Well.. It's.. Nice to meet you. I'm Bl-" Suddenly, a coughing fit. It made Ren jump and step back, looking on with sympathy. Blood left their lips. "..I'm Blake."

"I-I'm Ren.."

"Hi, Ren.." From this point on, the two carried a very brief, quiet conversation. Ren declined help, but had offered a glass of water. Anything to soothe them in a way that wouldn't get him skinned. He thought it was going well. They were pretty polite, and they talked to him like a friend. Someone who understands.

Suddenly, once it was made aware that Ren can do no more than he's already done, the stranger flicked a finger at him, gesturing to come closer. "I wanna talk to you about something... But you need to come close." The fox followed. In fact, he came close, but was then beckoned even closer. He leaned in to hear- hoping for.. I don't know. An escape plan? A way out?

But then he saw a flash of silver, and felt a hard tear to his skin.

He yelped loudly and jumped back, holding his arm as blood dripped to the floor faster than his tears did. He sniffled and cried, observing his wound, then the captive, then the wound, and back again. His crying only intensified, now stuttering. He's scared. He's so scared. He's so hurt, and betrayed, and scared.

"S-Strade.." He mumbled.

"N-No! Don't you dare!"

"Strade-! STRADE!! STRADE!!" He didn't know what else to do. He's so very frightened! All he wants, all he needs right now is protection- someone to hide behind, to save him. He began howling for his white knight, to Blake's dismay. The louder he yelled, the more he cried.

"No no no! You little shit! Shut up! SHUT UP!!" They shouted back, lunging forward- being stopped only by the restraints.

The sudden launch made Ren stumble back and sob loudly. He would have ran to the stairs if not for the door swinging open, quick-paced and heavy steps coming down. His savior.. "Str- Strade! Help me-!" The bigger man got to the bottom of the stairs, immediately pulling Ren aside to look him over.

"What's-?" He saw the tears. He saw the blood. The air in the room darkened. "You touched my fox?!" He was seeing red. Blinded by possessive rage. Strade stormed across the room, grabbing an axe from the wall.

Seeing his fast approach and look of pure, unfiltered hatred in his eyes made the captive squirm in their place. They panicked, attempting to hide behind the pole they've gotten to know so well- to no avail. They couldn't even get a scream out before the thick metal was lodged into their face, blood working like a fountain as their body slumps over, leaving Ren and Strade alone to take in the soft sound of spewing, and crying. They looked at each other, urging Ren to step away- far away. Making about six feet between them.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry- I'm really sorry!" He immediately went into defensive-mode. Apologizing with the water-works, hoping the other will, for some reason, hold no malice against his bad behavior due to pity. But he knows better than that.

"Stop it!" Strade shouted, the other silencing himself to the best of his abilities. He was going to go into it. Just rip into him about being down here at all, remind him of where he stands in this relationship- but something felt wrong, watching Ren sniffle and whimper while tending to his bloodied wound. He groans. "..Come on. Come here.. I'll fix you.."

His tone seemed safe enough. Ren approached slowly and carefully, allowing Strade to take his hand and lead him upstairs. They went to the bathroom, where Ren took a seat on the toilet, Strade retrieving a clean first aid from the medicine cabinet before finding a spot next to the other. Ren sniffled and offered his arm up to be looked at.

He was washed, sewn up and sanitized, all by the gentle hand of his caretaker. To calm his foxes nerves, he brought a hand over, beginning to pet his ear. "That's it.." Strade cooed, tilting his head as he watched Ren begin to settle. It's so calm in this room. A traumatic experience, a savior and his savee, treating Ren well and taking care of him. He could tell Ren liked it too, the way he leaned into his touch.

But he still misbehaved.

That gentle rub on the beasts ear became a tight grip. Ren yelped, being pulled from the toilet into the corner. He whimpered in fear and squirmed to sit up, raising his hands in defense- not that it helped. Strade gave a swift, hard kick to his ribs, earning a loud, pathetic cry of pain. "What the fuck were you doing down there?!"

"I-I'm-!"

Another kick. Ren has been winded.

"What? You're sorry? No you're not! Not yet!"

Tears stream from his eyes as he coughs out a cry, still using his arms to guard his head and face, curling further in the corner to find some kind of solace. He can't even begin to imagine what Strade has in mind for a wrongdoing such as that. Strade then got down and grabbed him, forcibly dragging him over despite his cries and begs. A stitch or two off his arm were snagged and broken in the struggle, causing him to bleed. A sight that was.. Very interesting.

He lifted the smaller up- his feet left the floor for only a moment. Soon after, Ren felt the cold, hard impact of the bathtub, being dropped down into it. He was dazed, and his weakness persists- A hand finding his head to rub away the ringing. Sorrowful, desperate eyes plead into Strade's own, whimpering in his new enclosure. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry, I didn't mean to upse-et you-"

"Sit up! Now!" He didn't have to say it twice. He watched the fox, wobbly and shaking weak as he sat up in the tub, looking up at him with the same sad, pathetic face he always does. He once again reached, but not with cuddly or violent intent- instead running his thumb along the others chin, then bottom lip- then finally, into his mouth. "You've been so bad lately. What's going on, huh? Why such'a naughty boy?.."

A way out. Ren shuddered beneath the others new mood. Self-perseverance is important. He sadly hummed and, hoping to lead the other along, began to lightly suckle on his finger, a blush of sheer humiliation bridging his features. Strade's eyes lit up with potential.

"..Is that it?" There was a chuckle in his voice. "You just want attention?" His suggestion was met with a shy nod. Strade took his finger back, snickering as he began toying with Ren's ears instead. He almost shied away from his touch, but- they're sensitive. It's so easy to fall for. "Maybe it's my fault.. Maybe I wasn't as present as I should have been.. Is that right?" Ren was hesitant to answer, but even so, he nodded. He's enjoying the attention.

He feels special. Like he's the worlds idol. Examining his keeper, he can hear Strade taking deep, slow breaths, and can see his pants have tightened. His bottom lip slipped under his teeth. "That's.. Right.." Spoken barely above a whisper, scooting up to hover the others hips, his eyes asking. Strade understood, a sharp smiling finding his face.

The hand Strade used to rub Ren's ear moved, gripping his hair instead and pulling his face in- cheek resting against his pants, Ren releasing a brief grunt. It isn't very often he gets to indulge in regular, common, arguably vanilla sex, so it's an occurrence cherished. "Mmmm..." A low hum, watching Ren's hand come up, resting gripped on his belt. "You're hungry, aren't you?" A pleading nod. But that's not good enough. His hair was gripped tighter, head lightly shook. "Aren't you?"

"Y-Yes.."

"Mm, sure you are~.." He began to grind against his face, making the foxes mouth drop open- hearty breathing coming from his throat.

"P-Please, please-" The longer Strade is distracted, the longer he is safe. And yet... He can't help but play his own game. This man, with his pretty honey eyes and rough, vile hands has a way of capturing him whole. His thighs are pinched together and rotating, grinding the air as warm, romantic feelings tickle his special-spots. He did this to avoid Strade putting his hands on him- but now, it's all he wants.

"Ooh.. I would love too. But you've been bad, haven't you?" He pulled the beasts face off of him.

He whines loudly. "I'll be good, I'll be good from now on I promise-! Just- Please, Strade, please, please-" Though he says he'll behave, Ren finds himself pulling against Strade's hand in favor of nuzzling back into his trousers, feeling the shapes underneath twitch upon contact. Strade hissed and began unbuckling his belt, making Ren smile wider than he had the whole week. "Th-Thank you-"

---SMUT WARNING !!!---

(Will be safe at next red barrier!!!)

-

-

"-Don't start that yet, tod." He spoke in malice. He knows Ren can't control himself, mouth practically watering at the idea of being presented with his shaft. But as he pulled his pants and briefs down- member bobbing- he leaned away from the beastkin. Hearts formed in Ren's eyes, Strade lightly hissed at the cold air. And... Torment. Ren reached and grabbed hold, only to receive a loud slap in response. "I said don't start any of that! You still don't have permission."

Ren began to nod, rubbing his thighs together with short, quiet whimpers slipping from his lips. "Wh-What do I have to do?"

Strade leaned down and removed the others glasses, setting them aside before resting his heavy, warm shaft on his face, lightly dragging it up and down. Ren gasped in delight, squeezing hold on the bathtub. "I want you to admit what you've done wrong. Tell me.. Why were you downstairs?"

"I-I-" Oh god. If he says anything, he could get punished twice as hard later on. But he can't lie! ...He swallowed his fear. "I we-went down to pick at the body, I-I'm so hungry, Strade.."

"You're hungry?"

"I'm hungry.."

He felt Strade continue to rub. He pulled his member lower, bringing a hand to help guide his tip to Ren's mouth. "Then eat.."

Permission. Almost immediately, Ren opened his mouth wide and closed it around his 'caretakers' cock, suckling and whimpering with pleasure. He transitioned between sucking, to pumping, to licking- anything he could think of to consume this delicious, generous treat he's been given. Above, Strade couldn't keep his mouth shut, softly groaning into the air- feeling Ren's soft hands bury into his clothes to cup and massage his testicles. Leaning his hips forward while resting his hands on his hips, he simply stood and enjoyed as Ren worked. "Aahh... Tighter.." His voice was so gentle. Ren began to squeeze down on his balls, rolling his thumbs into them while bobbing his head, humming with nothing but delight.

Ren's mind-fog was quickly cleared after feeling Strade's brute hands find the back of his head. He could hardly get a thought in before his throat was forced open, immediately gagging against the others skin. His full length was dragging in and out of Ren's mouth, uncontrollably moaning and whining in both distress and pleasure. His claws gripped his keepers hips to cope, listening closely to Strade's rough husky grunts and gasps- he's close.

And yet, deprived him of climax.

He pulled out before he could blow, leaving Ren's mouth with a pop. Both of them panting, one much harder than the other, made way for Strade to continue. "Stand up." He ordered, watching Ren and his shaky legs lift himself up. "Turn around." He gestured a spinning motion with his hand, stepping into the tub with him. He shoved the fox against the wall and held him there by the nape of his neck, forcing his shorts down- leaving Ren to sigh lovingly, poking his butt out for attention- attention he got quick. Strade stepped close and forced himself inside, Ren gripping the tiles on the wall, burying a yell into his arm at the rough, burning sensation. It hurt like a bitch, but it also felt so good to be filled.

"Arm down!" An order that didn't have to be spat twice. Ren moved his arm and rolled his neck, beginning to moan and cry into the open air, coating over the sound of skin smacking skin. He was bleeding, but it made for excellent lubricant- only making Strade faster, slamming into him stronger, forcing him still with a hand gripping Ren's hip, his other pulling tight on his tail.

He loved the sound of his helpless howls. The pain mixed with the pleasure- his punishment for misbehaving, and his reward for being honest. They stayed like this for several minutes. The pain had eventually melted away into overwhelming, vibrant enjoyment, Ren grabbing at the wall for some kind of support. Strade, feeling himself about to pop, came closer and dug his nails into Ren's hips, lifting his feet off the ground for a closer position, slamming and railing into his entrance while dry heaving under the others loud moans and pleasure-sobs. Strade let out a deep, coarse growl as he came, filling Ren up enough to leak once he pulled out.

His knees shivered. About to lean for his shorts to finish up, Ren was interrupted- Strade forcibly turning him around- now facing each other. "Take a seat." He gestured to the toilet. Back to square one. Shuffling weakly out of the tub, he plopped down on the toilet lid, looking to the older man for further instructions. He was told to stay. Strade fixed his clothing and exited the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He is still hungry. And now his body hurts- still shaking off the after-jitters. In a way, he feels disappointed in himself. How easily he caved, welcoming with open arms another way for this man to hurt him. It was almost sad. Almost.

Soon enough, Strade rejoined him, a handheld camera in hand. Ren knows the differences between his personal and "professional" filming equipment- solace coming from knowing this little thing is personal. it was filming, and it was on him. "Touch yourself.. Finish for me.." His breath was laced throughout his words.

Happily.

Ren shuddered and lightly grabbed his own member, still hard and undone. He whined upon stroking himself, panting softly- wearing the best suitable expression for Strade's pretty movie. His voice became light and pampered, spreading his knees and holding his hips out for the best view, releasing short moans, one for every tight pump. Strade wore a devious grin, hardly watching the camera screen, keeping his eyes locked directly onto Ren instead, infatuated with the ridges along his cock, the pretty, shiny bead of precum resting off his tip. His sounds became more desperate, a hopeless buck of his hips- rolling his head back to rest. Soon enough, his body began to jerk and flinch, voice sounding strained and whiny- and finally, a pop, releasing thick strings of semen onto the floor. Strade breathed deeply as a result. The camera, after getting a shot of the mess on the tiles and Ren's blushing face, was shut off and tucked away.

-

-

---SMUT OVER. SAFETY ZONE !!!---

Strade took extra care in cleaning each of them up, resewing some plucked stitches during the excitement for his fox. Dressed, tired, entirely worn out, and emotionally exhausted, Ren clung to his keeper, being carried to the master bedroom. This is a rare moment of calm. Stillness. He was set down upon the bed, Strade moving back for him to get cozy on his own. It's always such a privilege laying in this specific bed. It smells like him.. He can find loose hair on the pillows, discarded, not-yet-washed laundry in the hamper- despite the crimes that have been committed on this mattress, it still brings him comfort.

Ren was then left alone. Just.. Allowed to sleep in the big bed. Allowed to rest up and recover after such violence, and the trauma of betrayal. Looking at the patched wound on his arm, he can't help but feel his eyes sting, snuggling into the pillow to soothe himself.

Ren was not a person right now. Not to Strade. He was something to enjoy. Like taking your favorite stuffed animal to bed with you, this is exactly what he did- arriving back to the room with a bowl of snacks, making the foxes ears perk up. He nestled into bed next to him, inviting a cuddle- and a pick at the bowl. "Don't be greedy, now. Eat something.."

Snuggling in bed. Watching TV. Running by a 'one for you, two for me' policy on the treats- not that Ren minded, he got to have something in his belly. It was... Nice. It won't last long, he knows it won't- but for the time he has it, a nice Strade, he's going to enjoy it.

[that-thing-that-feeling]

I rewatched all of ST before watching s4 and god it’s painful how much they forgot who the characters are. Rewatching s1 and genuinely the scenes with Joyce and Jonathan are excellent and really raw and speak to the realities of how much circumstances plague the Byers both supernatural and mundane and that feeling of doing your best to keep it together while drowning. Also I cannot believe we have never once gotten to see the impact of planning a funeral had on Jonathan. People talk a lot about guilt about Barb driving Nancy and kinda strong armed the writers into giving it more weight but I wish the same would be done with Jonathan. I also really think the writers needing to stop trying to pander to fanon and instead write a compelling story. Bc I think it cheats so many actors from getting to display depth. Like let Steve have more growth and be flawed in different ways, stop sending Joyce to Russia to have meh banter with a strangely unrecognizable action figure Hopper who delivers Marvel speeches while wielding a sword, and let Jonathan have scenes!! Also got take but Eddie is a pretty boring character and the fact that the differs chose to do a cartoonish take on freaks vs popular kids instead of an analysis on how Hawkins is a town trying to understand multiple violent tragedies and allowing grief to lead them into hatred. Also I think it would’ve been nice if they cut the Russia plot line fully bc it’s fully removed from the emotional heart of a small town tragedy and had Joyce with the Cali gang(imagine the way Argyle could’ve been a real character and we could’ve seen Joyce talk about her kids) but have Jonathan go to Hawkins. His visit coincides with the murders, he’s been at the center of multiple deaths, hell you could easily have people claiming he made a deal with the devil to bring will back to life. You have Steve and Jonathan and Nancy and Robin interacting showing the ways they’ve grown, especially S and J, where it would be an interesting call back to S1. To have them actually discuss that Steve did say the same things and what moving on looks like. Idk man I think that it’s a waste to make a reformed jock character fight to save an outcast from a group of popular kids and then literally not use the preexisting turning point for the reformation(Steve’s fight with Jonathan ). Sorry this is very long I just have so many questions as to why S4 made the stupidest decisions.

There were def some frustrating choices in s4! I liked how we finally got into the mythology of the UD and the El plus Henry/Vecna reveal, that Nancy was given a strong plot, lumax, the Jonathan and Will scene. But I thought the pacing was absurd, there was too little time given to the Cali plotline to fully develop it even though there was so much potential to it. Idk I think the Russia plot needed to be there for some Hopper redemption, Jopper, and fighting the hive mind, but it dragged way too much, spent too much time on Yuri, and Joyce was kept away from the Byers for too long and should have stayed in Cali longer. I think everything with Eddie is kind of a mess for the show bc he’s overshadowed all mains and it means they have to spend time in the final season devoted to a new character bc they were scared to kill off a main. I really don’t think the final season of the show should be spending a lot of time on Dustin mourning Eddie. I think Jonathan needed to be in Cali, but then they ridiculously underused him. So I def understand some of the frustrations, altho I did like the ending/cliffhanger. But it is just such a different show than s1, and I miss emotional character writing, especially the kind they had for the Byers.

[whumpingcrow]

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 11

The Art of the Crash

CW: bbu and everything in relation to that, drugs/alcohol (explicit), noncon drug use, aftermath of drug use, vomit mention, food mention, discussion of noncon, dubcon kissing, conditioned/trained responses from whumpee, brief mention of suicide (vague), dehumanizing language/themes (let me know if I missed anything!)

Gio slept well into the afternoon the next day. Nicko let him, he knew from experience with Rory that there was an inevitable crash that followed the highs, and he'd spent quite a few days ignoring her sleeping body on his bed, usually it ended in her getting up only to vomit and then cry to Nicko about how shitty life was. So this time, with Gio, he waited in the bedroom with him until that happened. He finished the painting he'd started the night before. He had to refrain himself from waking Gio up to see it. Then he sat on the floor and sketched more, using Gio's face pressed against his dark pillow case and the dull light of sun through snow clouds dancing across his face as inspiration. He didn't draw the bruises or the hickeys, found himself strangely jealous over them both. He kept the tattoos, because those belonged to him, and Giovanni's adorable crooked tooth, and his messy, wavy hair that splayed out across the pillow and his face. Nicko couldn't wait for him to wake up so he could draw him with bed head.

When Gio finally woke up, it wasn't to throw up or to complain about the nightmare of his life crumbling around him, not that Nicko would've blamed him, but to the sound of some music that Nicko had put on quietly to help him focus, deciding to work on some long put off art assignments. Nicko didn't notice that he woke up, and Gio rubbed his eyes just a little and glanced over Nicko's shoulder to see the bright array of colors across his page, dark marker scribbling purposefully against the paper. He was enthralled for a moment, then he turned his focus up to the large canvas he'd caught a darkened glimpse of last night, and he gasped sharply.

Nicko swiveled around to look at him, eyes blown wide like seeing Gio conscious was jarring. It made him wonder how long he'd been out. "Oh. You're awake."

Gio glanced at him for a second, then turned his attention back to the painting. The painting of him, sleeping in bed, lost in a world of blankets. He pushed himself up to his elbows with a wince. "Is...is that me?" He whispered.

Nicko looked back at the painting in question, smiling bashfully to himself. "Uh, yeah. Yeah you were just...you look nice in my bed." He fought the blush creeping up his cheeks, the embarrassment was uncomfortably new. He didn't know why he was embarrassed, just that suddenly he was the one who couldn't make eye contact with Gio. The switch in dynamic was painfully tangible to both of them, with Nicko on the ground, cheeks rosy and face turned away, and Gio sitting on the bed, looking down at him. With a yawn, Gio pushed the blankets off of him and stood up.

Nicko watched him closely, surprised that he hadn't hurled already. Then, as if on queue, he closed his eyes and swayed forward, bringing his hands up to his head with a groan. Before he can tip over, Nicko is up on his feet next to him, placing strong hands on his shoulders to hold him steady. "Are you ok?"

Gio dropped his hands, blinking a few times before squinting up at Nicko. "Dizzy." He looked a little dazed, his face pale, and Nicko crouched down on the floor, gently pulling him down with him. Gio easily knelt, body soft and easily movable, as always. Once Gio was all the way on the floor, hunched over just a little to make himself smaller, as if he wasn't already pathetically tiny already, Nicko ran his hand up his neck, across his jaw.

"I'm gonna go make you something to eat. Ok? You wait right here."

Gio nodded eagerly, towards Nicko's hand, his huge vacant doe eyes gazing up at him through his curtain of hair. Nicko had been right, his curly hair was framing his head in a dark halo, and he had a sudden sense of urgency to get some food in him so he could draw him. Nicko smiled at him, patting his head softly as he stood straight.

Salem was in the kitchen when Nicko came out, and they both froze awkwardly in their places when they saw each other. Nicko nodded at him as he passed, opening the fridge and grabbing a bowl of fruit and a protein shake, then deciding last minute to also palm a bottle of water. When Nicko shut the fridge, Salem was standing a couple feet away watching him.

"He woke up?" Salem asked.

"Yeah. I think he's ok, just hungry." Nicko hesitated, they both looked at each other, then away, then Nicko sighed. "You wanna come? I think he'd like to see you."

Salem lit up just a little, straightening his posture and smiling to himself. "Sure."

When the door opened, Gio flinched upright from where he'd been leaning over just a little, looking at Nicko's sketchbook, at the cartoonish portrait of a woman he had been drawing. He turned to see Nicko standing in the doorway, Salem a couple steps behind him. Gio couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

They both came in and joined him on the floor. Nicko opened the bowl of fruit and set it in front of Gio, but he wasn't paying much attention, watching Nicko's face apprehensively. He knew from observing that Salem and Nicko weren't particularly fond of each other, he'd heard them fighting before, and he was a little worried to show any attention to Salem in case it came across as disloyal. He couldn't afford anymore mistakes, when it came to Nicko.

Nicko sensed it, and opened the water bottle and forced it into Gio's hand as he said, "Salem was waiting for you to wake up like a kid on Christmas. He missed you."

Salem laughed awkwardly, shifting where he sat. "Yeah. It sucked not having anyone to show my lame music to."

Gio was grinning ear to ear at them both, but he said nothing. Truthfully, he didn't really understand what they were talking about, didn't remember what Christmas or lame meant, but he was happy to have them speaking to him anyway. Salem only stayed for a few minutes, then he told them he had to get to class. When he said goodbye to Gio, he gave him a soft pat on the top of the head, like Nicko kept doing, and Gio smiled up at him as he left. Nicko wondered why Salem wasn't Gio's favorite. He was at least nice.

Once he was gone, Nicko picked up a block of fruit, mango maybe, and gently coaxed it into Gio's mouth since he hadn't eaten any yet. Then he reached for his sketch book and his pencils, moving so he was squared up to Gio, who looked a little nervous when Nicko's pencil started scratching across the paper.

"So you were with Rory, huh?" Nicko asked. He kept his tone light, he knew that Gio was anxious enough around him already, could see his face get a little more horrified every time Nicko's voice was a little too loud, too harsh.

He nodded stiffly, only once, then moved very slowly to eat a strawberry. He knew Nicko was drawing him, he was trying to be as still as he could be. He was too cute.

"And how was that?"

Nicko thought he heard Giovanni huff in disdain at the question, and he looked up to see his face screwed up in a tight frown, like it pained him to think about. Nicko sighed, then kept drawing.

"You can tell me as much or as little as you want, Gio. It's just...you don't look too good. I just want to know how she hurt you so I can help." His pencil froze on the paper when Gio reached up and covered his eyes for a second, then he hastily dropped them back to his lap like he remembered he was supposed to be sitting still.

"She told me she was gonna bring me back," he whispered, voice trembling painfully as he thought back to that day, how stupid he was, "she wouldn't tell me where we were going, but she just kept saying she would bring me back before anyone noticed I was gone."

"Ben called me right after you left, I think."

Gio frowned at him. The entire time he'd been wishing that Ben would come out and stop Rory from taking him, and he had called Nicko right after he left? Why did he wait? Gio bit back his frustrated tears, then continued on.

"We went to this guys house. Oscar." Gio flinched as the name passed his lips, then shook his head to himself. "The entire time we were driving she was drinking and smoking, and so I was too. I tripped at some point and made my nose bleed, so he let us in so Rory could clean me off. Then she was talking about...about buying something. From Oscar."

Nicko knew the name, he'd met him only once before, but he knew that he was huge and even more of an asshole than Nicko was. He was the one Rory always went to for her hard shit, which Nicko hated so he hadn't accompanied her after the first time. He stopped drawing altogether, setting his sketchbook down and moving closer to Gio, who was now shaking all over.

"She didn't have enough money, I guess, and uh...um." He couldn't look at Nicko anymore, turning his head away from him completely. He couldn't bare to see Nicko's face when he admitted to the horrible, unfaithful things he did. Giovanni knew he belonged to Nicko and only Nicko, and he was absolutely disgusted in himself for having allowed Oscar or Rory or the motel owner or any of the others to do what they did to him. "He wanted her t-to pay a different way."

"Oh, shit, Gio."

"Only she didn't want to," he continued, "and she was scared, and I didn't want her to be scared so...so when she asked me to do it instead, I-I did."

Nicko was stunned into silence, eyes instinctively dropping to the mess of hickeys all over Gio's frail neck. It was heartbreaking, thinking of Gio feeling the need to protect Rory like that, especially when he was the one that needed protection. It was even more heartbreaking to think of him under Oscar, who Nicko had no doubt had ripped Gio to shreds with their size difference.

Gio was only more frightened at Nicko's lack of reply. Silence meant anger, silence meant that Master was thinking very hard, something Gio was too stupid to do, and more often than not, silence meant brutal, meticulously planned punishment. So Gio did what he was best at: he started to beg.

"Sir, I'm so sorry, I know I'm yours, I shouldn't have ever let them touch m-me." He looked up at Nicko, then his composure broke and he let out a tiny whimper before crawling over to him. "L-Let me make it up to you, sir. Please, use me, let m-me be good for you. Please le-let me-"

"Gio, stop." Nicko was flustered by Gio crawling right up between his legs, trailing his trembling fingers over Nicko's leg suggestively. But all of it was happening rather quickly, too quickly for Nicko to react well, and Gio was freaking out, for whatever reason, so all he could do was sit still. And what was this "them" that Gio was talking about? Had it not just been Oscar that Rory handed the box boy over to? He wanted to ask, but he couldn't form the words, not when Gio was on his knees inbetween Nicko's legs.

"P-please! Please, sir. Wan-wanna be useful." Now his hand was brushing tentatively at his belt, over his zipper, and then Nicko reached down and snatched his wrist up tightly in his hand before he went any lower. Gio gasped, snapping his head up to look at Nicko. He was closer than either of them had realized, now that they were face to face they were inches apart. Gio's eyes were glazed over with something Nicko hadn't ever seen before, something that made them soft and dulled down more so than usual, but simultaneously had a sad glimmer of tears over it. Nicko had thought the huge, spaced out gaze Gio did at him sometimes was his version of puppy dog eyes, but that paled in comparison to the way he was looking at him now. Nicko would never admit it out loud, but it drove him absolutely crazy, to have someone looking at him with such gentle desperation.

"Stop calling me sir." Nicko instructed after a moment of silence. Gio didn't break his gaze, he only blinked a few times, and then he nodded. "I want you to say my name, when you beg like that. Alright?"

Giovanni melted in Nicko's grip, leaning forward just a little closer. "Nicko..." he breathed, and that was all it took. Nicko dropped his wrist and took his face in both of his hands, drawing a small whimper from him.

"I don't want to take your clothes off or use you, or anything like that." He whispered, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead against Gio's. "I just want to...try something. For one second. Ok, Giovanni?"

"Please, Nicko."

Gio held his breath right before Nicko kissed him, focusing on keeping himself still and soft and good for Nicko, but it all went out the window once their lips were actually pressed together. Gio had been burning for this since the first time Nicko had kissed him, but he was too afraid to ask and Gio always seemed to make him regret it anyways, so he didn't think there was much use hoping for it. And here he was, with Nicko holding him close, kissing him, just kissing him, and he was so nervous he was going to mess it up and not be good enough at it to make Nicko want him.

Nicko pulled away from him after only a couple of seconds, he laughed when Gio huffed in obvious displeasure. But he was calmer now, not panicking and calling him "sir" and saying all of those...other...disturbing things. So Nicko was satisfied.

"I seriously think you should eat, darling." He trailed his fingertips over Gio's jaw as he spoke, slowly pulling his hands away. "I'm worried you're gonna blow away if we go outside."

Gio sank back to sit down where he had been, picking up the bowl of fruit again and watching his hands tremble as he picked up another piece of the sweet orange-ish fruit Nicko gave him earlier. He couldn't force himself to put it in his mouth, knew he wouldn't be able to chew and swallow over the huge lump in his throat. Why didn't Nicko want him? Why wasn't Gio good enough for him? Maybe it was arrogant of him to think he was good enough, he should be humble, he should just keep trying harder until he actually was. But truthfully it wasn't hurtful because he thought he felt deserving, it was hurtful because he was scared. He wasn't good enough for his old master, he wasn't good enough for Rory, he wasn't even good enough to keep his old life. And he loved Nicko so, so, painfully much, he had finally found somewhere mostly safe and his master was perfect and if he wasn't good enough again then maybe Rory was right, and he should just give up, find a way out, like she said.

Nicko got a little freaked out at the way he could physically see Gio's crash start, he was a little unnerved to see his posture sink in a little, his throat bobbing up and down as he tried not to cry. He could see his thoughts spiraling, realizing that, damn, life kind of sucks, and it kind of always has and what if always does? By now, Rory would be a blubbering mess.

As if reading Nicko's mind, Gio started to sniffle, trying again to press the fruit to his lips, still unable to bite. If he opened his mouth, he might make a noise, and he just wanted to stop messing up already. But then, Nicko was sitting in front of him, gently grabbing his hand and taking the mango away from him, setting it back in the bowl for him. Then he grabbed Gio and pulled him into his lap, holding him close.

"You're ok, Gio." He told him. "I know, it hurts, I know, but I'm here, I've got you."

Giovanni let out a soft mewl, trying without much strength to squirm out of the comforting arms. He was terrified of the gentleness he so obviously didn't deserve, knew it could easily be used against him later. "I was so soft with you earlier," the warm body would say, "Don't you want me to do that again? I will, if you do this for me."

But this wasn't just a warm body, it wasn't his old Master, it wasn't the couple of guards who would visit his cold, concrete cell late at night long after training was over, it was Nicko. And Nicko didn't even want him in that way. Why didn't Nicko want him that way? "Nicko, please please u-use me. I-"

"Shh, Gio. I don't want to do that to you."

"Why?!" He sobbed out, fingers tightening into tight fists around Nicko's shirt. "Why d-don't you w-wa-want me?!"

Nicko gasped at his outburst, reflexively tightening his grip around him just a little. "Giovanni...I...shit. It's not about what I want, it's just that it would be, uh, different, with you. Like it wouldn't be the same as sex with a regular person cause you're uh...trained for it."

Just like that, the boy grew rigid and stopped shaking, leaning away from Nicko as much as he could. He just had to be reminded of his place, that was all. Nicko didn't want him because Nicko was a person, and Gio wasn't. Maybe Nicko just wanted him as something to practice art on, whether it be with the tattoo gun or painting him on a canvas or sketching him in his little notebook. As much as that hurt Gio, to know that he wasn't human enough for Nicko to want him back, he could live with being useful in that way for him.

"I'm sorry," Gio looked away from Nicko and up at the huge painting of him a few feet away. Nicko had done a wonderful job on it, he made Gio look small and pale and broken, like he was and felt he always would be. But Nicko had also done a good job of showcasing Gio as alone, swimming in an ocean of black fabric, isolated and untouched and useless. Like he was, and felt he always would be. "That was...out of line. I'm sorry."

"Gio, c'mon. Don't... Don't be all sad now. I do like you, I really do. I think you're the cutest thing ever." He reached out and grabbed onto a piece of his hair, twisting it somewhat playfully. "And you're a real good kisser, too. Honestly." Gio looked up at him, and Nicko grinned at him, trying to elicit some sort of positive reaction. Finally, Gio cracked a small, halfhearted smile, dropping his shoulders from how tense he was. "But I don't want to have sex with you cause it...you know, it means something different to us. You understand?"

Gio nodded slowly, forcing himself to take a deep, ragged breath. "Yeah, I understand."

Nicko leaned forward just a little and placed a soft kiss into his hair. "Good boy," he mumbled, "now eat your fruit so I can finish drawing you, yeah?"

The smile on Gio's face was genuine that time around, and he sat a little straighter. "Yes, Nicko." So Gio sat still, he watched Nicko scribble against his paper while glancing up at him every so often, and he ate his fruit. It wasn't what he wanted to do, but that didn't matter, he did it because he was told to, because Nicko wanted him to. Gio had once been told, in training, that as long as his master is happy, he should be to. He was seriously starting to wonder if he was broken, because it was seeming like he couldn't be happy at all, even as Nicko smiled at him over his notebook.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane

~^~

Tuesday, 18:47

Song: EDEN - how to sleep

Lucas seizes up as the front door opens, gathering himself up and pushing to his feet. If he does it naturally, he can probably slip to his room without his father protesting too much. He can probably excuse himself with homework. He won’t have to interact, not properly.

His plan would work perfectly, in normal circumstances. Normal circumstances just usually don’t involve running into a moving skeleton three steps into the hallway.

He’s mildly embarrassed by the squeak he lets out, and by the pitch of his voice as he screeches, “What the fuck?”

His father curses under his own breath, moving the skeleton flapping in his arms out of his face, and mutters, “Language.”

“Dad,” Lucas sputters as the dummy is shoved into his hands. “What the hell is this?”

Hugo ushers him back into the sitting room, following behind with shopping bags hanging heavily from his hands. He dumps them on the coffee table and takes the skeleton out of Lucas’s arms to prop him up on the couch, watching them with a gaping, toothy grin. “Halloween decorations.”

Lucas bites back the urge to sarcastically thank him for stating the obvious and chooses to further his question. “Why?”

After the scoldings Lucas has gotten over the past few weeks, watching his father turn to him with his hands on his hips is a rather nerve-wracking thing. The smile on his face, however, turns out to be the most disconcerting. “So we can decorate.”

“We?”

“I thought it would be something nice to do together,” Hugo shrugs.

Lucas blinks at him. He feels the need to tread cautiously. He’s very worried that he’s somehow being played, in an oddly surprising way. “But...Halloween is in four days.”

“Exactly.”

“Everyone else has had their houses decorated for weeks.”

“Yeah, but we’ve only been getting moved in. We have the best excuse.”

Lucas continues to stare at him.

Hugo sighs, rubbing his hand over his brow, gesturing at the skeleton. “Do you have to be such a moody teen over everything? I bought a skeleton, buddy.”

The old nickname softens Lucas a little bit. Just a little. He looks at the skeleton once more. Flimsy, about three-quarters the height of Lucas, black smudges dotting his gray-toned bones. The right number of ribs, missing a tooth (with another cracked), eye sockets deeply sunken. Just on the realistic side of cartoonish.

Lucas asks, “What’s his name?”

His father grins proudly. “Tim.”

“Tim?”

“Same as one of my old-coworkers. Piece of work himself. One of the know-it-all types. Even worse than a moody teenager.”

Lucas can’t help it. He snorts. “Poor Tim.”

His father waves a hand at him. “Well, he’s a member of the household now. A blessedly silent member.”

Lucas raises his brows. He examines the skeleton once more, then leans forward and gently picks up its left arm. He presses the small button on the inside of its wrist.

Tim’s eyes flash red as his jaw drops open in evil, mechanical laughter.

Hugo jumps and curses under his breath again and Lucas lets out a laugh, delighted. He leans back in to grip Tim around the waist, picking him up and drawing that same arm around his shoulder, playing with the skeletal fingers. It’s unexpected. To be turning to his father with a grin, to feel the remnants of laughter settling cosily in his stomach. He likes it, and he likes the soft smile that lightens his father’s eyes, and he likes the comfort of the small space when it lacks the tension and the animosity of the previous few days, of the past week.

He asks, carefully, “What else did you get?”

His father beams. He moves to the bags on the table and begins pulling banners out of the way, followed by a packet of bats and pumpkin lights and various other witchy products. Lucas feels his pleasure grow at each new item and nods approvingly.

“Good idea?”

Lucas nods, humming. “You’ve definitely had worse.”

The man accepts the jibe with nothing more than a small shrug. “You happy enough to take an hour to do it now? I’ll start hanging these around the place and you can get Tim situated. Maybe somewhere around the door?”

“Sounds good,” Lucas agrees. He grips Tim’s arm tighter and carries him out into the hallway, making sure to press the little button once more as he passes his father. He chuckles at the swears he receives in response.

It’s almost therapeutic. Even as the desire to let Tim’s bones scatter on the street grows, there’s something simplistic and soothing about decorating the place. Something that makes it feel a little more like it’s his. A little more like a home. It helps that he loves Halloween. He loves the spookiness, the eeriness, the beauty in the horror. It’s satisfying, watching the angry little pumpkin faces emit a stunningly bright glow. There’s a sort of poetry to all of it, he supposes, to the veil around the world becoming foggy, to the masks people wear becoming visible.

There’s an artistry, too, that he appreciates more than anything. The sharpness, the otherworldliness, the darkness. The meaning under it all, of the in-between.

Beauty in the horror.

He supposes there’s a little beauty, too, in doing it together. They work together to hang the string-lights up in the hall, and the silence isn’t strained or uncomfortable. It’s companionable, filled with little huffs of laughter as one or the other gets caught, or trips, or drops the line. The usual simmering anger that sits in his chest is entirely absent, just for these few moments.

“You used to love Halloween when you were a kid,” his father says suddenly, and Lucas glances over at him. “Your mom always avoided buying stuff she thought would scare you, but you never flinched at any of it. You wanted all the weird loud things that used to make Kes bawl his eyes out. The only things you didn’t want were the spiders.”

Lucas laughs at the idea of little Kes, terrified, and Lucas enjoying scaring him as he had with his dad today. He remembers how his friend would retaliate, finding the biggest fake-spider in the place and sneaking up to set it on Lucas’s shoulder. He’d only stopped at the age of twelve, when Lucas had given him the silent treatment for a week in response. “I did notice you didn’t bring any of those back.”

“I do pay attention, sometimes. I also remember that you liked it most because of all the sweets.”

“You could have just brought back a cake,” Lucas agrees lightly, shooting him a grin.

“Yeah, but we couldn’t have shared that. You would’ve eaten it all yourself.”

Lucas laughs quietly, realising he can’t argue, that there’s plenty of proof in the past to refute anything he would say. There’s a calm that has settled over him, and he relishes in it.

For a moment.

“Hey, Luc,” his father starts slowly, and some of the tension in Lucas returns. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you. It’s a big change, and a bad age to be making it, and I don’t know how many times I can apologise for it before you’ll forgive me.”

Lucas tacks his end of the lights to the wall and listens carefully.

“I should be making it easier for you, but I think it’s pretty obvious that I just have no idea how. It used to be so easy for us, too, you know? I used to know you so well. Now I keep stuffing up.”

Lucas slowly lowers his hands to his sides and turns to face him. “Dad,” he starts, but the man shakes his head.

“I was harsh on you the other night. And the week before that. I know that. I just don’t know what else to do. You don’t let me in. I can only react to what I see. And maybe I overreacted, but I only do what I think is right. I think what worried me most, about the weed, is that it didn’t surprise me. And now, I know, it’s probably natural to all of you nowadays and it might not surprise many, but it’s more that—well it didn’t surprise me that you managed to hide it from me. It was just another nail in the coffin.”

“I don’t hide everything from you,” Lucas says quietly. “You surprise me a lot more often.”

“I know,” Hugo says, just as gentle, abandoning his task to turn to Lucas too. “I know, buddy, and I am sorry. I’m trying to do better. But I need you to try with me.”

Lucas swallows thickly, averting his gaze to his feet for a moment. There’s a war going on in his chest, the childish urge to hold onto this leverage over his father and the desperate desire to give in, to claw for some semblance of harmony. Beyond all of it, canceling out all the rest, is the whisper that whatever answer he gives won’t matter. The harmony could never last, and he’s stupid to hold onto that tiny bit of hope, a tattered little shred he hadn’t even realised he held.

But it’s this little whisper that strengthens his resolve, that makes him return his gaze to the man before him and give a tiny nod.

“Okay. I will. Promise.”

His dad squeezes his shoulder, and none of his anger returns at the contact. He leans into it, and he lets himself hope.

Hugo lets him go and moves to tack up the middle of the string-lights. “So as it’s my proposal, I feel like I should make the first move, and say if you wanted to have a few friends or something over for Halloween, that would be okay.” He pauses. “You have friends here, right?”

Lucas huffs. “Yes, I have managed to make friends here. But everyone will be going out for Halloween. They know I’m not allowed out, so they probably already have plans, or whatever.”

The realisation settles in that this may very well be true, and it’s another sting settling in his heart. He’s still too invested, much too invested, and he still hasn’t figured out what to do about it. Managing his emotions felt a lot easier when he was pretending—even with himself—that he didn’t have any.

Now every time he sees Jens without him, he aches, and when he sees Jens with Jana, he breaks, and when he sees Jens at all, he has various emotions that he really doesn’t want to think about in such close proximity to his father.

His father, who is currently frowning at him in genuine concern. “You really think so? Surely good friends would make the effort to include you.”

Lucas thinks of Jens messaging him about meeting up even while thinking he was in a different country. Of Jens dragging him to the party a few days before that. Always of Jens.

He directs his gaze back down to the ground and shrugs. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t ask that of them. I haven’t even known them that long.”

Hugo sighs and makes his way back to the kitchen, leaving Lucas to stand alone for a moment before following. They hang up half a packet of bats before the older man says, “A curfew is still kind of a punishment, right?”

Lucas whips his head up to look at him. He’s focused on the bat in his hands, unwilling to look at his son and the excitement suddenly building in him. “Yes, definitely. Better than grounding, really. More embarrassing. Will definitely get me laughed at.”

“So, say, if you wanted to go out with these friends of yours. That would be okay, as long as you’re back by midnight?”

Lucas nods quickly. Much too quickly.

Hugo’s eyes narrow. “Midnight’s too good, isn’t it?”

“No, of course not, midnight is super lame.”

“No, make it ten.”

“Ten?” Lucas tosses his hands up. His dad turns to look at him, now raising his brows in challenge. “Eleven,” Lucas counters.

The man considers him. “Ten-thirty. Final offer.”

“Midnight was your first offer!”

Brows are raised further.

Lucas blows out a breath and turns on his heel to collect more bats. “Ten-thirty.”

It takes ten more minutes of hanging decorations before Lucas chances asking.

“So, does this mean I can have my weed back?”

His father stares at him. “Buddy, I might not be able to stop you from smoking it, but I can’t just give it to you. I have some parenting skills, you know.”

“It could be bonding! We could share that too.”

“Nice try. Give me that orange tinsel. We’ll give Tim a little sparkle.”

[nellie-elizabeth]

Grey's Anatomy: Sign O' the Times (17x12)

Some heavy stuff, y'all. It's interesting how this show is addressing current events but on a delay because that's how TV works... really brings some things to the forefront of my mind that unfortunately the news isn't much focused on anymore.

Cons:

I found some of the story beats surrounding Bailey's patient to be a little clumsy. He's cartoonish and cruel to Bailey. I could buy someone not believing in COVID (believe me, I've met some of those people), but for him to literally say to his doctor's face: you're lying to me and you're making money off of scaring people? It felt a little too blunt, like this man was meant to represent every little aspect of that kind of human being. And then for him to die in the parking lot? Not exactly subtle.

I'm always talking about how I don't like Catherine Fox, and this episode actually helped me in articulating why. It's like she always traps people into providing her mic drop moments. She doesn't communicate, she dismisses people's concerns and ideas, goading them into a situation where they speak to her rudely. Then she turns around and hits them with the cold hard facts of how she was right all along. And like... Catherine is right, and has a good point, when she talks about fighting the way she knows how to fight. But why does she always have to have the last word? Why does she always have to say things in this righteous way, that doesn't allow room for anyone else's opinion?

Pros:

Let's start with Richard and Jackson, though. I like that Richard has this long history of going to protests, and I like that Jackson is starting to question the fact that he hasn't gotten involved. I can't imagine what it is to be a black man facing these challenges, but I can empathize with that dilemma of knowing your heart is in the right place, knowing there are different ways you might be able to make a difference... and which way do you choose? What feels right, at the end of the day? I liked seeing these differing perspectives and journeys.

And meanwhile you have a white man, Hayes, struggling with how to let his young black sons be involved. It's scary, and as a parent, I can imagine that telling them to stay home and stay safe makes a lot of sense. But also... this is their country and their fight, if they want it to be. I liked that Hayes was portrayed as sympathetic for being protective, but he also made the right choice in the end.

Schmitt had a somewhat comedic, but still intense subplot. He's in the hyperbaric chamber with Meredith, when another doctor, I think an intern? Named Chee? Comes in with another patient. There's an emergency, and Schmitt handles it amazingly, after initially freaking out a bit. He listens to the voice of Meredith Grey in his head, and it gets him through. I loved the moment when Jo teased him about it, and Levi says: "oh my god, what is Chee telling people?!" That was so cute. It actually gave me early Grey's vibes, like, surgery in elevators, OR mishaps, etc. I like Jo and Schmitt's friendship, and I like that Jo is taking the plunge and restarting her residency after all!

And then we've got Maggie and Winston. God, this plot thread just broke my heart in ten thousand different ways. I appreciate that no punches were pulled here. What Winston endured was horrific, and terrifying, and absolutely an example of racism at work. And Maggie was so scared. I was so scared. I really felt the tension of the situation, and I understood why she was so freaked out. That experience is so different from anything I can imagine myself going through. I'll never have to go through it, because as a white woman I am much more likely to receive sympathy from cops, not abuse. I don't even really have a lot to say about this, other than that it was really well done, and I had my heart in my throat the whole time, and I felt so terrible for both of them. I believe in their connection. They seem like they'll make a really good couple.

And I think that's all I'm going to write about this one - a shorter review than usual for a show with so many characters and story-lines, but honestly that's where I'm at. Not a lot to say. A very solid installment. Can't wait for more Meredith next week!

8/10

[mwolf0epsilon]

A story of Sammy stumbling upon siren head?

Summary: The studio wasn't the only place hiding the lurking horrors of the world.

---

[[MORE]]

Freedom had come with a lot of existential dread and lingering doubts. It hadn't been the oh so sweet respite that everyone had coveted so much, not when they were still abominable creatures made of cursed ink (and in some cases machinery). Still, for all that they'd worried, Henry had pulled through and prevailed.

He'd not only gifted them their salvation from Joey's nightmarish dream, but also offered them a way to live unafraid in a world they no longer belonged in. He gave them a house, food, clothes, a life worth living.

Never once did he ask for anything in return. A true loyal and kind friend to those who desperately needed such a charitable heart.

"You don't need to repay me. I'm only doing what's right, and besides I got that house after my uncle died... It never really felt right to move out of town with Linda and the girls, and I never knew what I was going to do with it." He'd humbly dismissed any offers to repay his kindness. "You all need a safe place where you can recover and slowly reacquaint with normalcy without anyone judging or fearing you. The location is perfect."

And it was. An isolated corner of a vast forest, with nearly no signs of civilization. Easy for Henry to check up on them since he knew where to go to reach it, but out of the way enough that not even hikers came by often.

It helped that it had a bit of a... Dark reputation. Missing cases, strange sightings, and creepy sounds in the night. A deterrent for sane people with a yellow streak.

For someone like Susie and Allison who looked human enough to pass off as such if provided with an appropriate disguise, it was a bit of a hassle. Grocery shopping (when they were in the mood to be seen by the oblivious folk in the nearest town) took longer due to such a long trek.

For others like Tom and Buddy who were living cartoon characters it was a more comfortable experience. They could go out and feel the sun upon their skin without fear of what may happen if they were spotted.

And then lastly, for beings like Sammy, the Searchers, Butcher Gang, and for Norman, it was both a stark reminder of their inhumanity, and a blissful respite from the crippling dissonant thoughts that made them oh so prone to violent outbursts.

In the woods there was no one they could hurt if they lost their senses (which was not as common a thing as it once was, but still something the Projectionist suffered with on the regular). In the woods there was peaceful silence where they could wade through the madness and regain their footing. In the woods they could almost be their former selves.

Granted this was a double-edged sword on one regard: The Projectionist tended to wander far and not recall how to come back.

If Norman ended up somehow stumbling back into society, there would be trouble. Which is why Sammy was assigned to follow him every time he felt like going for one of his "little walks".

At first the once-music director had scoffed and been incredibly annoyed at being saddled with such a responsibility. He was not in a capacity to look after himself, much less a 7, nearly 8, foot tall half-ink half-machine man that could easily render him into ribbons if he set him off. Norman's transition from coherent sentient thoughts to downright feral and highly aggressive behaviour was too unpredictable for someone who's memories tended to evade him easily.

But then, as pointed out by Allison, Susie wouldn't be able to calm him because she knew neither sign language nor Morse code (which he'd learned specifically from Norman when he was still human just for fun), and Allison herself was not overly close to him so her presence would only distress him further.

When he'd still tried to refuse, Tom had resorted to threats which he'd returned in kind. In the end it was the pleading looks of both Jack and the rest of the band that got him to relent. But not before barking at them to never say he wasn't a charitable and patient man (things he really wasn't, considering his short fuse and unwillingness to socialize when he was in a particularly sour mood).

Once he'd committed to the task, Sammy found that the sounds of nature soothed him. Watching after the Projectionist wasn't too bad either, as he thought the large monstrosity looked quite happy as it wandered aimlessly, occasionally looking up at the expanse of darkening skies. Sunsets seemed to spark something more human in Norman. Got him to sign more and sometimes vocalize his words (as painfully gritting to the ear as that may be). It reminded Sammy of... Of times long past. Ones where he'd consider this brute as a bright and very accommodating (if not a little annoying at times) friend.

A friend he dearly missed even, for no matter how much they tried, Norman would never go back to being who he was before the studio chewed him up and spat him back out as something some would consider a dubiously smart animal.

The peace also sparked something in Sammy himself. It made him feel more grounded, more like himself, to the point where his form would shift accordingly. Because their bodies were reacting to their slow recoveries.

Over time a few Searchers had slowly become Lost Ones, and a few Lost Ones had begun transitioning into human forms. There was always something a little off and cartoonish about them, but it was progress nontheless. People were remembering who they once we're, and that was more than they'd ever accomplished in that hellhole.

Sammy sometimes could see his true face reflected back by a puddle or larger body of water, but it was a fleeting thing.

At times he could even feel his unruly curls brushing against his neck and shoulders, but they weren't the dirty blond he'd remembered. They were an inky black that upset him slightly, but better than the shiny bald head he'd had for so many years. Less saddening than the yellow glow of eyes that should have been a soft hazel, and much less startling than the sharpness of his teeth. Somehow he always got the nose right, which was adding salt to injury considering he couldn't regenerate his pinkies.

The Projectionist's walks were moments of introspection. Ones where he was sure he'd be able to get his true form back, even if slightly altered.

So imagine his annoyance when one such moment was marred by his selfish distraction...

He wasn't entirely sure when he'd lost sight of Norman, or for how long he'd spaced out just staring at his reconstituted face on the nearest reflective surface, but the moment he noted just how dark it was Sammy knew he'd fucked up.

They'd been wandering for hours and he'd been so absentmindedly worrying over faded memories that he'd just let the Projectionist wander off to the nearest flower patch to marvel at all the pretty colors (prettier than old sepia and inky tones that had made their horrid existence oh so much duller). He'd gotten so stuck in his own head that he'd never noticed his charge moving off to explore further and further into uncharted territory.

They'd never gotten so close to the mountains, and now? Now Sammy was sure he'd never be able to find the Projectionist again. He'd failed Norman.

Something which he absolutely refused to let happen. If not out of pride, then out of shame. He'd rather die than return to the others without Polk in tow, knowing they'd add it to the list of things that made him a genuinely horrid person (aside from ritualistic murder and allowing Joey to manipulate him to the point of idolizing a false god). That wouldn't do.

Sammy wouldn't be able to live with the scorn. So he trekked further to where he assumed the hulking ink creature had gone.

Henry had told them stories. The ones about the people going missing. Freaky tales that had unseen horrors lurking amidst the trees and skulking in shadows. One such creature he seeked (for the Projectionist had become one of these fabled cryptids just by being an out of place being in the woods), but the others he'd heard of, although fabricated, were mysterious and spooky to him.

Having such shluck looping in the forefront of his mind like a bad film reel was troublesome. It made him hesitant the moment he heard anything that sounded out of place.

Steeling his nerves was hard. Despite being made of ink, his heart was very much still human, so he felt instinctively fearful of the unknown. Those silly stories were genuinely scaring him and he resented Henry for being such a good narrator.

With every step further into the mountainside he hoped to see the light of Norman's lens, and hear the clicking of the projector he had for a head.

He was not expecting to hear... What sounded like an emergency broadcast.

It was so sudden and confusing that it made the ex-music director pause in his tracks. An echoing call that spanned miles, like it was being projected from up high.

Looking around his surroundings he saw nothing out of place. Just rows upon rows of trees and a watch tower in the distance further up north.

Turning his head more slowly yielded the same results. Nothing that could broadcast that loudly in sight... Until he saw it...

At first glance it looked like an old siren. Rough and weathered, rusty looking from a distance. Very strange to be found this far away from civilization. But then he really took the time to stare at it. Noted just how off the towering thing was, and then realized... Those sirens hadn't any speakers. They had teeth.

As soon as his mind picked up on this very fact, he saw everything else. And then, before he could exclaim in terror, he was up in the air held in a massive far-too-human-looking hand, and being pulled closer to said teeth.

Sammy screamed as he felt the pain of being bitten into, upper torso pulled into this nightmarish thing's eager maw, only to then be unceremoniously spat out and tossed on the ground. The shock and pain made him deconstruct into a puddle and, to then aggravate the issue further, the beast stepped down on him as if insulted by the vile taste of ink.

Sammy didn't much care. He lost consciousness soon after.

When Sammy came to, the sun was rising. He was groggy from the pain and confusion of being violently assaulted by something straight out of a Lovecraftian novel, and the intense light washing over his eyes didn't help.

Wait... Light?

Blinking away inky tears, Sammy found Norman staring down at him with a posture that read clearly of concern. The poor thing had likely found Sammy's puddle form and been fretting ever since.

The composer thanked whatever god was out there that the monster that attacked him hadn't found the Projectionist. He wouldn't have had the sense to run.

"H-home. Let's go home..." He whimpered weakly, despite the creature before him being deaf and unable to read his lips properly considering he currently had none. The pitiful look of him must have clued the bigger ink being, however, as Norman scooped him up with ease and began the trek back. Sammy directed him, mostly through pointing when he seemed unsure, all the while keeping an eye for that... Siren-Head thing that thankfully found him too disgusting to consume.

The one perk of his abominable state...

Needless to say, they were never coming back to these parts. Not as long as he allowed it. Some things were better off left undisturbed.

Because, as it turned out, the studio wasn't the only place hiding the lurking horrors of the world...

[blackevermore]

x Mochi

Summary: Mel isn’t lost! How can she lost when she’s been here before, hmm? Nope, not lost...just took a wrong turn.

Notes: I had this really stupid idea for a while and I just now got around to writing it. It’s just a silly little thing.​

Word Count: 1686

Melpomene was not lost! She had been to this house many times before and have never once been lost. She was simply exploring the hidden ways and taken the wrong turn somewhere before. Ivan had told her to make herself comfortable and that in turn meant she had free range to walk around. If he needed her he would simply call or better yet come and find her himself. He lived here and would know each and every way around. Of course, he had shown her the more common places within the house. But yet failed to inform her that his house was built for almost two full families including a vairy of pets. This meant that when Mel got up and went to the bathroom, there was a chance she would go the wrong way due to the hallway looking the except same in both directions. How old was this house, Mel had no idea, but it was extremely well kept and clearly held a lot of importance if Ivan never bothered to redecorate. Then again, Mel had learned over time that Ivan was stubborn and didn't change much if he had a choice.

Walking down another questionable hallway with endless doors, Mel sighed in defeat and pulled out her phone. It was going to be embarrassing having to call the man whose house she was in to come find her. But it was her only way of making it out alive and not panicking. When she panicked she screamed at the top of her lungs. Many people had become witnesses to her ungodly loud screams in the fits of panic. Alfred even said that’s not something he ever wants to deal with ever again. No more haunted houses for Mel. 

��God damnit,” Mel cursed and scrolled through her phone to find Ivan’s contact. It was better to call his house phone than his cell because when he was home he kept his cell phone in his bedroom. Just as she found his number a rustling sound caught her attention. She stopped walking and looked forward down the long hallway. There was no one around her going forward or backwards. Mel knew Ivan’s cat was a very sneaky fur ball that sometimes loved to follow her around. But the cat wasn’t home today, Ivan had asked Ravis to take the cat to the vet for a monthly check-up. Even the two dogs Ivan kept weren’t home for the week as Natalya had them. Mel also knew that Ivan now lived very much alone, every country that lived with him one time or another was long gone. Even when Gilbert would randomly come over to visit he still would strongly announce himself and his awesomeness.

“Hello? Ivan?” Mel called out and waited for a response. When no one said anything she took a deep breath and turned around to start heading back the way she came. The last thing she needed was for something supernatural to happen and Ivan was not around to help her. That happened enough while she was at Alfred’s house, or worse when he was visiting Author in England. Mel was already speeding up her pace to turn left around the corner when she heard the sound of something breaking too close behind her. Stumbling a bit she quickly looked over her shoulder to see what it was. There were nothing and no one behind her. Then she saw a door a few steps to her left slowly start to open. A sound of bouncing came from within the room and came towards her as a white blob happily came into the hallway. Mel was scared, confused, and screaming internally for her ass to get a move on and get the hell away from there. But she was frozen in fear and maybe a bit of curiosity about what this blob thing was. 

The white blob rocked back and forth for a bit before slowly turning towards her. It had a small cartoonish face but no mouth, it seemed to be smiling at her as it still rocked back and forth. It had a scarf around itself that almost looked just like Ivan’s. From where Mel stood she could tell this thing was big and that terrified her. Mel took another deep breath and told herself that was enough for the day and took off running down the hallway. She was not going to stay and figure out whether or not the thing was friendly. She knew better, anything in Ivan’s house would most likely kill you. So with that in mind, she continued on her mindless track through the hallways trying to find her way back. As Mel tried to make a break for it she tried calling Ivan to at least find a way to meet up with him halfway. But every time she rang the signal would go dead. Seriously what kind of hellspawn house was Ivan living in. So she did the last thing she could possibly think of.

“Ivan! Ivan where are you?!” Mel screamed as she turned another corner and looked both ways. Now she was out of the hallways and in a sitting room of sorts. There were tons of fancy furniture and carpeting that she hadn’t seen before. Taking a moment to admire the room she failed to notice the sound of bouncing coming behind her. It wasn’t until she heard the haunting call of ‘kol kol’ did she slowly turn around and see the creepily smiling blob inching towards her. 

“Ivan?!” Mel called out again hoping now that she was in an open area maybe her boyfriend would hear her. There was still silence of the other responding so she tried again and again. Still nothing Mel found herself slowly backing up to put space between her and this weird thing. Eventually, the back of her legs met an armchair and she tumbled over into the chair.

“Please go away,” Mel pleaded but the blob seemed to only become more pleased as she started to coward. Just as it was right next to her it stuck out its tongue like a cat. Mel rose a brow then quickly threw up her hands when she saw that the thing was now trying to lick her. “Ivan!” She yelled out one last time before she heard the sound of something being knocked over beside her. Mel looked over then back to the thing in front of her but it was gone. Now in front of her was another white blob with two big creepy black holes as eyes and a small smile. What the fuck was that?! The new blob rocked forward and opened its mouth. 

Mel finched and help her hands up to defined herself if it tried anything but all it did was let out a small, “Moi Moi.” Mel looked through her fingers and seen the new blob bobbing back and forward.

“Are you friendly?” She asked and the mochi stopped bouncing and just stared at her. Then the smaller blob was slammed into by the bigger mochi from before and Mel jumped to her feet to move out the way. She was now paying witness to the two blobs knocking into each other and the smaller blob seemed to be putting up a really good fight.

“Ivan! For the love of all things that are fucking logical, come here!”

“There you are!” Ivan ran into the room panting and holding his pipe tight in his hand. Mel quickly ran and hide behind Ivan pointing towards the blobs. Ivan looked over at the blobs on the floor then let out a big sigh. He then chuckled, handed Mel his pipe and walked over and pulled the blobs apart.

“Is this normal?! What are those thing?! Ivan!?” Mel clench Ivan’s pipe and inched away from the idea. 

“Mel, come here,” Ivan gently called to the girl and waited patiently for her to come over. Mel was scared but she knew that if something would happen Ivan would take care of it. “It’s okay, they are harmless.” Ivan effortlessly held the two blobs in a death grip and away from each other. The blob with the scarf stuck out its tongue and starting licking Ivan. He didn’t seem to care, actually, he didn’t seem to mind it at all. When Mel was right next to him he gestured for her to hold out her hand. The girl slowly did and Ivan placed the smaller blob in her hands. It was oddly warm and easily started rocking in her hand.

“Ivan?”

“They are mochi, Eduard told everyone about them and said they come out of nowhere. I’ve dealt with this one before but I’ve never seen that one.” Ivan patted the mochi in his hands and Mel was sure that they were making the exact same face. She then looked down at the one in her hand and the small little mochi only smiled before shaking a bit and a random Finish flag popped out of nowhere. Ivan chuckled and held back the bigger mochi from jumping out of his arms. The bigger mochi seemed to get a bit annoyed even with its happy expression and started to once again lick Ivan’s cheek. 

“Um is it suppose to be doing that?” Mel pulled the mochi in her hands closer to her and pointed over to the other.

“Hmmm, maybe, he does this a lot before causing trouble.” Just as Ivan said that the mochi in his arms started to kol’ed and Mel shook her head and back away. “Don’t worry we have an understanding that if it doesn’t behave I will eat it.”

“Is that allowed?”

“I have no idea.” Ivan let out a hearty laugh and Mel was even more concerned. The little mochi in Mel’s hand started to ‘moi moi’ again in response to the kol’ing. Mel let down guard a bit and even smiled at the little thing in her hands. This was still a weird concept to grasp but Mel could handle it. She was dating a country for god sake.

[jakegyllenhaalsupportgroup]

Items In A Shoebox

This is day one of the 500 Followers JGCU Write Fest!!!! Thank you all again so much for 500 followers - this is a piece that I’ve been planning for a while and talking about for even longer, Detective Loki’s backstory within the JGCU!!! 

Just to warn you that this piece talks about a lot of hella sensitive topics and so because of that your discretion when reading it is advised, please don’t read if it’s going to trigger you in any way. I’ve attempted to be delicate about the topic but please don’t read if it will upset you more than it ought to

Other than that, though, I hope you guys enjoy reading this!! I’m genuinely quite proud of how this turned out but again I have to state: don’t read this if you feel it will be too much/too intense and will trigger you (murder, domestic abuse and more are mentioned in this piece) and as well as that, please remember that this isn’t Detective Loki’s official background in Prisoners. I worked with what was given in the film and created my own idea of his background from what was given so PLEASE don’t attack me if I maybe don’t go with the canon/what you had in mind as I will cry

Loki’s hands traced over the top of the shoebox. The corners were tattered and worn with age, pieces of the brown cardboard showing in places. A thin layer of dust covered the top as Loki held it in his hands, sat cross legged on the floor of his room.

He hesitated before opening it. To him the shoebox was Pandora’s box. The only thing holding him back from a barrage of painful memories was a thin layer of green cardboard.

His fingers played with the lid of the box before he let out a long sigh and opened it.

///

David turned the purple dinosaur over in his hands. 

His dad brought him back a dinosaur whenever he went away. When he’d come back he’d bring a dinosaur for him. Some flowers for him mum.

The flowers had stopped recently. But the dinosaurs always came.

David ran his little fingers over the top of the dinosaur’s body. He was sat on the sofa, his parents arguing in the room behind him. But he stared down at the dinosaur.

He liked dinosaurs.

Ever since he had learnt about them in school he had been interested in them. His teacher had lent him a book on them and David had first learnt the world ‘palaeontologist’, deciding swiftly that that was what he wanted to be when he grew up.

His father usually tried to find ‘unrealistic’ dinosaurs for him. 

Multicoloured dinosaurs that would line up on his desk, looking at the child with cartoonish faces that David loved.

His dad thought that his love of dinosaurs was too grown up for a child of five. The way that he could recite every fact from that book his teacher had leant him worried his dad. 

Sure, David was smart. But no kid should be that smart.

No kid should be as mature as David had had to be. 

Five year old David stood from the sofa as he heard another crash from the room next door. He peaked his head around the corner as he always did when it got to this point in his parents fights.

His father was red faced as he stood above David’s mother.

His wonderful, friendly, loving, supportive father. 

David almost couldn’t recognise him. 

To David his father had two sides - the side that he saw and the side that his mother brought out.

He couldn’t understand why his father reacted as he did towards his mother. David’s mother was sweet and caring and so, so concerned with his father. She would do anything to make sure that his father kept happy.

David rushed back to the sofa when he heard his mother begin to scream, he hid himself under the couch cushions willing himself away.

By the time the screaming and smashing had stopped the dinosaur had left deep marks in David’s hands.

///

The purple dinosaur was the only one Loki had left from his childhood collection. It was the last one he ever got from his dad. The last time things were ‘normal’ for his family.

Loki lent over and placed it gently on his bedside table, stood up on the nightstand. It was chipped and dirty with age but still filled Loki’s heart with some sort of longing when he looked at it.

He refused to acknowledge the watery in his eyes and he pulled the next item from the box.

///

“I’m not doing this because I don’t love you - I’m doing this because I have to love myself,” five year old David struggled to make sense of his mothers words.

She took his little hands in hers as he lay under his bed, his mind fogged in confusion from sleep, having been shaken awake by his mum at three in the morning.

“Mummy?” He mumbled, allowing her to pull him back out from under his bed, into the room. His mum picked him up and set him so he was sat on top of the mattress. 

She crouched in front of him and David rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I have to do this,” she told him, her eyes filled with worry and apology. 

“Are you going on an adventure?” David wondered if the bruises on his mothers face hurt when she smiled at him then. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m going on an adventure,” she agreed, squeezing his hands.

“Can I come with you? I’m really good on adventures - Danny always lets me be his second in command,” David’s mothers lips pressed to his forehead.

“You’re always going to be my first in command,” his mum whispered. “But this is an adventure I have to go on alone. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Are you coming back?”  

“Probably not,” her voice was no more than a croak and David felt tears fill his eyes.

“Don’t be sad, Mummy!” He begged when he saw her cry.

“I’m just going to miss my little man,” she whispered, bringing her son in for a tight hug. “But it’ll be better with me gone - Daddy will be less mad all the time,” she promised him.

“What if I go?” David offered. “Maybe Daddy will want you around more if I go?” 

“You sweet boy,” his mum sniffled into his shoulder. “You sweet, lovely boy,” she repeated, shaking her head. “Your daddy and me both love you and neither of us want you to go anywhere, okay?”

“I don’t want you to go,” he pleaded.

“I have to,” his mum released him and her right hand went to her ring finger on her left hand.

She twisted on her engagement ring, prising it off of her hand and pressing it into his small one.

“I have to do something for me.”

///

That was the last time that Loki had seen his mother. 

Now the engagement ring hung from a chain. It was a little rusted but out of all the items in his shoebox of memories it was in the best condition. 

After he had been taken to the boys home, Loki had put the ring on a chain to hang around his neck for fear of it being stolen otherwise. It was the one thing that he couldn’t imaging loosing. The one thing he had never even considered trading whilst her was there.

He hadn’t worn it since coming to university, so desperate to leave his whole past behind but now, in the safety of his home, in the knowledge that he had two people who wouldn’t leave him, he slipped the chain back around his neck.

The ring came to rest next to the thudding of his heart.

///

David waited at least an extra hour before coming out of hiding.

He waited for so long after the commotion and the gun shot before he even considered leaving his safe cave that his legs were beyond numb. He toppled straight back down to the ground when he tried to stand up.

He hadn’t realised he was shaking until he reached his hands out in front of him to try and support himself.

David closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

He crawled towards the door to his bedroom and pushed it open.

He hadn’t known what was going on when his dad had burst into his room, his eyes wide with fear as he pushed David into his wardrobe, piling shirts and jumpers on top of him in an effort to hide him. He had never heard his father so scared as when he implored his son to stay quiet and not come out unless he was sure it was safe.

It was the first time in a while that David had been told that he was loved.

It was also the first time ever that David saw his father cry.

That was how he knew that it was serious, whatever was going on. David’s seven year old mind was so fixed on his fathers tears that he couldn’t even think of making a noise. 

His father was in the living room. 

Him and David were still there fifteen minutes later when the emergency services came, answering David’s phone call faster than normal when they realised how young the child was on the other end.

David was sat cross legged by his fathers dead body, sobbing.

///

The police had allowed Loki to keep the shirt. 

They caught the men who had broken in only a few days after Loki had called the police and, after they had been properly identified and the legal process had been seen through, they had given Loki his fathers shirt.

Loki wasn’t sure why he had wanted to keep it. Perhaps because he had something to remember his mother by and he wanted something to remind him of his father - and of the sacrifice his father had made to keep Loki safe.

If he hadn’t gone and shut Loki into his wardrobe then he could have escaped with his life.

Now, Loki unfolded the shirt out of the shoebox and held it up. Blood stained it and it was almost completely shredded from the bullet wounds that had riddled his fathers body. 

That had been the day he became set on becoming a detective.

///

David hated his grandparents house. 

He hated the smell of cabbage that permeated the air around him.

He wanted his mum.

When the police had told him that they were going to track down a guardian for him that was who he had assumed they meant. He thought the long two years of separation from his mother would be over and that they would be reunited again.

David couldn’t hide his disappointment when it was his grandparents that turned up at the station to pick him up.

He wondered if, perhaps, his mum would be at their house. His grandparents were on his mums side so when she had disappeared that night he had assumed that was where she had gone to.

But his grandparents refused to tell him anything about his mother.

If they knew where she was, they weren’t giving any hints.

His granny ran a bath for him when they got to his grandparents house. 

“Home sweet home,” his granny had declared.

There was nothing sweet or homely about it. He wanted his real home.

David sat in the bath water, thinking of the events of the day.

Was this going to be his life now? Living with his grandparents? Surrounded by the scent of cabbage and bad memories?

He had cried when he first got to his grandparents house and found that his mother was nowhere in sight. His Granddad had told him that it was better than living in a boys home.

David climbed out of the bath and wrapped himself in the towel he had left out for himself and left the bathroom to the room that he had been told would be his for the foreseeable future. 

His tears began again when he saw the soft teddy bear that had been left on his bed for him by his grandparents.

Didn’t they know that nothing could be fixed anymore with a teddy?

///

The bears fur was matted and one of its eyes had fallen out at some point during his time at the boys home in Conyers but Loki didn’t care.

His grandparents had been good guardians and eventually he had gotten used to the smell of cabbage and even now, six years after he had left that place behind, it comforted him in a strange way.

But he still fucking hated cabbage.

His Granny had died first. She had a heart attack when Loki was ten and it had broken his Granddad. Loki had had to start looking after himself much more - he did the cooking and the cleaning and made sure that his Granddad got to his doctors appointments.

Loki wasn’t ashamed to admit that most of the care he took of his Granddad was for purely selfish reasons. He knew that if his Granddad was to die then he would be put in the local boys home. 

Everyone had heard horror stories about what it was like there and there was no way that Loki would be taken there without a fight.

But after his Granddad was diagnosed with terminal cancer when Loki was eleven he became resigned to his fate. About a month before his Granddad died, he was told the truth about his mother.

She had returned briefly to live with his grandparents, as Loki had suspected had happened but had swiftly disappeared again only to be found a few months later dead in a hotel room.

Loki was twelve when his Granddad lost his battle.

///

“You want the book?” The boy’s face was morphed into confusion. His eyes glanced down at the tattered classic in his hands before raising back up to meet Loki’s eyes.

“Yeah.” 

Loki’s jaw was clenched and his eyes were cold and unwavering as he looked at the new kid who had entered into the boys home only a few weeks ago.

“You want the book?” The kid repeated incredulously.

“Need me to fucking write it down for you?”

“No - no, sorry I just...” the younger boy collected himself, trying to hide his fear and Loki almost felt bad for a moment until he remembered what his first few weeks had been like at the boys home. “What’ll you give me?” 

Loki was almost proud of the kid and he allowed a slight smirk to grace his face and he nodded at the boy.

“What’dya want?” 

“Your leather jacket,” he declared and Loki scoffed.

“Piss off,” he rolled his eyes. “You know it’s not worth that,” the boy visibly deflated and Loki sighed, taking pity on him. “You get my desert tonight - and I’ll tell Anthony to lay off,” he offered, knowing that Anthony had been giving the new boy shit ever since he had arrived.

He looked up hopefully and held out the book. Loki took it from him, nodding.

“If he bothers you again, let me know,” Loki told him before turning away and stalking out of the room.

He knew that most of the other boys in the home were scared of him and the ones who weren’t were those who had been around for as long as he had. 

He had been at the boys home for four years. And what was devastating was the knowledge that he would be there for the remaining two years until he turned eighteen and could leave for university and then, hopefully, the police force.

When he had saw the new boy with his book Loki had known he would have traded almost anything to have it. Few people in the home owned anything other than a couple of changes of clothes and their school books. Anything they did own would be traded for something else - extra desert or a particular clothing item usually.

Loki had lost all of his dinosaur collection within the first week of his arrival at the boys home for a pair of shoes after his had been stolen. Well, all of his collection other than the final addition: the purple dinosaur.

Great Expectations was his parents favourite book. When he was much younger, before everything went pear shaped in their relationship, his parents would tell him how it was that classic which brought them together - they had both wanted a copy of it and had gone into a bookstore at the same time and reached for it.

They had ended up reading it together after his father had asked his mother out on a date and that was the start of their relationship.

Loki himself had never actually read it but had always wanted to - but he had no money with which to buy himself a copy after he had been taken into the boys home and had never had the chance to read it.

To have a copy of it in his hands now, nine years after he had last seen either of his parents, it felt so much that, in holding Pip’s story, he was also holding that of his parents.

///

Loki didn’t realise he was crying until his tears began to drop onto the well-loved book.

He wiped it away hastily, worried about it harming the pages that he too had grown to love but he didn’t stop himself from crying.

For what felt like the first time the full weight of what he had been through hit him. It was talking to his roommates about how he had wound up in the boys home that had sparked his need to dive into his little shoebox of memories.

Loki wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to go into details about his past. What his father had been like towards his mother and what his mother could sometimes be like towards him. The details of his fathers death. The facts he had dug up on his mothers suicide when he turned eighteen and was able to find such information out. 

The full truth of his life at the boys home weighed heavy on his mind and he knew it would scar him forever.

“Hey, David,” Loki looked up towards the doorframe. David and Jake were looking at him with eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?” Jake asked.

Loki dropped his eyes down at the book, the teddy, the shirt, he felt the ring lying on his chest, and finally he looked at the little purple dinosaur.

Loki looked back to his roommates, a watery smile on his face and he nodded, the weight lifting from him.

“Yeah... yeah, I am.”

[yeaaabudddy]

Even A Hero Needs Some Help

Ship: Peter Parker x You (Y/N)

Type: Fluff

Requested: Yes by anon

Words: 1 383

Notes: Thank you for requesting and this is pre-endgame so if you’re still worried about spoilers, there are none dw and let me know what you think!

-

You needed some time away from everyone and everything, school was stressing you out, friendships weren’t easy and being a teenage girl definitely wasn’t the smoothest thing to handle. The peace and quiet brought out at the rooftop of your apartment building was what you needed right now.

You didn’t know if you were allowed here but you took a chance to come up here and check it out. The cold weather immediately brushing against your skin as you opened the heavy door that leads you to a view of the night sky.

It was a beautiful view, and the air was fresh as it could be in the city, allowing you to breathe away your problems into the dark sky littered with luminous stars.

You wore two layers of jackets just to make sure you don’t accidentally catch a cold in this time of the year, especially since the temperature change was so sudden. The edge of the building didn’t seem to tempt you as it had no railing and you actually weren’t trying to die tonight so you made sure you were safely behind the edge but still in the far-out part of the roof.

You sat down on the dirty concrete, not really caring about how rough the ground was on your butt as the cold air felt like a remedy to all your problems. You spent a lot of time just thinking about everything and anything but also trying to clear your mind and just feel.

“What are you doing?” You jumped at the sudden intrusion of someone in your space. The volume of said person being too loud as you were listening to the low whispering of the air as it flew around you.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, you were probably resting- meditating or something, sorry.” Your eyes open to see the image of the infamous Spider-Man standing before you. He looked a bit surreal with the colors of his suit popping out and his big eyes -the only feature that you can see on his head- were wide and curiously staring straight at you.

The sight intimidated you a bit because he felt like such a contrast compared to the surroundings around him, so cartoonish.

“Um, it’s okay! I just needed to clear my mind I guess, uhh… Spider-Man.” He chuckled happily as he squatted beside you, now turning his eyes to look at the view that you learned to appreciate a few moments ago.

You were glad that his big eyes were not concentrated on you anymore.

“You’re the first one to properly call me by my actual name.” You looked at him curiously. The things you’ve heard and seen of him were mostly from around your school and on the news. The kids in your school had a bias for Spider-Man as he is a neighbourhood hero and they took pride in that fact.

“Then what do they call you?” The boy chuckled under his costume, his hand going to his neck in embarrassment. A cute habit, you thought.

“Spider-boy, Spider-ling, basically anything but Spider-Man. I guess I'll have to grow into this name.” You pretended to think for a bit, your eyes looking off in the distance.

“I think the name fits you perfectly. If people are too scared of calling you Spider-Man it’s because it'll take away from their egos but that doesn’t mean you don’t fit the name.” You look at him in all seriousness. “It just means that everyone else is too fragile to accept it.”

“People underestimate us teens and kids sometimes, thinking we couldn’t understand most of what goes on around us but there are some of us that have been through way worse than some who have lived full lives. Don’t let that bring you down.”

He didn’t know how you did it. You always managed to help him out even if you didn’t know it was him. Out of his suit and in his suit you were still a confidant for him and a person who was able to read him so easily.

He was always able to count on you for advice and he really appreciated that. Not being able to talk to you about Spider-Man business did make him frustrated because he knows that you would tell him to chill and just do what he thinks is right and that’s what helps him keep going sometimes. He wishes he could tell you but so many people already know it's a bit unnerving.

“Thanks, you-you're really great with words.” Peter let out a little compliment, something he knew he would never be able to do if he didn’t have this suit on to hide his expression and slightly burning cheeks. He properly sat down beside you now, legs spread out in front of him.

“I’m okay, I think you just needed a little pep talk.” You deflected the compliment, something you are used to doing. Compliments are a weird thing that you just didn't know how to handle.

“That was way more than a pep talk. It was nice to hear it though so... thank you.” The eyes on his mask squint a little, making you assume that he was smiling at you. You notice the breeze in the night started to quicken its pace and get colder.

“Shouldn’t you be out saving people?” You questioned, your head resting on top of your knees.

“It’s actually harder to find crime than it looks. The more you wait for it, the less it comes and sometimes there are nights where nothing happens. It gets boring.”

“Do you just stay out here for a few hours until you find someone in danger?” You were curious about how the whole thing worked, imagining Spider-Man bored, just walking around the city was a weird scenario in your head.

“Mostly... yeah. It’s fun to explore the city though, just watch as all the buildings pass as I go by them or just the feeling of swinging around.” You hummed in interest at the answers he gave you, they gave you more insight into the person behind the mask.

Talking with him took you out of the world for a second, you remembered where you were when your eyes focused back on the sky, realizing the darkening blue had turned into almost a black colour.

You should be heading back to your apartment by now as the night sky just seems to get darker but you notice spidey’s outfit is very thin and just a single layer of fabric. A cold breeze brushing by you makes you pause in your world for a second.

You contemplate whether or not you should do what you’re thinking but before you can worry about it, your hands move.

You take off your outer jacket and put it around his shoulders while standing up. He reacted right away, jumping at the contact and turning around a bit to look up at you to meet your eyes in question.

“It’s getting cold spidey, that doesn’t look very efficient in keeping you warm but what do I know. Take the jacket for now and get home, I’ve also got to head back now as it's a school night.” You smiled at him, you knew by his voice that he also probably was around your age.

“I really don’t need-” Spider-Man started to take off the pale purple jacket that was hanging on his shoulders but you cut him off.

“Let me do one thing for the person who keeps this city safe, even a hero needs some help sometimes.” You keep walking towards the door leading to the staircase to take you back home, turning around for a second to look back at him and say “Goodnight Spider-Man.” You wave, not waiting for a response and open the door and walk to your apartment now in a good mood.

Peter smiled as he saw the door closing, the jacket did help with the wind and even though he has internal heating, he didn’t dare turn it on. The feeling of the jacket around him made him feel safe and warm -not just from the outside. He swings away into the night, the conversation replaying in his mind as he gets back to his own room.

[letsblogwithlandy-blog]

The Chinatown Experience

Whether you’re looking for a new place to visit for the sights, the food, the history, or the cultural exposure, Chicago’s very own Chinatown might be the place for you. Who would have thought that one of the most authentic, if not THE most authentic Chinatown in America was just a train ride away from where I live? As a resident of Back of the Yards, I have always made it a mission to explore my city and find new places to hang out at. I’ve been to Chinatown a number of times already prior to it being part of an assignment; however, this time, my eyes were widened to things I never even considered before.

My classmate Maria and I arrived at Chinatown via red line “L” train. This is the most optimal choice of transportation, in our opinion. Even if you have a car, you would be required to either find parking (which is somewhat likely if you are a fast and responsible driver) or pay for hourly parking. Get yourself a Ventra card. And if you’re a student, just use your university U-Pass. You’ll thank us later.

Upon exiting the Chinatown red line stop, we came across the Nine Dragon Wall, located on W. 22nd Street/Cermak Rd. The beautiful contrast of the dragons and the sunlight gave the wall an aesthetic that stumped us. I had never noticed this wall before. While we were in awe, we did wonder one thing: why are the dragons in an assortment of color?

(picture of wall here)

The dragons appeared to be in gold, blue, and red, and the reason for this is because of color significance according to Chinese culture. English teacher and Beijing instructor Campbell Alizzi describes the colors in detail, signaling that there is more than meets the eye. The Nine Dragon Wall had hints of red, blue, and gold. Red is a color of good fortune, blue is the color of immortality, and gold is the color for victory and prestige (Alizzi, 2019). Maria and I realized that these dragons are meant to set a strong first impression and presence to visitors. These dragons and this gate signify the strength, honor, and glory that is Chinese culture and welcome visitors with what is equivalent to a firm handshake.

(picture of gate)

Not far from the gate was the enormous, hard to miss Chinatown Gate, located on S. Wentworth and 22nd Street/Cermak Rd. The Chinatown Gate represents the official entrance to Chinatown. Architect Peter Fung developed this gate in 1975, making it a hallmark of Chinatown. Going beyond this gate is where all the fun begins.

In Chinatown, you gotta have a good eye for detail if you want to get the most out of the area. One such place where this skill was necessary was the Pui Tak Center on 2216 South Wentworth Avenue. The exterior of the building showed resilient attention to detail, especially when it came to the brick Chinese symbols which also come in a variety of colors.

(picture of census sign)

The building, along with the Chinatown Gate, has a dominant presence in Chinatown not just architecturally but also socially. According to the Pui Tak Center website, construction of the actual building itself went from 1926 to 1928, but the establishment of the building as the Pui Tak Center was on December 1st of 1993 (“Pui Tak Center: Our History and Mission”).

(picture of entrance to center)

Programs that Pui Tak offers involve English as  a second language (ESL) classes and Food Sanitation Certification. Immigrant youth programs are also offered though the center, as their goal is to assist youth to transition into school and overall life a lot easier. One of the aspects of this center that stuck most to me was their programs for immigrants. The staff identify that immigrants of any place are at times unfamiliar with the way lifestyle is in Chicago. This city is fast paced and at times overwhelming, especially for newcomers. The center holds workshops that prepare immigrant families for everything from doing taxes to setting up immunization appointments. As the building hoisted a banner for the 2020 United States Census, the words “Everyone Counts” coincidentally stuck out the most. This center embodies that.

Our next stop was the Chinese American Museum of Chicago on 238 W. 23rd street. They have a ring-the-doorbell-for-entrance policy, so you mustn’t be shy to ring the bell! Otherwise, no experience. Right off the bat, the greeter who let us in was so enthusiastic! It’s as if she already knew what we were doing there. She allowed us to take photos of the interesting exhibits they had available for visitors.

(picture of museum outside)

Maria and I later asked the greeter if we could have access to viewing the 16 minute video on the history of Chinatown, to which she ecstatically said yes and led us to the second floor for viewing. The video had about 5-6 parts (cannot recall) that were each dedicated to a portion of what made up Chinatown and its rich cultural preservation. My favorite part of the video had to be the part about natural medicine and herbalism.

(picture of medicine)

I’ve always been a fanatic of tea and have been fascinated by alternative medicine, and to see that as part of a video for people visiting the museum is excellent. My appreciation for alternative medicine increased after finishing this video. There were moments we were startled though…like when the spotlight was on the robes.

(picture of robes)

I legit jumped in my seat because I felt they were gonna pop out. It was realistic and an experience to remember indeed.

 Answer this, reader: have you ever been to an area, claim to know what that area is all about, but then you realize you actually don’t? Yeah, that was me our next stop, Chinatown Square. Located on 2100 S Archer Avenue, this is where most of Chinatown’s buzz comes from. The highlight of this walk was visiting the zodiac stone figures in the middle of Chinatown Square. I was born in 1997, so I was looking for the ox. However, here it’s titled Bull instead of Ox, so maybe it has something to do with traditional Chinese zodiac.

(picture of me with ox)

This area also has a plethora of restaurants and souvenir shops for visitors to explore and experience! Maria and I entered a shop and just observed the knickknacks that were available for purchase.

(pictures of inside store)

NOTE: always ask the store clerk if it is okay to take pictures; that’s just out of respect for the person.

The New Chinatown Library, located 2100 S. Wentworth Avenue (just across the street of Chinatown Square) was a library like none I have seen. This library was composed of two floors, wherein the first floor seemed like more of an organization-meeting oriented area and the second floor was where your typical library quirks (books, bookshelves, desks) were.

(picture of first floor library)

There was a large conference room on the first floor; conveniently, we saw that there was a meeting taking place there..possibly a neighborhood organization. We got a chance to see a room like that in usage.

The second floor of the library, unlike any other library I’ve been to, had a large mural that stretched a long distance.

(picture of mural)

I’ve never seen such a sight, especially in a library.  It reminded me of the artwork by Takashi Murakami. The cosmic and chaotic color combination, along with the surreal, cartoonish animation added a contemporary spice to the library. Very nice addition.

Another interesting discovery we made while in Chinatown was a market right next to the library. The Park To Shop Supermarket was a marketplace that is unlike the ones in my neighborhood.

(picture of market outside)

Upon entry, the space was pretty limited. The marketplace was very tight. I had a duffel bag that day, so you can imagine how scared I was to bump into stuff. I noticed that there were a lot of elderly people there too. It warmed my heart to have been greeted by the people there.

(picture of inside market)

Another difference this marketplace had that mine do not is the display of produce outside of the shop. My stores don’t do this, not sure why, but here they had fruits and bagged goods prepared for people to grab and pay for upon entry. That’s a lot of trust on part of the owners.

All-in-all, Chinatown earned its title of authenticity through the extensive work of its locals and the love for wanting to keep things as culturally in-tact as possible. According to a Chicago Tribune article, in 2013, the Chicago Metropolitan Agency for Planning was launched to preserve the identity of Chinatown by improving upon public education, elderly care programs, transportation infrastructure, and creating more public parks (Eltagouri, 2016). It’s moves like these that help further the preservation of not just the culture, but the experience that fellow Chinese and Chicagoans can have.

If you haven’t already visited Chinatown, we highly recommend it. Just like many of the other great sights and places in Chicago, they might just be a train ride away.

Work Cited

Alizzi, Campbell. “Learn Chinese: Chinese Colors and Meanings.” Chinese Language School. Taiwan, China. 27 February 2019.

Eltagouri, Marwa. “Here’s why Chicago’s Chinatown is booming, even as others across the U.S. fade.” Chicago Tribune. Chicago, IL. 13 May 2016.

Pui Tak Center. “Our Mission and Out Goal.” www.puitak.org. 13 February 2020.

[emritcheson]

I Played Grim Fandango For the First Time

So being a fan of contemporary adventure games, I’ve heard a lot of people talk about how their favorite game of all time is Grim Fandango.  But I’d never actually played it myself...until now.  And I’m here to give you a brutally honest review since I did not play this game as a child and have no preexisting attachment or nostalgia for it.

The game was originally released in 1998 by LucasArts, but the version I’m discussing is the remastered version released in 2015, which as I understand uses a new point-and-click interface, as well as higher quality graphics and sound.

And if it wasn’t obvious: SPOILERS AHEAD.

Let’s start with the plot.  This game takes place in the Eighth Underworld, also known as the Land of the Dead.  Our protagonist is Manny Calavera, who works as a travel agent to pay off some sort of debt he owes to the universe (for what reason, he doesn’t know).  When we first meet him, though, he’s in the midst of a bad streak, while his rival Domino consistently books his clients on the Number Nine, the highly coveted railway train that takes passengers to the Land of Eternal Rest in four minutes rather than the standard four years.  When Manny manages to steal a lead from Domino - an impossibly good woman named Meche - he starts to unravel a conspiracy surrounding his company and spends the next four years doing everything in his power to help Meche get the afterlife she deserves.

Now, I say all of that as one regular schmuck to another, and it sounds wacky and ridiculous and hard to follow, and I didn’t even go into every little detail.  But it’s actually really cool and I have to commend the writing and worldbuilding of this game.  They found that sweet spot of letting the world unfurl naturally - never going too hard on the info-dump - and letting the player trust in the rules that are established.  Definitely the strongest element in this game.  It helps that I’m already a sucker for that trope of explaining natural phenomena with a corporate business-esque structure.  I blame Pajama Sam 2 for that.

Speaking of which, did I mention that Pamela Segall is in this game?  And one of her characters, she performs in a perfect Pajama Sam voice, which is life altering when one of the very first lines that character utters is, “I’ll bite you, I swear to God.”

ANYWAY.

Similar to the writing, I adore the art direction and overall atmosphere this game presents.  It’s jazzy film noir meets Mexican culture in all the best ways.  Almost everyone is portrayed as a skeleton with cartoonish proportions, and their facial features are reminiscent of sugar skull decorations.  In fact, a significant portion of the characters are indeed Hispanic and the dialogue is rife with Spanish phrases and slang.  Not to mention the fact that whenever we check in on Manny during his four year journey, it’s always on Dia De Los Muertos, which is a holiday observed by the entire Land of the Dead and not just the Mexican community.  It’s a wonderful normalization of Mexican culture, rather than exotifying it.

I can’t go any further without mentioning the characters.  Namely, my favorite: Glottis, a literal speed demon who serves as Manny’s chauffer, mechanic, and friend.  He’s a big orange goofball who is, as the kids say, “extra.”  I love him so much.  And I was pleasantly surprised at the emphasis on their relationship and how much Manny genuinely cares for Glottis (and vice versa).  In the third chapter, Domino makes a remark on how demons are created to serve, and to be friends with them is unnatural.  But Manny and Glottis adore each other pretty much from the get-go, and Manny can hardly function sometimes when the plot separates them.  I’ve seen way too many comic side characters whose relationship with the protagonist is played down for laughs.  It’s refreshing when that character is, you know, allowed to be friends with their friend.

Other greatest hit characters include Lupe the Coat Check Girl Who Definitely Needed a Bigger Part, Eva, and Chepito.

Manny is also a great main character.  He’s charming, opinionated without hating everything and everyone around him, and wants to do the right thing at the end of the day.  I definitely understand the draw of this character now.

When it comes to what I didn’t like about this game, a lot of it can be boiled down to things that weren’t communicated well to the player.  For example, I didn’t know Manny had a run option for the first chapter and a half so I just had to suffer through him walking across giant, atmospheric maps at a snail’s pace.  There were also several individual locations I didn’t realize I could get to because the travel hotspots didn’t look like hotspots to me.  I’m not ashamed to say I glanced at a walkthrough more than once just to see if there was anything I missed.  There’s also a couple of just plain moon logic puzzles thrown in there and I did not appreciate them.  (I’m looking at you, signpost and anchor puzzles.)

The comedic bits were a hit or miss.  There were lines I could feel the writers trying to be just a little too quotable, if that makes sense?  But other lines got genuine, laugh-out-loud reactions from me, so I guess your mileage may vary.

I have bones to pick with the story as well (hehe, bones).  For starters, Manny and Meche’s romance happens very quickly for the amount of time they’ve actually interacted with each other by the point they start getting serious.  Don’t get me wrong, I think they’re great together, but it just happens too easily, you know?  Just because the whole game is inspired by film noir doesn’t mean the romance has to be, “Oh, we had a ten minute conversation, suddenly we’re madly in love with each other.”

Another bone: Lola’s whole story irks me so bad.  Her death in Year 2 is supposed to be this big emotional turning point, but the player barely knows her by the time we lose her.  And what’s more, Manny’s relationship with her up to that point is very ambiguous, so we’re not even sure how he is supposed to respond.  If there absolutely had to be a death at this point in the story to showcase the threat level of Manny’s enemies, I think they could have chosen a more impactful victim.

And finally, I don’t think the ending was as strong as it could have been.  Let’s be perfectly clear, Manny and Glottis saying their farewells got me a little misty, but the pacing on everything else just seemed a bit rushed.  Like, “Okay!  You killed the bad guy!  Everyone’s problems are solved now!  The end!  Go home!”  Manny is even granted a Number Nine ticket for defeating Hector, but it’s extremely glossed over.  Like, that’s a big deal!  It would have been a great character moment for Manny if we actually saw him receiving the ticket and reflecting on his transition from only wanting to escape to selflessly helping others on their journey and not caring about his own fate.

Honestly, with all the hype and nostalgia surrounding this game, I was a little scared that its legacy would be bigger than the actual product - like Firefly, for example.  But Grim Fandango holds up.  Even with all my nitpicks about emotional impact and bad puzzle design, I’ve developed a fondness for this game and understand why seemingly every other human who’s played it has as well.  It’s a game with a great atmosphere, memorable characters, and an intriguing story that says a lot about the human condition.  It deserves to be the classic it is.

[tomeandflickcorner]

Episode Review- The Real Ghostbusters: Ghosts R Us

Following the success of the 1984 hit, the animated spin-off show, The Real Ghostbusters, was produced by Columbia Pictures Television, DiC Entertainment and Coca-Cola Telecomunications, and it ran from 1986 to 1991.  You might be wondering why the show wasn’t simply called Ghostbusters, like the movie, and instead called itself The Real Ghostbusters.  Well, that’s because of a dispute they were having with Filmation.  Around the time Columbia Pictures they were creating the animated spin-off, Filmmation decided to create their own animated show, this one a revamp of their earlier live-action show, The Ghost Busters, which ran from 1975 to 1976. But instead of calling this animated revamp of theirs the same name as the live-action show,  they decided to drop the ‘the’ and make ‘Ghost Busters’ into one word instead of two.  Pretty obvious what they were trying to do there.  To be fair, of course, the legal deal that was struck up between the two studios that allowed the 1984 movie to use the title ‘Ghostbusters’ instead of some other tile like ‘Ghostbreakers’ or ‘Ghostmashers,’ stated both companies could use the title of ‘Ghostbusters’ in an animated show.  So technically speaking, Filmmation did have the rights to do this, even though it was clear they were trying to indirectly cash in on the success of the movie.  So Columbia Pictures, in order to differentiate their show from Filmmations’ version, and possibly to make a jab at them in the process, added ‘The Real’ to their show’s title.  Although, it does make a bit of sense in the show itself.  In the show’s universe, the animated versions of Egon, Ray, Peter, Winston, etc. are all the genuine articles, and the movie that preceded the cartoon was actually based on their experiences.  In one episode, I believe they even go to Grauman's Chinese Theater in Hollywood as guests-of-honor for the movie’s premiere. 

So, with all of that out of the way, on to the show itself, starting with the first episode, Ghosts R Us.

The episode starts with the Ghostbusters on their way to respond to a ghost disturbance at a local chocolate factory called Conrad’s. Wasn’t aware there was a chocolate factory in New York City, but I think this takes place in a parallel reality to ours, so I guess I can accept this.  Turns out, the ghosts terrorizing the multitude of candy makers are a family unit- an irritable father, a doting mother and their giant baby, who might remind you strongly of Baby Huey.  When the Ghosbusters arrive on the scene, we get treated to a bit of slapstick, with the Ghost Family pelting them with globs of melted chocolate.  At one point, Slimer, who now lives with the Ghostbusters and decided to tag along on this call, gets to stuff his face with the multitude of chocolate being ejected from the factory’s smokestacks, and both Ray and Winston get a face full of chocolate goo.  Eventually, they manage to capture the Ghost Family in a single trap. Despite the huge chocolaty mess that resulted from the bust, the owner of Conrad’s thanks the Ghostbusters, rewarding them with a sizable pile giant heart-shaped boxes of the company’s finest chocolates.  And when I say giant boxes, I MEAN giant boxes.  They’re as big as a coffee table.  That’s a lot of chocolate.  

Upon returning to the Firehouse, the guys attempt to give the boxes of chocolate to Janine as a present.  But, as one would expect, Slimer, bottomless pit that he is, had already helped himself to the chocolate during the ride back, so all Janine ended up getting were empty boxes. Peter is particularly irritated by this latest stunt, and he angrily states that Slimer is on notice, and if he messes up just one more time, then he’s history.  With that, the Ghostbusters all head off to bed, with Winston announcing that it had been a very long day for them.  But first, Ray heads down to the basement to transfer the Ghost Family they caught to the Containment Unit.

During the night, Slimer wakes up from a dream about food. Because apparently ghosts can sleep. And dream.  Anyway, he decides he wants a midnight snack and proceeds down to the kitchen to raid the fridge.  While he’s down there, Winston gets woken up by the noise downstairs and he heads down to investigate.  Slimer, trying to avoid getting caught, tries hiding out in the basement.  Eventually, Winston returns to bed, deciding that he probably imagined the noise.  Slimer is relived he wasn’t caught, and slides down the side of the basement wall with a huge sigh.  But in the process, he accidentally hits the switch for the Containment Unit, which turns it off.  When Slimer realizes what he did, he goes into panic mode, remembering what Peter had said would happen if he messed up again.  He hurriedly pulls the switch back into the ‘on’ position to try and rectify the situation.  Deciding the crisis was averted, especially since none of the Ghostbusters heard the alarm going off, he returns to bed.  Unfortunately, it turns out that the recently captured Ghost Family had managed to escape the Containment Unit during that brief window. Upon making good on their escape, they begin to plot to get their revenge on the Ghostbusters by putting them out of business.

The Ghost Family’s plan soon becomes apparent.  Ghost Baby basically shows up at a particular location to scare some people.  But before the Ghostbusters can arrive, Mom and Pop Ghost appear on the scene disguised as humans and pretend to vanquish Ghost Baby.  It’s an admittedly clever con, and eventually, the people of NYC are trusting the new ghost exterminators called ‘Ghosts R Us’ instead of the Ghostbusters.  Though the plan only seems to work because, for some reason, there aren’t currently any OTHER ghosts crawling out of the woodwork at the moment.  Eventually, Janine, for reasons not fully explained, checked the Containment Unit and noticed that three ghosts were missing. She reports this to the guys, who instantly figure out what’s really going on, and also realize Slimer accidentally caused the Ghost Family to escape.  

Before anyone can come up with a way to punish him, the Ghost Family calls them up pretending to be some frightened humans, telling them there’s a ghost sighting at an old toy factory on the outskirts of town.  The Ghostbusters head out to the toy factory, knowing that the Ghost Family will probably be there.

Apparently, this toy factory trap is the final stage in the Ghost Family’s revenge plot.  Pop Ghost states there’s a ghost called Turlock who haunts in this old factory, and he goes in to try and get Turlock to take out the Ghostbusters for them,  Unfortunately for him, Turlock seems to have vacated the premises, and an even stronger ghost than Turlock resides there now. And this new ghost is NOT HAPPY about being woken up by Pop Ghost.  The new ghost proceeds to possess a bunch of discarded toys, forming a giant toy monster, complete with a creepy Jack-in-the-Box for a body and an evil Cymbal Monkey for a head, and the Toy Monster starts to chase after the Ghost Family through the busy city streets.  In order to put a stop to all of this, the Ghostbusters split off into two groups, with Peter and Winston remaining in the Ecto-1 to follow the Toy Monster and Ray and Egon taking the newly-revealed Ecto-2, which is basically a helicopter-like vehicle, to track down the Ghost Family.  Obviously, the existence of the Ecto-2 was mostly so Kenner could produce a larger toyline, but it’s still pretty cool.

The next few minutes of the episode is basically just the Toy Monster making its way down the street, leaving behind a lot of crushed cars in its wake with the Ecto-1 in pursuit, and Ray and Egon looking for the Ghost Family in the Ecto-2. After this goes on for a while, Egon and Ray manage to recapture the Ghost Family, who pretty much jump right into the Ghost Trap in order to escape the Toy Monster.  But of course, we still have to contend with the ghost inside the Toy Monster, which is now on some suspension bridge.  (Not sure which one, as there are apparently eight different suspension bridges in NYC, but it doesn’t really matter.)  A task easier said than done, as the Toy Monster can easily flick away both the Ecto vehicles.  Eventually, Egon gets an idea, and decides to activate some kind of self-destruct mechanism on the Ecto-2.  This, combined with Slimer’s efforts to make up for his blunder by spreading his slime onto the suspension bridge’s cables in order to make the Toy Monster trip, ends up doing the trick, and the ghost is forced out of the Toy Monster upon hitting the water and the Ecto-2 blowing up effectively vaporizes the ghost. (While somehow not causing any noticeable damage to the bridge.)

And so the day is saved.  The ghost inside the Toy Monster is gone, the Ghost Family is back in the Ghostbuster’s custody, and Peter informs Slimer that he’s officially off the hook.  Yay.

This is certainly a very goofy episode.  Not only was there quite a bit of slapstick, especially with the Ghost Family, they even featured a lot of rather pointless jokes.  The kind that I guess could be seen as funny to five-year-olds but would come across as rather awkward to older viewers. I think there was only one joke I almost smiled at, and that was the New Jersey joke they threw in at the beginning.  But that was probably just because I was familiar with how Jersey is frequently the target of various jokes.  Even the animation itself was very cartoonish in nature.  A lot of the background characters in particular looked more like caricatures then actual people.  And in the beginning, I’m pretty sure they used the exact same character design for all the candy makers, with only the hair color varying.  Though it does kind of make sense because this was technically the first episode to air, even though it wasn’t the first one to be produced.  The show creators were probably still trying to test things out at this point in the show and get a feel for what worked and what didn’t.

(Click here to read more Ghostbusters reviews)

[cordytriestowrite]

Your Biggest Fan

Loki x Reader

Summary: If the only way you could get a job in journalism was by stalking The Avengers you would do it, you just wish it wasn't so hard to get your shot.

It took a few more outings where you would attempt to capture images of the god of thunder before you realized the coincidences surrounding those photos were actually purposeful sabotage. For the past month they followed the same formula: you would be sent out with the camera to a Thor sighting and while waiting for your shot you would inevitably spot the mysterious man in his black tailored suit then Thor would appear shortly after and therein lie the sabotage.

First it was your camera's battery, and while it was strange you had convinced yourself it was ultimately innocuous. You arrived back at the office and admitted your mistake, thinking you had earned the disapproval of your team rightfully. They bounced back though with five articles and two polls based on your poorly framed, slightly out of focus photographs. You were relieved despite the nagging thought in your head of how odd the whole thing was.

Then, the next time your camera went missing, it had somehow completely disappeared from the strap around your neck. When you went to lift the familiar weight of the device and grasped nothing but air the surge of panic you felt bypassed any desire to document Thor enjoying seven entire pizzas in the small corner pizza joint you had been tipped off on. The meal took the god all of three minutes to scarf down. Finding your camera took about half an hour. You didnt notice him in the moment, the same man from last time standing just inside the restaurant, half hidden in the shadow of the awning hung to shield the sun from their customer's eyes. It was on top of that very awning you spotted your camera and you recruited one of the restaurant workers to help you bring it down. You should have realized as you approached the office empty handed that something was up, but it took a few more times you shamefully admit.

Your boss was getting tired of your excuses and your team did not believe your claims that the stranger was somehow connected to your misfortune. How could your expect them to believe you though? You had no evidence of him at all. There had been no photographs, no name to research, and your description of him only received blank stares or raised eyebrows. Ultimately it was decided that you should take a break from fieldwork and stay in the office where the work you were being paid to do actually produced results.

You were just finishing your rough draft of Chick Flicks Black Widow Would Probably Watch and Why when the fight began. One moment you were mentally pulling your hair out at the stupidity of the article and the next you were cowering under your desk as a deep tremor shook the building from the foundation to the highest floor. When the quake ceased and you left your makeshift shelter you discovered the source of the upheaval. Right outside your building was some sort of vessel and shooting from its underbelly was what looked like a cartoonish red laser. The beam of energy, as silly as it looked, was causing real damage to the street below. Almost as if the entire staff reached the same realization at the same time, the thirty or so employees of The Thirst New York Division rushed in a panic to the elevator looking to escape to safety.

You however, could only see dollar signs as Iron Man flew into view from the top of your floors large windows, his sleek red and gold suit reflecting in the sun and almost blinding you with each movement of his arms and legs. This was your chance to get out of your crappy job and into something better, all you needed was pictures.

When the first attack on New York happened most everyone's sole motivation was survival. Droves of people fled the streets being terrorized by the threat for locations untouched, some even fleeing the city entirely. One college student, equipped with only his outdated DSLR endured the line of fire to capture the fight. His name became legendary in journalism, his prints ended up in museums and text books, and he was set for life with royalties and job offers. This could be your moment. This could be the fight that gets your name in the mouth of every major news outlet and your photos in magazines and your articles online. This time tomorrow you could be free of this bullshit job with its nonsense reporting and actually do something worth a damn. Where others saw danger you only saw opportunity.

The camera used for all reporting by your team, the same camera that had been disabled in multiple ways by your mischievous nuisance, was sitting atop Katy's desk where she had left it yesterday. Without any moral objection you snatched it up and tore down the stairs, surpassing a handful of coworkers still waiting for the elevator.

The eight flights from your office to the ground floor were traversed in such a rush you lost your footing about halfway down, causing your momentum to send you crashing into the wall of the stairwell. You barely felt the impact through the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You checked the camera for damage and set off once you determined there was none, not faulting your speed for any prospect of sure footing. You halted only when you had thrown open the door to the lobby and came upon the destruction.

An entire stretch of outer wall was gone, the walls adjacent were mostly rubble and only the far wall remained undamaged and continued to support the building as it had when you arrived to work that morning. The usual elderly, friendly building manager was missing from her desk that stood in the center of the lobby, though in her defence the desk was no longer in its place and, in fact, pieces of wood scattered about the tile floor were all that remained. Like a heavy boulder in the middle of a stream you stayed planted through the river of scared workers flooding out from the elevator and stairs. They continued to flow out and away from the battle, pushing and shoving and taking along with them anything that cut through their path.

You couldnt move with them, not now that you were down here, seeing and hearing and practically tasting destruction. Truly for the first time you were feeling terror. The next time you saw a spider you would not be able to say you were afraid of them, for the fear you felt right now surpassed any minor fright the eight legged creatures gave you. Haunted houses could never be described as horrifying, for you had now seen real blood splattered on the walls and pavement, not knowing how it got there or who it belonged to, or even if the bleeder was still alive.

The red and gold glimmer of the Iron Man suit brought you back to you senses, forcing your previously unseeing eyes to refocus on what drove you down here in the first place. You rushed forward toward the open air, stumbling up and over rubble and debris to make it beyond the building, one hand cradling the camera to your chest protectively. When your feet hit a patch of intact pavement you brought the viewfinder to your eye and began snapping.

The pictures would not be perfect but they would be plentiful. Iron Man and War Machine were high in the sky and moving faster than your camera could handle, but you captured their attempts to break through the flying vessel's tough exterior with whatever was equipped in the suits. Panning down to the ground, standing maybe half a mile from you just outside the energy beam pointed steadfast into the ground with the help of Hulk was Captain America and Black Widow. You zoomed in and out feverishly getting shots of all three of the heroes as well as individual close ups. You felt a surge of pride as your shutter closed midway through Captain America throwing his shield; in the viewfinder you had timed it right when he had the shield furthest back, allowing you to see the gleaming white center star and the length of his muscular arm.

In your fervor you did not detect the roll of thunder and flash of lightening until one struck so close you almost dropped the camera. You stumbled blindly backwards on instinct and scrambled up the rubble pile until you were under the cover of your building.

"He's here." You said to yourself with a smile, searching what you could see of the sky from under the crumbling roof.

It's not that Thor was your favorite avenger, far from it considering the strife you had endured trying to get his picture, but you had always been a fan, he was a god after all. You could see the lightening travel closer and closer, striking down from a centralized ball. You raised your camera excitedly. It was hard to capture lightening on film, but this time you would get the shots that evaded you before.

You pressed down frantically on your capture button, so much so that your pointer finger was sore, but you had finally gotten a solid photo of the god of thunder...and...was that?

It was him, the dark haired man who had handed you your camera battery, who you had seen smirking at you through your view finder just before the lens attachments fell off while attempting to document Thor jogging in the park. Despite the change from a well fitted, all-black suit to leathers of green and black paired with a flowing cape and golden horned helmet, you knew it was him. His long black curls and playful expression made it all very clear.

You felt fear, true and pure, for the second time that day when your mind made the connection between the man in the suit and the man, no, god joining the fight alongside The Avengers. You had been spotting Loki, the god of mischief, brother of Thor, and overall threat to humanity, for the last month and had been suspecting him to be the source your camera issues. Though it didn't make sense how he had done it before it certainly did now. You knew Loki was a sorcerer; a trickster. You also knew he had attempted to take over the world only a few years ago and had caused the death of thousands of people with no remorse. You swallowed past the constriction of your throat. He had been playing with you, teasing you for his own pleasure and amusement. What would happen when he got bored of pulling your pigtails and calling you names? Would he leave you alone? Would he kill you? You could feel your fear edge into a full on panic attack. You dropped the camera onto the debris next to you with shaking hands.

The creaking and cracking was quiet at first but the volume increased rapidly, too rapid for you to react. The fact that you were about to be crushed had barely entered your thoughts before the building collapsed, no longer able to rely on the one supporting wall. The toppling building provided just enough damage to the enemy to send it to the ground, sputtering out its last bits of life. The Avengers stood around it, taking in its damage and the wreckage of the surrounding areas, all except one unofficial member who currently cradled you in his arms only a few feet away from the falling glass and concrete.

You thought you were going to die but somehow you hadn't. You opened your eyes, they had been clenched so tightly shut that you saw spots for a moment and had to blink them away, but when you vision cleared you finally understood why you weren't dead. Loki's face was etched with concern, a genuine expression that jolted you out of your dazed state and back into an adrenaline induced panic. You clutched desperately to his leather clad arms and shoulders despite the relative security.

"Oh...oh m-my god." You began, stuttering on your words as you choked back sobs. You should hear Loki shushing you softly and felt his icy thumb graze across your cheek to collect your tears. You pulled away reflexively and he let you break out of his arms. You wrapped your own arms around yourself immediately missing the feeling of comfort.

"You're safe now. Though only a fool of a midgardian would be so close to the action and almost get herself killed." His voice was deep, just like it had been upon your first meeting. The timbre felt like a warm blanket for your ears, but the condescending tone and words did not wrap you in warmth, but ignite a heat in your belly even the ice of fear couldnt quell fast enough.

"I am not a fool." you huffed, finding strength in your voice again.

"Then, pray tell, what were you thinking?" His pitch raised slightly in his bewilderment.

Your eyes finally looked beyond him to where you once sat, suddenly realizing your camera was not at your side. It had been crushed along with any hope you had of moving on from The Thirst. You let out a self deprecating snort and shook your head. There was no way The Thirst would even continue to employ you when they found out about the camera, if they were even keeping the New York division at all after losing everything. You brought your attention back to Loki, eyes now hollow.

"My camera has been crushed and my office leveled. How will you continue to play with me now? Or will you just kill me?"

All concern and confusion fell from the god's face and was replaced by a hard, cold glare. Barely suppressed anger held his lips tight in a sneer. Without looking he reached down by his side, fingers trailing along one golden horn of his helmet before gripping it surely and thrusting it into the air. It turned over twice before it landed deftly back into his awaiting hand. All the while his eyes did not leave yours and you found yourself unable to do anything but take him in. He placed the helmet on his head and took a step back, and another, and with each step the hard line of his lips loosened into a roguish leer.

"I'm not done playing yet darling."

Tag list is open! @bluebriid @leftmewaitinginthecold13 @cyberbunny21 @kali-rambles @jungwencantdie @fuckthatfeeling

[ejsponge61]

F.3.A.R. vs. F.E.A.R. 2

This was originally written back when I originally played these games back in March 2016. But I recently found this piece, and thought it’d be interesting to share.  A while ago, I beat F.E.A.R. 2, and I loved it. In fact, I enjoyed it  So much, that just last night, I also beat F.3.A.R. They are very, VERY different. In what ways? Well, let me tell ya. It’s VERY short. It only took two sittings & a little over 6 hours to complete.  It’s very linear, to the point where doors just close behind you when you go into rooms that progress the story. F.E.A.R. 2 never felt this restricted. Environments felt more like actual buildings than small arenas for the next battle. And, I could have sworn the campaign in that game was at least 25% longer than this one. Though, this wasn’t a huge deal, it didn’t overstay it’s welcome. It’s completely different from F.E.A.R. 2 gameplay wise. Due to its weightier gunplay and reliance on health packs instead of regenerating health, F.E.A.R. 2 made you feel like you were your character. Plus, allowing you to hold 4 different weapons and grenade types added much more variety in the combat. In 3, you just run around, slide, and jump around with reckless abandon. In addition, you can only hold 2 weapons and 3 grenade types at once. It makes the game feel way more arcadey, and it’s challenge/ranking system adds to that feeling. Nothing brings you out of a horror experience more than a RANK UP icon in the middle of the screen. Also, in tone, F.3.A.R. is also very different. Every ounce of the previous game seemed to add to the seriousness and dread of the world. While is was a pretty game, it’s artstyle intentionally used muted colors to add to the atmosphere. It’s set pieces were grounded in a way that made even giant mech battles seem plausible. And the restraint shown in revealing Alma throughout the game made seeing her more near the end so much more special. F.3.A.R. doesn’t learn from any of this and instead tells a fairly generic & cliché action story, with some mild supernatural elements and jump scares. Even the artstyle is much more cartoonish and over exaggerated when compared to the previous game. They do have clever moments of fright, but after taking down a helicopter with a mech for the 3rd time, I can’t help but loose the intimacy that horror requires to be effective. Yet, despite all of this, I still had a lot fun. While the gunplay is much lighter than the previous game, I still enjoyed slide-kicking 3 enemies into a wall. Ranking up and earning new skills isn’t new, but it’s still a fun gameplay loop. And, even though the story is much more tongue-in-cheek, I enjoyed it enough. The callbacks to previous games were cool and the ending had a very cool twist that made me wish I played it in coop to get the full effect of it. Overall, if you desperately want a co-op shooter, and you don’t own any current gen system, then I’d recommend like 5 games before this one. There really isn’t much special about this game, even if it does everything it’s trying to do pretty damn well. It just looses the special niche that made the previous games notable in order to conform to what was popular in the shooter genre at the time. And the side effect of doing that is, no matter how good you are at making the game, there will always be dozens of titles that fulfill the same need.

[magzoso-tech]

New Post has been published on https://magzoso.com/tech/snapchat-will-launch-bitmoji-tv-a-personalized-cartoon-show/

Snapchat will launch Bitmoji TV, a personalized cartoon show

Snapchat’s most popular yet under-exploited feature is finally getting the spotlight in 2020. Starting in February with a global release, your customizable Bitmoji avatar will become the star of a full-motion cartoon series called Bitmoji TV. It’s a massive evolution for Bitmoji beyond the chat stickers and comic strip-style Stories where they were being squandered to date.

Creating original in-house shows for its Discover section that can’t be copied could help Snapchat differentiate from the plethora of short-form video platforms out there ranging from YouTube to Facebook Watch to TikTok. Bitmoji TV could also up the quality of Discover, which still feels like a tabloid magazine rack full of scantly clad women, gross-out imagery, and other shocking content merely meant to catch the eye and draw a click.

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With Bitmoji TV, your avatar and those of your friends will appear in regularly-scheduled adventures ranging from playing the crew of Star Treky spaceship to being secret agents to falling in love with robots or becoming zombies. The trailer Snapchat released previews an animation style reminiscent of Netflix’s Big Mouth.

TechCrunch asked Snap for more details, including how long episodes will be, how often they’ll be released, whether they’ll include ads, and if the company acquired anyone or brought on famous talent to produce the series. A Snap spokesperson declined to provide more details, but sent over this statement: “Bitmoji TV isn’t available in your network yet, but stay tuned for the global premiere soon!”

The Snapchat Show page for Bitmoji TV notes it is coming in February 2020. Users can visit here on mobile to subscribe to Bitmoji TV so it shows up prominently on their Discover page, or turn on notifications about its new content.

Snap realizes Bitmoji’s value

Snap has had a tough few years as many of its core features have been ruthlessly copied by the Facebook family of apps. Instagram Stories killed Snap’s growth for years and effectively stole the broadcast medium from its inventor. Facebook also ramped up it augmented reality selfie filters, added more ephemeral messaging features, and launched Watch as a competitor to Snapchat Discover.

Two years ago I wrote that Facebook was crazy not to be competing with Bitmoji too. Six months later we were first to report Facebook Avatars was in the works, and this year they launched as Messenger chat stickers in Australia with plans for a global release in 2019 or early 2020. But Facebook’s slow movement here, Google’s half-assed entry, and Twitter’s lack of an attempt have given Snapchat’s Bitmoji a massive headstart. And now Snap is finally leveraging it.

“TV” is actually a return to Bitmoji’s roots. The startup Bitstrips originally offered an app for customizing the face, hair, clothes, and more of your avatar and then creating comic strips for them to appear in. Snap acquired Bitstrips back in 2016 for just $64.2 million — a steal not far off from Facebook snatching Instagram for under a billion. The standalone Bitmoji app blew up as soon as Snapchat began offering the avatars as chat stickers. It had over 330 million downloads as of April according to Sensor Tower despite Snapchat now letting you create your avatar in its main app.

Eventually, Snap began expanding Bitmoji’s uses. In 2017 Bitmoji went 3D and you could start overlaying them as augmented reality characters on your Snaps. The next year Snap improved their graphics, then launched the Snap Kit developer platform and Bitmoji Kit. This allows apps to build atop Snapchat login and use your Bitmoji as a profile pic. Soon they were appearing as Fitbit smart watch faces, alongside your Venmo transaction, and on Snapchat-sold merchandise from t-shirts to mugs. It’s part of a wise strategy to beat copycats by allowing allies to use real thing rather than building their own knock-off. That’s fueled the “Snapback” comeback which has seen Snap’s share price climb out of the gutter at $5.79 at the start of 2019 to $16.09 now.

One of Snap smartest innovations was Bitmoji Stories — the ancestor to Bitmoji TV. These daily Stories let you tap frame-by-frame through short comic strip-style interactions starring your avatar. Occasionally Bitmoji Stories would include rudimentary animation, but most frames were still images with text bubbles. Bitmoji could once again drive a narrative, rather than just being a communication tool. Still, they seem underutilized.

In 2019, Snapchat wised up. Bitmoji have become nearly ubiquitous amongst teens and Snapchat’s 210 million daily users. They’re the Google or Kleenex of cartoonish personalized avatars. Their goofy nature is also a perfect fit for Snapchat, and a reason they’re tough for stiffer and older tech giants to convincingly copy.

In April, Snap announced its new games platform inside its messaging feature that let you play as your Bitmoji against friends’ avatars in games ranging from Mario Party ripoff Bitmoji Party to tennis, shoot-em ups, and cooking competitions. Snap injects ads into the games, making Bitmoji key to its efforts to monetize its central messaging use case. Last month it launched custom and branded clothing for Bitmoji, which could open opportunities to earn money selling premium outfits or showing off brand sponsorships.

To truly take advantage of Bitmoji’s unique popularity, though, Snap needed to build longer-form experiences with the avatars at the center that . Stickers and Stories and games were fun, but none felt like must-see content. With Bitmoji TV, Snap may have found a way to get users to drag their friends into the app. Since everyone sees their own Bitmoji as the star, the cartoons could be more compelling then ones with impersonal characters you might find elsewhere around the web.

But Bitmoji TV’s success will depend largely on the quality of the writing. If your avatar is constantly getting into funny, meme-worthy situations, you’ll keep coming back to watch. But Snap’s teen audience has a keen nose for inauthentic bullsh*t. If the Shows feel forced, too childish, or boring, Bitmoji TV will flop. Snap would be savvy to invest in great Hollywood talent to produce the episodes.

High quality Bitmoji TV shorts could rescue Snapchat Discover from its own mediocrity. There are a few strong brands like ESPN SportsCenter on the platform, and Snap has several original Shows with over 25 million unique viewers. It’s also greenlit additional seasons of Shows like Dead Girls Detective Agency and new biopic clips from Serena Williams and Arnold Schwarzenegger. Still, a scroll through the Discover and Shows sections reveals plenty of trashy clickbait that surely scares away premium advertisers.

Bitmoji TV could offer video that’s not only fun and snackable, but out of reach for competitors who don’t have a scaled avatar platform of their own. As with the recent launch of Snapchat Cameos, the company has realized that the most addictive experiences center on its users’ own faces. Snapchat turned the selfie into the future of communication. Bitmoji TV could make an animated recreation of your selfie into the future of content.