#it's good! it's spooky! it's tragic!

[anthropwashere]

Did you play or watch someone play Mouthwashing? I think it's a good game. What are your thoughts on it? 👀

I watched an LP and absolutely plan on buying it (as soon as my bank sorts out the gatdang claim I put in over a week ago, grumble grumble). For all that I love spooky scary stuff, I'm a tremendous coward with a short attention span so I don't actually play many indie horror games. Mouthwashing is one of my rare exceptions, and it's a level of good that's gonna sit with me a while.

It's a game that uses its limited time to make the characters properly interesting people. It sits you down and forces you to reflect on yourself a little, even (especially) if it hurts to. It puts mundane drudgery and the danger of prolonged isolation front and center of a sci-fi setting, which is my favorite flavor of sci-fi. It reminds us we need to take responsibility reflect on the baggage we've gotten used to carrying to see if it's still worth it.

The PSX graphics and surreal horror aspects come together in a way that's genuinely breathtaking in a way I didn't expect too. Like, full-stop paused the LP several times to appreciate what I was looking at. The music was another pleasant surprise, not obtrusive or kitschy, but just eerie enough to help sell the story being told.

There's a fucked up horse too, so that's fun.

It's a damn good horror game I can't wait to freak myself out with a few more times.

(ALSO I just realized Mouthwashing was made by the same people who did How Fish is Made, which is another game I haven't played yet but that video essay Jacob Geller did on it lives rent free in my brain. Man, what's my excuse for not playing that one yet? It's friggin' free! Well I know what I'm doing today.)

[collgeruledzebra]

artemy burakh is so much stronger than me because if I was 6'3" with multiple stab wounds and the RICHEST MAN IN TOWN said he'd take me in and then made me sleep on a COUCH!! a LEATHER COUCH!!! the reputation meter would not have been able to fucking stop me i would be ripping peoples heads off in the STREETS for that

[starrysharks]

zeno's ultimate pokemiku tierlist ⁉️(it's all his opinion and he loves them all regardless⁉️)

[mochirialgworl]

I miss it so much 🥲

[jhara-ivez]

Give him a hand.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

I know I've been very absent on here and to be totally honest it's my damn job. Work has me so tired and so stressed I've legit not written anything in over a week when usually I write almost every single night. I know my fic posting has slowed for the past while but I was still actively working on stuff behind the scenes. I have a lot of half finished projects but it's so bad that in the new year if my job stress hasn't lessened then I think I will look for a new job.

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries really did a pretty spectacular job with their German characters - the conflict, while centred around a world war and everything, is tragic and nuanced and neither side is demonised! And the actress playing elderly Mrs. Vogt is doing a really solid accent, not at all over the top for once! And her son’s German is a valiant attempt, but miles away from a native speaker’s - and the show adresses that! He’s second-generation and “was always worse [at German] than [his] brother”! And the language is included as something not only worth learning, but in the context of poetry - love poetry at that! And Rilke! And *that* Rilke! Death on the Vine has my whole heart just for that.

But they also fall into that exact same trap that almost every anglo production falls into with German characters - the names are??? way too Scandinavian??? Like the father’s name is Michael, which is excellent! That is super common... but his wife pronounces it [ˈmîːkaɛl], “Mee-ka-ale”, which, no. No. That’s just... Swedish. Look, I get it, “ch” is hard for English speakers, but then just call him “Thomas” or “Johann” - they’re just as common, and have neither the difficult “ch” sound nor an “r” (which is usually a dead giveaway, I can count the native English speakers I know who can approximate a German “r”-sound on one hand). You can get away with “Oskar” and “Ida” just fine, they’re common enough - but also suspiciously common in Scandinavia. And then there’s “Erik”. I’d be perfectly willing to be generous and say his parents just anglicised the German variant “Erich” (which, again, would probably be a monster to pronounce for an Australian actor, even though the name would be *just* the ticket popularity-wise). They appear to have anglicised their last name from “Vogt” to “Voigt” (the mother introduces herself as “Ida Vogt”, even though she seems to be *listed* as “Ida Voigt”? Rather confusing). But then his name would be spelled “Eric”, right?

It’s not as egregious as “Dark” and “1899″ - I spent the first ep of Dark convinced the show was set in Sweden or Norway because the names were so off - but it just. It *bothers* me. (Largely because I instinctly always think that the popularity of Scandinavian names in Germany was a leftover Nazi thing - even though turns out that’s just one of those weird misconceptions that a lot of people have. There is apparently quite clear evidence that it’s not true.) But also in this case because it’s geographically off - these Nordic names are very common in *northern* Germany, but the Vogt family is from the Rhineland, which is emphatically not considered northern. It’s not impossible! But not the obvious choice nonetheless, and this keeps happening! It’s so unimaginative, we have so many stupid names to choose from! I get that “Heinrich” and “Friedrich” are dicey if you don’t have a native speaker on your hands, but... With a British accent, “Horst” seems quite doable, and it sounds kinda funny - at least a good bit more foreign than Eric. Same goes for “Dieter”, “Bernhard”, “Walther”, “Udo”, “Hermann”, “Josef”, all old-timey and strong 20th century vibes, and very common. (And honestly, just go with “Peter”, “Arnold” or “Martin”, they’re pronounced slightly differently than the English variant but you’d have absolutely no trouble teaching them to an actor.) Plus, Nathan Page did quite a beautiful job with Rilke’s first name, so for second generation, “Rainer” could be a contender! (And speaking of Rilke, if you want a northern German name so badly, go with “Malte” just once! Change it up!)

Ida doesn’t nearly grate as much - old-timey female names in German are often hard to pronounce (”Hildegard”, “Annegret”, “Margarete” etc. have the bingo of the ‘r’ sound and the consonant clusters, “Ulrike”, “Irene” etc. have that really conspicuous “r” in the middle as well, and I feel like even easier names like “Louise” can be deceptively difficult to get right). But in the first half of the 20th century, you can get away *brilliantly* with short forms! “Anni”, “Emmi”, “Leni”, “Lene”, “Lotte”, “Hilde” - feels very lived-in, and simple enough to pronounce!

tldr; I love Death on the Vine but for the love of god stop naming every German character Erik.

[gotghost]

I'll never be the girl you wanted

[captinaubs]

Some OC designs I made last year for the spooky season. Their names from left to right are Jack, Jay, and Jackie. I know, super original. They are cursed little children and I love them. I am hoping to work on their story and designs this fall. But, as always, I make no promises.

[lunarcigar]

Just finished tma…… I’m so glad I was late to this show because that ending was DEEPLY unsatisfying and if I had to wait for three years for the next installment I’d be so upset.

[bootlegspiders]

Hey, so for Watcher fans who may not wanna pay for another subscription or just wanna watch something new here are some other youtubers you should take a look at if you want to get a spook or learn some history

(* = potentially triggering topics covered usually associated with crimes, so be careful)

Ghost Hunting and general spooky vibes:

AmysCrypt - Your typical ghost hunting show with two Australians traveling the world, though I will say they do go to places I've never heard of before and they do very good research. And there are some goofs along with the spooks.

The Ouija Brothers - Two British dudes finding ghosts in England. The vibes are generally pretty chill and it's a good time

The Paranormal Scholar - A mixed bag of all paranormal happenings from ghosts to demons to cryptids and aliens. Sort of an overview to deepdives on various paranormal occurrences. The research is immaculate and their voice is very soothing in my opinion.

Paranormal Quest - Ghost hunting in the US, sometimes goofy sometimes serious, but they do go to some interesting places and some familiar ones too

Weird History:

ObsoleteOddity* - This guy is great, like 80% of the things he covers I've never heard of before. Very atmospheric, fun little visuals, and a large variety of weird events and people for topics.

Georgia Marie* - A little bit of everything, but she focuses on strange things that have happened, lgbt history, true crime, and historical disasters. She covers enough of everything that I'm sure you'll find something

Stefanie Valentine* - I'm not sure if she even posts anymore, but I thought what she was doing was great. Think Vampira or Elvira but for older true crime and ghost stories, I think the latest covered would have been like early 1900s. Idk I just thought it was like a cute spooky lil storytime

Caitlin Doughty or Ask A Mortician* - Pretty sure y'all would know who she is but just in case, she's a mortician who covers topics relating to death! From odd ways people have died, or odd things that have happened to people after they've died. And just odd or tragic things that have happened through history. It's silly, but done with levity and care and respect the topics deserve.

General History:

Part-Time Explorer - Mostly history on ships and ghost towns with the occasional train. Lots of research and interviews, very well done and worth checking out even if it may not be your thing.

History's Forgotten People - Talks about sometimes obscure, or sometimes not, historical individuals. Even if you've heard of the person in the topic, they'll talk on something obscure about that person.

History Tea Time with Lindsay Holiday - A heavy focus on royalty around the world, a generally upbeat dive into historic individuals.

(Or you could always go watch time team, that's an option and it's my guilty pleasure love me some archeology)

True Crime:

There are so many out there, so I'll just recommend two of my favorites

Gabulosis* - She focuses on vintage cases 20 years or older (literally in her opener) and is well researched and respectful. Another one that talks on cases I've never heard of that deserve to be heard.

Mysterious WV* - True crime and missing persons based in the West Virginia area and neighboring states. Idk how to even explain the vibes. This guy is just great please watch him trust me you won't be disappointed.

That's all for now, feel free to add your own recs out there!

[evilminji]

Broadway :3c

And I hear ya. (Insert spooky joke here) There is a sprawling WEB of central hubs, for The Arts. For trade. For getting drunk and having a good time. The Zone is large and it is endless. You'll NEVER reach the far end. It can never reach you.

All things, in gentle sweeping waves, across eternity.

So when folks want to have "a market" or "a movie theater" or "the waterpark"? You gotta PICK a point on the endless map. Figure if you are close or far enough away for others like it, to make it worth the effort to build.

You might even be the first to do it for GALAXIES in any direction! People might fly for WEEKS to come to your place! Move their Lairs to be closer too it. Like dust gathered by gravity, slowly creating planets and stars. A mega Lair. A CITY.

They rise, they fall, the Zone shifts all the while.

But!

Does the dead starlet stop singing? Does getting gunned down, stop the show?? I think NOT! Where is her STAGE? What musicals? What dramas? What operas and tragedies and forms unknown to human kind??! Ballet dancers who CAN defy gravity! Singers who have no NEED for air! The haunting blend of instruments, that could never in life have met! From empires long turned to ASH!

The greatest show in DEATH!

Ember was a world wide hit. Yes, her voice was hypnotic. But that could be FOUGHT. It was SKILL that carried the game. And she was hardly "I was Literally The Greatest My Planet Ever Produced" skilled. She was good, great even. Not "I was Born For Greatness" Excellence.

And like?

.....eventually? Danny's gonna ask after "cultural-y" Culture stuff. Clothes and food. Music and the arts. To help his parents get used to the whole "our son is half-dead" thing. To show he's not some mindless monster now.

And? Ghostwriter? Probably an absolute legend. Does he know where you can find some CULTURE? Oh THANK ZONE! He thought you'd NEVER ask! You unsophisticated-! *fist fight in a library* Still a dick, though. Always and forever.

And just? Imagine Broadway stretched out into a floating city. That never sleeps. Never stops. Shows ever changing. Some on a cycle, some only once. Dream-like. Beautiful. Eye catching.

And yeah, Danny didn't think he LIKED musicals. It was more of a Jazz thing. But? This was important! Gotta get the whole family in the Speeder. We're going to see a play, guys! We'll pick when we get there! Family road trip! Educational! We can make notes!

His parents are trying to be supportive. Big, fixed, strained grins. Trying to pretend to be excited. But they... DO seem reluctantly intrigued? And Jazz is all but vibrating in her seat. It's basically her "before you go away to college" present. And she is THRILLED.

The longer she excitedly speculates? The more into it she gets their folks. This IS gonna be new! Exciting! Never before seen Ghost Culture! Music! As a FAMILY! Think we could find souvenirs? Ooooh, wonder if they sell CDs??!

Then? They GET there. And it's... it's like seeing the Las Vegas strip for the first time, except multiplied into a city. Made of even MORE styles and eras. At angles gravity would never allow.

The air filled with laughter and excitement, people rushing to shows or humming bits of tunes. Street stalls. Fountains. Flowers growing everywhere.

They could stay for months and not even reach a fraction of these buildings. His parents are taking countless photos. His sister squeeling with joy as she races for an information kiosk like they just arrived at Disneyland. He, at least, remembers to lock up the Speeder. Grab their day bags.

When did HE become the responsible one?

The argue over shows. Obviously. Wouldn't be Fenton's otherwise. HE wants to see the alien one. It's from mars! But it's his sister's trip, as his dad points out, so she gets to choose. She picks a musical set during the Fall of Krpton. He's... reluctantly kinda interested. I mean, EVERYBODY likes Superman, right?

It's... it's amazing. Terrible, but amazing. I mean? A coming of age story cut tragically short? Oof. Hello, massively projecting then getting FEELS about it! Yeah, sure, rip my heart out why don't you? He's fine. No, really! Just drowning in his own emotions over here. The refrain of "A Life Well Lived"? *gargling dying whale noises* he's FINE. Not grappling with anything! Go on without him!

Thankfully?

They DO sell CDs.

He... he may end up, kinda, getting a bit of a collection. Going on the weekends, hoping show to show. Wandering to whichever catches his eye in the moment. Buying the CDs for one's he likes. Which? Honestly is a lot of them. Even though there's all sorts of genres and languages. Cause it... it RESONATES you know?

The grief. The anger. The "I have died but I wasn't FINISHED. It isn't FAIR.". And? Something about ghost speak flows so BEAUTIFULLY in song? It's hard to explain. But he... he needs them.

A pair of headphones, a CD, and a clear night sky? Nothing touches it. It's like a trance made of light. Like he can just drift.

The problem? Is the CDs are kinda... Zone made? They're radioactive, for one. Nothing a Fenton CD player can't handle. But... they? Also? Kinda fuckin GLOW? Like... very, very noticeably. And not in a "ha ha, cool glow in the dark paint!" Sorta way.

.........but like FUCK is he leaving his music behind when he goes to college. Gotham will have to deal. It's already a burning shit-nado, it can handle this. Probably. He'll put um in a lead lined box. Actually, speaking OF.... he needs to get a few more of those... *goes back to packing*

Which? Is how? The Bats are treated to some of the most HAUNTING music they've ever heard, belted and crooned from Some Guy's speakers, out an open window, on the "stop for a mid-patrol drink of water and a snack" building. It's one of the intersections of their patrol routes. And THAT? That is some dude listening to a Romani ballad about death and the circus. Now it's a musical about the trenches of an obscure war.

Okay, that was DEFINITELY Kryptonian. Like... coherent Krypto- *Bruce gets a call from Clark on his "work" number DEMANDING to know where that is coming from. Who is that voice Bruce?!* huh.... Well Then.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @spidori @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter

[earlycuntsets]

"DEATH COMES RIPPING" - SPOOKY ISSUE

'THE BLACK PARADE, THE TRIUMPHANT NEW ALBUM BY MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE MAY HAVE A TRAGIC STORYLINE, BUT IT'S NOTHING COMPARED WITH WHAT THE BANDMATES ENDURED TO BRING THE DISC TO LIGHT

PHOTOS BY JON WIEDERHORN PHOTOS BY JUSTIN BORUCKI

STANDING ON A BALCONY nine floors above the teeming streets of New York, Gerard Way overlooks the city in which My Chemical Romance began assembling their ambitious new album, The Black Parade. The newly peroxide- blond frontman takes a deep drag from a cigarette and exhales with a sigh. He knows he shouldn't smoke, but it's his only remaining vice.

"If I hadn't been sober, I think The Black Parade surely would have killed me," says Gerard, who climbed on the wagon in 2004. "We were going insane the whole time, and I had to cling to my sobriety to stay even a little lucid. The album became like this beast that was consuming us."

Following up a release as successful as 2004's Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, which sold 1.4 million copies in the U.S. alone, is never an easy task. And the various scares the band experienced as they worked on the new record-drummer Bob Bryar had a near-fatal staph infection, Gerard seriously injured his foot, and some restless spirits at the studio where they recorded kept them all on edge-did not help matters. And neither

did MCR's decision to make The Black Parade (Reprise) a concept disc. Together, Gerard and his bandmates-Bryar, guitarists Frank lero and Ray Toro, and bassist Mikey Way (Gerard's younger brother)-decided to craft a record about a dying young man who is visited by a cast of strange characters that help him examine his short life.

But diving into the conceptual deep end proved well worth the hassle. The Black Parade is not only MCR's most realized offering; it's also one of the most eclectic, enjoyable rock records of the year. One listen to tracks

like "House of Wolves," "The Sharpest Lives," and "Dead!" makes it clear that My Chemical Romance can still rip a good metallic punk tune. But the bandmates are now equally influenced by epic albums like Pink Floyd's The Wall, David Bowie's The Rise & Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars, and Queen's A Night at the Opera.

"A lot of bands from the scene we came from try to strip down their music to 'keep it real," Gerard notes. "But the real you is what you've always had inside you and what you strive to be. So when we started compiling the material we had written, we were like, You know what? This has to be a huge, theatrical record."

MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE started working on ideas for The Black Parade in the back of the bus while on 2005's Warped Tour, after which they flew to New York and rented a rehearsal space for two months. And that's when things started to get weird.

"I was living in Queens, and I had to commute on the subway every day," Gerard says. "I was suddenly very scared and paranoid. I felt more like an outsider than I ever had, and I had no confidence, which is bad when you're trying to work on a record. And I had no anonymity because there were a lot of teenagers on the train." In reaction to the young fans he encountered on the underground,

Gerard wrote "Teenagers," a T. Rex-style romp with the chorus line, "Teenagers scare the living shit out of me." "The song came directly from commuting when school let out and being so terrified of them," the singer says. "I was like, Wait a minute. These are the same people that listen to our band. Why am I scared? And I realized it was because they're scared, too. Teenagers are made to feel like they can only solve their problems with violence. They lash out at each other in a really volatile way." After several months experiencing the joys of mass transit, MCR had completed only a handful of songs and felt like a change of scenery (and climate) might do them some good. "I couldn't keep working in New York," says Gerard. "We wanted isolation."

id: Gerard leads the way to what will likely be the band's second platinum record

So the group relocated to Paramour Mansion, outside of L.A. Nestled high in the hills, the deluxe estate overlooks the trendy Silver Lake area and boasts spacious rooms, a gorgeous pool, lush gardens, a state-of-the-art recording facility-and a few special guests.

"The place is definitely haunted," Gerard says. "Doors would slam, and the faucets would turn on. You'd get a bath drawn for you of freezing-cold water in your room, and you wouldn't know why." As unnerving as its mischievous spirits could be, the Paramour was also inspiring, and contributed to the haunting vibe of songs like "The End" and "This Is How I Disappear." More important, it led Gerard to come up with the bleak, surreal concept for the record. "I would have these night terrors, where it would feel like someone was choking me, and my heart would stop and I would stop breathing," he says. "I would wake up in the middle of the night and write these notes to myself, and one of them read, 'We are all just a black parade.' So I started thinking about how this band is kind of a black parade, like a funeral-procession rock thing. And I used that idea to piece together this story about the idea that when you die, death comes for you however you want." Gerard molded his concept into a narrative about a character he dubbed the Patient, whose strongest memory from childhood is of his father taking him to the city to see a parade. Two songs into the album, he dies, and the black parade comes for him.

"During the rest of the story, he meets this entity of death and all these characters, like Mama, who represents anyone who's ever lost their son in a war," Gerard explains. "It's almost like these Canterbury Tales, where he goes along on this journey, and at the end he decides whether he wants to live or die." With the concept in place, My Chem made the songs as sweeping and theatrical as Gerard's lyrics. They accomplished this, in part, by combing through their own eclectic record collections and pulling choice elements that would set them even further apart from other melodic punk bands.

The first two minutes of "Welcome to the Black Parade" stemmed from Gerard's love for Broadway musicals, the horns in "Dead!" came from Mikey's interest in Blur and Britpop, and the jaunty feel of "Mama" was informed by Tom Waits and Nick Cave. But the most poignant moment on the record, "Cancer," was (unlike its morbid moniker) something of a pleasant surprise. "I was very upset about something in my personal life, and that's when that song came out," Gerard says. "It was really spontaneous, and it was recorded pretty much live with Rob [Cavallo, the record's producer] on the piano and me in the vocal booth. Then we added layers of drums, which gave it a certain urgency. It's the song I'm most proud of because it was the most pure emotion we've ever captured, and it gets such an immediate response. You can't shake what the song is about."

As the CD approached completion, some members of the band began to show signs of nervous exhaustion. The group was scheduled to fly to England to play the Reading Festival, and as the date grew near, Toro, who has a fear of flying, got noticeably agitated. Then, after the band tracked "Welcome to the Black Parade," which was originally called "The Five of Us Are Dying," the guitarist lost it.

"I thought I had this premonition," Toro explains. "I was flipping through the TV channels, and on the news. there would be something about a plane crash, and every time I woke up in the morning, the clock would say 9:11. I was playing Tomb Raider the night before the flight, and on the level I ended up at, there was this whole flashback to a plane crash. So right before the flight I was like, 'That's it. I'm not flying."

Despite his misgivings, Toro boarded the plane, and when My Chemical Romance returned to L.A. (all of them still very much alive, thank you very much), The Black Parade was completed without further incident. Listening back to the record, the band members were in awe of what they had achieved and eager to share it with their fans. "There was a real confidence that came to us," Gerard explains. "Having survived it, we felt like we were changed forever. I feel different as a performer now, and I think we really finally discovered who we were as a band." But just because MCR were done with the record didn't mean that it was done with them. About a month later, the band was shooting a video for "Famous Last Words" with director Samuel Bayer (Garbage, Smashing Pumpkins) on a set featuring walls of flame, when-seized by the moment-lero grabbed Gerard's throat from behind and wrestled him to the ground. The singer rolled one way; his foot went the other. "It bent completely backwards, and I heard a crack and felt this agonizing pain," Gerard recalls. "I tore all the ligaments in my foot, but I got up and continued to perform." "I didn't know what I was doing," says lero, shaking his head. "I wasn't trying to hurt him. I felt awful. I still do." Gerard's injury was serious, and he still walks with a cane, but it paled in comparison to what happened to Bryar. At the end of the shoot, the pyro was so intense, the drummer could feel his leg burning, but he stuck it out for the rest of the song. By then, he had a nasty third-degree burn. And the misfortune didn't stop there. Bryar didn't take his antibiotics regularly, and he failed to keep the wound clean. By the time the band got back from a brief tour of Japan, the burn was severely infected. Then Bryar's face swelled up and, after doing the MTV Video Music Awards preshow telecast and a special club show, stumbled into a hospital emergency room in intense pain. "I thought I'd be there for 10 minutes, but as soon as they saw me, they got all serious and gave me an IV and said they had to do a CAT scan," recalls Bryar."They did all these blood tests and kept me there for 14 hours." Doctors discovered that Bryar's leg infection had spread to his blood and caused an abscess in his face that was creeping dangerously close to his brain. If it had been left untreated for another two days, he could have died. "The whole thing was such a nightmare," Bryar says. "This doctor stuck my cheek with a needle about six inches long and the width of an IV tube. Then he went in and out of the inside of my mouth with the needle about 10 times. Fortunately, the treatment worked, and Bryar left the hospital three days later. With tragedy averted, My Chem are now focusing on touring for The Black Parade. They'll be in Europe for most of November, and when they get back at the end of year, they'll start rehearsing for a U.S. arena tour that starts in February. "We want to put on a full show with props and staging like The Wall," Gerard says. And MCR plan to keep the Patient alive long after they're done touring for the CD. "I would love to see the story turned into a play or a musical, and it could easily be a movie," enthuses Gerard. "Making this record, we cut ourselves open every day, pulled out every organ, and lay them on a table so it would be something we're completely happy with. We want The Black Parade to exist for a long time." "The whole hole thing nightmare. This doctor stuck my cheek with a needle about six inches long and the width of an IV tube." -BOB BRYAR

"I felt more like an outsider than I ever had, and I had no confidence, which is bad when you're trying work on a record."

-GERARD WAY

12/2006 revolver - mcrhollywood on flickr

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Springtrap x Reader | Summary: Your uncle has asked you to keep watch over his new investment, Fazbear Frights, and the vintage artifacts his attraction contains. When you begrudgingly accept his offer, things take a turn for the weirder. An encounter in your dreams with a yellow rabbit changes you…for better, or worse?

Heads up: This fic is not for everybody, and that’s okay! It’s a fucked-up fever dream and if the summary intrigues you, come along for the ride. If not, that’s okay too. Things get heavy here. There’s monsterfucking, dream sex, vaginal penetration, some choking, fear, lust, disgust, basically a whole grab bag of fuckery, so if that’s your thing, read on, dear deviant 🫵♥️ PS the end is kind of fire, I love a good twist!!!

To be honest, you thought the idea of opening a theme park ‘attraction,’ based on the mysterious disappearances of children was fucked up. But your uncle was convinced there was a market for such a sick endeavor, that an audience existed whose search for thrills and chills would have them willing to shed money for a chance at experiencing horrific local nostalgia.

Because really, who wouldn’t want to relive the tragedy of multiple kids going missing? You were being sarcastic, of course. But part of that sarcasm stemmed from genuine bewilderment. What was your uncle thinking when he formed the concept of Fazbear Frights? He’d always been into horror as a genre, but as far as you’d understood, his interest was confined to books and film, not true crime. And if the subject matter of the Freddy’s story had involved the tragic disappearance of local adults, maybe Fazbear Frights wouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. But kids had gone missing, lives had been upended, and your uncle was about to make a profit off of their heartache.

The worst part of all? You’d accepted his offer to work there. The cost of life after college was kicking your ass; you could barely afford your rent as it was, working two part-time jobs. Money was more than tight; you needed extra cash wherever you could find it. And besides, the Fazbear Frights gig would only last a couple of weeks, just until the attraction opened. Your uncle’s job offer had been to monitor the security of the place overnight, with generous pay promised. You couldn’t understand why he’d be willing to pay someone to guard a bunch of creepy old relics from an abandoned pizza parlor, or why additional security was necessary when the theme park itself already had an overnight guard? Your uncle maintained that additional security was needed, and that he only trusted family with the responsibility of protecting such an important investment as his precious, twisted attraction…

Entering Fazbear Frights, your first impression is that it’s really fucking ugly. Granted, it’s supposed to look old fashioned, and maybe the building’s creepiness is simply proof of good set design. However, a sense of unease lingers in your stomach, and you’re almost positive it’s caused by something beyond the decor. The attraction is fully furnished, but won’t open for a couple more weeks while the finishing touches on lighting and sound are tweaked. Those changes are made during the day, when at least a little sunlight can be seen filtering in through the windows, reminding you there’s life outside. For your part, working the night shift, the dark building makes you feel secluded and more than a little creeped out.

You have a flashlight, and mostly functional electricity running through the building. But there’s still much to be desired in the way of making the attraction feel…not haunted. And it occurs to you that that’s the word which describes how you’re feeling: haunted. The hairs on your skin are standing at attention, a cold sweat clinging to the back of your neck, but why? Obviously the setting is creepy, but it’s meant to be. You’re usually comfortable around spooky decor. It’s not as if you’re a scared kid wandering the halls of a haunted house alone…but that’s how you this place makes you feel…

It’s getting late. An outdated digital clock (probably a relic from the late eighties itself) on the desk in front of you reads 3 AM. You shiver as yet another cold breeze whispers past your shoulders. You look around, studying the vintage posters on the wall, wondering how much money your uncle threw away in order to call these scraps his own. The figures staring back at you look menacing, despite their wide smiles. They’re called animatronics, you remember. That’s how your uncle had referred to them. You also recall his mentioning one animatronic in particular, a Freddy’s original he’d managed to get his hands on and would be bringing to Fazbear Frights. You haven’t seen it yet, and to be totally honest, you’re not sure you want to. If the animatronic your uncle purchased looks anything like the ones in the posters you’re staring at, you’d prefer to never encounter such a creature…

Re-entering the theme park feels like walking through the gates of Hell. You’d rather be anywhere else than here. Another night of spending six hours alone in the gloomy replica of a literal crime scene has your stomach twisting. And you didn’t sleep well, either. Your dreams had been too vivid to allow you rest. You’d dreamed of a monster, or something that could certainly be called one…a massive, towering figure with patchy, mustard-yellow fur clinging to its skeletal frame. It resembled a rabbit, or had, at some point long ago. While still maintaining the general shape of a rabbit, its appearance had decayed, warping its cuddly features into something ugly. Its eyes were cold gray orbs that rested deep in its oversized, vacant skull, tendons and ligaments intertwined with wires that wrapped its skeleton, which you later realized, was comprised of metal rather than bone.

Your senses had been particularly keen in the dream. The rabbit’s scent was stale, yet comfortingly nostalgic. It reminded you of an old quilt your grandmother had once given you from the bottom of her dresser drawer, which smelled of love and other ancient, homemade things. She’d wrapped you up inside it, with kisses and promises that the chilly winter night wouldn’t be as cold now, that the quilt had been waiting there in the dresser for years, waiting for someone who needed it…

The rabbit’s fur was coarse, your skin a soft contrast when you wrapped your arms around its waist. It felt like the outdoor carpet that had lined your parents’ back porch, which your feet and rain had pelted countless Summer nights. The rabbit’s fur was cool to the touch, moist with something bittersweet, a musky blend of old books with yellowed pages, their corners turned down and words lined in pencil…

And against your lips, that was also his taste, his tongue the flavor of nostalgia, his large, unbearably strong hands crushing your body against his like he intended to make love to and ruin you all at once. Whether or not he consisted of machine or animal, he was more human than anything else, fully formed with the parts needed to bring you to a state of rapture. He held you suspended, your legs around his waist, fucking up into you with more vigor than his decayed appearance would suggest him capable of. You clutched his back, and then his ears, locking your fingers around them and bracing for impact as each of his mechanical, brutal thrusts punched inside you with a machine’s precision…

You’d woke up in a state of climax, your body drenched with sweat. The sheet beneath you had been ripped from the mattress, balled into tight fists. Your chest heaved, your bare breasts glistening with perspiration. Your cunt was pulsing, fluttering with the aftershocks of a powerful orgasm. Arousal dripped down your quivering thighs, onto the mattress which was soaking wet beneath you.

A shower and breakfast had done little to calm the questions racing through your mind. What the hell was that? Your dreams were rarely as vivid, as visceral, as the one about the rabbit. And as for the sex…it had been the best sex you’d had in a dream, ever. And it had been with what must surely have been a monster…

You hope your six hours at Fazbear Frights will go quickly tonight, partially because you’re still a little unsteady and aroused from your dream this morning. Additionally, you’re looking forward to sleep, because maybe the rabbit will be waiting for you when you close your eyes, again?

Unexpectedly, your uncle meets you at the staff entrance of Fazbear Frights. He seems excited about something, and you’re grateful for a distraction from your thoughts of the rabbit. “Hey kid,” your uncle greets you with a friendly wave. “How’d it go last night?”

“Alright,” you reply. “It’s a little creepy in there, but that’s the point, isn’t it?”

You don’t miss the subtle gleam in your uncle’s eyes, revealing how pleased he is that his attraction is having its desired effect. “That’s right,” he says cheerfully. “Gotta give the people what they want. And what they want-.” He turns his key in the lock and pulls the door open for the two of you. “-Is the authentic Freddy Fazbear experience. Which is why I’m here tonight.” He lets you step past him into the building, and locks the door behind you both. “-To show you the part of my collection that’ll really have people talking. We just brought him in today-you’ve got to see him…”

You grimace visibly. “It’s the fucking animatronic, isn’t it?” you groan, and your uncle rolls his eyes.

“Yes it is, sourpuss,” he teases. “And trust me when I tell you, it’s gonna make this place really feel like Freddy’s, like you’re stepping inside a time capsule or something.”

Your uncle led you down a hallway to one of the doors marked STAFF ONLY . “He’s showing his years of course,” your uncle continued, searching his ring for a different key. “I mean, this animatronic sat abandoned for thirty years; of course he’s gonna look a little rough around the edges.”

Your uncle finds the appropriate key and jiggles it inside the lock. “But just knowing that we, Fazbear Frights, have our hands on the one and only Spring Bonnie-.” He sighs proudly. “-It reminds me how much all of this was worth it, y’know? Now that he’s here, back in his element. Where he belongs.”

Your eyebrow lifts in curiosity; you resist the urge to laugh in your uncle’s face. “You do realize you sound just a little bit crazy, right?” you question him. “Talking about this thing like it’s a real person or something. Don’t tell me-.” You lean in, whispering. “-You talk to it sometimes, don’t you?”

Your uncle pauses before whispering back, “yeah, but, the only time I really feel crazy is when he responds…”

You giggle at that, watching while your uncle pulls the door open wide. “Here he is, (Y/N),” your uncle declares, beaming in the doorway. “The yellow rabbit himself. Spring Bonnie in the flesh-err, I mean, fur…”

For a moment, you assume you must be dreaming. Because you find yourself looking at the exact same rabbit from your dream this morning. He looks different, sat on the floor, leaning against the far wall; but it’s unmistakably him. Your uncle watches your expression, slightly confused. “Is he really that scary?” he asks, his voice hopeful.

You take a step forward, curiosity overriding your apprehension. The rabbit is large, just as large as he was in your dream. Even seated on the floor, you can tell his height is substantial. Tentatively, you reach for the rabbit’s face, stroking his musty-scented fur tenderly.

“D-be careful!” your uncle frets behind you, adding, “that thing was very expensive-be gentle with him-,” but his concerns aren’t necessary. You know this rabbit…intimately well. And once you’re alone with him again, you’ll make sure to take excellent care not to damage him in your…exertion…

“What did you say his name was?” you ask, gazing into the rabbit’s steely eyes. Your uncle clears his throat, obviously perplexed by the care you seem to feel for a decaying animatronic you had no interest in seeing only moments ago. “Uh, Bonnie,” he replies. “Spring Bonnie.”

“Bonnie,” you repeat, allowing the word to sink over your tongue. “That means beautiful, doesn’t it?”

Your uncle nods, still confused, and glances at his watch. “Well, it’s just about midnight,” he says. “Time for me to head out. Come walk me to the door, will ya?” He pretends to shiver. “This place gives even me the creeps at night, to be totally honest.”

You choose to leave the rabbit (for now). “I’ll be back,” you whisper against his ear, quietly enough that your uncle doesn’t hear. He’s waiting for you in the doorway, a warm smile on his face, your fascination with the yellow rabbit a fleeting curiosity to him, and nothing more. Once you’re sure your uncle is gone, you exhale a sigh of relief. Locking the door behind you feels like sealing the world away completely; and in contrast to yesterday, that kind of isolation is now exactly what you want. Your heart thuds against your chest like a horse’s hooves, skipping beats as you turn for the hall.

You’ve bunched your skirt around your waist, your shoes clicking loudly in the empty hall. Heavy rain pelts the tin roof as you round the corner that leads to him. In the doorway, a tall, familiar figure stands. His gray eyes flash cold as steel, locking you in place at the opposite end of the hallway.

Thunder growls outside. The building’s electricity spits in and out, crackling around you like fireflies caught in a jar. Your heart’s in your throat, lips spreading into a wide smile. The hall goes dark, lit only by the steely gaze of the yellow rabbit...

…until suddenly, even his eyes disappear, and you’re left engulfed by an all-consuming darkness.

Lightning flashes, illuminating the hand reaching for you. Robotic, aluminum fingers draped with rotting yellow fur close around your throat, silencing the scream beneath them. The rabbit lifts you by the throat till you’re completely suspended, feet dangling limp and useless beneath you. His sour breath reeks of rotten meat and dried blood, the kind of smell that instinctively alerts you to danger. Your eyes roll back, surrender sinking over you as you accept your fate.

But as quickly as he seized you, the rabbit yields. You feel the cold, filthy tile meet your cheek as you land against it. Through gauzy vision, you make out the metallic feet of the rabbit standing before you, his endoskeleton clearly visible. He takes hold of your hair, and tugs you upright, holding you in place as your trembling legs cannot sustain you. His eyes bore deeply into yours, chortled breath leaving his mechanical chest in a slow, grotesque pant. When he speaks, your whole body shivers.

“You…” the rabbit murmurs, his wide jaw cracking, fleshy tendons stretching. The curdled timbre of his voice betrays the smile on his lips; the rabbit is glad to see you.

“How…long…” he snarls. “…has it been…?” He drags a thick, soiled finger across your cheek, the gesture unexpectedly tender. “…Since anyone desired me…?”

Your chest is heaving, conflicting emotions of every kind overwhelming you. A sick cocktail of fear and arousal throbs in your belly, keeping time with your pounding heart.

“P-please,” you stutter, tears bleeding down your cheeks. “Don’t h-hurt me…”

The rabbit tilts his head to the side, thinking. His hooded eyes wash over you, this tiny little creature in his hands, pleading mercy from him.

“Mmm,” the rabbit hums, his skeletal chest vibrating like a lion’s purr. “You think I’m a monster, don’t you?”

You gasp as his touch glides from your face to your chest, his big paw closing over your breasts. He groans at the feeling of your heartbeat thundering against his palm. “I’d forgotten,” he says. “How a woman’s pulse feels…the proof of her life, beating in the palm of my hand…”

With his other paw, the rabbit clutches the back of your head and draws you closer. The stench of rot, of horror and decay, cannot repulse you anymore…not when his tongue has breached the barrier of your lips, the thick, sinewy muscle undulating against your tongue in a wet bed of perversion. His bulky fingers lodge between your thighs. Immediately, you begin to grind against the textured fur, wetting his mechanical digits with your arousal.

Seized by a sudden courage, you lift your hips in a way that has you poised atop one of the rabbit’s fingertips, his damp appendage resting against your entrance. He obliges your silent request, allowing you to sink over his thick finger, taking him as far as you can.

The thunder inside you eclipses the storm outside. You moan filthy, disgusting praises as he pleasures you, all sense of fear long-abandoned in exchange for the fulfillment of your most hedonistic desires. His fat, coarse digit strokes you like it was made for you to ride, reaching places inside you no part of any man ever has. You’re going dumb on top of him, so dumb you don’t even notice when the rabbit gently eases you onto the ground.

He’s under you now, his back pressed against the wall, his paw of a hand still clutching your cunt, letting you use his fingers to get yourself off. A dark, satisfied chuckle rumbles up from his bony chest. “Just look at you,” he murmurs, his steely eyes heavy with lust. “Bouncing on my lap like a slutty little rabbit, aren’t you?”

His lewd words and husky tone send you over the edge. Your body convulses on top of him, the muscles at your core clenching around the rabbit’s touch, sucking his fat appendage rhythmically as you ride out your high…

“Fucking Christ!” A man’s voice bleats through the hallway like a frightened animal. You whip your head to see him, blinded instantly by the beam of his flashlight. He’s wearing a shirt that identifies him as the theme park’s security, and as your eyes follow up to his face, you’re met with the wide-eyed gaze of unfiltered horror staring back at you. His flashlight shakes wildly in his hand, catching the rabbit’s skeletal leg in its beam. Confusion sets over you…followed by shame. Because the rabbit is now as he was when you arrived there tonight…sat against a wall, unmoving and limp, no more than a broken machine overcome by decay. But unlike earlier, you’re now sat straddling the broken machine, your cum dripping down its tattered fur…your hands locked around one of the animatronic’s arms, lodging his hand between your thighs…one of his fingers buried deep inside your cunt…

The guard clears his throat; you force yourself to meet his eyes. “Th-there was a c-.” He clears his throat again, blinking to focus. “-County-wide power outage, miss…I knew you were um, keepin�� watch over the place for your uncle, and uh-.” He swallows, forcing his eyes from dropping to the place where your body and the animatronic are joined. “-I th-thought you might be spooked in here, alone-.” He glances at the rabbit, then back to you. “-in the dark…”

Frustrated tears burn at the corners of your eyes, your cheeks hot with humiliation. Carefully, you ease the rabbit’s finger out of your cunt, wincing as the metal scratches your skin. Somehow, it didn’t hurt before. You smooth your skirt down, concealing your nakedness but none of your shame.

Standing in the beam of the guard’s flashlight, you summon every bit of the (minimal) pride you have left to tell him, “thank you. That was very kind of you, to come check on me.”

He licks his lips nervously, eyes darting between you and the animatronic propped against the wall. His flashlight illuminates the perverse scene, revealing your cum still glistening on the rabbit’s fur. The fear in the guard’s expression has softened to a pitying disgust.

“I think it’s time for you to go home, miss,” he says. You wipe a tear from your cheek, glancing back at the animatronic one last time, before leaving Fazbear Frights (and your rabbit) behind, forever…

[king-crawler]

I know you have a Turbo themed playlist with 129 songs in it (well some of them are memes not songs but whatever) but what are your like, MOST Turbo songs? Give us your top 5-10 songs that represents him best.

OH BOY!! IM GLAD YOU ASKED!! ok here are my TOP 10 !!! i totally didnt edit this post like 5 separate times

Full playlist if you’re curious (may contain trash)

Again mostly just vibes but I really really like these if we’re considering Turbo specifically

Mariokart 8 Deluxe - Excitebike Arena

Here’s his silly TurboTime era. He’s so joyous and silly here he would never kill a man

Agent Orange - Bloodstains

This is peak RoadBlasters incident era Turbo. It really fits his “road rage aesthetic” idk LMFAO

Lemon Demon - Cabinet Man

Mandatory cabinet man. This is just his song. Every single lyric applies to him 😭 I like imagining “but there’s this tiny little box in Japan” is him finding out about RoadBlasters and “it’s getting lonely, it’s getting hard to breathe” is after he crashes it. Honorable mention I really like this cover by ANRY L STUDIOS whose videos also inspired the end of my own video :)

TWRP - Phantom Racer

SPEAKING OF ROAD RAGE LOL. THIS SONG IS SO FUN AND HONESTLY TIES 1ST PLACE WITH CABINET MAN.

Not only is every line extremely reflective of his murderous and competitive tendencies but it ALSO PERFECTLY PARALLELS HIS UNDEAD SYMBOLISM ?? WITH HIM BEING GHOSTLY/DEVILISH AND ALL…. AND EVEN HIS INFAMY/haunted legacy with the line “there’s something familiar about that car…” dude.

LAPFOX TRAX - The Queenstons - Terrible Ride

ok i was shy to add this one during my original ranking but it really is a top 10 Turbo song to me shhhh.. I love how nasty and dark the synths are and also the lyrics talking about going fast and the Aforementioned Ride (that is Terrible)

GHOST - cut the act (everything ruined in moments)

I Fucking LOVE this song oh my god it’s so glitchy and fucked up and dramatic and the entire title and even the artist being named “GHOST” just screams Turbo dude I can’t. This is his reveal scene song

Pendulum - Granite

I love dark electronic D&B or whatever the fuck this is it sounds so glitchy and evil this is PEAK TURBOCORE IDC

Oh yeah also the spooky ghost sounds at the beginning are a good touch

APAngryPiggy - Let Me Out

Ok hear me out the first 36 seconds of this one are fucking PEAK TURBO and it even parallels with how he gets burned alive at the end of the movie . then it kinda divulges back into Obvious Fnaf song material but I’m adding it because the intro is just that good. I’m gonna do a backflip

My Chemical Romance - The End.

The “YOU CAN’T SAVE ME” is what really gets me. Turbo was too far gone the moment he felt the spotlight and he lost himself entirely. Fucking tragic and raw song, I cannot get enough of how it channels his anger and his fear of dying hated by everyone.

…

ANYWAYS THANKS FOR ASKING TEEHEE !!!!🌈❤️

BONUS: MaimyMayo - FNF: ARCADE ARCHIVES vs Turbotastic

this is actually the only Real Turbo song (official) and I LOVE it so much its so goddamn catchy

[barbwritesstuff]

It isn't destroyed it's just lost to MC. There is a ghost of MC which exists separate to MC the vampire.

Would be interesting to play as vamp MC's ghost 👀

Like they can have their own silly tragic adventures while shit is going on with their flesh

"Accidentally possessed a random high schooler's notebook today. Tried to leave some sound advice before I skedaddled. Was going to do their homework too but it was mathematical matrices. That shit is hard."

"The other ghosts are gossiping about me. I can tell. Ghostly whispers and all that. They're just jealous I'm so good at wiggling back into the real world. The trick is a little persistence and a WHOLE LOT of pettiness."

"Day #781 of trying to possess the trex skeleton at the national history museum."

"A hunter tried to put me in a pickle jar the other night. The audacity. I wasn't even doing anything spooky. And, seriously, a pickle jar. That can't be good for my ectoplasm."

"Pretty sure my gross-vampire-body got sent to jail. LMAO. Get wrecked weirdo. About damn time."