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boss-poss · 1 year ago

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See, Lethal Company's real genius is that it somehow marries two normally opposed genres, those being horror and comedy together into something greater. Mechanically it's a multiplayer looter extraction survival type game. It's designed to create stressful and scary situations by forcing you to speedrun mini randomized dungeons while monsters hunt your character to meet a certain quota (our asses are not making quota). That's not the clever part though, no, that's giving the players the ability to fuck themselves over and the hilarity that comes from it.

Anything you say into your mic is said in the game world and can be heard by certain monsters. Many items, similarly, can be used to make noise and you can bet there is little impulse control when a player finds an air horn or gets a walkie talkie. The sound of a distant honk somewhere out of nowhere is not something most players are prepared for while in a pitch black maze. Sound in this game has a doppler effect, which makes it harder to hear the further away the source is, allowing screams to fade into nothing and unintelligible yelling heard for a second before vanishing. You must rely on your senses but those are, by design, limited and regularly tricked.

Because level layouts, monster locations, and item spawns are all random, it's insanely easy to get lost or lose track of thigs, especially in the dark and especially when panicking. Seeing a bracken for the first time will almost certainly send a player running in the opposite direction and get lost, if they even see it all. No one is prepared to have a hand wrap around their face and snap their neck in an instant. It's utterly shocking and will leave you gasping in surprise to first time you experience it.

Certain weather patterns make levels harder, some even nearly impossible (looking at you eclipse), and sometimes your options are avoiding deadly lightning or not being able to see due to fog. High level moons have excessively valuable loot but also feature the worst foes and cost a fee to access, forcing a compromise between greed, ability, and resources.

Dying, likewise incurs a penalties. Your team is fined for dying and not bringing the bodies back but if you all die, all your collected loot goes poof. Gone. A team wipe can and will effectively end the run in an instant if you do something stupid like stick around when you hear "pop goes the weasel" or try to pick up that funny looking roomba. You can almost feel the pressure weighing down on your shoulders when you realize you're the last one left and you need to get back to the ship or miss the quota.

The monsters likewise, are engines of terror that are comically effective killing machines with no cohesive theme to help anticipate them. The already mentioned bracken is one of the scariest things I've seen in a game, and those technically aren't even that bad. They're completely manageable if you keep your head on a swivel and pay attention to your surroundings. Coilheads are these mannequins with bobble heads that will path to and kill you in a microsecond the moment you aren't looking at them, weeping angel style. There's a thing called the ghost girl that I have yet to see but is apparently one of the most terrifying critters in the menagerie. Forest giants. If you know, you know.

All these little mechanics, these choices that are made by and for the player, create a maelstrom of unpredictable chaos that, like a buxom blond transforming into an orgasming pooltoy, turns what would be strictly serious horror into a unique form of dark comedy that layers over it like jelly on peanut butter. You are scared, you are on edge, and it only gets worse when you know what these things are capable of, but the sheer hopelessness is something you all have in common. It's funny how little hope you have. You will die. A monster will wipe your team. There will eventually come a quota you can't beat. You were doomed from the start.

So why not get silly with it? Why not try to fight that bracken with shovel? Fuck him. Why not just run past a turret and try to nab that fat jar of pickles? Why not wander off from the group? You're just as likely to come back with arms loaded and the quota met as you are likely to not come back at all. You're already dead, so take the gamble, do stupid shit, repeat this hell until you can meet its horrors with grim determination and put in the effort to afford that goddamn boombox. Dance. Just press 1 and dance the fear away.

You are all united in your mortality and duty, fragile sacks of flesh working to break even at the behest of perhaps the greatest horror of all: The company you work for. You are so preposterously fucked beyond all belief from every angle there really isn't enough adjectives to describe it. And that's comedy baby, when things are so bad all you can do is laugh.

#lethal company #indie games #legit one of the best games I've played all year and only $10 #THIS is what games should be #goofing off with the lads while surrounded by the horrors

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tunastime · 8 months ago

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A Minute in the Morning

so I started playing pokemon legends arceus. crumples to the ground. (2762 words)

In a hazy, rusty morning light, Ingo wakes up.

It’s a slow start—like his office computer, taking a whole ten minutes to finish booting, enough to stir sugar into his morning coffee and dissect his breakfast sandwich into parts. It feels like it takes just about that much time for Ingo to become aware of where he’s lying, which is in bed. Which is not where he fell asleep to begin with, which means that someone lifted him to bed and tucked him in. Which was rather sweet. Because he’s burrowed into the covers like a happy drilbur, keeping the cold from his fingers and toes and nose. He finally blinks his eyes open, and it’s sunrise that fills his room. Not his room. Scratch that. Emmet’s room. No wonder the blankets are so much lighter than he remembers them being. Nevertheless. Happy drilbur. He weasels a little more into the pillow. From either side of him, something moves. It’s slight, if there, but as he cranes his neck, slow and careful, he can see a dark head of hair on one side, and silver-white on the other.

Ingo’s heart swells a fraction too big and too warm for his chest as he sighs out.

Elesa and Emmet haven’t woken up yet, which is a plus. If he were to move too much and move them he might lose the warmth from either side. Elesa’s shoulder rests against the crest of his back, and Emmet’s holding onto his elbow with one hand. The grip is loose at best, but the warmth, both from shoulder to spine and hand to elbow, seeps through him.

It’s blurry. Just everything. It kind of mushes together in his brain, like jam. Or maybe jelly. It doesn’t really matter. If he thinks too hard, his stomach starts to twist in knots, and he’d rather not feel sick while he’s trying to enjoy his morning. He remembers falling asleep while the television played the night prior—nighttime skits and commercials he filtered out until Emmet’s shoulder became the comfiest thing. He supposes that sometime between that point, and the point which he’s just woken up, Elesa came in, and at some other point, he was carted off to bed. It’s nice, though. The blankets make just enough weight over him to soothe ache and anxiety, and it’s warm, and he’s mostly thinking about how nice a cup of coffee sounds right now. Maybe a latte. Something warm. He shuts his eyes again.

The light is surprisingly yellower when he wakes up again. There’s still a warm weight on both sides of him, but it feels different than before. It stretches over him, too, more than just the weighted blanket that’s been added on top of him. He peeks an eye open to find Eelektross slumped over him, his large head curled near Ingo’s shoulder and his similarly large eyes shut as he snores. Ingo snorts, trying to shift to his back with the weight over him, without waking Eelektross. He does after a moment, settling once again, only for Eelektross to huff and fix one, tired eye on his face. Ingo smiles, just a little.

Wriggling a hand free, he pats Eelektross’ forehead, a path well pet and well loved.

“Good morning, you gigantic eel.”

Eelektross trills, nuzzling into Ingo’s hand.

“Mm, yes,” Ingo says. “I’m sure that definitely did not alert Emmet that I am awake, meaning I can’t fake any more sleep. Thank you Eelektross.”

The eel gives a happy sniff.

Ingo snorts.

Typical.

The door cracks open a moment later, the wide eyes of his brother peeking through. He raises his eyebrows, looking over Ingo and Eelektross still in bed. It comes with a little head tilt, something Ingo knows is indicative of an Emmet with a question.

“Sleep well?” he asks. Ingo nods.

“I think so,” he says. “I didn’t realize I’d be carried to bed when I fell asleep.”

“Ah!” Emmet says, eyebrows raising. “I made sure you stayed asleep when we carried you in. You’re a very deep sleeper when you want to be.”

It’s getting better, the gaps in his memory. It’s not enough to trust himself to start his duties as a Subway Boss again, but it's enough to have a few doctor’s appointments and to speak with police and his boss and their coworkers. He’s remembered their pokemon, which is why Eelektross didn’t startle him. And he’s remembered enough for him to fall asleep on Emmet’s shoulder with no care in the world. Enough for life to begin to settle from the chaos. Today is Tuesday, which means Emmet has the day off, and Ingo can tell, even as he reaches to wipe sleep from his eyes, that Emmet is still in his pajamas. He opens the door a little wider, leaning against the doorframe.

“Ah,” Ingo echoes. “Was it Elesa’s idea to sleep in your room rather than my own?”

“It was,” Emmet concedes, smiling. “But I am Emmet, and I make a very good pillow.”

“You are Emmet and you are a very clingy sleeper,” Ingo says, letting his eyes shut again. Emmet makes a startled noise.

“Go-Go, don’t fall asleep again,” he yaps. “Your breakfast will get cold.”

Slowly, Ingo opens one eye, looking at his brother in the doorway. Eelektross snuffs into his shoulder, wriggling off of him. He grunts as the eel’s weight shifts off, leaving him free, but cooler.

“What’s for breakfast?” he says, watching Eelektross wriggle off the bed and toward Emmet. Emmet opens the door a bit further, takes a step back, and hefts the eel into his arms, knees bending with the weight. Ingo watches Emmet giggle to himself, shifting Eelektross in his arms to better wrap around his neck and arms, weight heavy against him. Clearly.

“Pancakes,” Emmet huffs. He’s still smiling, something almost infectious.

“Alright,” Ingo sighs.

“I also cut some fruit.”

“I’m getting up,” Ingo grumbles, rolling onto his side before he peels himself up and into a sit.

“I think Elesa left her nice coffee creamer, also.”

“I’m already up, Em,” Ingo snorts, trying not to laugh. “You don’t have to convince me.”

Emmet laughs again.

“Just adding!” he says cheerily, wobbling off toward the living room. In the open doorway, Ingo can see the sprawl of their living room and kitchen, lit by yellow daylight. Ingo sighs, stretching his arms above his head, twisting around. When the room settles, he stands, and he realizes that the room is warm around him. Emmet must’ve turned the heat on, and it must actually be working. He hums as he combs his hair back, wandering into the bathroom to wash his face.

When he finally makes it to the kitchen table, Emmet is sitting at the table, scrolling on his x-transceiver. He’s changed into a cream-colored, high collared sweater, his hair held back with a small headband. Eelektross is lying across the couch, head resting on the arm. There’s a plate of pancakes sitting in front of Ingo’s seat at the table, and a half-eaten plate in front of Emmet. He looks up as Ingo sits, raising his eyebrows.

“Good morning,” Emmet says. He nudges a cup of coffee toward Ingo. It’s a light brown color—likely the way that Ingo likes it. It helps they like their plain coffee the same way. If it were any other type of coffee, Ingo’s certain there would be some big disagreement—type of milk and way of prep and iced versus hot. But Ingo takes a long sip of hot coffee and nearly sighs in relief. Whatever fancy creamer Elesa buys really does make a plain cup of coffee so much better. He sits, nudging Emmet with his foot under the table.

“What are you reading?” he asks, gesturing with his fork to Emmet’s phone. Emmet holds it up.

“Article on a new electric rail system in Galar.”

Ingo tilts his head, nodding along.

“Interesting. Any good?”

“Very efficient,” Emmet says, nodding along. He eventually pulls back, setting his phone face down on the table and returning to his pancakes. He takes a large bite, and through it, says:

“Maybe Gear Station should get some upgrades.”

Ingo snorts.

“We’re already quite efficient,” he says. “Do you think our trains could be quicker? Easier to board?”

Emmet shrugs.

“Wishful thinking. They’re already automatically driven, so there isn’t much more, but maybe longer cars to hold more passengers. Our trains are quite small.”

“Sounds expensive,” Ingo says, drinking his coffee. He pulls apart his stack of pancakes, poking at them with his fork.

“Maybe they’ve already got an upgrade in the works,” Emmet says. “It’s been a while since we’ve had an all-staff meeting. Perhaps we should inform the director.”

“Especially since I’ve returned and have about three years to catch up on, mm?”

Emmet smiles. It’s a bit tight, though. Ingo glances away, biting into his tongue. Should’ve kept that thought to himself.

“Maybe you’re right,” he says. “Though I promise you that not much has changed in the last three years.”

Ingo hums. He believes it, that nothing much has shifted. It’s hard to say, obviously, considering he wasn’t there to see it for himself, but his brother was never the type to lie without a reason, and this certainly didn’t have a good one. He takes a large bite of pancake and finds them still warm. It’s a quiet breakfast, between pancakes and coffee and Galvantula sleeping underneath the table. Emmet eventually finishes his food, shoveling large bites of pancake into his mouth as quickly as he can. Ingo watches him swallow with surprising difficulty, reaching for his cup of coffee. It takes a moment for Ingo to stomach the rest of his pancakes. Having this much food is a luxury he had not often afforded a month prior. His stomach still wasn’t used to it.

“Where is Elesa?” Ingo asks after a beat. Emmet talks through a mouthful of pancake and strawberry and maple syrup.

“Mm, she had four battle appointments today, but she’ll be back around. Probably before two.”

Emmet is the first to finish, setting all his dishes together as he stands. He moves around Ingo as Ingo finishes, collecting dishes and setting everything in the sink. As Ingo stands to pass him his plate, he asks:

“Did you have a plan today?

“Mm?” Emmet hums. “No, not particularly. Why? Is there something you wanted to do?”

Ingo frowns, face pulling.

“Well,” he starts. “I was thinking—”

“Ah,” Emmet interjects. “Your first mistake—”

“I was thinking,” Ingo continues, narrowing his eyes. “That it might be a good idea for us to visit Elesa. I need to ask her for a new coat.”

“Mm!” Emmet startles, turning toward him. His face brightens. “That’s right! You do need a new coat. Good thing she’ll be over later, mm?”

Ingo nods. He fetches his coffee mug, pouring another cup of black coffee to balance the sweetened dregs. He leans back against the counter right as Emmet goes to hand him a dish to put away. They work in tandem for a moment, pausing as Ingo works to finish his coffee.

It’s a slow morning, 8:45am, and Ingo gazes back at his bed with longing.

It’s just. When’s the last time he had such a good sleep, right? On a bed that soft? He’d gotten so used to tatami mats and the grass and canvas laid out on the ground and here was a bed, with thick fluffy blankets and several large pillows and another person taking up space. It was very—stop it, Ingo—it’s comfortable. He hands Emmet his coffee mug.

“Ingo,” Emmet says.

Ingo hums. His eyes have drifted to the couch. Maybe standing is a little hard today. He should sit, shouldn’t he?

“Is my brother still up there?” Emmet asks, tapping Ingo’s head. Ingo startles as he does, turning to him.

“I would hope so,” he says. “Otherwise I don’t know where I’d be.”

“Not here, obviously” Emmet says. He finishes rinsing Ingo’s mug, setting it top down on the drying mat. “Though I’m not entirely sure you’re all there right now, are you?”

“Trying,” Ingo hums. “Too much going on.”

Emmet hums, a bit of a laugh showing through.

“You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I won’t,” Ingo promises.

“I don’t believe you,” Emmet says, shutting off the sink. The clean dishes sit on the rack, dripping water. Emmet wipes his hands with a dish towel. “You know, you should be resting if your engine isn’t working at full capacity. Rest is very important”

“Can’t be a well oiled machine with nowhere to go,” Ingo says, folding his arms. “I don’t understand why I don’t have the energy to move anymore.”

“Does the why matter?” Emmet asks. He’s leaning against the counter now, a mirror to Ingo, like he often was to Emmet. It was a natural progression—one following after the other, a mirror, a shadow, a doppleganger.

“It matters a little,” Ingo shrugs. “It matters to me. It gives me a reason.”

“Your reason is that you’ve gone through a lot,” Emmet says, pushing away from the counter. He scoops up his x-transceiver from the table, moving around it and through the apartment as he talks. “Your reason is that your body is playing catch-up with the world around you.”

“Maybe,” Ingo huffs.

“I am Emmet,” says his brother. “I am tired. I don’t sleep well. Do you think it’s my fault that I’m tired and don’t sleep well?”

Ingo grits his teeth. He hates this part—ever since they were little, Emmet would flip this hypocritical card, showing Ingo exactly how stupid he was sounding. It was good, for the most part, because Emmet was right and next time Emmet did the same thing, Ingo could follow suit with that card. But it was so annoying watching it now, watching Emmet throw open the blinds and shimmy open the window for the fire escape. A tinged-cool spring breeze filters in through the open window, tossing the curtains aside. Emmet keeps moving as Ingo thinks, the gears in his head turning slowly, still dulled with sleep.

“No,” Ingo says shortly, watching Emmet rearrange coasters on the coffee table, setting game controllers back into their docks. “I don’t think anything is your fault.”

“Well now you are just flattering me, Go-Go.”

“Don’t say that flattery never got anyone anywhere,” Ingo says, pointing at him, waving his finger. Emmet laughs.

“My point is,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “You’re allowed to rest. We can figure out the steps from there, right? Even if we’re sitting on the couch to do it.”

Ingo sighs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Even if I fall asleep?”

Emmet nods, still smiling a little.

“I will wake you if you do.”

Ingo huffs out a laugh, feeling the edges of his mouth quirk up. As Emmet sits on the soft, corduroy couch, Ingo feels himself pulled forward, as if recalled, to sit beside him. He brings his knees up as he settles into his familiar spot between the back and arm of the couch.

“Do you promise you’ll shake me awake?” Ingo says, leaning his head against the back of the couch. Emmet scrunches his nose.

“Yes,” he says, knocking his knuckles into Ingo’s knee. “I do. But I’m going to watch Alakazam! so you can think without my talking.”

Ingo nods. The television hums to life quietly in the background.

Emmet always watches Alakazam! at 9am. At least, when he can catch it. Ingo watches the last few minutes of the previous game show, something quiet and low despite the flash of colors and excited spread of energy. As the show starts, he watches Emmet’s face shift, that serious pull to his mouth and the furrow of his eyebrows that Ingo only sees when they’re battling. To see that spark again, not knowing how long it’s been gone, turns a question in Ingo’s mind.

“Emmet,” he says.

“Yes, I am Emmet,” Emmet says. “You are Ingo. What do you need?”

“I think I've got an idea of what I want to do today.”

Emmet turns his head a bit, looking at Ingo mostly out of the corner of his eye. His eyes flick back and forth between Ingo’s face and the television, waiting for his program to start.

“Mm?” Emmet asks. Ingo smiles a bit, a laugh stuck behind his teeth.

He sees the glint in Emmet’s eye before he even asks his question.

“What about a pokemon battle?”

#pokemon fanfiction #submas #subway boss emmet #subway boss ingo #text #pokemon bw fanfic #submas fic #legends arceus spoilers #sighs really pathetically. i feel like i could cry i'm really nervous to post this #i like. can't explain myself to people who have never played pkm black/white or legends arceus #hi mcyt followers. um. what the hell am i doing here #hey hows it going. ummmm. do you guys wanna know about my funny train men? no? that's fine--#YOU'RE GOING TO ANYWA YHAHHAHRHARHHARHRHHARHRHRHRHRHRH #RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #okay i'm fine again #i really liked writing this one uhm.. i dunno! i like the twins a lot #and i like how silly they are #and i like elesa their best friend and goofball sidekick

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vulpisnocturna · 8 months ago

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My deary. I see you are back (hopefully somewhat better), but I need you bad as ever!

Yes I totally ripped that from a song, but it’s literally what came to mind.

Been thinking *a lot,* per usual. About all the Uchiha men in my life. You know me, biggest Shisui slut to have scorched this planet. Anyways, if you’re feeling it, it doesn’t necessarily have to be Shisui—can be Itachi. Or whatever.

Wildcard list of hc for these men. Things that they didn’t realize were arousing, but then when they see you do them—it just tightens the slacks a bit. Probably something they should feel ashamed about but don’t.

And in all honesty if your not feeling it, then I totally appreciate you reading my wild whims. Or if something else, because creative freedom is always appreciated from my favs here, do something else.

I just really crave this man, and your writing of him. I eat the words your fingertips formulate like a rabid beast.

Sincerely,

Me 🙂❤️❤️

My darling! Let me see what I can cook.

Shisui - Itachi secret turn ons (?) 🫶🏻

Shisui

- puns. I think Shisui would be the type of guy who sees you make a stupid dad joke or pun and he is like

- red lipstick. I don’t know why, it just makes his knees jelly and something else quite… hard.

-sassiness. It makes him smile, especially if you’re quite a bit shorter than him, he thinks it’s cute.

Itachi

- I think Weasel Boy is into thigh high socks (me too tbh). I think he would stare like he’s trying to X-ray your legs if you wore thigh high socks

- Smiles. Your smiles to him are extremely sweet and also uplifting. And yes, they turn him on. One, because you’re smiling at him and his heart is going crazy knowing he made you happy, two because there’s so much cruelty in the world and you look so radiant and you’re his light. He’ll gift you a little smile of his own 🥹

- If you read to him 🥺 especially when he’s blind AF. He is going to be so in love with that stuff. Bonus points (and probably Itachi going feral) if you brush his hair while you read to him. Itachi when Reader does these things:

#itachi #uchiha itachi #itachi uchiha #itachi headcanons #itachi x reader #itachi x y/n #shisui uchiha #shisui #shisui x reader #shisui headcanons #shisui x y/n

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endermen-impasta · 1 year ago

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Sona Ref Sheet (pt2)

((height ref character was made by @onejellyfishplease go support them and their works ))

#art #sona drawing #drawings #sand castle weasel says random stuff ig #sand castle weasel #sand castle weasel sona #go support Jelly #thanks Jelly #ya got a little guy ig

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ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey · 2 years ago

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April 19: Believe

Day 19 @hinnymicrofic

“Are we honestly supposed to believe you don’t know where they–”

“Shut up, Smith,” Ginny growls, the panic rising in her throat. “Or are you really as thick as you look?”

The train is crowded; anybody could have overheard them. A child of a Death Eater, or a gossipy Ministry employee, anyone who could snap their fingers and descend horror on the Burrow, on her parents, her family.

She’s never liked Zacharias Smith, but now she’s considering maiming him.

He has the decency to look abashed, but Ginny is past caring. What sort of explanation does he think he’s owed, anyway? Just because he showed up to some DA meetings so that he could pass his fucking DADA OWL? He can piss off.

He lowers his voice. “You’re the one who’s thick if you think anyone is going to believe that you don’t know where Harry and Hermione are. And Ron, sick with spattergroit?”

She’s about to hex him, but he continues. “I’m not the worst person who’s going to ask. I’d come up with a better story, if I were you.”

The words are sharp and jagged on her tongue. “Harry ditched me. I couldn’t care less where he is.”

We could have had ages… months… years, maybe…

Smith scoffs, clearly affronted. “With the way you two were carrying on? Please, spare me the cock-and-bull story. You won’t tell me, fine. But no one is going to believe that shite.”

It’s been like something out of something else’s life, these last few weeks with you…

He turns his back, and Ginny fantasizes about turning him to jelly as he walks away. Before she can act on it, she can feel a steady hand on her arm.

“He’s a git,” Neville says firmly, closing their compartment door. “Not worth it.”

Rather than debate the merits of teaching that weasel a lesson, Ginny sighs. “He’s a git with a point though. Worse than the likes of him are going to ask me about them. Probably you lot, as well.”

Neville looks grim, Luna thoughtful.

“I suppose it is difficult to think Harry would ditch you like that,” Luna muses.

“He did ditch me,” Ginny snarls. “You know that.”

Neville stares down at his shoes, but Luna remains serene. “Yes, but not really though, did he?”

“He did,” Ginny insists. “And you’d better help me convince them he never gave a shite about me.”

Neville grimaces. “Harry’s not like that though, is he? People won’t think–”

“He got what he wanted,” Ginny says harshly, wanting to startle them with it. “And he left.”

Neville looks unhappy, but then nods, acquiescing. Luna, however, gives her a searching look. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

Ginny closes her eyes; perhaps her eyelids can shield her from the onslaught of memories accosting her. Harry, waiting outside of her lessons; Harry, mucking about in the library studying for Divination; Harry, kissing her furiously against a wall, looking at her like she's the sun.

Harry, walking away from her.

“I have to believe that,” Ginny says, opening her eyes and gritting her teeth. “So they will, too.”

#hinny #dh missing moment #ginny pov #angst

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mafia-fish · 2 days ago

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I don't want a lot for Christmas There is just one thing I need I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true All I want for Christmas is you Yeah

I don't want a lot for Christmas There is just one thing I need (and I) Don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree I don't need to hang my stocking there upon the fireplace Santa Claus won't make me happy with a toy on Christmas Day

I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true All I want for Christmas is you You, baby

Oh, I won't ask for much this Christmas I won't even wish for snow (and I) I'm just gonna keep on waiting underneath the mistletoe I won't make a list and send it to the North Pole for Saint Nick I won't even stay awake to hear those magic reindeer click

'Cause I just want you here tonight Holding on to me so tight What more can I do? Oh, baby, all I want for Christmas is you You, baby

Oh-oh, all the lights are shining so brightly everywhere (so brightly, baby) And the sound of children's laughter fills the air (oh, oh, yeah) And everyone is singing (oh, yeah) I hear those sleigh bells ringing Santa, won't you bring me the one I really need? (Yeah, oh) Won't you please bring my baby to me?

Oh, I don't want a lot for Christmas This is all I'm asking for I just wanna see my baby standing right outside my door

Oh, I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true Oh, baby, all I want for Christmas is you You, baby

All I want for Christmas is you, baby All I want for Christmas is you, baby All I want for Christmas is you, baby All I want for Christmas (all I really want) is you, baby All I want (I want) for Christmas (all I really want) is you, baby

COUNT YOUR DAYS YOU INSIGNIFICANT WORM THAT HAS SOMEHOW WEASELLED ITS WAY INTO MY SIGHT

YOUR BONE MARROW WILL BE EXTRACTED AND YOUR CARTILAGE WILL BE EATEN LIKE EXOTIC JELLY

YOUR REMAINS WILL BE COOKED IN AN EASY BAKE OVEN INTO PREPPY LORAX CUPCAKES AND SERVED AT A SNOTTY 8 YEAR OLD SEPHORA KIDS BIRTHDAY

YOUR REBIRTH WILL BE SLOW AND PAINFUL, NOT EVEN GOD WILL STOP YOUR SUFFERING

WELCOME TO FUCKING PURGATORY.

#COUNT YOUR DAYS #BURN #(this is a joke but shhhh)

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endermen-impasta · 1 year ago

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Jelly. Calm down. I will pick you up again. I'm not afraid to. /j... maybe?

(side note, I love the au so far)

me drawing the next update to Unmutated Donnie.

Dont mind whats going on in the background. im sure it'll be fine.

#reblog #jelly... calm down #pls #please #rottmnt au #jally post #jelly answers #sand castle stuff #sand castle weasel #random things #rottmnt stuff

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cosmiicblink · 6 months ago

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So I got in my car and I drove over to the donuts shop

And I walked on up to the guy behind the counter

And he says "Yeah, what do ya want?"

I said "You got any glazed donuts?"

He said "No, we're outta glazed donuts"

I said "Well, you got any jelly donuts?"

He said "No, we're outta jelly donuts"

I said "You got any Bavarian cream-filled donuts?"

He said "No, we're outta Bavarian cream-filled donuts"

I said “You got any carrot cake donuts?”

He said “No, we’re outta carrot cake donuts”

I said “You got any croissants?”

He said “No, we’re outta croissants”

I said “You got any powdered donuts?”

He said “No, we’re outta powdered donuts”

I said “You got any frosted donuts?”

He said “No, we’re outta frosted donuts”

I said "You got any cinnamon rolls?"

He said "No, we're outta cinnamon rolls"

I said “You got any strawberry donuts?”

He said “No, we’re outta strawberry donuts”

I said “You got any chocolate donuts?”

He said “No, we’re outta chocolate donuts”

I said “You got any Boston cream donuts?”

He said “No, we’re outta Boston cream donuts”

I said "You got any apple fritters?"

He said "No, we're outta apple fritters"

I said “You got any blueberry donuts?”

He said “No, we’re outta blueberry donuts”

I said "You got any bear claws?"

He said "Wait a minute, I'll go check"

"No, we're outta bear claws"

I said "Well, in that case, in that case, what do you have?"

He says "All I got right now is this box of one dozen starving, crazed weasels"

I said "OK, I'll take that"

IM GOING TO D IE

#talking to the stars

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autiezo · 8 months ago

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The idea of Emo Teen Jean Vicquemare lives rent-free in my head

[It comes from @slonechnik 's DE AU where Harry's still a gym teacher and Kim has to go undercover as one of Harry's new students, for an RCM case. JV's 15, so Kim's 24 and Harry's 25]

It's so fucking funny picturing Jean V. trying to talk to Undercover Cop Kim. I'm gonna strive to make JV such a cringy loser. BTW, I think emo kids are cool, but not Jean lmao.

Anyways, here's a list of JV emo teen headcanons (below the cut):

- Nicknames himself “The Dark Mare”, based on his surname Vicquemare (reference to in-game Narrator's incorrect pronunciation of his French surname)

- No one used to respect Jean or call him by his preferred ‘title’, calling him “Jelly Boy” instead. That is, until the Hex incident happened. Jean finds that any student using his actual name, ‘Jean’, is disrespectful; unless he gives them exclusive permission, then that means he really likes that person. He also loathes being called by his initials and all of Harry's nicknames for him (e.g. Mean Vicky, J.V., Emo emo emo, King Void.)

- If Jean is late for gym class, Harry will jokingly and loudly mimick an alarm that goes, "Emo emo emo" to announce the teen's arrival. Jean a.k.a The Dark Mare obviously hates this. In Harry's defense, HDB does this specific alarm thing for all the regular latecomers. Every student has their unique, mocking call.

- JV hates Harry with a burning passion, despite the man genuinely wanting to support him. JV also does everything to weasel out of group sports.

- When he was 13, he used to get bullied and shoved in lockers a lot. So he has learnt how to pick locks from the inside and outside.

- He has also stabbed his bullies with a sharpened metal fork before, to the point where he made them bleed. Thrice. Harry helped him to prevent JV from getting expelled. Jean did bite his bullies several times, and has bitten Harry before. Harry laughed it off and said, “Son, you can bite me anytime if it helps you relieve stress. You have my permission, I don’t mind”. Which appalled Jean, so he doesn’t bite Harry anymore.

- This is the Hex incident. One day, Cuno's uncle (Kubo) stole Jean's diary and tried to read it out loud to everyone, but J.V. used big words Kubo doesn’t understand, so only part of JV’s secrets got out. J.V. got mocked severely, and Kubo + his gang of idiots ripped JV’s diary into several pieces. Jean yelled that he’d curse them all.

The next day, Kubo got into a car accident, which resulted in him never being able to play football again. Someone’s parents divorced. The gang proceeded to lose at football against the girls' team three times in a row. They begged Harry to talk to J.V. so he did. After much of Harry’s pestering, J.V. reveals that his curses didn’t actually work since curses are specific and they didn’t do what Jean commanded. Jean refused to tell Harry his secrets and said he just wanted everyone to leave him alone. And so, a deal was struck, and everyone stopped being mean to Jean, but people avoided him a ton. Rumours did spread, so many students really did believe that if they upset Jean, they’d be cursed.

- Jean actually has great parents and an ideal emotional support system outside of school lmao. Loser.

- Does actually get decent grades in school. He advanced two years in education

- makes his own emo music and song lyrics. Gave up on his music dreams after studying Literature and Music in community college, when he realised that being an outsider musician won't support himself financially. At age 21, he became a cop and joined the RCM at the same time as Harry (HAHAHAAHAHA)

- Has a lil gay baby crush on Kim but would never admit it to himself. He's also terrible at hiding it. Kim is the only ‘student’ he'd allow to call him by his real name.

- Secretly loves disco music but pretends to hate it. Will subconsciously bob his head up and down to disco music slightly if it plays for long enough.

- Has two pet cats he adores and drops the emo/cool guy facade for. JV pretends and boasts to everyone that he actually wants a pet snake instead, but he's a fuxking LIAR

- Has a chronic need and desire to seem 'cool' whenever people are around(except his family)

#disco elysium #jean vicquemare #disco elysium AU #fanfic #de headcanon #my writing #lololololol

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