#it's just that no one else is going to immediately make the same far fetched connections

[ivoryratdoggerythethird]

dazai making up a whole language with fyodor that no one else can understand is amazing but imagine him using codes that, very objectively speaking, you could crack, it's just that no normal person would ever make the insane leaps in logic that it requires. except for someone familiar with dazai's weird thinking patterns, that is.

i just love the idea of dazai's unhinged antics being dialed up to an eleven when he was in the port mafia, and oda being the only one who simply wouldn't bat an eye at it but chuuya was the only one who would actually get it.

like imagine ango at the end of the jailbreak, his boss saying he should allow himself to sigh and lean back and maybe indulge himself, pat him on the shoulder, tell him what he pulled off reading heart rates wasn't easy and he should be proud for being able to keep up with such a plan

but ango i-drank-with-teenage-dazai-and-also-had-the-records-for-every-soukoku-mission sakaguchi can only remember the time dazai was like using greek sign language through his breathing patterns to communicate from a submarine from beneath the pacific ocean or something, and chuuya could not fathom how no one else could understand him.

and that was the day mori signed off on skk being exclusive partners because every subordinate in the room was crying tears of blood by the time chuuya finished explaining which blood pressure level was warning them about a bomb, which blinking sequence was him conveying the vault password and which series of inhales was just him calling mori a bitch.

(ango also pointedly did not want to think about how smug dazai had looked after the mission when mori confirmed skk would only be each others' partners for efficiency and to maintain everyone else's sanity

or about how when he called chuuya to tell him about dazai's prison break scheme he could only get like 3 out of 276 steps into the plan before chuuya rolled his eyes, said "got it" then hung up and pulled the whole thing off without a hitch.)

[jinogasux-fr]

Santae banned me without telling me why and won't unban me unless I send them my photo ID

Hey guys sorry for not posting in… forever? I just suck at social media lol. But you may have seen that I've reblogged some posts that advertise Santae in the past, but please disregard all that. I've since deleted those posts after learning how the site is managed and, after what happened to me a few days ago, I feel as though I should go public about this. Because boy did I just get fucked over.

Anyway, yeah, what it says in the title. On October 24th, around 10am EST, I was restocking my user shop when the entire webpage went white. I couldn't access the site at all and, when I tried to look for the Discord on my server list, it wasn't there. I knew what this had meant. I got banned from both the game, and the Discord - this is important to keep in mind for later.

I didn't receive any Discord DM or email notification about my ban, so after asking a mod what their support email was (and yes, I later verified that this is indeed their legitimate support email), I sent them this:

After a few hours, I get this back in response:

There's so much I'm confused about here. I think the one that screams out the most is that they're asking me to show them my photo ID so I can get unbanned. Absolutely not. I refuse to do this. This poses a massive security and privacy risk. They straight up banned my account, gave this half-baked explanation, and told me I need to send my personal information or... I stay banned?

Let me make something clear: The only personal thing they have on file about this account is the email address that I created my account with, which I've also used to contact them. My real name, date of birth, anything of that nature would not be connected because this was not asked for during account creation, therefore this wouldn't actually prove I'm the account holder. Theoretically speaking, I could show them any ID in the world and for all they know, that's my real information, because they have nothing else to go off of. They even say as much in their privacy page.

Secondly, "account has been compromised"? What does that mean? I think anyone's interpretation of this would be that my account got hacked. But if my account got hacked, why wasn't I informed of this? I had to reach out to support, they did not reach out to me first. That means my password, which I may share across other sites, would have been known to someone else and thus I should've been warned of this immediately, not roughly 5 hours after the fact.

Thirdly, what, was my Discord "compromised" too? If an automated system had flagged my account, does that system somehow interact with a Discord bot so they ban a user on both at the same time? How does that work? That makes no sense as to why they'd ban me on both the game and the Discord for something like this, which is why I'm calling bullshit.

Let me tell you what I think happened.

Recently, Santae has been in some really hot water with connections revealing their relation to an older petsite, Lurapets, which has a history of scamming and artist mistreatment, as well as proof coming out of them using AI art for their NPC art. You can find these posts on the @santae-salt blog if you want to see for yourself, but I'm also linking them throughout this post.

Once the post about them being directly related to Lurapets was released, several users that the Santae staff thought might be involved in the creation of the post got banned. As it turns out, I was banned at the same time as these users.

After speaking with the @santae-salt admin, we are both of the belief that I, a regular user, got caught up in this mess because they're assuming I'm an alt account of someone else and staff demanded to see my ID because they didn't think I was a different person. It may turn out to be wrong, and yeah that sounds a bit far-fetched, sure, but really, what else can I go off of here?? Santae staff has given me a very questionable and refutable explanation as to why I've been banned, and their radio silence after I refused to send them my ID is just making me believe they don't think I'm real. They don't want my photo ID to verify I'm the account holder, they want my photo ID to verify I'm not someone else.

This is unprecedented. I've never seen any petsite ask for a photo ID in any situation, and after asking around, not even those banned from Santae were asked for this. It's just me! This is an incredible attempted breach of privacy, and, with Santae now under doxxing allegations, I really don't feel confident they'd keep my personal information… well, personal.

I messaged back almost immediately after they responded to me where I told them I would not send my ID and I had asked if there were any other way I could verify myself to get my account unbanned. I've received no response so far, and after what I've learned, I feel like I'm not going to get one at all.

So, let this be a lesson to you: don't waste your time on Santae. You can be the most obedient player out there. You can abide by all their rules, be a nice and generous player, or just be minding your own business, but if they so much as think you're associated with someone who they think has wronged them, you'll be banned.

And they can't even be bothered to properly tell you why.

[ladykakata]

I'm genuinely cringing at the Byron scenes, folks, but it just makes one point so entirely clear to me;

Mickey is only completely comfortable around Ian and speaks to him in a way he does not with anyone else.

Mickey throws up the macho front and tops literally everyone else he meets, yet when Ian pokes at this uber-dominant front by quipping "said last night's bottom", Mickey immediately nonchalantly replies "Whatever, liking what I like don't make me a bitch". Mickey has literally attacked and made fun of people for being bottoms himself, and stated outright to Ian that he was glad to switch from being a top with Ian with the same casualness.

Mickey would not share a giant bed with Byron, the one-night stand he immediately moved in with with his trash-bag of belongings, but is more than happy to share Ian's far smaller bed in the shared bedroom with the Gallagher brothers. He habitually steals food, but he also fetches food for Ian and complains far less when Ian asks him to do something compared to the almost-insulted reaction he does with most people.

Mickey is violent and hot tempered, he is KNOWN to attack people with very little provokation, even people who don't exactly pose a threat. Yet Ian has gotten this close to his face and insulted him and Mickey doesn't raise much of a hand to him. It was only with extensive and very triggering taunting that Ian got Mickey to attack him in one of his bipolar swings, and he really had to needle him to get him to lash out. Even then, Mickey forgave him rather damn quickly.

Mickey is not a doormat, despite some comments I've seen suggesting that. He doesn't let Ian do what he wants all the time. The entire Bipolar arc had him acting as the sane man compared to Ian's changing moods and being the voice of reason. Ian is the only person Mickey even remotely listens to, and strangely, it was only Mickey who finally got through to Ian that he deeply needed professional help and was constantly nipping at his heels to keep him on the right path.

It's going to be a part of a word-vomit post I want to write later, but Mickey to Ian represents stability and Ian to Mickey represents comfort and acceptance. Mickey can be his intensely messy, awkward, socially inept and emotionally stunted self and Ian still loves him anyway.

[dovesdreaming]

What if Reader accidentally pissed off Wade when they lost Dogpool when walking them and would he take it too far?

Dog kisses

I LOVE DOGPOOL i need that dog!! I will happily write any requests involving that cutie 🥰. I loved this request and hope you can enjoy it too! I decided not to make it very angsty but I am very willing to create a version that is! <3

Wade was out doing whatever a mercenary does in their free time. It eft you and Logan alone in the apartment. You both weren’t really doing anything so when you heard the pitter patter of dogpools feet running towards you, you decided to entertain both of you by taking her on a walk. You offered Logan an invitation but he declined in his own happy way (“fuck off”). You put dogpools new collar and harness on that Wade had recently bought. They had pink flowers on which Wade said “matched her Beauty”. Logan’s reply under his breath had made you laugh “must be inner beauty”.

You decided to walk her through the park as it was a nice and sunny day. You walked around and played fetch with her before sitting down on a bench while eating icecream. You couldn’t resist letting her have some. You sat next to each other and basked in the sun together. When you had just finished the ice cream your phone rang, wades contact appearing on your phone. He wanted to know where you and marypuppins were so he could join. You obviously told him, never refusing his welcomed presence. When you turned back to face dogpool after the call you found she was no longer sitting next to you on the bench, all that was left was her lead. Shit. You should have not taken your eyes off her when you no longer had food to keep her occupied. She was always trying to wonder off and get into all kinds of mischief, reminding you of a certain someone else you knew but loved dearly. That certain someone, Wade, was going to kill you. He loved that dog probably more than you, he had spent the last month that he had her obsessing over her. Spoiling her with more than what a dog could need or want. You were fucked.

You spent the 20 minutes it took Wade to get to the park searching high and low, calling her name and offering food if she came forward. You saw Wade entering the park and your heart sunk knowing you would have to tell him. He bounded up to you excited to see you, he engulfed you in a massive hug, kissing your forehead before spinning around looking for dogpool. You nervously watched him search before he turned to you with a questioning look “peanut, where’s my baby?”. He could tell something was wrong when your face immediately crumpled into a mix of sadness and disappointment at his words. He pressed the question again this time with a slight tone of seriousness. You looked down at the ground while admitting “I’m so sorry Wade, I… I lost her”. Wades heart fell to his ass. He was feeling a mix of anger and sadness. He looked at you with a blank expression that slowly morphed into disgust and anger tied together. He immediately started calling her name, all her nicknames. “Come here marypuppins” or “sweety” or his favourite “shnuckems”. You of course helped him before he turned to you with a nasty look on his face “you’ve already done enough why don’t you just go home”. His words were harsh and blunt. They hurt of course but you understood where they were coming from, you would feel the same if he had lost your dog. You broke your gaze away from him, looking at the ground with a slightly dejected look before nodding, he sharply turned away from you so you began waking away towards the exit. You could hear him still shouting when you got to the gate of the park. You took one last look back before exiting when you heard a familiar ding of a collar. You saw dogpool running out of a bush on the outside of the park, shaking leaves off herself before happily running up to you like nothing had happened, like she hadn’t just caused massive heartbreak. She seemed to be in high spirits though, likely that she had run off with stolen food (it’s happened before).

Wade felt guilty the moment the words left his lips but he didn’t break the stern look on his face. He saw the shine that appeared in your eyes at his words and knew he had gone slightly too far. He knew it wasn’t your fault dogpool ran off and he knew you were only trying to help but his emotions went haywire and he had taken them out on you. He felt like he had lost you now aswell as marypuppins. He mentally and physically slapped himself for his actions but carried on searching, hoping you could forgive him later.

You picked dogpool up making sure she couldn’t run away again and slowly walked back over to Wade. He felt your presence behind him and questioned why you would come back after what he just said to you. He turned around ready to question you but his eyes fell on his beloved baby instead. His heart soared back into his chest and he swooped dogpool back into his arms. He hugged her close to his chest before raising her above him and spinning, like you do with your partner when you’re happy to see them. You still felt guilty and tried to make a quiet exit while Wade and dogpool had their moment but Wade stopped you. “Where do you think you’re gonna?”. You turned back around to be met once again with a smiley Wade. He brung you into his arms, your head slotting under his chin while dogpool licked at your face. You couldn’t help but giggle. “I hope you can forgive me” Wade said while tipping his head down to you. “Only if you’ll forgive me”. Wade was back to his usual self so he jokingly tapped his finger against his chin and turned to the dog in his hands “what do you think shnuckems? Should we forgive them?” The dogs only reply was a kiss to his lips which still slightly grossed you out. He descended into baby talk with dogpool, forgetting what he had just asked. You coughed to bring his attention back to you.

“Someone feeling jealous? Don’t worry I have enough kisses to share” you cringed at the thought of kissing him after dogpool.

Wade would definitely show he was sorry, trying to make it up to you in anyway possible. He also made sure that it wasn’t your fault that dogpool ran away.

Overall, yes Wade would overreact and maybe shout at you but he would realise his mistake and try to make it up to you the best he can. He does however always joke that you’re not allowed to be left alone with his shnuckems anymore though. Your definitely starting to believe he’s going to dump you for that dog soon.

[destinygoldenstar]

'Jax is an NPC'

Hm... ... ...

No.

It's a good theory, don't get me wrong, I see the evidence, I see where you're coming from.

But it's not a theory I agree with. Let me explain.

Caine's line "But if I start losing track of who's a human and who's an NPC who knows what could happen" is very vague as is. This could mean a whole lot of things.

I said this in another post of one of my own theories. I think it's possible that Caine could've killed a human player and his trauma of that was showing.

We know A.I's can shed traumatic emotions. Look at Gummigoo.

Now, yes, Caine couldn't 100% kill a human. Otherwise he would delete the abstractions. And it seems like human players abstract when they die and that's the only way they CAN die.

So therefore Caine having killed a human player should be thrown out as a possibility.

BUT. Hear me out.

Abstractions are shown to be able to glitch several in game objects because of their abstraction. And we actually do NOT see if all the abstractions look exactly the same as Kaufmo's abstraction.

They could very well not.

Going to biblical text, Caine was the first murderer and received a permanent consequence.

Could a permanent consequence be, idk, failing at your programmed job over and over again and be forced to watch these humans abstract and perish forever?

Especially if because of the human player death's abstraction glitch, is WHY the other human players cannot leave the game!

If you look at Pomni's room in one shot, there's a couple of blocks that are stacked from top to bottom 'ABXEL'.

Could it be that the human player Caine killed was named Abel?

But there is also the other possibility that somehow, there is an NPC among the circus. So let me explain my thought on that possibility.

I don't think it's possible.

I think Caine would've noticed, especially if he immediately recognized GummiGoo wasn't supposed to be there.

If one of the circus folks were an NPC, their figure would've appeared with the others in the backrooms.

Now, there is the possibility that it was placed somewhere else, that place is huge after all. So take that with a grain of salt.

I'm not completely eliminating the 'Jax is an NPC' theory.

I get the evidence. He's constantly breaking the fourth wall. But I think that more so has to do with what I’m about to say.

He has keys to people's rooms. I get that one. That is definitely sus as hell and I'm not denying it is sus.

He also ‘lacks human physics.’

So does everyone else in the cast. Pomni can stretch her body out like Elastagirl. Ragatha has stuffing instead of blood. Kinger has his own glitchy moments. Gangle has two faces. Zoobles body can fall apart.

I’m just saying. These are not human physics either. So Jax being able to keep in place whenever he wants being only a Jax thing is not too far fetched compared to all these other examples.

But I also think, and this is my opinion, that he's much more compelling as a character as a sociopathic human player that is beyond saving and MENTALLY cannot be humanized again.

What I mean by that is that while he is TECHNICALLY a human player, MENTALLY, he is so detached from his humanity and moral code often associated with humanity that he acts more NPC-like as a side effect.

Jax is not designed to be a morally grey character. He is written to be the least moral of the entire show.

It would be SO EASY to excuse those moral wrongdoings as 'well they were never human to begin with'.

But I think that's the lazy way out, and I think this show is smarter than that.

Because here is the thing, there ARE some really REALLY terrible humans. Evil humans in fact.

WHY they're so terrible varies, but that doesn't make them less terrible.

And yes while some terrible people can get redeemed if they themselves can, this is NOT absolute. There are people that are just plain beyond saving. So beyond saving that they ditch their moral code, a code drilled into the human mind, that they SEEM inhuman to humans who can't relate.

This is a very real psychological thing.

With how many morally grey characters get thrown around as compelling these days, Jax NOT being written that way and instead being written as the morally worst would naturally make people go 'he must not be human'.

In psychology, behavior like that doesn't physically inhumanize them, but it MENTALLY does, they behave in a set of rules so different from the normal that it's corrupt to the normal.

So I think he is a human player like the others. But his MENTALITY is not, so he ACTS NPC-like as a side effect to that mental loss.

Not every human is morally grey and get cozy redemption arcs. There are some truly awful people in the world with no redeemable qualities whatsoever. I like that he represents that. I like that there's a character on this show that acts as that huge wake-up call of 'Yeah some people just plain suck and you shouldn't have to deal with them.'

But while I don't think Jax being an NPC would be the best route to take. That is just my opinion and I am not the one writing the show. If that IS the route they are taking, I am fine with that so long as it is written with proper care. I could definitely be reading this wrong.

[anam-mana]

Here’s the things about Leander I find sus that I have not seen touched on. Where the hell is he getting the money for his operations from?

He finds people, kills monsters, has hired help and contractors (like Mhin), pays for peoples room board and meals, and is constantly offering folks drinks and accepts NO MONEY for any of this. It’s all “Bloodhound rates.” And he does it all as someone with no inherited wealth, as we know from Kuras that Leander grew up poor in lowtown.

What does Leander do to keep his operations afloat?

I’m pretty certain the full game will eventually touch on the question of money with Leander, seeing as he has a very distinct reaction to Vere buying champagne after Leander’s promise to treat the group, and how he follows that reaction up with immediately looking frantically towards the bartender.

It’s our first indication that Leander both has expenses and limited resources. And considering how Vere feels about Leander, we can safely guess that Vere was intentionally trying to push that button for him.

But again: what the heckity heck is he doing to pay for things like the MC’s rooms and board, Mhin’s contract, all these drinks on his dime for the bar patrons and the friend group, and who knows what else! (like, do the Bloodhounds get paid or are they working for free the way Leander does?)

A couple theories come to mind:

1. Leander’s Bloodhounds are not just good samaritans but a whole ass gang, who deals in the same underground stuff you’d suspect a gang to deal in.

2. Leander charges the rich people of Eridia for the same services he gives for free to the people of lowtown, making the Bloodhounds less a gang and more a mercenary group.

3. This one is the most far-fetched, but note the green colour motif of Leander and the Bloodhounds cloaks, and hero of the people vibes he has going for him. Is Leander running some kinda Robin Hood operation? Steal from the rich and give to the poor? Is that what his poster means by “as above, so below”?

But most importantly, I wonder if what he does to make money has anything to do with what makes him monstrous. Is he an “ends justifies the means” kinda monster doing awful shit and justifying it by helping the people of lowtown?

[bleue-flora]

tbh to me c!sapnap is on the same level of betraying c!dream as c!sam. It may seem far-fetched considering what c!sam did and considering we don't have much real lore content with c!sapnap or c!dreamnap, but when you look at what we DO have, it's kind of a picture

like, he's not just some stupid or short-sighted character, as it might seem at first glance - we have a ton of evidence that he understands perfectly well that prison makes c!dream physically and mentally ill, but he agrees with it. In the dialogue with c!michael he literally says "dream fucked up, prison fucked him up in another sense, but it doesn't matter, cause dream has to get better and become *my* dream again, let him stay in prison and improve, even if it breaks him idc", like wtf is this? funny, but at the same time, c!sapnap doesn't visit dream more than once, how will he know that c!dream is making progress? In c!sapnap's head, prison is supposed to be a rehabilitation for c!dream, only no one checks his progress in stopping being a "fucked up", he either sits there completely alone or people go there to hurt him and c!sapnap understands and acknowledged it, but he doesn't give a shit. I'm sorry, but this gives off sam's "I thought I broke his will to do something like that". He obviously doesn't care about c!dream and just wants his good old *convenient* friend, and he doesn't care about the consequences.

But he's not just passively harming c!dream, he's doing it actively. If the threat could still be interpreted as an emotional outburst, something he could say and regret, then his other actions clearly say the opposite. Like, the dude literally stalked and harassed c!dream for months after he found out where he lived??

The revival book was more important to him than torture. Even in the beginning, he didn't care about c!dream's reputation, when c!wilbur and c!tommy dragged it into the dirt for no reason, and he repeatedly went against c!dream or supported things that directly harmed c!dream. For me, one of the most telling scenes is c!sapnap and c!george's meeting with mexican dream's ghost, where c!sapnap, without any reason, pins the explosion of El Rapids on c!dream, and then, when he finds out that actually c!quackity was the one who did it, c!sapnap immediately says that they urgently need to go and find out why he did it, to check if he's okay and all that. This is literally the attitude you'd expect from c!tommy, to attribute every bad event to c!dream, but no, this is his so-called best friend! And of course, he only wants to know the reasons for an action when someone else does a bad action, but not c!dream - well, of course, cause it's clear that c!dream reasons are "being evil" or smth.

So, I've been in my c!sapnap hate arc for over two years now and you all should join me lmao

I didn't think I'd write SO much, but emotions took over after reading the new chapter of your fic and some of your posts, sorry abt that :"^

[context a & b]

Honestly, in my opinion his betrayal is almost worse than Sam’s, which is saying something since he literally enabled and facilitated daily torture. But like Sam wasn’t Dream’s self proclaimed brother, and at least Sam’s delusion kinda makes sense. Sapnap is just like - the chicken tastes rubbery and overcooked, so I put it in the oven and then it tasted burnt, so I put it back in the oven to help the taste and at some point I’ll take it out of the oven and then it’ll taste good again. No idea how long that’ll take, and no don’t be ridiculous I’m not gonna check on it. I swear though if anyone touches my chicken before it tastes good again like so much as removes it from the oven or seasons it I’m gonna throw it in the trash… vs Sam who’s like - the chicken tastes rubbery but I spent money on it so I’m gonna put it in the oven and turn it to charcoal so at least then it won’t be a complete waste…

ya know? Like at least Sam was corrupted by power, financial benefit, manipulated a bit, and had the blood of a “child” on his hands. Sapnap doesn’t even have that, he has a life long best friend who he heard made a speech about not caring about anything and then later a speech about wanting to control everyone, a fish in a item frame and a letter saying “thanks for visiting”…

Well I don’t know about the “even if it breaks him” I don’t think he is thinking that directing about Dream’s suffering if that makes sense, but Sapnap is delusional no doubt. I also don’t know if he even cares that much about the book in general, he just doesn’t seem to given a damn about the torture. He seems to really just be about the fear of what Dream might do and how he needs to be stopped before that.

And you do have a point, in the beginning even as his “brother” he on many occasions went against him, down to the very first disc war where they killed him multiple times. I mean if Sapnap weren’t American, he’d have probably been right alongside clingy duo in L’manberg and stuff… oh I had no idea about the El Rapids thing but am also not surprised…

What do you even mean, I am literally an engineer of this Sapnap hate train 🚂 choo choo! I be shoveling coal to keep this engine running ya know. like literally the more lore I watch the more he actually just kills me.

but anyways, I mean you read the chapter (and presumably the one before) so you know my thoughts on Sapnap lol. ;D

[zentriii]

non-avatar aang au where the reason aang survived wasn't bc of the avatar state [which he shouldn't have been able to access anyways iirc bc he wasn't a master of all four elements at that point. so yay past avatars/spirit interference isn't far fetched] but bc someone had to survive to teach the avatar airbending n they had to be a master to do it ofc

so normal set up katara's temper explodes -> they find aang -> zuko tries to capture the avatar -> aang denies being the avatar, but this time, he's telling the truth.

aang's just a 12 year old kid fully unaware of the war. like he'll refuse to believe his people are killed all the same but i think katara will still seize the opportunity to possibly make it to the north pole via appa to find a waterbending teacher [n because if aang's not the avatar, then he'll have to go to the north to teach the avatar airbending. sokka figures the avatar could be in any nation by now but he can't let katara go by herself either so off they go!]

smt smt aang being the last of his people n when he truly takes this in, he has a choice. live in hiding, yk, the thing that spared him alone [ooh survivor's guilt exploration] or set aside the nomad way of nonviolence [what else does he has left of his people?] to end the war. and he has to grapple w that from the start instead of re: killing ozai or not. n mayb he's not the avatar mayb he doesn't have destiny to tie his hands w duty but he has the shame of abandoning his people in their time of need. he can't cast that aside now can he?

(unlike avatar aang. he can't even talk to yangchen, the previous nomad avatar. it's just him left)

but he can't break down forever. katara has to go to the north pole to get a waterbending teacher bc isn't the south pole just like the southern air temples?? their benders are down to just one and while their people live on, katara too has to bare the weight of her people's bending living on through herself. and unlike aang, there are people who can teach her.

so mayb he's still figuring shit out, but he can do this at least.

the avatar isn't in the northern tribe.

things still play out roughly according to main canon events but now katara's determined to find the avatar n for aang to teach them airbending. [aang makes peace with having to do something, even if only fighting non-lethally and teaching the avatar to airbend. it's the perfect solution! surely the feelings he buried to come to it aren't something he still has to work through. surely.]

now the earth kingdom's big ! but eventually they still end up in ba sing se, surely the place the fire nation lead a siege against, desperate to break through to, is important? perhaps the avatar is being protected here [cue sokka grumbling abt how the avatar is meant to be the one doing the protecting]

they pick toph up on the way before this ofc. and if aang lies saying it's bc he's the avatar n needs an earthbending teacher while still being honest abt airbending. well i think that's good enough for toph to run away over in this au [ofc she immediately confronts them abt it after joining up]. everyone assumes aang's the avatar anyways. i mean come on, air benders don't just pop out of thin air these days.

ozai is still defeated in the end bc they've run out of time n who even knows how old the current avatar is or what nation they're from. they've got to fight n while it goes down differently and aang still doesn't kill ozai or unlock his fancy bender-bending. he still fights.

what happened to his people can never happen to others again. he doesn't run away this time.

anyways regarding who the avatar themselves is i propose ty lee. like there are quite a few avatar zuko/azula/lu ten takes [w the cycle going back to fire] n a few of airbender/descendant of air nomads ty lee takes [i mean look at her. her eyes are grey n her nose looks like tenzin's kids'] but i've never seen an avatar ty lee one?? this au doesn't need her to be the avatar necessarily but i think it's fun if u have zuko hunting the avatar [aang], the gaang looking for the avatar [could be anyone] n azula + friends hunting the avatar [aang]. meanwhile one of said friends is the avatar all along.

[man everyone's stealing zuko's thing n hunting down the avatar these days]

if ty lee is really a descendant of air nomads, her first element could be air instead of fire, hence the nonbender label. smt smt if the fire sages have become sell outs n the past avatar spirits trapped aang in a block of ice, it's not impossible to think they'd hide her avatar status from the sages for abandoning their ways.

anyways they don't exactly figure this out until after the war. possibly a celebration dinner turned silly food fight turned ty lee trapping a plate of food flying towards her midair. bumi style :)

[mondaymelon]

hatefully, never. (yandere!scaramouche x gn!reader)

warnings! yandere scara, enemies to lovers, mean scara, tw kidnapping, tw drugging

(a/n) i had to. please read with caution, as this fanfiction contains many triggering and overall dark themes!

˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"I hate you making me feel this way."

"But now you can't leave me, okay?"

"Never."

"Leave me alone already."

"I could say the same about you," you retorted, returning the male's glare.

He huffed. "You're so annoying..."

"It's not like you're not."

Scaramouche growled, his scowl only deepening. "Why did I have to get stuck with you, of all people?"

"Don't ask me. It wasn't my choice." You scoffed, frowning.

You and Scaramouche always bickered. It was nothing out of the ordinary. It was not like you hated each other, although maybe you two did, but your personalities just clashed. Since the time Scaramouche had ordered you to go fetch something and you had told him, "Why should I?" he had immediately grown to dislike you.

Maybe dislike was too complacent of a word.

Resent would likely fit better.

Still, he hadn't gotten out of his way to hurt you, at least not yet. It was comfort, albeit quite the pathetic one, that you kept shamefully close to your heart.

And now you were stuck with him on a Fatui mission to investigate something that you weren't paying attention to. Great. Even though it was painfully silent on the way there, you only knew it would get more awkward from here on out.

"What are you staring at me for?" Scaramouche caught your gaze and glared at you, violet eyes burning with malice. "What, have you suddenly decided that I've caught your eye?"

"Never in a million years," you hissed instantly, face going a little red at his accusation. "I would rather die."

He only scoffed, rolling his eyes with contempt, then went silent. The rest of the day was just as troublesome, with you trying to start conversations and him just shutting you down every time. Needless to say, you were able to make it through the day with relative... ease. The two of you stopped on the side of the road and made camp, setting up two tents and placing a bonfire in the middle that blazed with curls of orange flame.

"Here." He handed you a cup of violet liquid, expression unreadable. When you sniffed the drink with confusion, he sneered. "It's lavender melon juice, idiot."

You had your doubts about the swirling purple liquid, but he was nice enough to give you something to drink, and you were feeling pretty thirsty after a full day of traveling, so without much of a second thought, you drunk the entire thing in a couple of gulps.

The taste was tangy, semi-sweet, and strangely bitter. It didn't remind you too much of lavender melon, but the flavor still resembled it somewhat. Now that the entire thing had been stomached, you were feeling a bit more comfortable. You gave the man a lopsided smile. "Ah... thanks?"

He didn't say anything from where he sat, not even taking a drink from his own cup, he just sat there and stared at you with a strained gaze that made you confused. "...Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing." Setting aside his untouched cup, he stood and began searching the luggage for something. You watched him awkwardly, not sure what else to do, but you were feeling... uncomfortable. It was a strange sensation, the feeling of something swirling about in your stomach and an unusual warmth spreading about your body. Frantically blinking your eyes in an attempt to stay awake, you could already feel your body swaying underneath you as everything spiraled to black.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

...where...?

where am i?

Blinking open your eyes hazily, you found yourself in a dark space, the only light being the faint glow of a lantern in the far corner of the room. Your head felt... cloudy, your thoughts muddled. Trying to stand up, you realized that you were chained to the wall with iron shackles that burned against your wrists.

"Looks like you're finally awake."

There he was, smirking with upturned lilac eyes, his eyes glimmering with a cruel light. He looked better than he had in a long while, in a deranged way. His clothes were crumpled and stained with a reddish substance that had partly dried, and there were cuts along the fabric. Still, he grinned at you from where he stood over you, his large hat casting a dark shadow over his expression.

"What... Scaramouche...?" You flinched as he took his chin in his hands, examining your face with a sneer. "Where- Why-"

"Clueless as ever, aren't you?" He smiled, an expression that would've made you flustered if it hadn't been so dire of a situation. "This is where you're going to live with me from now on. As for why, maybe you shouldn't have trusted me so easily." Scaramouche laughed, a cold sound that echoed around the chambers. "It certainly did make things easier things for me though."

"You-"

"Yes, yes, I know. You're going to scream and cry and beg for me to take you back." He sighed, feigning a pitiful expression. "Too bad for you, that's not going to happen, dear. You're mine. You're all mine. No one else should be able to lay eyes upon you."

"I thought you hated me...!"

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I do. But at the same time, no one else deserves you. Only me. That's why I'll never allow you to leave. Never. Without you, I am nothing. No one else matters more to you than me. Isn't that right, darling?"

"You- You're sick-!"

"Aw, come on now. Don't disrespect my feelings for you."

"After all, you're going to be here for a long time, so you'll have to get used to it."

masterlist ✩

[katblu42]

Dinosaur Bandaids

I am totally blaming thanking @womble1 for inspiring this one, with one little line from her Sweetapple Slice 8 fic.

Also many thanks to @gumnut-logic for the read-through and help with the piece that was missing.

CW for mentions of blood/bleeding (nothing gory)

Virgil fumbled the opening of the box, contents spilling to the floor as he attempted to grab what he needed with just one hand.  He cursed himself for his clumsiness.  Again.  It was clumsiness born of distraction that had necessitated the raiding of the little first aid kit to begin with.

Just a simple slip of the screwdriver and his left hand now had a nice bloody gouge in it.  Not deep, and not longer than a few millimetres, but bleeding profusely, and a little painful.  He had immediately wrapped a somewhat clean rag around his hand to staunch the bleeding while he fetched a bandaid to put over the wound.  Next stop would be the sink to clean the area before applying the sticky plaster.  If he was quick no one else would be any the wiser about his little mishap.

Of course, his hopes on that front were dashed as he bent to pick up the mess.

“Hey Virg!  Watch doin’?”  Gordon asked with mock innocence.

Virgil simply huffed in reply as Gordon scooped up the handful of little paper packets.

“Dinosaur bandaids, huh?”  A raised eyebrow to rival one of Virgil’s own was deployed, along with a knowing grin.  “Here, let me help.”

Plain beige sticking plasters were a rarity on Tracy Island.

The older residents of the villa would say it was because the Terrible Two had always demanded bright colours and fun designs on their wound dressings when they were little, and no one had ever bothered to change the habit during re-stocking purchases.

The Two in question would complain and say it was because said older residents had never admitted that the little ones were now adults.

There were some practical reasons too.  A brightly coloured sticky plaster that had fallen off while performing tasks like food preparation or some types of maintenance would be more easily visible than plain beige.

If Virgil was honest with himself he’d say the real reason was because they all sometimes needed the little mood lift the bright designs provided.  It was part of the magic ability bandaids had to make small injuries better.

Virgil allowed Gordon to take his hand and begin the process of cleaning and dressing the injury.  Once done, Gordon gently smoothed the sticky plaster’s edges down one last time before looking up and locking eyes with his big brother.

“There you go.  All better.  The dinosaurs will take care of that little scratch.”

Virgil matched his little brother’s smile and thanked him with a hug before returning the box of bandaids to their rightful place.

Long gone were the days when Gordon or Alan would come running to a big brother because of some perceived injury that was completely invisible.  The application of a blue bandaid covered in brightly coloured fish, or a black one with little red rockets, and a kiss to make it better was all it took to have a little brother smiling and running off to do more mischief.

Mom had done the same for the older boys when they had needed their bumps and scrapes tended.  And Dad and Grandma had done their share of both patching up, and sticky plaster purchasing.  There had never been boring beige ones as far back as Virgil could remember.  And there had often been a variety of sizes and shapes in the medicine cabinet.

The habit had stuck so fast (not unlike the plasters themselves) that it had even affected the restocking of the Thunderbirds. Plain bandaids in a variety of sizes and skin tones were carried in every kit and medbay, but there were almost equal numbers of the patterned ones in the larger first aid kits.

Offering an injured child a choice of dinosaurs or aeroplanes was sometimes just the right kind of distraction from the fear and confusion of whatever event they had just been through.  Virgil had even patched up a few beloved dolls and plushies with their own teddy bear plaster.

But, the novelty bandaids worked equally well on adults. 

There had been so many occasions when Virgil had treated a rescuee with only minor cuts and scrapes, but with the tell-tale tremble and haunted expression that prompted him to offer the choice of plain or patterned.  Without fail the glassy eyes would focus on the various designs, the tension in their bodies would ease and the bandaid magic would begin to take effect as they made their choice.

After all, when you’ve been through an event traumatic enough to require a Thunderbird to the rescue, doesn’t everyone deserve their very own superhero or fairy princess plaster to patch their wounds and lift their mood.

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ his sick darling]❜

ft. hex haywire x gn! reader — xsoleil, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ after losing some parts of your memory for unknown reasons, you seek treatment but your therapist knows a lot more than he lets on┊1.1k words

contains: yandere, malpractice/abuse of power, toxic relationships, manipulation, mentions of reader having family problems & mental illness, talks of violence & murder

➤ author's note: there was a time when my girlfriend and i had the same therapist

therapist! hex haywire whom you click with immediately like a best friend. you were nervous about going to therapy for the first time ever, but his office was so cozy with a comforting ambiance— soothing music playing in the background to drown out any possibly distracting outside noises, a cup of warm sweetened hibiscus tea (which happened to be your favorite brand and flavor), and a fluffy knitted blanket just in case you got cold since he didn’t have control over the building’s air conditioning. his calming deep voice and friendly smile made you feel welcome, calming any anxious feelings you had beforehand within mere minutes of meeting him. there wasn’t any way to explain it, but you felt like you could trust him with your life.

therapist! hex haywire who has so much in common with you! he didn’t want to jump into the serious things in the first session so he asked about your interests to ease any tensions, and surprisingly, he was knowledgeable about everything you brought up. he knew the characters of your favorite series, the theories about your favorite movies, the hidden symbolism of your favorite books, and even the details of media that you weren’t a fan of as if you shared the same recommendations on your streaming services and the same paperback novels on your bookshelves. it was the first time that you could remember where you freely spoke about the things you liked without the worry of being annoying or boring because he genuinely seemed invested in the conversation with you and even seemed disappointed when the timer went off, promising to continue next time.

therapist! hex haywire who feels oddly familiar to you. you can’t quite place your finger on it, you feel like you’ve met him before— maybe in high school or at a party since it would be difficult to forget a face like his, but when you brought it up, he insisted that you could find someone who looks like him at any college campus or library if you paid attention. him knowing so much about your interests was just a coincidence— you know how algorithms work these days with feeding content that fits your tastes perfectly, it isn’t too far-fetched for it to match up! besides, aren’t you happy to have a therapist whom you could bond with so quickly without needing to hop around to find the perfect one?

therapist! hex haywire who always knows exactly what to say when you are feeling down, jotting down notes on his clipboard while comforting you with that silver tongue of his. you’re so frustrated since it feels like it’s been forever since you started, but no noticeable progress has been made. you still have no idea why your memory is so patchy, desperate to know about your past so that you can soothe your curiosity and move on with your life no matter how scary or disturbing it may have been. he’ll reach out to hold your hand under his large one, rubbing circles into the skin and reminding you that everyone heals in different ways and different paces but he promises that he’ll be there with you every step.

therapist! hex haywire who makes your heart flutter even though it’s incredibly improper for a patient to think this way towards a caretaker. he’s handsome, around your age, extremely kind, and knows you better than you know yourself so isn’t it natural as humans to feel attraction in such a situation? it would have been a smart choice to just look for someone else since it’s a clear violation of unspoken rules, but you were already crushing hard and you also didn’t want to restart all of the progress you already made with him over the past few months. surely, it’s just a little puppy crush that will die down on its own, right?

yandere therapist! hex haywire who knows you better than anyone else, even better than your own family whom you ran away from before seeking solace in your relationship with him. you don’t remember, but he certainly does— spending every waking moment thinking about you, every second spent with you, and every word that leaves your lips from the present to the first moment he laid eyes on you.

yandere therapist! hex haywire who’s surprised that you don’t remember him at all after the incident, but is more than pleased to start his new story in your book while leaving the previous pages to remain lost due to your memory loss. although he doesn’t want them to be just lost, he wants them scorched and far past restoration— gone is the psycho ex-boyfriend with flags redder than the blood he spilled for you, and now is the kind therapist who will accompany you in your time of need before eventually blurring the lines of professionalism.

yandere therapist! hex haywire who already knows about your growing attraction to him from your body language: how you’re subconsciously drawn to him, how you mirror his body language, how you inch closer to him when seated— it makes him smile to himself knowing that his charms are working on you just as well as it did when you first got together back then.

yandere therapist! hex haywire who takes advantage of how gullible you are to alienate yourself from the disgusting vermin that you naively call friends so that you’ll depend on him even more, preying on your insecurities and habits of overthinking to make you doubt the ones around you. it’s surprising how much a passing comment from a weekly session could negatively impact your viewpoint about your friends, but it’s only to be expected with someone who has been studying human psychology as extensively as he has.

yandere therapist! hex haywire who faked being shocked when you entered his office one day after fighting with your best friend, all teary-eyed and sniffing while hiding your face from him out of embarrassment. of course, he knew that this would happen, already having a box of tissues out and already predicting how the conversation would go. it took nothing to get you to dance into the palm of his hand, but it was one of the infinite reasons why he loved you so much.

yandere therapist! hex haywire who thinks that maybe getting caught by you while sticking a kitchen knife through the heart of your (then) current lover was perhaps a blessing in disguise. there will never be any words in any language to describe the panic he went through when you fainted and hit your head, but everything worked out perfectly fine. patience is a virtue and he would wait thousands of years if that was what it took to hold you in his arms again, but luckily for him, it was much closer than he thought.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Here, Boy ~ X.T.

A/n: I didn’t know exactly how to end this. Hope it landed well :)

Request: “Xavier Thrope x werewolf!male reader where Xavier is crushing on a golden retriever sporty reader...” by anon

Word Count: 2,000+

MASTERLIST

Being friends with Wednesday hadn't been Xavier's first intention, but after bonding over their mutual gloominess and like for quiet and space, it really was inevitable. It had started mostly because she'd thought he was the Hyde, but when that theory was debunked and it was revealed who the real Hyde was their friendship got to form outside of that. Now they both had the habit of tucking themselves away in Xavier's shed - which had at this point become both of their space. Wednesday was allowed to chase any theory and put whatever pictures she wanted up, Xavier didn't mind. He was used to the gore and horror she was so enthralled by, having been plagued by dreams the same way Wednesday had been haunted by visions.

There were a lot of cons to being friends with Wednesday, but the biggest pro was that it came with a bonus friendship with Enid. Enid hated coming to the shed, but as Wednesday and Xavier started to hang out at lunch, during class, and in their free time, Enid started to tag along. By herself she was pleasant enough and Xavier liked having someone a little bit more positive and light in his life. She helped him out of his head, and out of shell, much more. He didn't just hang around Wednesday or his stuffy secret society friends - he branched out a lot more.

That was how he met Y/n.

Officially at least.

Nevermore was a small school, and one couldn't go far without running into at least half the student body in some passive way. Y/n and xavier had shared a class or a friend or a space several dozen times, but they'd never had much reason to talk to each other. The few times they had, left Xavier with a deep appreciation for Y/n though. Like Enid, he was a breath of fresh air to be around. His smile was contagious, and he found joy in the simplest of things. He was a sporty person, and had found his way onto every single team he could, but he wasn't obsessive about it. Sports wasn't the draw; being part of a team was. As a werewolf, he was already strong and had impressive stamina, but he also had a craving for that pack dynamic. He loved being apart of something.

Everyone pleasant loved Y/n. That was why he was friends with Enid.

Everyone unpleasant hated him. No surprise that he was being tormented by Syl then.

Syl was the kind of asshole that liked quiet, but in a way that rather than finding a peaceful moment or creating a space for herself, she tried to make everyone else calm down instead. She made any public space the worst to be in; her looks wiped off smiles and her biting comments soured sweet moments. She was a vampire who apparently came from a really old family, and it reflected in her beliefs. In the way she avoided Wednesday and Enid because of something about the "appearance of evil" even though Enid was dating Ajax, and Wednesday was openly aromantic and intensely uninterested in any kind of romantic relationship.

In the past, Enid and Syl had clashed a lot, because Enid hadn't wolfed out fully yet. Then Wednesday and Enid had become friends, and Syl learned very quickly to keep her distance. And then immediately moved onto Y/n.

Y/n wasn't an idiot. He knew she was being mean, but just didn't care. He knew that when she threw a ball and yelled for him to fetch, or that when she scratched behind his ear and called him a good boy, it wasn't actually a game or a show of kindness or affection. he always let it happen though, and the most he ever did was roll his eyes good naturally and laugh it off. It genuinely didn't bother him.

When Wednesday asked about  it, Enid was the only one who could come up with any explanation. "When you're high energy and good natured, and a werewolf, it just... is a pretty direct comparison," she offered half heartedly. "You already act like a dog - you're friendly and bring little presents and need a lot of affection and can get carried away with playing. They see him rolling around on that field and everyone just sees a house pet most of the time. Not like - like he's less for that. But, a lot of people scratch werewolves behind the ears and give them "treats" instead of "food" or play fetch or platonically cuddle or call us good boys or girls or even use baby voices - just like they would an actual job. I only experience it as little as I do because I go out of my way to do my hair, and my nails, and I put a lot of effort into my clothes and make up, so at a very young age I didn't want people touching me and I didn't play with everyone else." She shrugged. "Y/n doesn't have that luxury. He's just used to it."

Well that bothered Xavier. Used to it or not, he could see the shame and embarrassment Y/n felt every single time Syl made a big deal out of treating him like some common house pet. Like more of an animal than a person. And he could see the way that the more Syl got away with it, the more other people started to do it too. Not always with Y/n, and rarely with any malice, but...

It was still demeaning.

One day they were all at lunch and in the middle of their conversation, Syl called, "Come here, Boy! Come here Y/n!" She pat her thighs, bending her knees a little. Y/n froze mid laugh, his smile wiping off of his face as he cringed into his seat. A sheepish look crossed his face as he went to get up and go over to Syl.

Xavier had had enough. "Would you stop doing that?"

Syl smirked as she looked at the irritated artist, her shades lowering so her eyes could look directly into Xavier's. "What's the matter Thorpe? Claimed this one or something?"

Xavier's face twists with irritation. "I didn't claim him - what the hell is wrong with you? He's not an animal, he's a person."

"Half person," Syl shrugged. The courtyard was suddenly very tense and quiet, half shocked and the other half incredibly uncomfortable. "He's half dog, I'm not wrong."

Wednesday stood from the table, her eyes narrowed. "He's not half-anything, you small minded waste of shadow. He's part wolf and part human, and that's only because he can shift between either of his forms. That doesn't mean that when he's a wolf he loses his ability to think and feel like a human."

Syl's lips pulled back into a snarl as she went to snap something back to Wednesday, but Y/n suddenly stood to his feet to catch everyone's attention. "Guys, it's fine." He laughed off the awkwardness he felt, waving his hand through the air as if to dismiss all the negativity circling him. "I like when she scratches behind my ear, and fetch is actually super fun."

"Of course," Wednesday agreed. "But she's taking advantage of your enjoyment and is using it in a very mean way. She's twisting all the good things you'd usually allow and making them something not good." Her dagger throwing glare turned to Y/n, and then softened. Just a little. “Do you understand?”

Y/n nodded. “I’ll stop letting it slide.”

“That’s a great place to start,” Enid encouraged, and Y/n’s smile was back again. For now that would be enough.

-

The next time Syl tried to pull something, neither Wednesday nor Enid were around. Xavier knew it had been on purpose when she approached, eyes ignoring him completely as if he wasn’t even there. “There’s my favorite boy,” she cooed, reaching up to scratch behind Y/n’s ear.

Y/n leaned away. He frowned at her, not in the mood for this but not totally good at confrontation still. He had gotten a little better when Xavier had sat down and talked boundaries, agreeing that he would be more affectionate with Y/n to show him how it could be done well and not as a cruelty. Now Y/n knew the difference and he didn’t like Syl anymore. “Dont do that.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a drama queen. Come here-“

“He said stop,” Xavier piped in. Y/n looked relieved to have been backed up.

Syl slowly looked at Xavier. “God with how often you little twerps defend this weirdo you’d think he was sucking your dick or something.”

Something set ablaze inside of Xavier in a very ugly way. She thought the only reason anyone would be friends with Y/n was if they were having sex? “What is wrong with you?” He snapped. “You know why we defend Y/n? Because he’s a good person! I know that’s a really fucking foreign concept to you, because when he’s a little slow or misses little details or doesn’t click with the joke that was made or misinterprets tone or whatever - you just think he’s an idiot. That’s a bad thing to you. But it’s not bad, or especially good, it’s just a thing. That’s just how he is and the fact that in a school of freaks you decided that him being different than you was a bad thing? I don’t get it! We were killed in the last for being different, how do you not know that? How is it not ingrained in your blood? How do you not know that you’re just as bad all those people in the past? Like Crackstone.”

Syl hissed, like a mix between spitting and growling. “Jesus maybe I was wrong. Maybe you’re sucking his dick.”

Xavier lashed out without thinking. He shoved her. “What we do behind closed doors is none of your business, you bitch, but just so it can sync really deep in your impossibly thick skull - no, we don’t have any kind of sexual shit. That doesn’t mean I don’t like him though! It’s almost like people have worth just by being people.” He took Y/n’s hand and gently tugged him away. Y/n followed the prompt. “Come on,” Xavier growled. “Let’s get out of here.”

They had gone down several halls and had completely lost Syl before either of them spoke. “You... like me?”

Xavier froze, finally processing all of the things he had said. In front of Y/n. Oh shit. “Uh-“ He turned to look at Y/n and something warm spread through his blood, comforting him but cooling down the raging storm from before. Y/n was smiling. “Maybe.”

Y/n stepped closer to Xavier, changing the palm-to-palm hand hold into a finger laced hold. “I think I maybe like you too. But I’m... slow, with stuff like this.”

Xavier eased, relaxing now that Syl was gone and Y/n was talking about something that he had wanted so badly for so long. “I would be okay, figuring it out. Taking as long as you need.”

Y/n nodded, then rested his head on Xavier’s shoulder. “Is this okay?”

Completely forgetting about Syl now, Xavier chuckled. His smile was shy and small but bright. “That’s more than okay.” He turned his head, leaving a kiss on the top of Y/n’s head. “Is that okay?”

Y/n closed his eyes, sighing contentedly. “That’s okay.” They fell into quiet, but this time it was comfortable and familiar. Like falling into bed after a long day. “If Syl ever tries anything again, I’m going to go to staff. I don’t want to deal with it anymore, and neither should any of my friends. Or you.”

Xavier liked that idea very much. He also very much liked being excluded from ‘friends’. “That’s a good idea. I can go with you.”

“I’d like that,” Y/n whispered. “I’d like that a lot.” The bell rang and they moved off of the wall to head to class. When they had to delegate ways, their hands lingered, fingers still holding onto each other. Then their hands fell away but they still smiled. It wouldn’t be the last time they did that, and until they could come back later they were both just fine waiting until then.

-

Male readers tag: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

[skulls-soul]

Sense Bowser X Luigi as well as king boo X Luigi live rent free in my brain it’s become common for me when I start thinking of one head canon for a ship I also start thinking about how that would work for the other

For this head canon Luigi has trouble sleeping  what kind of ghost hunter/ex ghost hunter a.k.a. person with crippling anxiety doesn’t?

I imagine both Bowser and king boo absolutely hate that. they hate how they see their boyfriend Luigi Wide awake some nights  they also get severely frustrated when Luigi decides to bake or do some tinkering instead of just relaxing.

So with the determination of a pack of lions hunting for a meal they both have a goal In trying to find a way to help Luigi sleep.

Bowser immediately gos to Kamek and kammy Seeing if they have any information but the only thing that they recommend is whipping up a potion for him. in all honesty bowser is not too fond of that idea he doesn’t want Luigi to become dependent on magic and he knows that if you use too much of it, it could have long-term side effects. 

So he opps out and decides to go to his children instead maybe one of them have an idea after all there’s 8 of them. Even though Bowser knew that his kids would try their best in finding a way to help Luigi fell asleep he didn’t expect his kids to be so enthusiastic about it although it’s not all that surprising they’ve learned to care for him almost just as much as Bowser did.

By the end of the entire conversation there was one option that stood out to Bowser from the rest and that was compression therapy it was suggested by one of his oldest.  It’s one of the few options that didn’t seem too far-fetched. listen his kids were enthusiastic but not exactly the smartest bunch he realize that soon after Morty suggest just knocking him out with violence.

Either way one night when Bowser was heading to bed he quite literally had to drag Luigi out of the garage from whatever he was working on this time.  Before cuddling up in the bed Bowser mentions how he wants to try something new and that to tell him if it’s uncomfortable

You see, when they usually cuddle Bowser is very aware of his size so he just usually curls up next to Luigi or Luigi is the one who’s plopped on top of him not to say that Bowser‘s gonna plop his entire weight on top of Luigi no I imagine Bowser putting an arm on Luigi or head head is more than enough weight

Luigi was a little bit surprised by this but it was pleasant nonetheless he half jokingly asks Bowser if he’s trying to trap him to go to sleepbut when bowser didn’t respond his joking tone left as he ask’s again

As for king boo technically he could also do that although I don’t know if that’s quite possible sense you know… He’s a ghost

king boo has a different way of getting Luigi to fall asleep because seeing his boyfriend quite literally staying awake around the same time that him and his boos are is a bit concerning and what’s even more concerning is when he doesn’t even sleep through the morning he just stays awake maybe he’ll take a nap but it lasts like an hour or two and then he’s back up and at it

I really like the idea of king boo liking to garden it was in one of the fan fictions that I read in where he has a garden because he wants to prove to himself that he can keep something alive and that not everything he hast to do hast to deal with death. I love that concept so it must be added to more

With that being said King boo takes out A book about teas and the plants that are used to make them. He ended up making a combination of lemon balm and chamomile using honey and a bit of cream. since he knows that Luigi prefers his tea to be on the sweeter side just like his coffee.

When Luigi was first offered the tea by king boo Luigi was drying his dishes he knows he could leave it for tomorrow but since he has the time now he decided to just go on right ahead since what else would he be doing it to in the morning. luigi wasn’t surprised by the cup since this isn’t The first time that he’s received tea from him but he slightly confused by the sudden appearance it wasn’t until King Boo explained that he made this cup especially for him, to help him sleep is what surprised the fact that his partner made it specifically with him in mind made his heart flutter 

Luigi was touched by this  A big smile grows upon his face as he lets go of the dish that he was drying place his hands on the cheeks of king boo squishing the king face as he plants a kiss on his lips. it was over before King Boo could finish processing what was happening and by the time he did Luigi took the mug out of his nubbed hand taking a hefty sip with a satisfied sigh he thanks him.

Luigi and king boo decide to watch a movie as they wait to see if the tea’s purpose works. When it reached 30 minutes in King boo started to worry on whether or not if he messed up the ingredients but after 15 more minutes his attention is pulled away from the TV by The small sound of their boyfriend snoring 

King boo very carefully picks up Luigi to take him out of the screening room and into the bedroom  to let him sleep the last few hours of the night and the first few hours of the morning away



(bonus: bowser also finds out that humming helps Luigi fall asleep, king boo finds out that surrounding Luigi with pillows and blankets help out)



[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

The Trouble with Morris

Okay so hi I’m the one who requested the George one and I was wondering if you could write one but with Morris instead? (He’s the guy arthur was throwing darts at) – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: past abuse by arthur (throwing daggers at)

Pairings: merthur I guess?

Word Count: 1432

Now, Arthur isn’t above a few cheap shots at Merlin, but he’s come a long way from throwing daggers recklessly at someone and only hoping they get the target up in time. So when he misses and nearly takes Merlin’s left ear off, he’s earnestly about to go and see if Merlin’s alright when something slams into him from the side.

Arthur may have changed a great deal—not that he’d care to admit it—since Merlin arrived, but the one thing he refuses to alter is his training schedule. Now, Merlin can throw a fit all he likes, but Arthur can see him get visibly brighter after they’ve spent an hour or two in the bright sun with a good breeze blowing across the fields.

Which means that no, Merlin, they can’t just skip a day when he decides he’d rather not stand there watching the knights ‘throw each other around like hay bales.’

Privately, he wonders if Merlin’s doing it on purpose, since Merlin saying not to do something is almost a guarantee that Arthur’s going to at least try it.

Whatever the case, they’re outside, working on accuracy over brute force—see, Merlin, he does take criticism, but only when it’s from someone he would otherwise go to for advice—when the knight he’s working with gets called away to do smoothing for the swordmaster. Arthur waves away his apologies.

“Believe me, I know how he is when he doesn’t get what he wants,” he mutters, and the knight laughs.

“I can’t tell if it’s reassuring or frightening that he treats you the same way he treats the rest of us.”

”Having some amount of fear for him is healthy.” He claps the knight on the shoulder and turns to Merlin, who’s just watching him. “Get off your backside and do something useful, would you?”

“Don’t much fancy it, thanks.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have a choice. On your toes, go fetch the halberd.”

“You don’t even fight with a halberd,” as he goes to fetch it anyway.

“Well, then maybe I should start learning. Can’t give Hob anything else to brag about.”

“Who’s Hob?”

”Captain out in the north part of Camelot. Extremely honorable man.” He holds his hand out for the halberd, wincing when it overbalances almost immediately. “Careful.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You handed it to me wrong.”

“Really? Because it looked like I was holding it just fine and then you almost dropped it.”

He cuffs him upside the head for that. “Just go get one of the targets.”

”Can’t you get one of the other knights to do it?”

Arthur makes a show of turning around to look for another knight. Granted, he could probably ask one of them and they’d do it, but this is far more fun. Merlin, who looks at him like he knows exactly what Arthur’s doing, just rolls his eyes and goes to fetch a target. He slings it over one arm and tromps back, holding it at the ready.

“Not like that, hold it steady.” Merlin sort of braces his feet. “A stiff breeze could knock you over right now, stand properly.”

“Oh, are you going to come and show me how to stand, now?”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, puts down the halberd, and walks over. Merlin’s expression tightens in supervise, but he steels it back to something normal as Arthur comes to a stop in front of him. He puts his hands on the outsides of the target.

“Now, you need to have some weight behind it. I know that’s hard for you, you’re skinnier than the halberd, but—whoa!”

Merlin blinks innocently at him like he didn’t just shove Arthur over with the target. “What was that, sire?”

“Very funny,” Arthur grumbles as he gets to his feet, “just hold it, would you?”

Merlin snickers but holds the target still.

Now, Arthur isn’t above a few cheap shots at Merlin, but he’s come a long way from throwing daggers recklessly at someone and only hoping they get the target up in time. So when he misses and nearly takes Merlin’s left ear off, he’s earnestly about to go and see if Merlin’s alright when something slams into him from the side.

“Oi!”

There’s a shadow over him. A voice calls out: “Run! Just go!”

“I’m not going anywhere, what the hell’d you do that for?”

“He almost took your head off!” Arthur gives himself a shake and starts to sit up. The person over him startles. “How could you?”

Arthur blinks up. A scowling, panting face swims into view. Curly hair…green tunic…wait.

“…Morris?”

Morris scoffs. “Surprised you even remember me. What with how you used to throw those bloody daggers at me like I was your pincushion. You think it’s funny, do you? You could’ve killed him!”

Over his shoulder, Merlin’s mouth opens to make some snappy retort but Arthur holds his hand up. Merlin raises his eyebrows but stays quiet.

“You’re right,” Arthur says, looking up again, “that was wrong of me. You could’ve been seriously hurt. I’m sorry.”

Morris’s eyes widen in surprise, before he narrows them again. “You think that’s it, then? The Great Prince Arthur has deigned to apologize to me and I’m just supposed to go on with my life, eh? Never mind the scars I have, never mind the fact that I can’t get a decent job around here, that’s it?”

Arthur winces. “I didn’t know you—“

“Well, of course you didn’t! You were too busy throwing things at your new manservant, why would you spare a thought for me?” Morris throws his hands up. “Did you even wonder what happened?”

He swallows. “No.”

“Right, well. That’s it, then, is it? We only exist to serve you?”

“No.”

“No, that’s right. We don’t. And it’s high time you realized that instead of—“ he seems to struggle for words before flailing a hand in Merlin’s direction— “throwing halberds at people!”

“You’re right,” he says again, keeping himself low but sitting up properly, ”you’re right. I shouldn’t have thrown the halberd at Merlin and I was wrong to throw the daggers at you.”

“What is this,” Morris scoffs, but the irritation is giving way to actual confusion, “you just stalling until the guards come and arrest me or something?”

“No. I’m not having you arrested. I’m trying to apologize. If you’re still looking for work, we can find you something in the—“

”Shut up!”

The field goes quiet. Morris just stands there, panting at him. Arthur waits. And waits. And waits some more. After another long while, Morris glares and him and whirls around, stomping away.

Merlin sets down the target with a clatter and comes over, helping Arthur up. “You alright?”

“Fine.” He turns to look at him, hands on his shoulders, turning his head to the side. “Are you alright? I did almost hit you with that thing.”

“Luckily, your aim’s worse than you think it is,” Merlin jokes, softening when he sees Arthur’s genuine concern, “I’m good.”

“Good.”

He brushes Merlin’s tunic off—just in case—and ruffles his hair until Merlin squawks in protest. He looks off in the direction Morris went. It was true; he hadn’t thought about Morris in…well, in years. Not since Merlin had become his servant, not since everything had happened that changed him.

“Hey.” Merlin nudges him. “What is it?”

“I didn’t realize,” he says, still staring off, “that he couldn’t find work.”

Merlin hums. “That’s not your fault.”

”Isn’t it? I’m the one who threw the daggers. I’m the one who—who gave him those scars.”

”And I believe technically I’m the one who got him fired.” Merlin shoves his shoulder. “It’s been years. At this point I’m not sure what he’s tried.”

“I tried to apologize. Really, I meant it.”

“I know. I heard you.”

Arthur looks down, scuffing his toe along the grass. Merlin knocks their shoulders together.

“Not everyone will forgive you,” he says quietly after the wind has blown a leaf from one side of the field to another.

“I know.”

“That’s okay.”

“I know.”

“You were a massive prat.”

“I know.”

“Still are, to be honest.” Merlin laughs as Arthur shoves him. “But you’re better, and that’s what’s important.”

Arthur looks up at him. Merlin just grins and ruffles his hair, or at least tries to before Arthur catches him and puts him in a careful headlock, laughing as Merlin squawks and swats at him.

“Let me go, you prat!”

“Idiot.”

(Merlin does learn that Morris has gotten a job at one of the stables across the city from the castle. He also learns that Arthur is a rotten liar when it comes to pretending he didn’t do something.)

[diamondheartyux]

Michael Myers

Hyungwon x xreader

Genre: Horror, Smut 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 8.7K

Warnings: besties.... drinking, aggression, dubcon\noncon, blood\bloodplay, sharp objects, death

This is part three of Killer Climaxes, besties 👻These are all stand alone stories and can be read in any order

Read Pennywise Here

Read Jason Here

You closed the stall behind you, turning to lock as you lowered yourself heavily onto the toilet. You brought your elbows to your knees before resting your hands in your hand. You take a deep breath in before releasing it all at once, feeling as your body sank with the exhale. College was kicking your ass. Papers, presentations, parties,… it was exhausting and to make it even better, your cute little college town was all amped up for Halloween. You sit, contemplating just how long you could sit in this stall before you had to suck it up and venture back out into academia-land when the bathroom door opens. Several sets of footsteps file in, gathering at the sink. You think nothing of it, still determined to hide away from responsibilities inside the bathroom when they start to talk. 

“Did you hear the rumors going around campus?” a nasally voice asks. The sound of lips popping follows in the silence. When there’s no response, it continues.

“Everyone is saying he’s going to come back.”

“Who?” a soft pitched voice asks almost immediately.

“Chae Hyungwon.”

“Oh, not this again..” a new voice declares almost exasperatedly. The sound of gum bouncing around a mouth mixed with the wet smacking of lips permeates the air.

A scoff rolls across the room, a sound of annoyance at the third girl’s commentary before the first voice speaks again. 

“Apparently, he escaped this time last year as they were transporting him. Crazy to think that he’s mental enough to need to be transported to a higher security psych ward.” she says, pausing momentarily. You only assume the trio is freshening their faces up for the rest of the afternoon judging by the clicking, snapping, and rummaging you hear before voice one resumes her story. 

“You all know what he did, right?” She doesn’t wait for a response. 

“They say he murdered a bunch of people in his neighborhood before trying to kill his sister. And he was just a child at the time. How fucked up is that?” she scoffs before more rustling echoes in the bathroom.

“So, anyway. He escaped last year so everyone assumes he’ll show up again this year. You live in his old neighborhood, Stacy.” The second girl with the soft voice gasps. 

“Stop, Kimberly. Let this shit die. It’s so annoying. You do this every Halloween. No one cares about some psycho kid or your bullshit theories.” A bag snaps shut aggressively. 

“Besides, why would they transport him again at the same time on the same day taking the same route if he escaped before. Surely they would do something else. Sedate him. Put him in a straight jacket on a fucking dolly like they did Hannibal Lecter….get a grip.” She snapped quickly before shutting her mouth. The silence was followed by more rustling then the sound of footsteps descending before the door opens and two sets of feet disappear from the bathroom. 

Another scoff followed by a murmured string of curses breaks the silence before it’s followed with a bag rustling as Kimberly also exits the bathroom. You sit there, taking in the conversation you weren’t supposed to overhear and roll your eyes. It was far-fetched. More stupid gossip to deal with until Halloween was finally over. You check the time on your watch before standing, smoothing your clothes out as you exit the stall. 

You walk to the sink and take a look at yourself in the mirror. You looked like hell but to be fair, life was kicking your ass so it was expected. You sweep your hands over your hair, running your fingers through it to comb it slightly before tossing it over your shoulders. You take a big breath then release it slowly before turning to exit, grabbing the door and pulling it open to step out into the hellscape waiting for you. The rest of the day drags excruciatingly slow. Lectures, study time after, work, all nonstop. More rumors billow around you like a whirlwind everywhere you go. Every class, every building, every step on campus, murmurs of Hyungwon swirl as they fall from tongues in hushed tones. 

“I heard he's really hot, like,... he can totally slay me.”

“I heard he's a total psychopath. He did this when he was a child.” 

“I heard he comes back looking for his sister to finish the job.”

You've rolled your eyes so many times that they should easily fall out of your skull at this point. The tales weigh on your brain and when you finally get home, you want nothing more than to crash but your best friend was adamant that the two of you go to a Halloween party thrown by the biggest bunch of douchebags the frat houses could birth. You toss your bag into the corner of your room then face plant into your unmade bed. You groan loudly, the sound muffled by the mattress against your face before rolling over and sighing heavily. You just had to make it through tonight. Surely you could handle one frat party, right? Just go in, grab a drink, and find a spot to be left alone shouldn’t be that hard.  

So, against your will, you pull on a cheap nurse costume. You know the one, form fitting, short dress, and not complete with some heels and maybe knee high fishnets. You take a second to glance at yourself in the mirror. Your curves are highlighted more than you would like as you were much more comfortable in something oversized. Your breasts are all but spilling from the top and you are absolutely certain that if you had to run for your life, they would pop out. A frown appears on your lips as you take yourself in. You looked ridiculous despite your friends’ reasoning of “but it’s Halloween". You know, one night to be whatever you wanted so why not be a little slutty, they reasoned. After another eye roll, you make your way to your vanity and sit down to pull the look together.  You put about 3% effort into your hair and makeup, opting for a few swipes of lip gloss and mascara versus a full face then tossing your hair up into a messy bun. It would have to work. 

A car horn beeps outside your window and you rise to walk to it, peering out to the driveway, to find your best friend waving like an idiot at your window. You huff a small laugh and roll your eyes again for probably the millionth time today as you make your way outside, bounding down the steps before sliding into the passenger seat of her Chevy Camaro. The wind tousles your messy hair, teasing more fly aways out as you wave your arm out of the open window, catching the breeze in your palm as the two of you fly across town. You rest your head against the headrest, eyes closed, as you enjoy the wind on your face. The car slows down, taking a right hand turn and you open your eyes to find yourselves at an old, nearly dilapidated two story house. This was definitely not where you assumed this party was going to be given the fact it was a frat party but you also were not surprised to find it was being held somewhere abandoned. 

The house sat on the end of a dead end street, old police tape faded and worn hung across the porch, fluttering in the breeze. The muffled sound of music pulsed out of the place, heightening with every person that entered. You traipse across the lawn, taking the stairs up the porch extra cautiously in hopes to not fall through before opening the front door. The inside was crowded, fake fog diluting the line of vision as it caught the reflection of the orange and red lights scattered everywhere. Bodies pressed together as people moved to the rhythm that filled the space. Drinks were raised in red plastic cups to lips that were painted in different shades of cracked paint. Ghouls, goblins, and ghosts packed every corner. You squeeze in, making your way through the cramped living room to an even more packed kitchen, following the lighting to the next room looking for a drink for your nerves. 

You finally spill into the kitchen, the green lights strung in here giving it an eerie glow, to find an island in the middle of the room cluttered with liquor bottles, cups, and random finger foods. Bowls of chips sat clustered together next to smaller bowls of candy. Half full chip bags littered the counters behind the island and a few coolers of ice and other forms of alcohol crowded the floor. There was more chatter in here, people escaping from the heat of packed bodies to refresh themselves with a mixed drink or three. You lean down and open the coolers to survey their contents before swiping up a can of beer. It hisses as you pull the tab on the top up, pressing the lip inside. You take a swig and grimace. You were definitely a liquor girl but refused to be flat out wasted in a room full of strangers. While it was free, why not have something, right?

You lean against the counter, front facing the doorway back into the party and sip your beer again. People filter in and out consistently, paying you no mind as they come in for a few handfuls of chips or another drink. You place your now empty can on the counter and lean back, hands gripping the edges as you people watch. Werewolves, vampires, and an overabundance of people in blue mechanic jumpsuits and white masks filter in and out. Squeals erupt as fake knives are wielded and girls are chased by the men in jumpsuits. A few couples quietly slip up the inside stairs for some time alone, their mouths barely leaving each other as they ascend the unlit staircase. You lean over and open the cooler closest to you, grabbing another beer before hoping up on the counter. Your legs swing as you flip the tab on the can and take a sip of the cold, amber liquid.  

You cup the can in your hands as you begin to drift, losing yourself to your thoughts only to be swiftly brought from them by the sound of a door slamming. You jump at the sudden sound, it startling you from the genesis of your daydream and cock your head curiously at a door open in the hall just in the line of your sight from the kitchen.  You don't move, choosing to stay put as you eye the open door curiously. A few seconds later, someone walks through the doorway and into the hall before closing the door behind him. You didn't notice the door when you first came in, distracted by your desire to get out of the crowd and into a drink. Your eyes stay glued to the figure, his back visible to you. 

His slim figure is accented by his loose clothing. He looks thin and, paired with his height, also looks lanky. He's clothed in all black, a trench coat covering his back from shoulder to heel. You only get a glimpse of his clothing when he turns around, prying his attention from the room packed full of bodies to face you. A small shock jolts through your body at the sight of him. He was handsome. Insanely attractive. His face card wouldn't decline anywhere. 

You can't take your eyes off him as you observe his attire. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, a peak of his golden chest peaking through all accented by a delicate silver chain around his neck. His tie was loosened, the knot sitting around his heart. The tail ends of his shirt were barely hanging on to stay tucked into the leather pants that squeezed his legs like a second skin. His black combat boots tied the ensemble together. 

His obsidian eyes land on you and his gaze causes a flutter to erupt in your stomach. His raven colored hair was tousled, almost like he had continuously ran his hands through it. His hair fell perfectly in a frame around his face, leaving his forehead exposed as his bangs sat right next to his dark eyes. His cherry red lips were enticing, inviting even, and you found yourself staring at them unintentionally. 

You watch as the corners of those beautiful, plump looking pillows turn upward into a smirk and you blush slightly realizing that you were caught staring. He makes his way into the kitchen, his long legs taking him across the distance in a few strides. He stands beside you, turning around to lean his elbows on the counter next to you.

You shift a little, placing your half empty beer can on your opposite side before tucking your hands under your thighs. The silence between you felt uncomfortable or it could just be your nerves being so close to someone so inarguably attractive. You take a deep breath before speaking, an anxious need to fill the silence weighing on you.

“Nice costume. Are you like,... a special agent or a mafia leader?” You ask, cringing a little at the question. He chuckles, the sound melodic as it swirls through space between the two of you before dancing in your ears. 

“Something like that.” He answers, his tone soft. His voice was beautiful, angelic almost, and the hushed volume in which he spoke gave it a small rasp, enough of an edge that you subconsciously squeezed your thighs together to quell the sudden, dull ache that appeared there. 

You bobbed your head to his answer, not sure how to carry the conversation from there. You swing your legs slightly, hands gripping the countertop underneath you and you lean forward. You were feeling lighter now, and warmer. Not much of a drinker, two tall beers were enough to leave you feeling just right. 

“Do you attend the University?” You ask, turning your head towards the black clad stranger as you speak.  “You're a little too attractive to have no one notice you here.” 

You weren't usually so bold, if you can call what you said bold, but the bitter, amber liquid swirling in your veins helps break down the barrier of anxiety that plagues you daily. Your eyes wander to him continuously, struggling to stay off his enticing features. His lips called to you more than anything and you found yourself spaced out staring at them, imagining if they were as soft as they looked. Those same lips curled upwards, breaking you from your trance and you ducked your head as you turned away to hide the blush creeping in your cheeks. He chuckles and fixes his eyes on you. You watch as they roam your body, stopping a second too long on your chest that was all but popping out of your top. You bring your legs together before squeezing them again. 

He leaned farther back on the counter, a cheeky grin splayed across his gorgeous face. He lifts his hand closest to you and brings it to your bare thigh where his fingers dance up and down your skin. You don’t move, unsure if you were even actually seeing this or if you were deep daydreaming. A shiver runs through your body which leaves goosebumps in its wake. The smile on his face grows wider as his fingers travel further, a little bit too close to the hem of your costume. The ache between your thighs grows, your body aching for his fingers in other places. Your chest begs to be touched and you subconsciously push it out a little more as you watch his fingers play on your skin. He watches you before he brings his fingers back up to the hem before he dips them between your thighs. You bite your bottom lip to stifle the noise you wanted to make as his fingers keep traveling, stopping to brush lightly across the front of your panties.  You squirm a little, dying to push yourself against his hands and get the friction you suddenly so desperately needed. Another low chuckle hums from his lips as he brushes you again and you shiver visible.  

“Wanna find somewhere more private?” he asks plainly, his fingers now resting firmly on your thigh. You can only nod in response. Your body and brain already at war with each other. He shouldn’t be so attractive. You shouldn’t already be so goddamn turned on but you were. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs and if he dipped his hands any lower, he could feel the small spot coating your panties as well. You shift, readying yourself to slide down when his hand leaves your thigh so he can extend it to you.

You let him help you off the counter, hopping slightly as he links his fingers with yours. You trail behind him, your arm outstretched in the distance between you as he walks to the hallway, opening the door nestled in the wall he came in from earlier. No one notices the two of you, everyone now too drunk or high to care. The bass beats, drowning out any thoughts any of them could even have now. The stairwell well was dark, fifteen wooden steps hidden in the lack of light that he somehow managed to descend perfectly. It was curious, watching him walk down like he had gone this particular set of stairs numerous times. Your hands still linked, you follow behind him closely, concentrating hard on not tripping and falling into him which would send both your bodies tumbling into the blackness below. 

Your feet finally hit the concrete floor, a damp, earthy scent mixed with something else, something almost metallic, invades your sense of smell now that you are fully inside the basement. He releases your hand and his voice floats into your ears. 

“Stay here” 

A command really, one that you were eager to obey given the inky abyss that swallowed you whole. He returns moments later, his hands coming to your shoulder as he begins to spin you around. Your back faces him now and you feel something soft and silky slide across your face. It moves as his fingers twist and turn before it tightens around your face. You bring your hand up to touch it, the fabric smooth under your fingers. A blindfold. A thrill runs through your body at the idea of the lack of a major sense and you shiver slightly from it. His fingers trail down your hair to your back, traveling gingerly down your spine before coming around to your waist. You stifle a moan at the teasing touch as his fingers grip your waist softly before pulling you against his body. You can feel his hardness pressed into your back and a small tingle wells in your stomach before exploding through your veins. The thought of you having him so worked up turned you on even more. You arch your back slightly, allowing your ass to push against him more .He disappears for no more than a few seconds when you hear a soft click and the space in your peripheral illuminates in an opaque shade through the blindfold. You feel his warmth again as he returns, pulling you flush with his body. 

His fingers dig into your hips tighter momentarily before they glide up your sides, coming around to cup your breasts. You let out a soft, breathy moan as his hands paw your chest gently at first, his fingers teasing circles around the fabric over your nipples. You arch your back further then bring a hand back to rub his thigh. He rolls his hip towards you, brushing himself against your ass before dropping his hands from your chest and running them up the front of your costume. His hands come back to your chest quickly, pushing the fabric up with it as he dips his fingers under the edge of your bra. Your breath hitches at the sensation of his bare skin against yours as he begins to roll your nipples between his thumb and pointer fingers slowly. Your body tingles as he continues to tease you with his touch, your arousal growing more. A dull ache pulses faintly between your legs and you wanted nothing more than for him to plunge deep inside of you in that moment. 

Your hand slides from his thigh to between your ass and his pelvis where you grasp at his erection pushing against his pants. He groans faintly as you stroke him in soft, slow motions through the fabric. The feeling of him ever so slightly pushing himself against your palm sends a shiver through you and you grip him a little harder, working your wrist a little faster. He tugs at your nipple, pulling it out then letting it go quickly before cupping your breasts and rolling them between his fingers again. His mouth finds your shoulder, planting kisses on it before making his way to your neck. He buries his face in the crook of it, his lips grazing the skin there sensually all the way up to below your ear. You moan softly, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access.

His hands slide from under your bra before leaving your body completely as he turns you around. His lips connect with your in an almost needy kiss as he grabs your waist. You run your hands up his arms until they’re wrapped around his neck as he begins to walk you backwards. Within moments, your back hits something; a table you guess and he presses himself against you firmly causing the bulge to dig into your lower back. He reaches down and grabs your legs to wrap them around them before he lifts you up to sit on the table. His hands then travel to his pants, his lips never leaving yours as he unfastens them, letting them fall to the floor before shoving his underwear down to allow his aching cock free from its confinement. He pulls his lips from yours causing you to whine in protest and he leans back some. His fingers graze the fabric of your panties before shifting it to the side and you feel him line himself up with your entrance. 

You gasp as he pushes himself into you, feeling the way he stretches you out around him while he inches in little by little. He groans as he slips deeper inside you before finally bottoming out. Your hands fall from around his neck to rest on his shoulders as he begins to rock his hips slowly, almost teasingly before pulling away to dive back inside you. You grip his shoulders as he begins to move faster, pushing the warmth cradled in your core closer to a full blown blaze. You roll your hips towards him with every stroke inward that he makes, each thrust coaxing more sounds from you. He groans softly as you clench around him. The sounds of your moans seep into him and stir the frenzy locked inside. He clenches his jaw as he thrusts into you harder, his fingers digging more into your hip in a way that was slightly painful. You hiss at the prickles of pain before the melt in with the pleasure exploding through your body.     

His pace picks up, slamming into you roughly and you whine at the fire blooming dangerously fast in your stomach with every second. You rock your hips in tempo with him, moaning loudly now. Your body shudders as the blaze finally erupts, exploding brightly throughout your body. You cry out and your head lolls back as you clench around him tightly. He keeps his pace, fucking you through the waves of pleasure that made your body quiver almost violently. He grips your hips even tighter, a low growl passing through his lips at the sight of you coming undone under him. As the last remnant of your orgasm fades, he slows his thrusting down before slipping out of you. He pulls you off the table and flips you around, shoving you forward roughly. You use your hands to catch yourself blindly, the fabric still restricting your vision as you feel his hands caress the curve of your hips down to your ass. He stops only to spread your cheeks apart and rub the tip of his cock now coated in the remainder of your pleasure between them. He slides himself down to your entrance before shoving himself back inside you quickly, slipping in easily. You moan loudly, still sensitive, and he wastes no time returning to his relentless pace.

Your hands grip the edge of the furniture in front of you, your head hanging forward as your body rocks in rhythm to his strokes. His fingers grip your hips tightly, squeezing you every time he pulls you to meet his body and the sensation fuels the electricity jolting through your veins. You lean forward and slide your hands out as you arch your back more, allowing him a deeper angle. You stretch your fingers out as he buries himself further inside you, the sensation overloading your senses, before you lay them down to grip at the table beneath you when your fingertips brush something. You ignore it, your brain focused solely on the bliss clouding it when you brush it again. It was a soft and elastic feeling, clammy under your touch. You slide your fingers around to feel before slipping them onto it more. A cool, sticky substance slides under your fingers that causes you to gasp. Your body continues to sway with the motion of him driving into you almost wildly but your brain has all but shut the pleasurable sensations of it out. You draw your hands back quickly, one coming to grip the table once more and the other to rip the makeshift blindfold from your face. 

When your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, a scream immediately leaves your mouth at the sight before you. Laying in front of you was a body. It wasn’t just any kind of body. It was a dead one. And it was your best friend at that. Her skin, once bright and warm, was now cool with a grey undertone. Crimson red streaked her clothes and exposed skin, a pool of it soaking several slashes in her costume. Another scream pummels through your lips or maybe you hadn’t stopped screaming yet, you didn’t know. Every ounce of pleasure you were feeling was overridden with fear. The fingertips on your waist dig into your skin almost painfully before a chuckle like groan echoes around you. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re flipped around. Your back is now pressing painfully into the edge of the table as his hand grips your shoulder  and something cool and sharp is digging into your neck. 

You freeze as your body tenses and your eyes lock on to his, holding his gaze despite the fear running through you. Even in the low light, you can see a maniacal gleam in them further confirmed by the crazed grin that spreads across his face. He keeps the knife he’s holding pressed against your neck, letting his hand slide down your body before he removes it. He wraps his free hand around himself, stroking softly before dipping down to slide the tip between your folds, sliding back and forth before stopping..He pushes the knife into your throat more, the blade biting the delicate skin there. You can feel it beginning to burn, no doubt cutting it slightly. You lean back in an attempt to move from the blade but he just uses the motion to his advantage. He lifts your leg, leaning in as he tosses it over his shoulder and you close your eyes, waiting for him to slide inside you again but he doesn’t. Instead, the knife moves from your neck only to be replaced by his hand. He squeezes tightly and your hands fly to his, gripping his fingers frantically as he slides the knife down your body little by little. 

The tip of the blade grazes your skin as it moves from your neck, between your breasts, and over your stomach before finally stopping on your mound. He flips the blade sideways and continues the descent, the cold metal running through the wetness left there. You remain frozen, your breathing shallow as the hand around your throat continues to cut off your oxygen. You dig your fingers into his skin as hard as you can but it’s only met with a punishment. He slaps the blade against your pussy as hard as he can, the flatness of it connecting with your sensitive skin. Your body jumps and you loosen your grip on his hand. He snickers at your obedience, running the knife further down before he stops. 

He flips the knife around, his fingers half wrapped around the blade before he carries it back and forth between your folds. After a moment, he drags it back down and slips it inside you. You yelp, the sound muffled by the ever tightening grip around your throat. You can feel your vocal cords vibrate against his palm and the quivering echoes against it. He huffs, swallowing the groan building in the back of his throat as he watches the handle of the blade slip inside you before he pulls it out. His eyes stay on it momentarily, smirking as it descends and glistens with your wetness in the dingy lamplight. He brings his eyes back to your face as he slides it back in quicker this time before building a rhythm. He sneers at the look in your eyes, the fear paired with the tail end of arousal. Your body and your brain disconnect, logic no longer comprehensible in the moment.

Your hips shift slightly, your leg still tossed over his shoulder as he leans further into your body. The knife hilt slides in and out of you faster and faster as his grip on your throat relaxes little by little. The relief of extra air hitting your lungs causes your body to heave in a sigh, the loosened grip allowing a small moan to slip through. The sound prompts him to thrust the hilt faster and harder. You drop a hand from his wrist and place it behind you, using it to prop yourself up against to alleviate the digging of the table in your back as you roll your hips against his opposite hand. Survival instincts battle with the growing pleasure budding in your core before the pleasure surpasses it completely. Your body takes over, rocking against the hilt with each forceful forward motion. His eyes never leave yours, watching you as you lose the battle against your senses and you melt completely under his touch. The fear that coated you had melted little by little and seeing you writhe beneath him gave him the taste of power he craved. He was determined to make you scream. His fingers curled around your neck a little tighter with a controlled motion as if he was fighting against the animalistic drive threatening to overtake him.

A darkness flashes through his eyes and the sight sends shivers through your already electric body. You moan louder this time not knowing you are giving him exactly what he wants. Every thrust that’s met with a sound spilling from your lips threatens to break the resolve he’s holding, jeopardizes the barrier he’s built between him and his deadly urges. He had already killed plenty tonight in the sanctity of his old home’s basement and he thought he was finished. He thought he had satisfied the urge until he saw you. Every signal in his body went off at once. He wanted to fuck you, to claim you, to hear you scream his name but he also craved to the feeling of running his blade deep into your soft, delicate skin before plucking it from the fresh wound to watch your warm blood careen down your body. The darkness in his eyes flares as tension builds rapidly in your core but before you can reach the peak, he yanks the hilt from you. He twists the knife before bringing it to your throat. The metal kisses your neck once again, the scent of it mixing with the scent of you under his fingers. His hand unwraps from around your neck, the flow of unrestricted oxygen almost euphoric as he grabs himself before slipping quickly into your already primed cunt. 

The feeling of him filling you completely causes you to moan again, your head lolling back. The sensation of him driving in and out of you stronger than the handle of the knife and almost too much after everything your body had been through. Your body shivers as he pushes you to the precipice of your pleasure. His hips buck almost wildly and you can sense that he’s losing control but what you don’t realize is he’s not about to lose his grip on his sexual pleasure but the gritty beast that looms inside of him. Every thrust into you rocks your body against the table, shaking everything on it in rhythm to the dance you two were locked in. His hand wraps around your thigh as he pushes the blade of the knife as hard against your skin as he can without actually driving it into your esophagus. The pain stings before swirling with the overwhelming warmth that was ready to explode inside you. He growls softly at the sight of your eyes fluttering as you struggle to keep them open while you moan freely through your parted lips. You gasp, your breaths in soft pants as the blaze burning wildly in your core combusts, catching fire to every cell within you. You cry out in pleasure as your orgasm slams into you before the bliss is infiltrated by a searing pain. Your screams morph from fruition to agony as the pain grows into a white hot monster. Your head snaps up when you realize the blade resting against your neck is missing and now buried in your stomach. 

Tears pool at your waterline immediately as the blade is snatched from your skin, flaring the pain once again. Warmth trickles down your stomach, trailing in rivulets between your legs as he continues to pump aggressively in and out of you. Sobs erupt from your lips as you bring your hand to the gushing wound, covering it as hard as you can while your body bounces underneath him. His hand leaves your thigh to run up through the bright red painting your skin. He grips your skin as he drags his fingers gradually through the sticky liquid, smearing it down your thighs. He grabs your fingers with his blood coated ones, removing them as you fight to keep them on the wound. He forcefully pulls your hand to his mouth, sucking your blood covered fingers into them. You can feel it as he moans against them, his tongue swirling around your digits to clean them. He pops them from his mouth with a satisfied grin before snaking his hand to your wound where he pushes a finger into it roughly before wiggling it around.

You scream again, crying loudly at the pain. A deep, loud moan echoes in the darkness around you and you feel his cock twitch before he slams against you one final time. He growls while his orgasm washes over him, bucking against you as he shoots ropes of sticky cum deep inside you. His finger slips from your still bleeding wound and he runs it across your stomach lazily as his thrusting slows. He throws your leg off him as he pulls away from you. You can feel his seed beginning to drip down the inside of your leg before you collapse. You bring your hand to your stomach again, pressing as hard as you can to staunch the flow. You can hear the sound of his pants rustling as he dresses himself again and your brain races through ways to get you out of this basement and away from him. You scan the room as well as you can, your eyes grazing over everything before you realize there was nothing you could use to your advantage. 

You sniffle, using the back of one hand to wipe the tears from your face despite the never ending trail of them continuously falling. He turns around, the shuffling gone silent now before he fists your hair roughly. He tosses your head back forcing you to look up at him and your eyes widen at the sight. He had somehow tugged a mask over his face, one you recognized. You sit frozen in fear as you watch him, the white mask fitting crudely over his face. The hair sewn into it was a mess, as if it had been worn for years. The paint of the mask was cracked, yellowing from age in the creases while hiding everything recognizable about his features from sight. Realization creeps in as you watch his dark eyes shoot back and forth over your face. 

This was him. 

He was the rumor floating around town. He was the inspiration for a dozen of the costumes in the room upstairs. He was the reason this party was being thrown in this particular house. 

Fear grapples you as the degree of danger you are in registers. Your heart beats even faster now, pounding violently in your rib cage. You have to fight the instinct to cry even more, willing your brain to focus on a way to get out of his grasp. If you could just get upstairs, you’d be safe. There were dozens of people partying still just above you and you could hear the bass vibrating the walls around you. His fingers tangle into your hair more as he points the knife back at your throat once again tonight. You hold each other’s gaze when, in a split second, you make a decision. It was now or never so you ball your fist up and reach an arm out, swinging it as hard as you can to connect your hand to his groin. A noise travels from his mouth paired with the hitching of his breath. His hand releases your hair as it and the one holding the knife goes to cup his crotch. He doubles over, cursing under his breath. 

You scramble to your feet, your body feeling weak as you stumble towards the stairs. Your ankle connects with the bottom step and you wince. Your stomach burns and your head feels light as you lift your leg to place on the stair. You grip the handrail with one hand and rest the other over your aching gash. You sway side to side, climbing as fast as you can despite feeling like you were moving at a snail’s pace. Anxiety rushes through you when you hear his footsteps. A string of curses break the darkness and you force yourself to move faster. You stumble up the stairs almost as if in a drunken stupor before you reach the basement door. You grab the doorknob, all but falling into the door and twist it. It flies open under the weight of your body and you fall to your knees into the hallway. The echoes of footsteps ascending bring you scrambling back to your feet. You dart around the door, slamming it shut before you dash off into the direction of the party. 

Tears flow from your face freely as you run into the crowded room and relief washes over you. You were safe. Someone here would help, right? Except no one would listen to you. Everyone nodded, laughing, telling you how realistic your act was. And it was furthered when Hyungwon burst through the basement, knife raised as he hunted you down. He pushed through the bodies crowded in the room, his eyes scanning until they landed on you. You scream loudly, begging and pleading everyone around me to be met with more laughter and compliments, even a round of applause as you darted around the exterior of the room back to the hallway. You didn’t dare look behind you as you ran up the stairwell tucked away in the hall. You stumbled up the stairs, sobbing almost hysterically in hopes to lose him. You dart from room to room, opening each door to find a few of them occupied with people before you come upon an empty room tucked in the back of the upstairs hall. 

You close the door as quietly as you can, resting against the door momentarily as you scan the room. A bed is pushed against the left wall, a dresser straight ahead of you and a closet to your right. The shutter-like doors at the top were cracked in a downward angle, giving you an advantage to see from the inside. You pull the faded navy blue doors open and throw yourself inside. You close them behind you and scurry into the corner, pulling your knees into your chest in hopes to shrink yourself even more. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound of your breathing and quell the sobs heaving from your chest. Every second feels like an eternity and just when you start to relax under the impression you had actually lost him, the bedroom door creaks open painstakingly slowly. 

Fear flickers through you again as you grip your mouth tighter as if you could squeeze all the noises you were holding back away. His footsteps echo through the open space and through the slit of the door, you can just make out the top of his mask. His back turns to you as he drops to one knee before slicing the knife through the space underneath it. When it doesn’t connect with anything, he lifts the edge of the mattress up to peer underneath it. He lets the mattress drop back down and climbs back to his feet. His head turns as he surveys the rest of the room, looking undoubtedly for where you could be. You bite your tongue as you see his figure start towards the closet. You press yourself into the wall more, wishing you could disappear into it when his footsteps stop. You hold your breath as you listen for any sign of him when you hear the door click shut. You wait a moment before you release the breath you were holding. Your body heaves in relief and you begin to uncurl your legs from your chest when the top of the closest door furthest from you shatters.

You yelp in fear as you watch a knife appear in the space quickly followed by his masked face. His head turns slowly to face you, his onyx eyes landing on you and you scream again as you scramble, pushing back against the wall behind you. You were a sitting duck and there was nowhere for you to go from here. Terror grips your chest, squeezing it tightly as you begin to grab anything you can and throw it as forcefully as you can at his face. He swats at the objects, old clothes, shoes, folders, and tattered stuffed animals before you launch a boot at him and peg the side of his head. He curses loudly, pulling himself from the half wrecked door. The door begins to shift before you hear a groan and a loud thump. A loud whack resounds inside the room before another thump and a clatter follows. The closet door is ripped open and you scream as a figure comes into view. Only this was a different person. A woman who you didn’t recognize but she looked familiar. 

“We have to hurry.” she tells you, urgency laced in her tone as she holds a hand out to you. You look at her wildly, your eyes going from her hand to her face. She thrusts her hand out again with a sense of desperation in the motion. 

“I’ll explain as soon as I can but right now we are on limited time. We have to get out of here before he wakes up. Take my hand. Please.” 

You hesitate for a second more before slipping your blood caked hand into hers and let her hoist you up. She wraps her arm around your waist, pulling your arm around her shoulder as she begins to lead the two of you from the room. Hyungwon lies spread prone in the middle of the floor, limbs laid out like a starfish. You watch his body as the pair of you shuffle by him. His chest rises and falls evenly, his body unmoving as you pass close to him. You turn to face forward as the woman you’re draped over opens the bedroom door. You lift your foot to take that first step out when  your brain freezes. Another searing pain shoots through your body and you cry out loudly. Your ankle throbs and burns viciously and when you turn, you see Hyungwon’s hand wrapped around the knife he had buried into the back of your ankle. Your foot buckles as he rips the knife out and blood begins to spill from the laceration down your heel and onto the floor. 

With wide eyes, the two of you begin to move forward as fast as you can go back towards the stairs. You limp painfully, your foot almost deadweight as you hobble towards a way out. You can hear his body as he gathers himself, stumbling slightly from the blow to his head before the bedroom door slams open and his heavy footsteps follow. Your feet hit the stairs, making it down two before you’re jerked back. Your rescuer yelps and you turn to her to find Hyungwon with a fistful of her hair. His breathing is shallow, rage expressed in every exhale he makes as he pulls her hair forcefully. Her free hand comes up to grab it in an attempt to keep him from pulling it from her scalp. Your eyes widen in horror as you watch him rear his arm back, knife in hand, aiming at her throat. In a split second, her arm comes from around your waist before she shoves you. 

You topple, unable to balance yourself on your bleeding, throbbing ankle and you fall head first towards the rest of the stairs. You throw your hands out to catch yourself to no avail. The force of her shove sends you tumbling down the stairs. The world around you flips as you crash against the edges of the old wooden stairs. Shards of pain burst throughout your entire body before you finally clear the last dozen stairs, your head coming in contact with the floor with a sickening thud. Your vision blots momentarily, the darkness sweeping in and out before your mind begins to register the muffled noises around you. The light slowly filters in as more thudding surrounds you. You groan, your brain quickly registering the danger you were in and you push yourself up. Your chest tightens as the sounds on the stairs get closer and you begin to crawl away, trying to stand only to collapse again. 

Moments later, another body tumbles down the stairs and you shriek, using the wall to pull yourself up to stand. The commotion catches the attention of the few stragglers in the hall, turning at first as if it was all a show until they take in the two of you, the body at the bottom of the stairs crumpled. A groan leaves her lips before his black boots come into view again.

“Get up.” you yell at your rescuer's moaning body. “You have to get up.”  You turn around, using the wall as a clutch and approach the people in the hall, pleading them for help. Everyone stares in confusion until Hyungwon comes into view. He pays the attention no mind as he steps over her, kneeling to straddle her body. He yanks her hair forcefully, pulling her head back to expose her neck. Somewhere inside the house a loud bang resounds, the sound clouding your hearing. You watch as Hyungwon’s body jerks back before his head snaps up. Screaming erupts in the living room, the bass no longer pounding as a hoard of people push and shove to escape the danger lurking outside their party. Another bang resounds and Hyungwon’s body jerks again before his leg gives out and he drops to one knee. His knife clatters, sliding across the floor and you make a dive for it quickly, wrapping your hand as tightly as you can around the hilt before stretching it out in front of you.

You watch as his body falls forward, his hand flying out to catch himself. He groans and tries to push himself back up to no avail before his leg wobbles and gives out. He falls over to his side, his body coming from over the top of hers. You scramble forward to her, shaking her frantically before you start to pull her as hard as you can away from Hyungwon. She groans again, her head shaking from left to right as you struggle to pull her towards you. She comes to slowly, her eyes blinking slowly while the room comes into focus around her. Your eyes flick between her and Hyungwon, on edge as you wait for him to come to any minute now like he did before. 

Her eyes widen suddenly and she scurries to sit up. Her head shifts left to right before her vision lands on him. She pulls herself to her feet, eyes never leaving his body as she reaches down to help you up. You grip the knife tightly, your knuckles turning white around it as you wrap your opposite arm around her neck. The house that was once packed is now empty, only the remnants of half empty red cups and half eaten bowls of chips remain scattered throughout the space. The two of you back out slowly, slipping through the door to the living room with a little hassle before she finally decides that he’s not going to move. The two of you turn around and rush through the room to the front door, swinging it open. It hits the wall behind it and swings back behind you, almost latching shut as you exit. You’re met with the sounds of sirens echoing through the still, crisp air. You hobble down the stairs painfully, the adrenaline wearing off and the exhaustion your body was feeling creeping in slowly just as cars pull into the driveway. The red and blue lights spin, almost blinding in the setting sun outside. 

The pair of you collapse to the ground as paramedics rush to you quickly. Your head feels heavy and light at the same time. People hover over you and hands reach all around you as you feel yourself being lifted and laid out straight on something firm. Questions fly from the mouth of a man hovering above your head, his face upside down as you struggle to answer him. You lift your hand, the act proving more difficult than it should be. The weight of your arm is almost too much as you point in the direction of the house. You stutter out a few words, none that make any sense as you try to explain about Hyungwon when you hear a voice call out.

“Laurie?”

The name bounces around in your head before it clicks. The girl. Laurie.

Hyungwon’s sister. The realization slams into you right as your body decides it can’t do anymore. Your hand falls forcefully against the stretcher and you feel yourself slipping off into sleep but for how long, you didn’t know. Would you survive? It didn’t feel like it but part of you knew somehow you would live to see another day. Laurie’s voice muffles, her words distorting in your ears as you slip slowly into the exhaustion when you hear a male voice chime in. His words swim in your brain, fear igniting in your chest once again. 

“Laurie, we cased the whole house. No one is in there.” 

[linklethehistorian]

Linkle’s Fazbear Frights & Lore Insights #1: Into the Pit

[Read the general disclaimer and important notes for this series of articles here.]

[View the Masterlist of all completed articles here.]

Some Into the Pit specific notes:

I will be discussing the game version of this story to a limited degree, which as per ‘Frights Fiction’, would be a video game in the in-universe canon, based on the book by the same title, just as it is in our world. If you don’t want spoilers, stop here.

I will (mostly) be dismissing any Easter eggs throughout the game version that do not have a crucial part in the story, as per Frights Fiction these merely exist because the game was made in context of all of the various fictionalized stories born out of a desire to discredit the true canon, unless they do not conflict with the games’ canon and would genuinely bring something of value to the table in terms of discussion. There are two in particular I want to knock out of the running for very specific reasons, but discussing individual Easter Eggs is spoilers, so it will be saved for the actual discussion instead of thrown out here.

Apart from where I feel it relevant, I won’t be doing a deep-dive into the changes between the book and the game, since they are both fictional media within the FNAF universe, and thus the retcons and changes mostly have no value in the discussion of the lore or canon. If someone else wants to scream about how they got so much wrong because they feel the book was done dirty or something, I absolutely encourage you to go write your own article! But this isn’t about that.

Now with that out of the way, let’s get below the cut and get talking! This is your last spoiler warning for Into the Pit (both the book and game), so if you want to turn back, do so now.

Overall Impressions

The Book:

I mean, I liked it. I had been waiting until after I finished playing the game to read this, and it was technically my first in the series (I had seen the comic version of Fetch prior, but not read the actual proper written story), so getting used to the formatting of the books was a bit…unusual, I’ll say.

There are some things about the book that are not to my particular tastes, writing style-wise, such as the constant use of ‘said’, but thankfully, when you’re consuming it in the form of an audiobook (which I did), you can usually tune it out and not notice it as much as you would if the word was staring you in the face all the time.

As for the story itself, I really enjoyed it. Oswald is a very likable kid on the whole with sympathetic plights, his mom is cool, and his father seems like a good and surprisingly not one-dimensional character, for as little time as he’s actually physically present in the book. We get a very good feel for his family and who they are, how much they care for each other, yet are struggling because of the slow death of the town they live in and their inability to move, and no character feels out of place or unnecessary in the book.

I admittedly do feel that having Oswald immediately find his father with minimal trouble once he got to the ballpit again, the day after he was kidnapped, was a bit of an anticlimactic thing — at least, considering what I was expecting, having just come from playing and finishing the game earlier that day.

At the same time, though, the book makes phenomenally more sense than the game because of this choice, and raises far less difficult-to-answer questions, so it probably just comes down to a matter of personal preference — especially when the two are so wildly different.

I think, overall, I do like the book version the most, in terms of story, but I appreciate more what new things the game brought to the table in terms of lore relevance (which I’ll discuss in the ‘lore relevancy’ section, obviously).

They’re both good in their own ways.

The Game:

I don’t have a lot to add here in terms of characters or their personalities, since, for as many differences as the two have, a lot of this particular aspect of the story is the same as in the book. The only one that I’d say somehow feels both slightly more irrelevant and slightly also too relevant in the game version is Dylan Cooper, the bully at Oswald’s school, and the lack of inclusion of any mention of Oswald’s best friend, Ben, removes some of the feeling behind why Oswald is so frustrated with his life situation and his Dad, which I think is a bit of a shame after reading the book.

The added ability to pick up the Dad’s items and view little stories about Oswald and his family is a really nice touch that I appreciated, and Oswald thinking in one of them about how much his Mom losing her husband would devastate her was heartbreaking. As for some of the other changes, I have very mixed feelings; although I did think it was cool to have the search for Oswald’s Dad extend for a few days and give us a longer glimpse into the past in doing so, as mentioned before, it also raised many more questions in terms of why there were several additional kids that Oswald had to rescue, whether the kids in the Party Room at the beginning of the game were dead in that version because it was only strongly suggested but never fully confirmed as opposed to the book which was explicit about it, and also the actions of Spring Bonnie (or the Yellow Thing™️, as it is called in the book) throughout, which I could get into, but I feel might warrant an entire mini-article itself. (If you’re interested in that, maybe drop me an ask and I’ll write about it sometime.)

Also, all the random Easter eggs are super cool, but I feel like anyone who still somehow thinks the books and games based on them are actual 1:1 events that happened and not just in-universe books and games are going to use tons of them to go wild with theories about retcons and all sorts of stuff that is just…clearly not the case, so…meh. I’m divided.

As for gameplay, it’s good! It’s the first FNAF game to have different difficulty settings at the start of the game (except UCN), which is awesome, though I feel like quite honestly, it’s the easiest game of them all, as well. I have no difficulty whatsoever beating it on Frightening mode (the normal mode), and can barely tell the difference from Creepy (easy mode). I haven’t played the other modes yet, so I can’t comment on those, but I suspect I could easily beat the hardest one with minimal issue.

Lore Relevancy

In what is an extremely ironic turn of events, despite this story — out of all of the four I’ve listened to thus far at the time of writing this, at least — having the most blatant connection to the game’s canon lore, I honestly think that this will probably be one of the books that I have the least to say about in terms of breaking down the lore and going over it, mostly because I feel that it being so heavily tied to a specific part of the canon we know a lot about from the games just….really makes it blatantly clear which parts we definitely can’t trust.

So, most importantly, I guess let’s start with some examples of the one advantage Into the Pit has over literally every other book in the series that I’m aware of thus far: the things it tells us that we can know aren’t true.

The Lies and Half-truths

Funnily enough, the thing we know we can absolutely discard the most is any of the details of the murders that happened in 1985 — at least, in the way Into the Pit presents them.

In the book (and perhaps the game? The image isn’t clear enough to be sure), there are six victims (plus the game version adding a whole potential four others whom he tried to kill and failed thanks to Oswald), but we know for a fact that, while William had six victims total when we’re including Charlie Emily, there were only the five others at most who died during that year. So can we trust the number of victims? No.

Can we trust the method they died in, then…? Also no; in both the book and its game adaption, we are painted a scene of families and kids running and screaming in terror from a monster that was mass nabbing and killing kids, but we know for a fact, from multiple canon games both old and new, that William lured the children into the back before killing them covertly and was never actually seen doing it except in costume via cameras, and that this must have happened one by one and not all at once, contrary to what Into the Pit purports, as the order in which they died is brought up several times in the more recent canon games as being in some way worthy of mentioning, which it would not if their deaths only varied by a matter of seconds or minutes at best.

So what can we trust in and rely on about the MCI (Missing Children’s Incident) murders? Well, honestly, just that it takes place in 1985. That’s literally it. That’s all that’s definitely relevant to the canon of the main games from this story in any way, when it comes to the MCI itself.

Now, that’s not to say there’s nothing else in the story that’s of note at all, though; there’s actually a lot that I think is worth paying attention to and speculating on, it’s just that very little of it actually has to do with the crime that was committed, as most of that is, unsurprisingly, heavily played up, exaggerated, and sensationalized; after all, that’s the entire in-universe purpose of these books and games existing — to discredit and make light of the real events by turning bits and pieces of them into spooky fictional stories.

Before we get into what I think is of value, though, let’s just rule out two more things from the game version of Into the Pit that I think we need to firmly take off the table — namely, the toy airplane from the FNAF movie, and the photo taken from the Silver Eyes trilogy of Henry beside a fully mascot-costumed William, which was placed in the shadows on the wall in the hidden room where Oswald’s Dad was being held captive.

These are literally just Easter Eggs referencing alternate universe stories with no relevancy to lore.

How do I know this? It’s very easy, actually.

With the airplane, there is literally no way that this has any implications on the lore, because Garret — the one whom the plane belonged to — was not one of William’s victims within the canon of the main games; he was William’s son, who died tragically from an accident that occurred during one of Michael’s pranks, and became the catalyst for everything that William did in FNAF in the first place.

And as for the photo, we actually have an in-game, acknowledged and recognized photo picked up by Oswald and crucially used in the true ending which depicts William and Henry — both in black and white within the in-game and out-of-game trophies achieved when picking it up, and in color in the unused data — looking entirely different from how that alternate universe portrays them, with Henry maintaining his design from the official Encyclopedia, and William possessing a (as far as I am aware) mostly new and unique design of his own. There is no reason to assume we should trust something barely visible on a random wall over something that actually has plot relevance to the game itself and is required to get the true ending.

The Truths and the Likely-Truths

So, we’ve talked about the lies, but what about the story do I think does have relevance to the lore of the main canon? What do I think the story is trying — or could be trying — to tell us?

Well, first of all, as I said before, that the MCI takes place in 1985, and we have a canon William and Henry design for the main game universe through the plot-relevant photo in the game version of Into the Pit — YAY! — but I think these ones are pretty on-the-nose. I don’t think anyone really needs convincing of those facts, and, if they do, me pointing out the obvious again probably isn’t going to be the big thing that convinces them, so…moving on, let’s see what else we can glean or make note of from the story that seems like it might have some connection to a canon event or phenomenon and could be useful information to take away regarding it:

1: We can infer, looking at it from the perspective of Frights Fiction, that since these stories are being made for the people of the main FNAF universe, and the story references many IPs that exist in our own world, that these IPs also exist within the main FNAF universe.

Not really a big deal, but it’s a pretty cool little side note for those of us interested in the details of the greater world-building of FNAF.

2: We can reasonably assume that the building the MCI took place in likely looked a lot, if not exactly, like the 1985 version of building we get to visit in the game version of Into the Pit, back in its heyday. We can definitely confirm, if nothing else, that some of the posters and drawings were real, because they were in some of the canon main games, too.

3: It’s likely that this confirms that Foxy had already been temporarily retired in 1985 in preparation of making the failed Toy Foxy that became Mangle, since it’s mentioned in the Into the Pit game (I can’t recall in the book if it was the same) that he wasn’t in use and would be gone for awhile, and there’s no reason in particular to doubt that this is true, as it doesn’t conflict with any known information.

4: The way that Spring Bonnie goes unnoticed by everyone but Oswald in the story is….interesting, I’ll say; I definitely feel that the cause of this is an illusion disc and that this is Scott once again drawing us back to this concept to remind us that it exists, especially since it seems highly likely based on FNAF 4 and UCN that the Nightmare Animatronics were, in fact, the FNAF 1 animatronics effected by illusion discs. (If you’re interested, I recommend checking out GiBi’s long FNAF video here.)

Having the privilege of having listened to a few stories already at the time of writing this, I can say that this is something that is present in at least one other story so far, too, even within the very same book. Just something to note, I suppose.

5: Speaking of things that seem to keep coming up, even though there’s no point in the main games yet where I can say there’s been a clear example of this happening, I do feel that there’s definitely something going on here with the concept of someone’s will being able to shape reality to some extent, and not just in the Fazbear Frights books, either; even in the alternate universe in the Silver Eyes trilogy — which is entirely separate from Fright Fiction, as far as we know — there was an element of this, too, with Henry’s pain and sorrow, and even later his anger, over Charlie’s death having the power to essentially bring her back to life in the form of a living doll, through his own tears. I don’t know quite yet exactly what is trying to be said here, but I know there’s something being said. It’s important in some way, or it likely will be. I just don’t know how yet. I have some….theories, but I’ll get to those another time, elsewhere.

6: For those who believe in the concept that Gregory is an advanced robot of Garret a la the Silver Eyes trilogy, one of the Bad Endings in Into the Pit’s game adaption — in which Oswald appears to have been turned into an animatronic, yet retains his child form — is certainly food for thought. I don’t know how much stock we can put in it, but it is worth noting.

7. In the game version of Into the Pit, there’s also some implication that Oswald’s dad may very well have been the Freddy Bully, one of Michael’s friends, who participated in the prank that led to Garret’s death. Considering Oswald’s Dad’s unwillingness to talk about what happened in regards to Freddy’s in the book, and the fact that Help Wanted 2 strongly implies Cassie’s father is Bonnie Bully, this makes it very likely that we are now being given information in some form about Michael’s various former cohorts when he was a teenager, and how William seems to hold a grudge against all of them in some shape or form, and they frequently meet bad fates. Obviously, the events of the story couldn’t have played out as they did in the main canon, because of the numerous impossible discrepancies we’ve already discussed, but it does make me wonder if Oswald’s dad really did in some way meet a terrible fate or have a brush with William in some context, at some point in his life, or not.

8. This particular entire book — including Into the Pit, To Be Beautiful, and Count the Ways — for reasons you’ll see going forward as we review each story, definitely have a theme going on of “Feeling unlovable, unwanted, and like life is meaningless in its current state”…. This will come up eventually in a future post. I promise. Just bear it in mind for now.

9. Saving the most in-depth and (to me) most interesting for last, I…kind of want to talk a little bit about potential parallels here. After listening to several stories by now, something that’s kind of stood out to me is the idea that a lot of these books could actually have something important to say about — or, even when not exactly about, at least posses a strong and important connection to — one of the Aftons or the Emilys.

Obviously, this is going to rely a lot on personal interpretation, and I know there are going to be a lot of people who disagree with me on this, but…to me, I think Into the Pit — and actually the entire book it’s in as a whole, minus the Stitchwraith — is actually sharing insight about Michael, and his relationship with his family and with himself.

I know there are plenty of people who probably think that if anyone’s a parallel to Oswald, it’s Garret, and if anyone’s a parallel to To Be Beautiful’s Sarah, it’s Elizabeth, but I couldn’t disagree more; there’s actually very little alike between these characters at all from how we know them in the game’s canon.

I’ll get into explaining my thoughts on To Be Beautiful later when the time comes to discuss that story, but as far as Oswald and game canon Garret, they only really have three common threads, and even then, that’s only if we dig super deep into things: he’s scared of a golden animatronic, he (in the case of Garret, thinks that) saw something at the Pizzeria that was terrifying, and he has a bully that sometimes bothers him.

One of these connections, too, is also extremely surface-level: while we could at least make the argument that Garret likely thinking he saw a person being eaten by an animatronic when they were being put into a plush mascot costume and growing to fear Fredbear from it has at least some vague similarity to Oswald seeing the Yellow Thing™️ murdering kids and then fearing it, Oswald’s bully is less of an active tormentor in his life (especially in the book, which is the original version of the story), and more just a general, constant annoyance when he goes to school who has no real connection to the rest of his plight. It’s also important to note that, not only are bullies a common issue to come up for children, but in the FNAF series, so are animatronics doing scary things and killing people, and the main antagonist in the series famously is a golden one, so it’s really not like this is some big smoking gun.

Meanwhile, let’s look at the parallels between Michael and Oswald in the actual main bulk of the main plot itself, rather than random attributes:

While Oswald on the whole does clearly love and care about his family, he and one particular family member frequently get into arguments and get on each other’s nerves because they are around each other constantly. This culminates one night into him deciding to play a cruel prank on that person and scare him, only for that prank to go horribly wrong, resulting in a golden animatronic taking that family member away from him (and, I might add, also a sustained head injury by said family member).

This is already literally the plot of FNAF 4, according to both it and multiple other games, and that’s not even taking into account the more controversial stance I personally take that the main night sections of FNAF 4 are actually William testing out his illusion disc technology on Michael by attaching illusion discs to his FNAF 1 style animatronics and setting them loose in the home a la The Twisted Ones (as supported by UCN), which we can connect again to Into the Pit and Oswald, as Oswald is, after his prank which ultimately took his family member from him, henceforth tormented by a version of Spring Bonnie extremely reminiscent of the nightmare animatronics, and has to set out on a journey throughout the rest of his story to right his wrong in whatever way he can, just as Michael dedicates the rest of his life to helping his lost brother and sister and the other lost spirits (which the game adaption of the book connects to further, by having Oswald save several children throughout many nights). It is also interesting to note that the game version choosing to make Oswald’s father one of Michael’s teenage friends also adds yet another connection to Michael and the incident that I suggest Oswald’s story parallels.

And not only that, I would also like to draw attention to one specific line Michael canonically wrote in the Security Logbook, when asked to list his favorite characters from movies, books, and television who showed bravery in the face of extreme obstacles, and talk about how he can relate their heroic journeys to his current experiences, he answers, “Clara, from The Immortal and the Restless, because everything about this place is crazy, and nobody seems to notice except me.” This is a direct parallel to how Oswald is stated to feel about his Dad and his current situation numerous times throughout the book, as he is told by everyone around him that everything is normal and no, there is no giant Yellow Rabbit around and his Dad isn’t missing; that is his Dad right there, even as he sees clearly that it is not.

Okay, so…let’s say it is possible to interpret this as being an intentional parallel to the incident of the Bite of ‘83 and Michael, as I purport; what, then, could the story be trying to tell us about him? What is it trying to get people thinking about that we don’t already know?

Well, firstly, as I said, I believe that every story in this particular Frights book has a strong connection and relevancy to Michael, so I think that the blatant parallel to his situation existing in the opening tale was placed there on purpose to get your attention and get you thinking about all of it, but I do feel it’s also trying to say something about the incident, as well — about part of Michael’s motivation for escalating his pranking towards his brother to the point of the incident which accidentally caused Garret’s death, and a potential glimpse into his general state of mind at the time.

In the book, Oswald had been growing increasingly frustrated with his home situation in general — feeling bored, entirely ignored and abandoned and displaced, and that his father had essentially chosen their entire town and Oswald’s grandma over Oswald himself — when his now-long distance best friend contacted him to coincidentally tell him by contrast how well his own life was going. This led to Oswald and his father getting into a fight in the car on the way to Jeff’s pizza about how much the boy’s life sucked and implying how little he felt his Dad cared about him and his well-being by comparison to everyone else, and once Oswald had been dropped off, this argument was the final straw in making him decide that he was going to actually act out in order to force his father to finally, truly acknowledge, put effort in, and show care for him, by hiding in the ballpit and making his dad worry about where he was.

By figuring out what the obvious parallels are here between Michael and Oswald, I feel that we can get a fairly clear and easy picture of what it would say about Michael:

Even if for something of opposite reasons, William and Oswald’s father both would have been very busy with their jobs — with Oswald’s Dad doing it because of their family’s financial troubles, and William doing it because…well, he was a co-owner and crucial worker and performer at a highly successful, award-winning, up-and-coming restaurant and that sort of job is just naturally demanding.

Combine this with the fact that it’s very clear based on the main games’ canonical lore that Michael was the least favored child of the Aftons in at least Williams’ eyes (no, the Silver Eyes’ lore does not count, as that is an alternate universe story, and, as I will later get into in the post about To Be Beautiful, Elizabeth being ‘unloved’ and/or borderline abused was very clearly not something that carries over from that universe into the games’ lore), and that the (accurately translated) UCN cutscenes very clearly imply that just as Michael turned a blind eye to how serious Garret’s suffering was despite how good he seemed to have it, Garret also didn’t pay enough attention to realize that Michael was suffering in his own way as well, and they thus both took out their frustration on each other in their own ways, and it becomes very clear that Michael’s feelings about his own Dad were likely the very same that Oswald felt about his.

From Oswald’s perspective, his Dad cared more about the town and the inconvenience his grandma would face at having to travel to the next town to visit if they moved than he cared about Oswald and how their current lifestyle was causing him to suffer.

From Michael’s perspective, his Dad cared more about his business (and the town by proxy, as they were the ones bringing in his success) and paying attention to and doting on his other two children than he cared about Michael and how forgotten and sidelined he felt as the oldest sibling.

And just like Oswald had a friend, Ben, from whom he heard about Ben’s obviously ‘better’ life and parents, and whom he complained to about his own, Michael very clearly also had several friends to tell him about their potentially ‘better’ lives and more attentive parents, and whom he likely told about his troubles and how his younger siblings stole the spotlight from him, with Garret being the ‘worst’ culprit of them all, as not only did he prank him back and they got on each other’s nerves from time to time, but he was also William’s ‘favorite’ Afton child.

Putting two and two together, then, it’s fairly clear that the conclusion we come to is, while the two boys did prank each other and annoy each other already, each turning a blind eye to the other’s suffering, it was Michael’s feelings of being the unloved and forgotten child of the family that caused him to start acting out further, believing — like Oswald — that the only way to make his Dad remember he existed was by being a troublemaker (an “any attention is good attention” mindset) until William was finally forced to take notice of him.

That is what, at least according to my own understanding of the novel, I personally believe Into the Pit is trying to say, at least on a deeper level beyond the surface level non-conflicting information, like the year the MCI took place.

Taking it a step further with the William = Oswald’s Dad parallel, we could even say that in a way, Oswald’s Dad preferring in the book to refuse to acknowledge that their dead town was a lost cause and pack up and move on with his family is also a quite interesting and fitting metaphor to William’s later refusal to accept Garret’s death and move forward by focusing on the family and children that he still had left…

However, I believe I myself have said all that I wanted to say on the story by now, so I will just leave you with all of these thoughts to ponder on your own time.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you look forward to the next installment, which will be To Be Beautiful. :) I’m not sure when I will get to it just yet, as I’m currently not at home and don’t want to push myself too hard when I have many other projects on which I’d like to get a little work done, but I’m sure it won’t be so terribly long.

Until then, take care, and I love you all. 💕