#like do a fucked up animatronic where it never quite moves right and is expected to look a bit fucked up

[minotaurfemme]

mild Alien Romulus spoilers but imo they shouldve gotten Fassbender back to play Rook. wouldve made a lot more sense thematically and wouldve actually tied into the weirdness in the 2nd half (they even name drop Prometheus lmao). also because the deepfake shit just takes you out of the moment. shit doesnt even look uncanny in a creepy way it just looks bad lmao.

[lochrannn]

AU_gust: Maybe I’m yours

Read on AO3

prompt no 25: Time Travel

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Characters: Diego Hargreeves, Lila Pitts

-

“How short notice can you take time off?” Lila asks, leaning back but still holding on to his t-shirt at his sides.

Diego has just walked in through the door and got an armful of over-excited girlfriend and a sloppy kiss with slightly too much teeth. That never bodes well but he also can never bring himself to not wrap his arms around Lila and kiss her right back.

“Uhm, not sure… Why?” he asks, looking down into her brightly shining eyes and at the grin that splits her face with delight.

God, he loves her, but he’s also never not just a little wary of what she’ll come up with next.

“I want to take a road trip with you! I bought a car and everything!” Lila says, almost vibrating with excitement and pulling him back against herself with no trouble, despite their difference in size.

“But…” Diego breathes out a little dazed from her hungry kiss, “I have a car?”

“Sure, sure,” Lila pats him reassuringly on the chest, “but we’ll sell this one when we get to LA and then we fly back. I want to take a road trip, not be stuck in a car for three weeks. Allison says we can stay with her for a couple of nights before heading back!” Then she lets go of him and wanders off towards the kitchen.

“Hold on, Allison?” Diego calls out after her, before stopping and looking off into space for a second trying to catch up. Then he decides to literally catch up and follows Lila into the kitchen.

“You’ve already booked everything, haven’t you?” Diego says, pointing an accusatory finger at her. But he can’t help the amused smirk that makes its way onto his face when Lila gives him an extremely unconvincing, innocent look and says softly, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“When are we leaving?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“Day after tomorrow.”

-

It’s his first real holiday in years.

Or ever, really.

That’s not quite true. Eudora had convinced him to go on a weekend getaway to the coast when their relationship had already been on the rocks for a while. He had been an insufferably moody asshole in his early twenties, only weeks away from getting kicked out of the police academy, and in hindsight, Eudora had tried too hard to be mature and a grown-up, and had put up with so much more of his shit than she should have, trying to make things work.

From his perspective now, as he is in a relationship that, despite the slightly unconventional beginnings, weirdly works, he has finally learned to appreciate that it simply wasn’t enough that he and Eudora had been in love. All things considered they’d just been too mismatched.

Nevertheless, it had been a really lovely holiday and had probably kept them together a couple of months longer than they otherwise would have managed.

“What are you thinking about?” Lila asks and Diego turns around to look at her in the driver’s seat.

She’s already turning to look back out at the road, the sun coming in at a low angle, making her skin shimmer almost golden in the late afternoon light.

For a second it takes his breath away and Lila turns around to look at him again quizzically.

Diego reaches out to take one of her hands off the steering wheel - there hasn’t been a bend in the road in about an hour, he’s sure she’ll be fine with just the one, even if, for a former secret assassin she’s an oddly rule abiding driver - and presses her knuckles against his lips.

“Just that I’m fucking crazy to let you drag me across the country like this!” he says with a smirk.

Lila pulls her hand away without looking, reaches behind his head and rakes her nails across the shorn hair at the back of his neck and says, “You fucking love it though!”

And Diego can’t argue with that.

-

On day five they reach higher altitudes in the West. The sky is an impressively striking shade of blue and Diego could not be more content at the wheel.

They left out early from their hotel and when they stopped at a drugstore in the small town to get some terrible coffee, Lila bought bright purple nail polish that she was going to put on in the car.

Only, she’s decided that the results are too messy while driving, but she is apparently also bored, so right now Lila’s holding on to his right hand on her thigh tightly and delicately applying the color on to his nails.

Diego occasionally looks over at her and can’t stop the fond smile that tugs at his lips when he spots the small wrinkle above her nose that tells him she’s concentrating hard.

Then she looks up at him and asks, “What?” and Diego is just about to answer when she shrieks, “Oh my god, look!” and Diego whips his head around, realizing he hasn’t really been concentrating on the road for a few moments, expecting to be heading straight into the back of some huge 18 wheeler truck, but instead the road ahead is completely empty and he is still going straight in his lane.

“Jesus! What the fuck?” Diego breathes out and glances over at Lila out of the corner of his eye, not actually turning away from the road again. At least she has the decency to look a little guilty.

“Uhm, there was a sign for a gold rush museum town and I maybe got a bit too excited.” Lila replies with an unmistakable pout in her voice.

Diego huffs out a breath, trying to steady his racing heart and then asks as evenly as he can manage, “Next exit or the one after that?”

-

They soon arrive at the collection of wood houses, front porches arranged along a straight dusty street. Apparently the town was built as a set for a western in the fifties and some enterprising businessman bought the whole lot to turn them into a theme park. At least that’s what the brochure they got at the entrance says.

Beyond the fact that at least the facades of the structures look relatively convincing, the only part of the museum town that could be considered in any way even related to a theme park is the gunslingers show that is put on at the top of every hour.

And as that is the main attraction, it seems most people don’t even bother with the museum town itself, so Lila and Diego wander around it, trying to get the creepy animatronics to work and then hide away behind the fake saloon from the few other people who are milling about, to make out like horny teenagers.

 -

At high noon they are sitting together at the top of the bleachers on the outskirts of the museum town where they are apparently about to be treated to a wild and exciting shootout and some of the world's most renowned trick shots. Again, according to the brochure.

The shootout is staged with blanks and Diego gets a little bored but perks up again once the artistic shooting starts. Lila has pressed herself into his side with one elbow resting on his thigh and Diego’s put his arm along the back of the bench to give her more room. She’s mostly concentrating on the fluorescent blue slushie she insisted on buying before the show.

Diego is watching the trick shooters intently and is pretty impressed at their aim. He could easily copy any one of their tricks using his powers, now that he’s worked out how to manipulate the trajectory of bullets as well as knives, but he has to admit, that he probably couldn’t do it without them, even though he had always been an excellent shot.

The star of the show is announced and after he takes his dramatic shots, baffled chatter starts up amongst the crowd because he missed every single one.

Diego frowns and then realizes that Lila has stopped slurping on her drink, going suspiciously quiet, so he moves his mouth close to her ear and whispers, “Stop that! You’re gonna get someone hurt!” but he can’t keep the amusement out of his voice.

Lila leans back and away from him and says with feigned innocence, dark brown eyes big as saucers, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” before wrapping her lips around her straw and sucking up more of the unnaturally blue slushed ice.

Diego is momentarily distracted by the sight, then he reaches for the plastic cup with one hand, pulling it away from Lila, puts his other hand to the back of her neck and kisses her gently. She tastes of fake raspberry.

Lila practically melts against him, grabbing his t-shirt tightly with both hands and her eyes flutter shut.

There’s an almost painful sensation in his chest, a physical ache that wants him to never let go of her, but Diego nevertheless pulls back ever so slightly and he breathes against her lips, “Marry me.”

He didn’t plan on asking her like this. Heck, he didn’t really plan on asking her at all. Though they have been talking about it, they so far haven’t come to a clear decision, but there is so much certainty in him now that the last thing he would want to do is take back his words.

He hopes Lila knows it's alright if she says no, though.

For another beat Diego thinks she might instead simply pretend like she didn’t hear him but then her hands tighten in his t-shirt even more and she presses not only her lips but her whole body against him so fiercely that he doesn’t have to wait for her to pull away to know what her answer will be.

Nevertheless, it feels like she sets his heart on fire when she mouths along his jaw, bites his earlobe and then whispers Okay into his skin.

[masterofmaagnetism]

A Monster in the Dark - Chapter 5

[ self ship fanfic about Nightmare Bonnie and my insomniac s/i :) ]

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Cane didn’t remember laying down. Or falling asleep. Or having the massive fucking headache he had now.

Damn. So much of yesterday gone. He rolled over in the bed (when did he get to the bed?) to grab his phone off of the unused nightstand. 6pm glared up at him, and that alone was enough to send him flying off the bed, headache be damned.

Until, that is, he noticed the text on the screen. Quickly tapping it and inputting his password, he was surprised to find a whole conversation between him and Scrap that he never remembered going through. Apparently he had told his boss that he wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t be coming in. Scrap was fine with it, since he’d never used a sick day, and the most recent text was to remind him that a normal sleep schedule would do him some good.

“What the fuck happened…?” he muttered, running a hand over his hair as Cheesy came darting into the room, screaming to be fed. “Okay, feeding you I can handle.”

He allowed her to lead him to her food absentmindedly, placing more of his focus on what the hell happened the day before. His headache still wasn’t going away, but nothing was misplaced, moved, or taken so at least no one broke in. 

A sigh escaped his lips as he realized that living alone was doing him more harm than good. If he had a roommate, he could have figured out what happened. “Should have taken Cass up on her offer…”

Cheesy screamed again, reminding him once more that he still had not fed her. He was apparently more out of it than he originally thought, so he went ahead and gave her what she wanted before heading to the living room and collapsing on the couch.

He should have grabbed some aspirin while he was in the kitchen, especially since he only now noticed the bump on his head. Had he passed out standing up? It was the most likely answer, since it wasn’t exactly uncommon, but he’d gotten plenty of sleep the day before that so that really shouldn’t have happened.

It could just be that his body was finally fighting back. Scrap was right, better sleep would benefit him a lot more than the bullshit he was currently working with.

“It’s really funny to watch you think,” an all too familiar voice suddenly spoke up next to him, causing him to flinch away from the bunny. “Your face gets all scrunched up like you have to work really hard for it, it’s hilarious.”

Hm. So the demon has a sense of humour. “At least I can think at all,” Canetheus shot back, still out of it enough to not realize that 1) he was acknowledging the thing and 2) he’d just talked back to a fucking nightmare.

It didn’t seem too bothered judging from the bark of a laugh it replied with. “You’re a lot more entertaining than that kid you know. He would just cry and fight us but you changed your entire schedule to keep us away. I’d almost say you were obsessed.” Was it… grinning? It was hard to tell with the whole animatronic problem it had.

“I’ve seen obsession though. You’re obsessed with that research project of yours, but definitely not with us.” It only just now clicked for Cane that it had been saying “us”. He didn’t like it implying he would see it’s friends in the waking world too.

“Well, you can tell your pals to fuck off, because I’m really not up for my house becoming a monster nest,” he replied, briefly bothered with how quickly he started talking to it but mostly annoyed with idea that he’d have to deal with all of them.

The bunny gave that barking laugh again instead of reply, even slapping a clawed hand down on its mangled knee. “Oh, you’re funny. It’s not your house we’re attached to, you poor, tiny human. It’s you.”

Well. That was unsettling. For a moment Canetheus just stared at it in its horrible magenta eyes (actually, its eyes were actually kinda pretty, from an aesthetic standpoint) before letting out a strangled, and near hysterical laugh.

It seemed confused by that, which only made him laugh again. “Wow, you really do think I’m stupid! I know you’re attached to me you dumbfuck, I just wanna know why.”

Apparently, the nightmarish version of Bonnie really wasn’t expecting that, because it leaned back and scratched its chin in an almost comical way. “Quite frankly, we don’t know. One day we were with that crying brat and the next we were following you. You’d just moved in, I think, and we were just standing outside your door.”

That really wasn’t much of an explanation. “You mean, you’ve been here since day one? I wasn’t even seeing you guys in my nightmares my first few weeks here. It was only after I got the job at the diner that you started showing up.” He’d been having the nightmares he was used to before that, the ones that he could handle. Sure they were grotesque and lingered for hours after waking, but they were tolerable.

The nightmare simply shrugged, not sure what to tell him. “We don’t choose where we go, and we had to build up energy before revealing ourselves. Being the ghost of something that never lived is quite the process.”

It was a relief to know that he wasn’t actually being haunted by the five original kids that died at least, but not very comforting to know that the original four had been sentient in their own way and apparently angry enough to become the nightmares that they now were.

It must have been the fire. Cane had read about it plenty of times with how obsessed the forums and fan sites were with it (that one, and the other two that had also taken down Fazbear Entertainment buildings). It would certainly explain why they all looked the way they did. Fire simply does that to animatronics.

“So… the original four had their own sentience?” That got a nod. “Okay. What about the big yellow one? The one that looks like Fredbear?”

It had to think on that one for a moment, as if it was trying to remember who he was talking about despite the thing being rather hard to forget. “Oh! Yeah, no, that’s literally Fredbear. Like… the original animatronic. He had sentience long before that kid ever latched onto him. But boy was that girl angry. She changed him forever.”

So, the girl that attached herself to Fredbear (Cassidy, if the newspaper clippings were right) was angry enough that her rage became his rage. Because that’s what Cane needed right now.

He didn’t want to think about that right now, that was one thousand percent something that future Cane who had energy and seven aspirins could deal with. So he asked something else.

“What do I call you?” That got its attention again. It kinda tilted its head at him, seemingly thinking the question over.

“Why not just Bonnie?”

“Why would I call you Bonnie?”

“Technically it’s my name.”

“I’m not calling you fucking Bonnie.”

It huffed at his refusal, crossing its arms and probably pouting like a child. “Fine. What do you wanna call me then?” Dude. This is why he asked YOU.

Cane groaned, leaning back into the couch now that it was confirmed he would have to use his own braincells for this. He took a minute to think of a few combinations of ‘nightmare’ and ‘Bonnie’ before finally coming up with something.

“What about NightBon?” he asked, turning his gaze back to his monstrous companion. It thought the name over, humming quietly as if he was tasting wine. “Dude. It’s not fucking rocket science, do you like the name or not?”

It laughed at his impatience, but quit the act anyway. “It’s really bad,” it said, but cut off whatever Cane’s reply was going to be, “but works nonetheless. Better than you calling me something rude.”

It was tempting.

“NightBon it is,” Cane confirmed with a stern nod, before the reality of the situation fully hit him.

He’d just given a name to his nightmare. His nightmare was fucking real. He was sitting here, talking to the thing that had haunted him for two damn years now.

What did he just get himself into?

[testifytime]

do everything for me, you already know about me BUT: im described as "chaotic faggot" by my friends, i have no filter, I can switch from being outgoing to really nervous in a second, i like drawing, dice, and divinitation. i hoard candles and incense, and i like paintball.

- A Pokemon team/type theme (+ fun facts abt your team!)

Your team is full of Poison types! They’re used the most often for rascly lil fucker trainers, so, it fits :3c

Your signature Pokemon is Toxtricity, though your team also consists of Whirlipede, Haunter, Gloom, Toxicroak, and Crobat!

Fun facts!

Your Toxtricity was sent to you by your juggabro. In his words, it’s a “cool Pokemon to fit your aesthetic but keep you on track”. It can be pretty overprotective, but sometimes it turns a blind eye to the more chaotic things you do. 

Your Whirlipede is just an entire baby. Even though it’s got toxic spikes on its shell that COULD kill you, it’s pretty much a lapbug. You just have to try and remind it to be careful before it goes in for snuggles. 

Your Haunter and Gloom actually kind of hate each other! Having them out at the same time often ends up with you either getting paralysed or put to sleep. They’re super sweet when they’re apart, though, and both LOVE scritches. 

Toxicroak used to be really loveydovey when it was a Croagunk, but now it acts like it’s too cool for school. It’s really not. If you pay more attention to another Pokemon it WILL jab you in the stomach. And then it’ll pretend like it totally wasn’t even because it was jealous. 

Your Crobat is the sweetest of the bunch!! It likes to collect (read: steal) things for you that it thinks you’ll like, and is almost always attached to your back out of its Pokeball. Sometimes without you wanting it to be. It can be a bit of a pain, sometimes. 

- Bloodcaste/lusus/chumhandle as if you were a Homestuck troll (+lore)

You’re a purpleblood with a seaserpent lusus! Your chumhandle is acquiredTalisman. 

You live with your lusus in a hive that boarders where the jungle forest ends and the beach begins. It’s a pretty popular spot for violetbloods, admittedly, but it’s also the only place your giantass Seaserpentdad can actually fit; the mouth of the river is deep and leads directly out into the ocean, where he spends most of his time. The hive itself is pretty cluttered - because man, you suck at keeping shit tidy - and filled to the brim with your dice collections, your religious paraphenalia, and all the random junk you’ve stolen (of which there is a lot). 

You have a few interests, of which the main is your religion. You’re a diviner of sorts, oddly sought out by your fellow purplebloods to tell them what their purpose is in life as stated by the Great Mirthful Messiahs. You’re not entirely sure that they really do speak through you, but your readings are scary-accurate, and not only does it mean that you’ve made more friends, but you’ve made a fuck tonne of money, too. You’re more fond of practicing with your friends, or on your own, sneaking what you can beneath your lusus’ snout; so far, he hasn’t seemed to question the candle collection you have, or the alter with the Faygo bottlecaps, or the cards, or pendulum made from a grubbone you got from one of your customers. Actually, he hasn’t noticed much of anything? You’re hesitant to go TOO far, but you do like pushing at what you can get away with every now and then. 

On top of that, you love to draw - mostly as a form of worship, but also just for fun with your juggabros. You send drawings back and forth, even though you’ve never been able to meet them, and it’s pretty fun! You hope one day that you can get them to your favourite hangout spot to cause a little chaos - which usually means trashing the violetbloods’ rich boy shit and stealing things you know they’re too proud to tattle about. You don’t... always remember doing those things? But you definitely remember the amount of violetbloods that give you nasty glares whenever you walk past. It’s okay, though. You have a rifle and you’re not afraid to use it.

Beyond that, though, you’re... kind of lonely. There’s nobody that you really consider a friend around you, and when your friends do visit you, it’s only every few months. Having all those customers and the nasty violetbloods hanging around is great, sure, but... sometimes you wish you could move your hive closer inland to be near your juggabros. You could, you guess. But then where would your lusus go?

Your lusus is kind of ridiculously huge. You really couldn’t miss him even on the horizon, his giant form standing stark against the two moons. Not that he spends a whole lot of time above the water, though. He pretty much only comes back to get fed and throw a fit if he sees any of your purpleblood customers hanging around. 

- Symbol/guardian/chumhandle as if you were a Homestuck kid (+lore)

Your symbol is a and your guardian is your big bro! Your chumhandle is augmentedTemptation.

You and your older bro kick it in a sweet lil bottom-floor apartment. It’s kinda dingy, kinda shitty, but it’s the best he can afford and you’re not really one to complain when you know how hard he works just to keep the leaky roof over your head. It’s got everything you want out of a home, anyway; separate bedrooms, tiny bathroom, sweet hangout pad that doubles as a kitchen (which you’ve got a curtain draped over so that it looks like they’re two rooms) - it’s pretty neat. It’s also got a fire escape out the back and easy access to the lobby doors that’re easy to pick, so you figure it’s kinda home. 

You absolutely fucking love to play paintball. You’ve got a painball gun that you maybe stole from the store once, and a couple pellets you’ve been buying for cheap online whenever you have the money. You don’t... actually have anyone to play with, but hey, cop cars make a great target. It feeds into your general need for chaos, which isn’t limited to - but has involved - petty theft, breaking into cars, and spray painting defametory phrases against racists and homophobes on billboards. You’ve never actually been caught. Okay, you got caught once, but you’re really good at crying. You’re pretty sure your bro doesn’t know about that.

You like to practice witchy shit in your spare time. You’ve got altars set up for your patrons, and a candle collection that you really don’t know that you’re ever gonna burn through. Plus, incense! Your bro kind of hates the smell, but you just crack open a window and it’s like he doesn’t even know. You’ve also got a pretty fair collection of crystals, but that’s more because people just keep giving them to you? It’s wild what they’ve thought were just normal rocks, and you’re pretty sure some of your collection could sell for a pretty buck, but they make way better offerings. 

Of course, you also love to talk to your friends online. You have a bunch! You’re pretty easy to get on with, you think, so you end up just kinda collecting people into one giant group of friends that never stops growing. You share art, play games, chat, make them worried sick when you do dumb shit - it’s great. 

Sometimes at dusk you like to go up to the roof of the apartment block you and your bro live in and stand right on the edge. It’s so high up you can see around for miles, and everything below you looks like a speck of dust beneath your feet. The stars twinkle above you in the darkening sky, just barely visible, and you think, every now and then, that you are very, very small. 

- A FNAF animatronic design and name

You’re a broken down animatronic, probably one of the earliest of your kind. Maybe even a prototype? Nobody really remembers anymore. You’ve just kind of always been there, at the back of the store, half a body and more coherent than people expect you to be, but never fully quite there. Your head lulls back and forth, your arms moving sluggishly, and in order to get around, you drag yourself across the floor.

You can speak, but not by much. It’s glitchy and switched out more often than not, absolutely terrifying to hear in the dark - but you’re a pretty sweet soul, all things considered. The few who’ve been brave enough to slip back behind the old, abandoned doors, past the cobwebs and through the narrow halls, who haven’t run at the first sight of you, tell tales of a sweet carcass who seemed more scared of being found than anything else. 

There are a couple kids who routinely come back to visit you. They like to give you things they’ve found outside the pizzaria, mostly coins and old dice and things that smell sweet to try and cover up how musty you are. 

You’ve never hurt a soul the entire time you’ve been there, but your reputation has been built on the whispers of kids who’ve seen the rotting maw of your muzzle, the glint of your endoskeleton and the shine of your eyes in the dark. They call you Thing - as if giving you a name will make you come to life. 

The ones that know you better call you Peppi. 

- A BNHA Quirk and hero title

Your Quirk is Corroding Touch. Despite its name, and how terrifying it sounds, your quirk is pretty simple! Anything you touch wastes away, and you can control how far along its own personal timeline it decays through. For instance, you could touch a flower and have it start wilting, and stop there on its timeline - or you could have it waste away to a point that it decays completely and turns to mush. 

The drawback here is that what you’re doing is essentially speeding up a natural process. Things that don’t waste away without outside forces - such as rocks through erosion - won’t be affected by your quirk. Things that live very long lives before decaying - such as turtles - will take up a lot more of your time to speed them through their natural timeline. Finally, you can’t reverse what you’ve done. Once you’ve sped it through its natural timeline, there’s no going back; another quirk will have to undo the effects.

Of course, it also means that if you plant an oak seed, instead of waiting hundreds of years for it to grow into an oak tree, you can just use your quirk to speed up the process. So it’s a good-bad thing!

Your hero title is the Wasteful Hero: Corrosion. You’re a sort of last-resort hero, and you don’t like being in the limelight. Your quirk is dangerous if not handled correctly, so you work on a team with another hero who has a counter-effective quirk to yours (essentially Hyper Growth!). A lot of civillians are scared of you, but that’s okay. You know that what you do is important, and that your ranking doesn’t matter so long as you’re saving lives.

You are a little bitter, though, that your partner is several ranks ahead of you.

[thedailyimagines]

Imagine working at Freddy’s Pizzeria, and trying to tell your dad something is wrong. (Part Two)

Description: The reader just got a new job at Freddy Fazbear’s. He thinks something is up and is proven right on the first night. Maybe his dad can help? This is the family business...

.

The plot is different from the game, but here’s part 2!

~~~~~~~~

The black Impala cruised to a stop in front of the pizzeria. Three people got out of the car, stopping by the trunk of the car to grab a bag before headed to the front door. The youngest of the three started to unlock the door, while the tallest looked around uncomfortably.

“Y/n, are you sure you want to be here? These things did try to kill you.” Y/n jiggled the key and cursed under his breath when the door didn’t unlock.

“Yes I’m sure. Besides, I’m the one with the key and a general idea of the layout of this place.” Sam tried to peer inside the dark restaurant, only able to see vague outlines.

“Still...” The lock clicked, and y/n opened up the door.

“Here we go. Welcome to the freakiest place on earth.” Dean whistled as he walked in the door, glancing around at the decrepit pizzeria.

“Damn, who did they hire to make this place?” Y/n slipped by his dad and started to make his way to the security office. The time on his watch read 11:55.

“Doesn’t matter now, let’s find out what’s going on here and get out.” The three headed towards the security office, and y/n couldn’t help but feel like something was watching them.

“So the article said that five kids disappeared here, and they were never found but suspected to be murdered. How many animatronics did you say there were?” Y/n shook himself out of his thoughts.

“There were four last night. I didn’t see a fifth one but the waitress said they retired one of them a long time ago.”

“Great. Me and Sam will take a look around, you stay here in the office and watch the cameras.” Y/n walked over to the walkie talkie station and grabbed three, handing one to his uncle and his father.

“Alright. Everyone’s walkies should work fine here.” Sam and Dean nodded, headed towards the office door. Dean stopped in the doorway and turned back to y/n.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah dad?”

“Stay safe.”

<—>

Two hours, and nothing had happened. None of the animatronics were coming near the office and Sam and Dean hadn’t found anything yet. Y/n idly flicked through the cameras, noting where each animatronic was.

It was on camera 2B that y/n stopped to look. The poster of Freddy was...wrong. That was the best word for it. It was yellow now, and it didn’t have eyes. Y/n could’ve sworn it was a poster of a brown Freddy last time he checked.

“Dad? Not sure if this is important but camera 2B caught something odd.” Dean’s voice came crackling through the walkie.

“We’ll go take a look. Everything good there?” Y/n leaned back in the chair and stretched, keeping an eye on camera 2B.

“Yeah, nothing has tried to kill me yet.” Suddenly there was the sound of a little girl laughing behind y/n. He whirled around only to be hit on the head by a large yellow hand.

“Y/n? Y/n!” The sound of his father’s voice on the walkie was the last thing y/n heard before he blacked out.

<—>

When he woke up, y/n was in a dark room lit by a single lightbulb. The yellow Freddy stood in the corner of the room, silent and unmoving. He tried to move only to find his wrists and ankles bound to a chair.

“Good to see you awake.” Y/n turned his gaze to the doorway of the room, stifling a shout of surprise when he saw the animatronic. It was more deteriorated than the others, and the fact it spoke unsettled y/n deeply.

“Who the hell are you?” The yellow rabbit moved into the room, and y/n gagged at the scent that lingered around it.

“My name is not important. But I suppose if you must call me anything, a few former employees used to call me Springtrap.” The rabbit, Springtrap, circled around y/n. When he came to a stop in front of y/n, Springtrap knelt so he was at eye-level.

“I don’t care why you’re here, or what you think you’re going to accomplish, but understand that there are some very delicate plans I’ve made and you’ve forced me to make a move earlier than expected.” Y/n leaned back away from Springtrap, more to escape the smell than anything.

“So what? You kill me? Make me into an animatronic?” The raspy laughter from the talking animatronic unsettled y/n. Springtrap stood and walked over to the yellow Freddy, flicking it on the nose.

“Them? I learned my lesson about leaving them to their own devices. They serve me now. And it makes sense after all; I made them better than they could ever be—and I became better as well.” Y/n twisted his wrists, trying to loosen the thick wires that tied him to the chair. It was just his luck to be stuck in a room with a homicidal robot, wasn’t it?

“So you have robot servants. Now what? You’re a gross robot rabbit. Are you going to live out your fantasy as a horror furry?” Springtrap turned around and spread out his arms.

“My dear boy, once I am done people will flock to me! Think about it; why pass of old age when you can live forever? I may not be much now, but I can assure you it’s only temporary.”

“So why kidnap me? Why not just kill me?”

“Who would think about buying immortality from me in this state? It would be so much easier if a young entrepreneur offered a solution.” Y/n didn’t understand what the rabbit meant, until it finally clicked in his head. He wasn’t dead because Springtrap needed a living body.

“Oh hell no.” Y/n started tugging harder at the wires binding his wrists, causing them to bleed in his efforts to get free. Springtrap chuckled at his attempts.

“Oh yes. Now enough talk, I only have limited time to do this.” Springtrap placed a large hand on y/n’s head, closing his eyes to focus.

Pain blossomed in y/n’s head, and he screamed. It felt like he was being ripped apart and burned alive, he couldn’t see, couldn’t breath—

BANG!

The shotgun shell hit Springtrap’s shoulder, causing him to stumble over. Y/n’s head dropped to his chest. When he looked up, there was Dean and Sam, Dean pointing a shotgun at Springtrap.

“You IDIOT! Do you know what you’re doing? I am a GOD! How dare you—!” Dean shot Springtrap again several times, forcing it against the wall. Sam ran over to y/n and started untying him.

“Hey y/n, you doing okay?” Y/n nodded, and winced when his head pounded in protest.

“Yeah, just nearly got my body snatched by freaky Easter Bunny.” Y/n’s hands were freed, and he and Sam made quick work of the wires around his ankles. The two joined Dean by the door, and all three of them ran for the exit.

“NO! STOP THEM!” The yellow Freddy jerked to life, and with a roar chased the three Winchesters down the dark hallway. Y/n had no idea where they were going, he hadn’t seen this part of the pizzeria in his scouting earlier that day.

“Take a left!” Y/n turned left, and caught sight of a set of stairs. This place had a basement? A figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Shit!” The fox animatronic lunged towards Sam, who only just avoided being gutted. The rest of the animatronics appeared in the doorway. Sam, Dean, and y/n ran back towards the hall, headed deeper into the maze beneath the pizzeria.

The three hid inside a small room, shutting the door and waiting until the animatronics had passed. It was Sam who turned around first to see where they had hidden.

“Oh god.” Dean and y/n turned, and y/n really wished he hadn’t. There was a small party set up in this room, and at the table were five bodies. Five small, decayed, bodies. Y/n turned away and puked.

“That fucking bastard. I’m going to kill him.” Y/n wiped his mouth and looked at his father. He had never seen his dad this angry before. Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder to stop him from hunting down Springtrap.

“Dean, in case you haven’t noticed he nearly had us killed and took over y/n’s body. The best thing we can do now is salt and burn the bodies, and hope that stops all of them.” The door suddenly banged open, and Springtrap entered the room followed by the five animatronics.

“There you are! It was rather rude of you to try to leave so early. But never mind that now. Grab them, but don’t harm the boy! The others are free game.” Springtrap snapped his fingers, but the animatronics didn’t move. “What’s wrong with all of you? Grab them now!”

The purple mechanical rabbit walked forward, past the three Winchesters to the table behind them. His hook reached out and gently touched the cheek of one of the deceased children. Each animatronic followed suit, and y/n connected the dots in his head; these children were the animatronics.

Springtrap came to the same conclusion. His eyes widened and he lunged towards y/n, screaming in rage. Y/n shut his eyes and put his arms up in defense.

“Holy hell.” Y/n opened his eyes then blinked in shock, hardly believing what he saw. Five children had appeared in front of the Winchesters, the animatronics crumpling to the ground behind them. Springtrap froze, taking a step back in fear.

“What is this? What are you doing?!?! Kill them!” None of the children listened to Springtrap, instead taking a step towards him.

“Looks like they want some revenge. I don’t blame them.” The children started to glow as they got closer to Springtrap.

“No! No, no NO! I’m not finished yet! Release me!” Springtrap sounded terrified as the five ghost children surrounded him. There was a bright flash of light, and the yellow rabbit suit fell to the ground. There was no sign of the children.

Sam and Dean walked y/n up to the security office, forcing him to stay put as they went to salt and burn the bodies and the animatronics. Y/n obliged and sank down in the chair. As soon as his uncle and dad returned all three left the pizzeria. As soon as they left the building, they were greeted by the manager.

“Oh, hello! Who are you two?” Y/n pulled the keys to the pizzeria and threw them at the manager.

“I. Quit.” The manager seemed shocked for a moment, then began spluttering.

“B-b-but William! You promised!” Y/n froze and turned slowly towards the manager.

“My name isn’t William.” Now the balding man seemed confused, as if he was expecting confirmation to what he said.

“But-but-” Y/n took a step towards him.

“Did you know about the animatronics trying to kill me? And the crazy rabbit guy?” The manager fished for an explanation.

“Well- I mean-”

“You asshole! I could have died!” Y/n took another step towards him and raised a fist. Sam caught him before y/n could throw a punch.

“Y/n, he isn’t worth it.” A fist slammed into the manager’s nose, causing the man to fall backwards. Sam turned in shock to his brother.

“Dean!” The elder brother shot a glare at the manager and turned to Sam.

“My kid nearly died because of him Sammy!” Dean turned back to the manager, who was now sporting a bloody nose. “He’s sixteen you ass!”

The manager paled considerably and fumbled around for an excuse. He was saved from having to when a loud bang came from inside the pizzeria. Everybody turned just in time to watch as the restaurant began to go up in flames.

“No! I poured my life and money into that place!” The manager watched in horror as the restaurant burned to the ground. Dean said something that sounded suspiciously like ‘good riddance’ under his breath and steered his family to his car.

The Impala sped away from the burning pizzeria, y/n taking a well deserved nap in the back seat. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, but y/n ignored it as Dean drove the Impala out of town.

<Bonus>

The cold ashes floated in the breeze. A week had passed since Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria had burned to the ground—the official cause listed as faulty wiring.

A metal hand shot up from the ashes, pulling up a decrepit, burned, metal husk. Once it may have been yellow, but the color was dirtied from ash and burn marks.

The gray-green eyes flicked around, and the metal being took stumbling steps towards the town border where a week ago, three hunters had left town.

“I’m coming...you little bastard...you’ll pay for this...”

~~~~~~~~

I don’t own the above gifs, all credits go to the owners.

.

Should I make a bad end version of this? I kinda want to but IDK...

Edit: There is now a bad end version of this imagine!

[fnaficsfordays]

When Dawn Breaks...

Chapter 4

Previous chapter, Next chapter

AO3 Link

Word Count: 2303

The longer he stared at it, the more it felt like some sort of hallucination. This… he couldn’t actually have just coughed up a flower, of all things. Let alone one that was still completely intact. This couldn’t be real. His insanity had to be playing tricks on him… right?

With a trembling finger, Vincent touched one of the petals, feeling the soft edge against his skin. He drew his hand across the blossom, letting it drift across.

It was real. Impossibly so, but… it was there, in his hands. He could see it, feel it, completely innocent yet guilty of so much confusion.

He couldn’t even bring himself to start thinking of questions, shock numbing any last ache still in his body. Vincent started to stand up on shaky knees, taking in gulping breaths as he gradually remembered where he was. He picked up the knife bag off the floor as well from where he’d dropped it, still cradling the blossom in his palm as he walked towards the doorway.

He pushed open the swinging door with his elbow, walking towards his car with a mask of calm. He dropped the knife bag in the back, getting in and starting the engine with a single hand. All the while, the blue-tinted flower stayed put in his other hand, fist loosely closed over it.

Well, it looks like he was headed towards the doctor’s office anyways, even if it wasn’t for the reason he’d initially thought of. But then again, the feeling was at least part of this too, wasn’t it? It had to be- there was nothing else that had caused the pain in the first place. Although, admittedly, coughing up flora was quite the leap right after the initial bouts of aches.

Soon enough, he found himself in front of a white-walled building, the sun rising away from the horizon as he stepped out of the car. He still hid the flower in his hand, letting the unnerving grin form on his face as he pulled open the door.

The place was completely empty, bar the singular person behind the front desk, tapping away at the computer. He set an elbow on the counter, clearing his throat slightly.

Their eyes flickered up at him for a mere second before they spoke. “Good to see you again, Vincent.”

“Yeah, yeah, same here.” He sighed. “Listen, I’m in a bit of a rush today, another mild emergency-”

“Richard’s only available to talk about in-depth human anatomy after his shift is over, Vincent.”

“Not that emergency, Scarlet.” He waved his hand dismissively. “This one’s… new. I should probably be a lot more concerned about it than I actually am, but-”

“Well, consider yourself lucky.” She still kept her eyes on the computer screen, not looking up once. “He’s no other patient at the moment, so he’ll be able to put up with you easily. Same room as always.”

“Thanks.” Vincent turned away from the desk. He sharply veered into the hallway to the right, shoes echoing down the marble floor as he made his way towards the very back. He passed by doors like a blur, glancing at his palm once to make sure the flower was still fine.

He could feel his grin start to fade as he neared the door, pace slowing to a walk as he stopped in front of it. With his free hand, he gave a knock, shoving his hand in his pocket and leaning back on one foot, waiting for the door to open.

It was a while until it finally did, rheumy eyes looking into his own maniacal ones. He gave a sigh, backing away and nodding. “What now? Another check on your sanity?”

“Well, no, but… yes?” Vincent followed him in, taking a seat in the swivel chair. “I mean, I should probably be reacting differently to what happened, but I’m not, so you can probably tell me what should be happening.”

“Again, hmm?” Richard pulled out a clipboard from a nearby shelf, flipping through the pages upon pages of notes, clicking his pen. “It’s quite early for you to be questioning your sanity.”

“It would be if it weren’t for my job.” He shrugged. “And, uh… that’s kind of the subject of the matter today.”

“The animatronics are finally making a breakthrough?”

“Could be, but I think it's something… a lot different.”

“How so?”

He bit his lip for a moment, before hefting a sigh. “I’ll just cut to the chase- I coughed up a damn flower today.”

His pen paused as his grey pupils dilated slightly, staring at him over his glasses. “Did I mishear that?”

“I retched up a piece of flora, Richie-”

“So I didn’t.” Richard muttered. “Do you still have the flower?”

“Right here.” Vincent carefully opened up his palm, the indigo blossom flat on his hand. “I’m not fucking making this up, that came out of my throat, I wish it was actually just a damn hallucination- but it’s not.”

“Oh dear.” He leaned forward, staring at the petals. Vincent moved to put it on the table, but Richard shook his head. “No, no- keep a hold of it. I’ve never seen this in person, but… oh dear god, this is… completely unprecedented.”

“You mean to tell me there’s been cases of people vomiting flowers before?”

“I’ve heard of it- oh dear, oh dear…” He raked a hand through his black hair. “They were cases that immensely intrigued me when I read them, but to have it actually happen- and to you, of all people…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He watched him stand up from his chair, setting down the clipboard and walking back towards the shelf.

“If I can find the stories themselves, make sure that I’m getting this right… oh dear…”

“The fact that you keep on saying that makes me feel like I should be scared.” Vincent gave a slight chuckle. “Am I gonna die?”

Richard looked back at him sharply, a book now in his hands. “If I remember correctly… you could.”

The iron tone made him raise an eyebrow. He sat back down in the chair, hands vigorously flipping through the pages of the book. Vincent didn’t dare interrupt him as his fingers flew, eyes scanning each page. Although he wasn’t panicking by any means, there was a slight anxiety in him as he watched him watch so closely for… whatever he was looking for. Vincent waited, occasionally glancing back at the flower still sitting in his hand.

“I found it.” The dead tone made him lean forward, although Richard pulled the book away. “Wait a moment, I have to be sure… these were very abnormal cases.”

“And I’m already an abnormal being. There can’t be that many different cases of people coughing up flora, right?”

He sighed. “Unfortunately not… as far as I know, the symptoms and causes of all the cases have been all but identical for those that had it. It’s nothing if not rare, but strange enough to have a name.”

“And what is said name?”

Richard finally looked back up. “Have you ever heard about Hanahaki Disease?”

Vincent rolled his eyes. “Clearly not, else I wouldn’t have come here.”

He shook his head with a sigh. “Oh dear, oh dear… well, this will be quite a long session, it would have been much faster if you’d wanted information about a corpse.”

“Wow, what a shame that I decided to not end a life today, huh?”

Richard set down the book, eyes dark as he looked back at Vincent. “Depending on what happens… that might change soon.”

“Wait, what-”

“Let’s just begin with the basics.” He muttered. “Hanahaki Disease, put simply… is a condition in which the victim’s lungs fill with flowers. It has been described as causing pain to the throat, lungs, heart, and general chest area, making victims cough up the flowers, causing pain as the victim tries to dislodge them.

“However, it doesn’t work, as the flowers will keep on growing. Between spasms of coughing up the flowers, the victim experiences aching in the same areas that only gets worse as time goes on.”

“That’s… a solid description.” Vincent said. “I mean, I don’t completely know about the pain getting worse or the amount of flowers, since I just coughed up the first flower, but… yeah, the aching and pain areas sound correct.”

“So far, yes.” Richard took off his glasses, an unreadable expression on his face. “But in terms of the cause… I’m much less sure with you.”

“Well, what is the cause, then?”

He set the frames on the table, sitting back in his chair. “The major thing that stood out in all recorded cases of Hanahaki, besides the flowers… was that it has been a general conclusion that, despite how unknown and unscientific it seems, Hanahaki Disease is firmly caused by emotional factors. Specifically, one emotional factor.”

“And… what’s that factor?”

Richard looked him dead in the eyes. “One-sided love. Unrequited, romantic love.”

Love?

Romantic… love?

Suddenly, the flower in his hand grew heavy.

Vincent’s mouth was dry as any response he had started to think of disappeared. He could feel the ache in his chest turn back into sharp jabs of pain, making him instinctively clutch his chest as the world suddenly spun. He was barely aware of Richard leaning over to grip his arm, sternly yet calmly talking to him.

“Breathe, breathe, breathe. I thought it might cause another spasm… just keep on breathing.”

He opened his mouth to speak, only to break off with a harsh cough. Pain laced through his throat as another lump rose in it, ripping through as he gagged on it. With wheezing breaths and sharp, hacking coughs, he collapsed against the table, vision finally clearing enough to see another blue flower in his palm.

“There you go, another flower. Keep breathing, it’s over now-”

“F-fucking love?” He choked out, still staring at the now two flowers. “How can I, out of anyone-”

“Those were my thoughts.” Richard was still patting his back. “It wasn’t exactly something I expected from you either, but the flowers don’t lie.”

Vincent didn’t respond for a while, still breathing heavily. “That’s- it’s got to be something else, I don’t-”

“Are you sure?” He muttered. “The fact that you started to cough right after I said the cause might state otherwise.”

“But-”

“Let me ask you this. Have you been feeling strangely lately? And I mean completely out of your ordinary. We already know your state of mind isn’t quite normal.”

He took in a deep breath. “I mean… there actually is one, I guess… I was actually thinking about coming to your office for it, before the whole flower thing happened.”

“Describe it.”

“It’s strange… but comforting sometimes. Well, it was either calming or made my heartrate explode, there was no in between.” Vincent bit his lip in thought. “It kind of felt like- like I was actually kind of sane whenever it acted up, like it was a step away from madness.”

“When did it start?”

“I don’t really know, I suppose it’s just been here for a few weeks… Seems to act up around the pizzeria, but it just keeps on growing.”

“The pizzeria?”

“Yeah… I still don’t get it.”

Richard was silent for a moment, now leaning back in his chair in thought. “I think, given your description and your state of mind… it is love.”

He shook his head slightly. “But how?”

“That’s something only you can answer. But whomever it is, you’d better find out quick.” He reached over for his glasses. “From what the cases tell of, the flowers are the favorite color or favorite type of flower of the love interest, so that might help. But said cases did already have an idea of who it was beforehand, while you…”

“I’m doomed.” Vincent muttered.

“It gets… worse than that.” Richard put on his glasses. “Hanahaki Disease can only be cured through two ways, as seen through the cases. There is a very expensive, but doable surgery to remove the vines completely from the lungs and heart-”

“I doubt that’s an option for me.”

“I do as well. But the second one may be even harder.” He clasped his hands together. “The other way… is to get your love interest to reciprocate the feelings. Not just to say that they love you, or even a platonic bond. They must genuinely love you romantically as well.”

“...Maybe the first one, then.”

“It’s not so easy. The surgery will most likely work, although…” Richard sighed. “It gets rid of the romantic feelings as a side effect. For two out of the five recorded cases, that choice was made, and they never felt the same way about the former love interest again.”

Vincent swallowed, the lump in his throat not a flower, yet just as hard. “And if I do neither?”

“For two of the cases, they were unfortunate, and… they died, suffocating from the flowers. One after four months from their first flower, the other in a matter of weeks.”

His gaze trailed down to the flowers in his palm, the two blossoms staring back. He let go of a deep breath, a knot of uncharacteristic dread forming in his stomach.

“A hard decision, I know.” Richard murmured. “It’s hard to tell how long you truly have, as the time varies quite much.”

“No kidding.” An empty chuckle resonated from his throat. “Well… I should start by finding out who the unlucky fucker is, huh?”

“Do you have an idea yet?”

“There’s not a lot of options for me. And since it only acts up around the pizzeria…” He shook his head as the realization sunk into his mind. “I’m pretty sure it’s an even narrower choice.”

[mst3kproject]

1107: The Land that Time Forgot

Watching the opening credits of this actually made me do a double-take – the name Colin Farrell appeared on the screen and I was like, wait, what the fuck?  Wouldn’t he have been like two years old?  Well, I looked it up and learned that I was wrong: The Land that Time Forgot was made in 1975, and the Colin Farrell I was thinking of wasn’t even born until a year later.  At least that woke me up.

It’s World War I, and a passenger ship is torpedoed by a German submarine.  The only survivors are a few sailors, Doug McClure, and a Dr. Lisa Clayton who serves as the movie’s designated pretty girl.  The nearest thing to rescue in sight is the submarine itself when it surfaces a few hours later – so they climb aboard, storm the hatch, and take over the ship.  At first it seems that all they have to do now is head for home, but they soon learn that the Germans have sabotaged the compass.  They’ve come ashore instead at the mysterious lost continent of Caprona. Naturally this is a land of cavemen and dinosaurs, and in order to escape the British and the Germans must put aside their differences and work together.  Only then will they be able to get back to the real world and resume shooting at each other.

While At the Earth’s Core comes across as a movie nobody gave a much of a shit about, there are places where The Land that Time Forgot is surprisingly artful and well-made.  In particular the first half-hour has several very nice moments in it, especially in the way it uses sound.  After the opening credits, the music totally vanishes for a third of the film.  The only background sounds are the lapping of waves and the creaking of the submarine, which makes gunshots and explosions all the more jarring when they happen.  It also makes this part of the movie seem very grounded and real, which contrasts with the more fantastical stuff that happens in Caprona.  The first sight of the Capronan cliffs is accompanied by the return of the soundtrack, which ushers us out of this more real world and into the fantasy beyond.

I feel like if Amicus had just set out to make a suspense movie about WWI submarines, a sort of early-20th-century Balance of Terror, they could have done a pretty fair job.  Several scenes, such as when the characters are all sitting in the dinghy waiting for the sub to surface, or when they’re diving to escape the British ship firing on them and aren’t sure if the hull will hold, are very effective indeed. The interior of the sub is an appropriately creepy and claustrophobic place, and details like the slight swinging of the lamp in the captain’s office remind us that we’re at sea.  The miniature sub surfacing, with water pouring off it, looks lovely.  The giant squid that passes by them un-noticed in the dark is my favourite ‘creature’ moment.

Unfortunately, there’s also stuff that sucks.  What ought to be the ‘action’ sequences are just a bunch of guys in very similar jackets and sweaters punching each other in the fog, and you can’t tell who’s who or which side is winning.  The conversation between the captain and Dr. Clayton attempts to make the point that when your country’s at war it’s impossible to ‘stay out of it’ no matter how much of a pacifist you, personally, may be, but it’s too heavy-handed to work properly… though I do like how the two of them are able to bond over a shared interest in biology.  I have no idea what happened in the tunnel that damaged the submarine, because the exterior shots are just blackness with a few rocks.

Then we hit the dinosaurs.  These are honestly fairly impressive for the time the film was made.  We don’t get a good first impression, as the first ones we get a good look at are three completely stiff pterodactyls circling like they’re hanging from a baby’s mobile.  The rest are puppets, stop motion, and animatronics, and the people who decided which technique to use for which shot had a good grasp of what each is best at.  The greenscreen work is sometimes crummy but there are some lovely matte paintings, and for the most part the effects here are good enough to tell the story without being distracting.  There’s even some attempt to portray the dinosaurs as animals with behaviours, rather than monsters that exist only to menace the humans.

So I actually have quite a bit of praise for this movie.  That’s not what my blog is about, though.  This blog is about movies that suck, so let’s look at the bad parts of The Land that Time Forgot.

Well, there’s the standard stuff.  The day-for-night is bright enough that it was obviously shot in the daytime while still being dark enough that you can’t tell what’s going on. The human inhabitants of Caprona are stupid cartoon Neanderthals with dark makeup on their faces but not their arms and legs, who become whiter and whiter as they move up the evolutionary scale. The motion of the dinosaurs may be pretty good but the design of them is ugly and lumpy, with far too many teeth even on the herbivores.  This is partly because we didn’t know nearly as much about dinosaurs in the seventies, but the movie’s fat carnosaurs with their lizard-like heads would have been ugly and inaccurate in the thirties.  Compare them, for example, to Charles R. Knight’s Tyrannosaurus and Triceratops from freaking 1927.

Many ‘lost world’ scenarios will simply present us with t-rex fighting a saber-toothed tiger and expect us not to question it.  The Land that Time Forgot gives us an reason of sorts for its mixing of geological eras, but not one that makes any sense.  From Om’s conviction that he will become a ‘Stolu’ and Dr. Clayton’s explanation of what’s going on in the giant coconut hot tub, we gather that each individual organism on Caprona evolves from a single cell to a complex being, following the entire history of its species’ evolution.  This appears to have been inspired by the fact that embryos ‘evolve’ as they develop, going through phases in which they have things like gills before losing them.  The phenomenon, called 'recapitulation', was considered one of the original pieces of evidence for evolution and I guess I can accept how they use it here.  The problem is that the movie refuses to state it clearly, which gives the impression that the writers were kind of embarrassed by the idea.

The biggest problem with two-thirds of The Land that Time Forgot is that once the characters reach Caprona, the story more or less comes to a screeching halt.  The parts set on the submarine were quite tightly-focused.  Now we are technically still seeing the same story, as they try to find fuel in order to get them back to civilization, but we also stop for long sequences of people climbing hills and dinosaurs wandering around in the dark, or pointless arguments between the British and German sailors.  In a dinosaur movie we obviously need a little bit of people standing around going oooooh and aaaaah, but they go about it all wrong here.

Then there’s the ending, which quite literally destroys everything we’ve seen so far.  The characters are on the verge of saving the damsel in distress, escaping the island, and celebrating the power of international cooperation, and then at the last minute the volcano erupts and it all goes to hell.  A volcano erupting at the end of a movie that is not about a volcano erupting will always be a deus ex machina, because there’s nothing characters can do to cause or prevent it – it’s never anything but a coincidence.  The need to escape prompts the Germans to turn on the British and try to leave without Dr. Clayton and Doug McClure, and their karmic punishment is to be cooked to death by volcanic gases in their own submarine.  Clayton and McClure are left behind on the shore while everything around them catches fire. This doesn’t feel like a conclusion to the story we’ve just seen.  It feels more like somebody just really hates happy endings, and ripped one out from under us at the last moment.

There are a few things in this movie that could have counted as thematic material if anyone had cared, but nothing is ever done with any of them. Om is a ‘bolu’, a lower order of cavemen, and he never seems to notice Dr. Clayton, nor do the slightly higher ‘stolu’.  It is the ‘golu’, the most human-like of them all, who attempt to kidnap and rape her. I doubt this was an attempt to say anything about human nature.  It seems to have been done that way just because it wasn’t yet time for Dr. Clayton to be in peril until the climax of the film.

Likewise, Jonah and the bots comment on the fact that this is a movie about Europeans coming to a new country, shooting the inhabitants, and generally making a mess as they search for petroleum.  Within the story this is not a colonial urge, as the characters have no plans to settle, but a matter of life and death, and again it seems like nobody thought very deeply about it.  It was just a thing that needed to happen to make the plot work.

Enough went right in this movie that the things which went wrong really do become a terrible shame.  A great deal of effort seems to have gone into just about everything, but a few poor writing choices mean that the result is not very good, yet not bad enough to be enjoyed on that level either.  If I were contemplating this as a potential Episode that Never Was, I honestly think I would have decided against it.  It just doesn’t have the kind of personality I associate with a good MST3K movie.

[fazbearsecuritycrew]

IN WHICH FIGHTING IS ONE OF HIS MANY TALENTS

IN WHICH FIGHTING IS ONE OF HIS MANY TALENTS

NOTICE: Mentions of Blood, Cursing

Mike usually loves fighting.

What he does not like is hearing about Jeremy fighting.

happy birthday, fnaf 2!

WINTER 2003 - Where the hell was he?

Mike looked impatiently to his watch, becoming more and more concerned by the minute.

And, speaking of minutes, Jeremy had less than five to get his ass down here before his shift started.

There were the usual excuses- I overslept, or Traffic was crazy, or even his favorite one- My bike caught a flat.

But at least he was somewhat on time with those. Mike had never witnessed a guard who had worked more than a few days still have the balls to come in late. It usually scared them into arriving an hour early, at the bare minimum. It was like the first day all over again.

Knowing the kid already had a lot to juggle with, Mike usually let it slide (he had yet to die, anyway), but it seemed like he had been too easy on him lately. He’d probably have to chew is ass out for the stunt he was pulling tonight.

The signature bell on that familiar blue bike hollered through the air, and Mike felt the breeze that trailed behind the bicycle as Jeremy pulled up to the rack.

He prepared for this moment, mouth already halfway open and in the middle of his breath-

And he cut him off.

“S-Sorry Mike,” he started with the usual apology, although it lacked its usual haste. “I…h-had a problem today, a-and then I forgot to set m-my alarm, so I t-to hurry over to get h-here. So, u-um, yeah, and a-a-also, um…”

His voice began to trail off long before the words stopped tumbling from his mouth. Mike hadn’t even noticed when he had unlocked the door to the building, pulling his hat low as he stiffly walked inside.

Mike followed after him, sucking his teeth slightly at the lowered temperature on the interior of the establishment. He may have heard the boy wince as well, but it was hard to hear from back here.

Jeremy made sure to be a few quick steps ahead of him the entire walk to the office, not slowing down once to let Mike join him at his side.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was hiding something.

“…Yeah. Try to be early next time. Don’t want them ripping your ass to shreds because you couldn’t bother to clock in.”

He flinched, but otherwise gave a silent, curt nod.

In truth, Jeremy actually hadn’t been acting all that nervous tonight. No, it was more…suspicious than anything.

He had been hellbent on avoiding facing Mike. Anything he did, he did with his head down or his back turned. He had nearly dropped the flashlight trying to get it from Mike without turning around.

The situation with the tablet was a whole lot worse. His nose was practically stuck to the screen, apparently so enthralled by whatever the footage showed despite it being a slow night.

An hour of camera watching passed, and Mike grew even more curious as to what Jeremy had been hiding.

He said he had a problem. Problem? Wonder what it is?

He entertained himself for the next fifteen by thinking of all the possible scenarios that the boy may have gotten himself into.

He was famous for getting knee deep in troublesome shit, and this time proved to be no exception. Traffic jam? Missing uniform? Stubbed toe?

A snicker escaped, and from the corner of his eye could he barely make out the green that cast him a look in the shadows.

Well, fun over. At least it kept him distracted for a good bit. Good, because it was a Tuesday. He groaned. Tuesdays were always the worst.

Smack!

His neck swiveled around just as the sound finished bouncing off the walls. Jeremy flinched, looking around the room.

“T-The, uh, tablet fell.”

Mike walked back over to the desk. “It’s not broken, is it?” he asked, reaching down to pick up the fallen item.

Unfortunately, Jeremy had the same idea.

A sharp pain rang through his head when Mike had realized he had just headbutted the shit out of Jeremy. They fell their separate, each cradling their own sore forehead.

Mike rubbed at the skin while Jeremy scrambled around to look for his missing hat.

Mike looked up.

“Jeremy, what the FUCK?”

There was an unbridled rage screeching in his shout, but it wasn’t directed at the teen. Just directed at the bastard that did that.

Jeremy tried to hide his quivering bottom lip with a nervous grin.

“Wow,” the boy started, surprisingly calm. “Those street lamps sure do know how t-to pick a fight!”

“Fight!”

“Oops,” the guard mused. “Wrong word.”

Mike tilted his chin towards him and turned his head to see him better, earning a yelp from the teen.

“Jeremy, the hell happened to your face?”

While Jeremy had saw it for himself earlier, he truly thought it hadn’t looked that bad. Sure, that black eye was really working wonders for his complexion, and the split lip provided a nice accessory to the many other cuts that littered his face, but he had worse before.

It didn’t look that bad, right?

Clearly not to Mike, who was mostly focused on the fact that the guy’s eye was basically swollen shut. That was already bad enough, but the fact that that ugly amalgamations of blues traveled up to his forehead made it look like he had been slammed into something.

Honestly, it took everything in Mike’s power to not be somewhat impressed that he was still standing. Rather, that he could even see at all. That eye was basically out of order.

“I-It’s kind of a long story…” he paused, hoping the noir would catch the hint.

He did not.

Or maybe he did and chose to ignore it.

He further examined the beaten boy’s face, brushing hair out of the way to reveal a slightly nasty cut on his forehead. Huh. He didn’t even know that one was there.

He started mumbling under his breath. Mike always did that when he was pissed off. “Seriously, how the fuck did this happen?”

Jeremy tried to pull away, but the man made sure he had a secure grasp on the younger as he dragged him over to the desk, sending him a look that said, sit or else.

He pouted. “It’s nothing.”

Mike huffed. “Jeremy, your head is fucking bleeding. It’s something, alright.”

Jeremy made the move to reach for the tablet, lifting the screen in order to wind the music box. He kept the device in his lap.

“I-I’m not joking w-when I say it’s kind of long. Can I tell you a-after we don’t die?”

Mike righted the chair that was lying on the floor, shoving it in Jeremy’s direction. “Fine, smartass,” he huffed. “Tell me after the shift. But if I so much as hear about a fucking finger being laid on you, somebody’s dying tonight. Got it?”

He gave a little roll of his good eye. “Okay, okay.”

It seemed like the rest of the night sped by after that, between Jeremy monitoring the cameras and Mike scaring off any of the animatronics that stopped by the office.

By the time six AM rolled around, Jeremy could barely react when Mike suddenly threw his backpack at him, motioning for him to hurry.

“Go get changed,” he threw his thumb over his shoulder. “And the second you come out, you’re telling me the whole damn story.”

Jeremy gulped. The older man could be scary when he wanted to be.

Mike waited in the main room for the young boy to come out, mind once again wandering. As much as Mike loved the him like a brother, it’s not as if his tiny size and overall fragility didn’t scream Pick me!

His stomach turned, and he found himself dreading all the ideas of what those injuries could mean. Sure, he had been in a fair share of fights in his day, but that was just…brutal. Whoever gave those out had the intetion to seriously hurt or incapacitate someone. The fact that Jeremy played them off like a paper cut didn’t help either, like what he was looking at was something as mundane as a walk through the park.

He didn’t know what his home situation was like, but Jeremy rarely every mentioned his parents positively, if at all. He never mentioned it before, but Mike wasn’t stupid enough to note notice the occasional cut or bruise that appeared on his body.

He didn’t want to pry, but seeing those things alone made him think that someone was hurting him in the worst possible manner.

The creaking of a door echoed down the hall, and Mike looked up to see Jeremy shuffling out the bathroom, awkwardly holding his backpack, half stuffed with the uniform.

His face had looked a bit more touched up, or maybe that was just the effect of the color he wore on his clothing. But his lip was cleaned off, and there was a little bandage peaking out from under his hair. Still, the black eye was as obvious as ever, and he doubted anything could be done to cover that up.

He pulled a chair out for himself, stiffly sitting down across from the older night guard.

He blinked. “So, what do you w-want to know?”

He narrowed his eyes, that conversation started clearly being the last thing he expected. He couldn’t help but lean forward a bit, the plastic covering on the party table crinkling under his weight. “I wanna know who fucked up your face, obviously!”

“M-Mike,” Jeremy sighed, it clearly being too early in the morning for him to coherently deal with this. “If you th-think I’m being bullied o-or something, it’s not th-that.”

“There’s a hell of a lot of things that it can be, Fitzgerald,” Mike warned, eyebrows furrowing further. Before his very eyes, those murderous intentions behind eyes seemed to melt into something that could only be found in the well-meaning.

“C’mon, Jeremy. I know it probably sucks talking about it, but I’m only asking ‘cause I don’t want anything to happen to you that doesn’t need to happen.”

Tentatively, he leaned forward, placing a hand on his junior’s shoulder. “Seriously, man. I don’t wanna see shit happen to you, because there’s a lot you already have going on, and it breaks my heart to see shit like this. Talk to me, please?”

Jeremy gave a small smile, thought it didn’t quite reach the side with the split. “Mike, t-trust me- I’m fine.”

“But what happened?”

A hesitant pause.

“O-Okay, so maybe there was a fight?”

“Jeremy!”

The named threw his hands up in mock defense. “W-Wait! To be fair, i-it was in self-defense.”

“I’m laying hands on someone if they hit you.”

“No one hit me, okay!” he whined, that familiar pout puffing his cheeks out again. “I-I wasn’t getting teased o-or bullied or anything like that, so chill o-out.”

He bit his lip, leaning back into the cheap metal chairs of the pizzeria.

“It was for a f-friend.”

Mike paused, and suddenly it all made sense. Despite some of the more heroic antics that Jeremy had shown before, it seemed like he held an overall aversion to fighting. There was a type of guilt that shown in his eyes at any suggestions of violence, and Mike

“At first he a-asked me for help because all three of th-these guys were going to gang up on him, and I told him to fight his own battles because i-it was his fault he was in t-trouble,” he looked across the room again, eyes focusing in on nowhere in particular. “But th-then they started wailing on him at the same time, and I had to jump in, Mike. He was getting-”

He took a breather. “He was getting beat, Mike. Everyone just stood th-there while they tossed him over a table, slamming his head into the floor over and over again. And his girlfriend was just watching him get beat to a pulp, and I couldn’t, Mike.”

He sighed, averting his eyes with a hint of shame.

“So yeah. I did get in a fight t-today. I’m sorry.”

That final look up with those honest ass eyes was all it took for Mike to crumble.

The scowl that previously adorned his face had been replaced in place of an understanding smile. Leave it to Fitzgerald to get his eye basically poked out while trying to defend a friend.

Maybe he wasn’t very strong, and he may have still been a child, but damn if the kid didn’t have some serious balls.

A warm chuckle escaped Mike’s mouth as he stood.

“Huh?” He tilted is head, almost disbelieving. “What’s so funny?”

“Just thinking about how you probably looked out there fighting guys twice your size.”

Jeremy grinned, slinging is backpack over his shoulder, right on the man’s heels.

Closer to the entrance doors, Mike spoke up with a, “So?”

“S-So what?”

He turned, hands shoved in his pockets. “Get any good hits in?”

Jeremy nodded his head sheepishly, a red tint dusting his cheeks. “I did,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I m-may have overdone it a-a bit, though. I hit a guy in his knee with a chair.”

There was a confusing mix of laughter and surprise to Mike’s voice. He slapped his forehead. “Holy shit! You probably blew his knee out!”

“I hope not. I don’t have the money for a lawsuit.”

Mike barked out a laugh again, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. “Man, I’d hate to get on your bad side. Double cross you and the next thing you know, your knees are getting curb stomped by a sleep deprived kid with multicolored hair!”

The teen gave a light laugh, acting as if he didn’t just talk about bashing a guy’s knee in with a chair.

Mike grinned. “I take it you won?”

Jeremy laughed. “Well, maybe not, but we didn’t go down without trying!”

[ryanrambling]

So I figured I’d try my hand at a FNAF short-story.

I love writing - hell I wrote what could be considered a lengthy book (I never tried to publish it, though). So this seemed like a fun idea! Check it out below the break.

Part 1: Faces Old and New

“So do you ever think you’ll use the puppet in an attraction?” The question had been on his mind ever since James had seen the locked box, tucked away in the boss’s office. Seated on one of the party tables in the main hall, the young man looked from the stage – upon which the two familiar figures stood silently, ever watchful of their familiar domain – to his boss.

The other man, whom was about twenty years his senior, seemed distant until James’ question registered in his head. “Mr. Afton?” James inquires, and receives a sudden shake of the head from the man. Afton runs a hand through his parted brown hair before looking down at his chubby digits and fiddling with his ring.

“Well,” he begins, looking over at his employee, “It is not so simple.” James blinks, but remains silent, quietly encouraging the senior fellow to elaborate. “Think about it James – we got the puppet from the old owners. It would be a slew of paperwork to get the license to actually use it. Not to mention we would have to build an attraction for it, and that is not exactly cheap.” Afton sighs once, “The kids always liked the puppet – why is beyond me, it always seems to be… thinking, if you ask me – so I am sure it would bring in business. Nevertheless, the practicalities must be consider”

James nods as the man speaks, “Well, I suppose we got Bonnie and Freddy, eh?” He gestures to the stage, upon which an eight foot golden animatronic bear stands vigil, his lifeless blue eyes staring blankly forward with microphone in hand. Next to Freddy stands a dual-toned rabbit of similar height and likeness to Freddy. The animatronic holds a banjo and looks ready to strum, but it’s all an illusion – the illusion of life. Named Bonnie, the rabbit has golden fur akin to Freddy’s, but with accents of olive. “And of course Henry to keep them up and running.”

At that, Afton scoffs. “I, too, can facilitate repairs for our animatronics. As co-owner I would expect nothing less of myself,” he seems mildly offended at James’ insinuation that he could not tend to the animatronics, but seems to let it go. Looking down at his wrist, the owner frowns, “Where the bloody hell is the night watchman? Teenagers are liable to sneak in again and do… things in our lovely facility if she does not tend to her shift.”

James looks down at his own Casio digital watch. The scratched display reads “11:42 pm.” At this, he lets out a chuckle, “Well Mr. Afton, her shift doesn’t start for another 12 minutes. Can we really be so mad at her for that?” Feeling a cramp in his leg from sitting on the edge of the short table, the employee hops to his feet and stretches his pained limbs.

“Being early to one’s shift is an admirable quality, Mr. Schmidt,” Afton reminds James with special formality and an emphasis on his surname. “You have always been most admirable in that area,” the owner slowly paces between the tables, readjusting napkins and party hats as he speaks. James watches the man with mild amusement. His large build seems entirely inappropriate for such fine work, but his steady hands and calm gaze show only the calmest countenance working.

However, he inadvertently twitches as the clamor of an opening metal door sounds from behind them. James turns sharply and finds a disheveled co-worker huffing in the precipice of the diner. “Mr. Afton!” She calls out breathlessly, “I’m so sorry! I got here as soon as I could. Henry asked me to help out the pizzeria set up their cameras and the breaker blew and so we had to go reset the surge protectors and then customers came in and –“ she’s cut off by the man in question.

“Lauren, please, calm down. It is quite alright. It is only,” he glances down at his watch, “11:55 pm. You are still on time for your shift.” He moves toward the auburn-haired woman who shirks off her puffy, metallic-looking jacket and tosses it on the reception podium nearby. “While you’re watching the place, please check on the pipes in the kitchen,” Afton gestures to the darkened kitchen, the only part of it visible being the break in the wall for passing food – primarily pizza – through. “Henry informed me that there’s a dripping sound coming from the kitchen and I would not want to waste money on water.”

Looking to James, Mr. Afton nods once. “Come, James. Let us depart and leave Lauren to her job.” With that, the man moves toward the kitchen, but takes a right turn toward the ‘Employees Only’ entry adjacent to the stage and disappears behind the swinging door, likely to return with his jacket.

James looks to Lauren. Though a few years his senior, he’s always enjoyed her candour. “Never calm, huh?” He grins at her, “Your daughter Jessica must be all sorts of thrilled her mommy’s spending her night in another town, and in a place she loves so much!” He snickers, as this was a long-standing joke between them.

“Very funny mister college student. You’re the one who drives two hours to go to some fancy school for an a degree in English!” She moves around the podium and procures a large flashlight – a gift from Inspector Clay in their nearby hometown to ‘keep the peace,’ as he put it – and gives it a twirl. “I oughtta give you a clobberin’ with this thing for your lip. Now go on, get before I change my mind!” They share a laugh at her empty threat as James acquires his coat from the table upon which he had sat.

Mr. Afton returns to the main room of the diner, keys jingling in his hand, and exits the store. He holds the door open and looks to James expectantly. “Well, goodnight Lauren. Don’t let any teens have sex on Freddy and Bonnie’s stage! I think they wouldn’t appreciate that much,” Afton frowns at the lewd insinuation, but Lauren can only laugh at James’ off-colour joke.

The young man exits the diner and finds the bracing air of winter close in all around. His breath comes out in a small grey cloud before dissipating into the air. “Remember Lauren, do not let anyone in! Last time someone wanted to ‘just use the phone’ they dialed long distance for five minutes,” Afton reminds his employee before, for lack of a better word, locking her in with a turn of a large key. Overhead, the neon sign displaying Freddy and Bonnie with the words “FredBear’s Family Diner” humming noisily below flickers with the slamming of the door. “Bloody sign,” Afton mumbles to himself. “James, drive around to the back and make sure the breaker box is locked up? I do not want hooligans playing with it while Lauren is inside alone.”

“Sure, Mr. Afton. See you tomorrow.” The owner offers a nod and moves to his own vehicle parked a distance away. For his part, James moves down the building toward his own car – a 1976 Toyota Corolla in the most putrid of lime greens. It was a gift from his father, so James cannot truly hate it, but its lack of style leaves something to be desired.

With a turn of the key, the driver door unlocks and James steps in, ignoring the creak of the dented olive green door as he closes it. The engine starts after a moment of resistance and James moves the car parallel of the diner and follows its edge to. Glancing inside the windows on the side of the building he notes the ever-shuttered blinds of Henry’s office. “Such an odd dude,” he comments to himself. To most, James has discovered, Henry comes off as an affable, but eccentric fellow without many conventional mannerisms most people would find normal. “Cute kids, though… What’s her name? Cheryl?” He shrugs to himself as he spares a glance into the next officer – William Afton’s.

The blinds are, unsurprisingly, left open. But James’ hands instinctively clench on the wheel and his foot pushes down on the brake. “What the fuck…” He murmurs. For just a moment the young man sees… something in the window. A flash of light? Eyes? He can’t say. But something about it seems decidedly off.

Yet it is gone as quickly as it appears. The apparition, if it could be called that, seemed off. Looking left to see if he could find the source of the spot light, he finds the laundromat darkened. “Maybe it was Lauren’s flashlight inside…” His reasoning seems solid, yet something about this highly logical explanation feels hollow, like it was a copout.

James makes quick note of the breaker box on the back corner of the building and sighs in relief. It doesn’t seem to be open, so he won’t have to go out and investigate. “Good,” he declares, relieved.

Turning his car around in the narrow space between the two buildings proves to be a challenge, but James is undeterred in his quest to leave the diner.  After a minute of backing up, turning, pulling forward, turning some more, and repeating such ad nauseam, he finds himself facing the road once more.

The night is well in gear – now just past midnight, he looks back at FredBear’s Family Diner and feels a shudder run up his spine. “What… was that?” He knows it was likely just a trick of the light – a flashlight shining through the office door’s window, a reflection on his passenger-side window from another building, anything really.

For a moment James stares out into the street at the darkened buildings across from the diner. In the distance he can see cars driving up and down the nearby avenue, but for now all he can think of is that strange white flash in Afton’s window, and how he could have sworn he saw eyes.