#strobbing

[graigue]

Pianiste Sarah Zajtmann.

Http://www.flickr.com/graigue

[agemnor]

chocolate

[duckiemimi]

hiii just wondering would it be possible for me to use your Gojo strawberry art for my pfp on a site that doesn’t let you show visible credits? Sorry if I’m overstepping by asking, have a lovely day

thank u for asking, u’re not overstepping at all!! all the strobs are free for personal use, so go ahead!!

[memecatwings]

gripping you guys by the shoulders and looking you dead in the eyes and saying "for the love of god please go watch Something In The Dirt (2022)"

[bestkyaksguide]

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CONTINUE READING

from Bestkayaks.guide https://ift.tt/bDWVHik

[coxinhadoce47]

I’ve noticed that in games a lot too, one of the most recent examples being bendy and the dark revival but there are other examples that my mind is blanking on

There’s probably strobing or flashing lights there nearly ever 5 minutes or less, it’s ridiculous

I'm not epileptic, but between the Cyberpunk2077 and Avatar 2 stuff, is anyone else getting the feeling that studios are getting a bit more...lax with making sure their shit doesn't cause seizures in photosensitive people?

[writervaul-t]

something about you

chapter four: the wild wolf

summary: chiara calls [name] and unexpectedly sees more sides of benji.

pairing: modern!benjicot blackwood x reader

note: anyone got songs that are reader or benji coded? i'm expanding my playlist 😫

masterlist | playlist

There were many things [Name] could describe Chiara and one of them had not been predictable.

She had told [Name] she would be out with a couple of friends from her department at The Wild Wolf, a club just right outside the campus and a frequent place most students gravitated to after a torturous month of exams and classes.

Chiara had lived with the concept "Party it out" whenever a mildly inconvenient problem had found itself on her lap. [Name] elected to stay home during those times, either working the night shift at Rhaenyra's store or sitting at home. There were rarely ever days where their street was dead silent and [Name] took every opportunity to enjoy the minimal noise pollution.

That's why she found herself dumbfounded as she stood in front of The Wild Wolf, her phone gripped tightly in her hand as the music from her phone was nearly synced with what she was hearing outside. The guard, tall and burly Cregan Stark, was also the TA at her Data Analytics class last semester. He stood awkwardly in front of her as they tried to decode what Chiara was saying.

"I'm - hic - too druuuunk." Chiara says for the sixth time that night to her. "I'm at the sears by the bar. Do you think you can come gerk me please? I promise I won't ever doew thith agai--"

The line cut off, making both Cregan and [Name] shoot each other exhasperated looks. "I'll let you in since I know you're just going in to get her." Is all Cregan can offer, motioning to the ever growing line at to the club.

"I owe you one." [Name] says in response, letting Cregan stamp her hand before opening the door to the sound of loud EDM and body heat. Lights strobbed all around her, making [Name] disoriented as she made her way toward the booths, hoping to find Chiara quickly.

Worry seemed to work its way up as she couldn't find her friend after three booths. She couldn't have wandered too far away from how recent the call was. Still, it was Chiara of all people and the possibility of her wandering off anywhere while inebriated wasn't a new concept.

"Is that [Name]?" A voice calls out as she passes by a group, stopping her from checking another booth just past them. Her eyes go wide as she makes eye contact with a Tully. Beside him stood his brother and a couple of other people she could barely recognize but they certainly knew her from the way they looked at her. She kept herself still before she finally met a set of familiar dark eyes.

Benji looked as shocked as [Name] was as they made eye contact. His hair had been loose of its usual style, the brown strands covering his forehead and as if he'd run his hand through if one too many times all night. He wasn't dressed any differently then usual but she wasn't sure she'd seen him in the striped shirt and jeans he had on.

Or the chain around his neck and rings on his fingers. Or the girl clinging to his arm. A girlfriend? [Name] asked herself before remembering Chiara mentioning he hasn't been seen with anyone.

"Hi?" [Name] says. Benji pulls away from the girl - his friend group entirely - as he comes up to her. [Name] puts a hand up to stop him from coming closer, doing her best to speak loud enough so only he can hear. "I'm not here to party."

"I gathered that much." Benji says, looking at the starry sweater and leggings she threw on before leaving her apartment. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

From the corner of her eye, she can spot the brothers put their heads together, looking over Benji's shoulder and waving. The girl he had stood with looked at her curiously as she put her attention back on the man, worry settling in again as she remembered why she was here.

"My friend - Chiara Tyrell. She called me piss drunk and asked me to come get her. Have you seen her?" She asked him hopefully before looking around.

"No, I haven't but let's find her together, yeah?" Benji calls over the music, before turning back to his friends to tell them he would help [Name] and guiding her through the booths.

They checked diligently, Benji asking anyone he knew if they saw a brunette girl passed out anywhere. [Name] had nearly lost hope in everything until she heard a shriek and felt someone tackle her from behind. She nearly lost her footing had Benji caught her before falling over.

Chiara grinned dopily at the two of them, wrapping her arms around [Name] as she stared straight at Benji and said, "Ben! I'm so glad you're here. Do you think you can convince your girlfriend to go out sometime? It would so much more fun if you'd come with us! But I know that this place probably isn't part of your thing--"

[Name] stared her friend down, hand reaching to cover her mouth but Benji interrupts them, helping Chiara stand up after moving [Name] beside him. "Let's ask her when she's not about to kill you." He interrupts, working as a barrier between them and the dancing crowd.

[Name] groans as she puts her friend's arm around her. "How do you weight nothing but everything at the same time?" She huffs at her friend.

Chiara doesn't respond, seemingly falling asleep after realizing [Name] had found her. Benji grabs the other side of Chiara, helping [Name] move her to a booth close to where he originally was. Kermit and Oscar, having watched the whole ordeal, walks up to them, peering over at Chiara.

"Oh, she's gone." One of them chimes in.

"Do you need help?" The other adds, to which [Name] paused at the thought.

Chiara was small but definitely not light enough for her to walk five blocks on her back. She looked from her friend to the three men in front them then to the group they had came with. All of them seemed invested in what was happening, which made [Name] wonder if any of them were made aware of their agreement at all.

"Um, maybe just to take her outside? I can call a rideshare--" She started but nearly felt sandpaper go down her throat as she caught sight of a familiar mass of brown hair coming their way.

"Odd group to see!" Aeron calls out, a smile on his face that could only mean he drank one too many. His eyes blearily focused on [Name]. "Coming to pick your boyfriend up, [Name]? Ulla Greyjoy was all over him just a moment ago."

A pit in her stomach fell. He saw Benji with another girl? A fear struck in her as she realized they might get caught if she doesn't think of something quickly. "Um, no. I was with Chiara all night. We just separated from everyone."

Aeron glanced at her "In that bingo get up?"

[Name]'s cheeks turned red as she remembered her ridiculously put together outfit. Even in the dim light, she probably did look like a displaced librarian who just finished her night shift. Still, she wouldn't let his comments bother him, turning away to check on Chiara.

Being ignored had been Aeron's least favorite activity. [Name] was set on doing just that as she focused on her friend's needs. She pulled at her sleeves, wishing nothing more than to ignore Aeron and even Benji's subtle comments about her clothing right now. Sure, she did dress up like she was going to a flower field majority of the time, but the clothing made her comfortable but should she have more... Variety?

She could only go so far and wonder as she heard Aeron chime in again. "You know, its alright to admit if you made it all up, [Name]. It was pretty obvious when you said it at the beginning and now its clear you didn't even come in with this group."

The words made her blood run cold. She was sure whoever was around heard it. Aeron made sure it was made to be that way. Typical of someone like him. Benji stepped up this time, toe to toe with Aeron as he loomed over him.

"Say another word, Bracken. I dare you." He snapped, shoving the brunette's shoulder lightly. "[Name] is with us. Or are you too drunk to figure that out?"

"She's dressed like a nun on her off day!"

"So what?"

"Stop covering for her, Blackwood. We all know you haven't touched a woman in forever unless you paid for her." Aeron says before looking over at [Name] and grinning. "Though, who knows what [Name] will do to get money. Tyrell might be in on it as well. Didn't know you were into that kind of stuff, Blackwoo--"

A loud smack sounded in their corner of the club, making a few of the dancing club goers beside them stop. Aeron collapsed to the ground, holding his cheek as he stared at [Name]. Her chest heaved from adrenaline, palm burning as if it could still feel the heat of Aeron's cheek.

"I have a lot of patience for pompus, egotistical dolts like you but don't mistaken that as me being a dormat, Bracken." She seethes, walking closer to him. She leans over, making sure he had a good look at her face. "The next time you insult my friends like that, it won't just be a little bitch slap."

She backs away, not giving him a single glance as she grabs Chiara, the newfound adrenaline finding some strength in her to pull her friend up. A crowd had begun to form, Cregan Stark's burly build breaking through the bodies of skinny first and second years that swarmed them all.

"We're leaving." [Name] says to him. Cregan glanced down at Aeron, now standing in drunken disbelief with his friends as they watched [Name] coax Chiara to sit up.

Cregan nods. "Right. Just so you know, though, you're not allowed in for another few weeks. Any of you."

He stares pointedly between Benji's and Aeron's group. Clearly they he's had to speak to them before and this was a final straw. [Name] glanced apologetically at Benji, who only shook his head, motioning to the Tully brothers.

Kermit and Oscar were quick to come to herside, moving her out of the way as they picked up Chiara on either side. Benji strolled beside [Name], rubbing his hands along the length of her arms as he looked down at her.

"Alright?" He asked quietly, only low enough for her to hear and intimate enough between them for people to think they were together. A ploy to extinguish whatever fire Aeron almost started. Still, there was a genuineness in Benji's question. As a friend, he did want to know how she felt and she knew in her heart he really did, especially with how concerned he looks at her.

Play your part. "Yeah." She murmured, leaning into him without a second thought. She hadn't realized how shaken she was from such a simple comment and slap but when she had found herself against Benji's body, she could feel her shaking fingers clutch at his shirt to ground herself. "Just take us home. Please."

Benji wraps his arms around her, one of his hands smoothing her hair as he places a kiss on it, nodding with another quiet, "Okay. Our apartment is closer, so let's go there tonight, yeah?"

[Name] didn't answer, just nodded as she felt Benji pull away from her and grab her hand instead. She felt him plant another kiss to her forehad, maybe an attempt to sell their romance even more or maybe to calm her down, she hadn't known. Either way, she was nearly glued to Benji as they made their way out the club, hand in hand.

"We'll take Ulla and Aly home." She remembers a voice say. Benji, Kermit, and Oscar nod at them, the four of them (save for an unconscious Chiara who was being carried like a sack of potatoes by Kermit after losing rock-paper-scissors to Oscar) walked down in silence.

[Name] hadn't loosened her grip on Benji's hand, afraid if he might disappear on her despite them walking down a quiet and open street.

"I'm sorry I got you guys kicked out." Was all she could muster.

Oscar was the first to speak up, laughing as he says. "That is the only way we should get kicked out next time. When are you free again after a couple of weeks? I know you and Ben are only dating for a certain time period because of that weird deal and all but you seem like loads of fun with how fast you whipped around to slap Aeron!"

[Name] looked at Benji, who squeezed her hand. "I told my friends, like how you told Chiara. Don't worry, they won't say anything." He promises and she only nods, seemingly trusting his word. So far, anything Benji says makes [Name] comfortable enough to believe.

"She's busy, Oscar. Some people have lives outside of this school, yeah?" Kermit reminds him. "Besides, who would want to hang out with you?"

"Hey!"

The two brothers start to bicker right then and there, only to stop when Chiara groans at them to stop. [Name] giggles at her drunk friend as she pushes some hair out of her face.

"You're not allowed to complain, Chiara. The guys are nice enough to carry you and let us stay with them. Say thank you."

"Thaaaaank ye-yewwww." Chiara manages to slur out.

She's going to be so hungover. [Name] thinks to herself, looking over to see Benji observing her as well. They both share a look of amusement as they come to terms with the possible monster they have to deal with tomorrow morning.

When they make it back to their apartment - or more like a renovated warehouse loft - Chiara is set down on the couch. [Name] takes the time to remove her shoes and make up, letting the three men do whatever it is they needed for the night before asking for anything.

She had wiped the last of Chiara's makeup off when she hears footsteps from the metal stairs. Benji had just finished showering, his hair plastered against his forehead. He was holding a blanket with some clothes and a towel on top. [Name] offers a smile of thanks before throwing the blanket on top of Chiara.

A snort comes out of Benji when Chiara starts to snore loudly. "That's how you know she won't be waking up any time." [Name] informs.

"Well, we should all enjoy it until then." Benji comments. "There's a bathroom attached to our spare room. I usually use it because Oscar takes so long but I didn't want to fog it up just in case."

"Right. Thanks."

"And you can keep the clothes. In case you need to convince someone at your apartments you have a boyfriend and all."

"Cool. Got it." [Name] awkwardly fiddles with the sweatshirt and shorts. "Thank you for covering me, by the way. I so was caught up in Aeron and his comments that I could barely even register what I did."

Benji shook his head. "No, I understand. I would've done the same thing if he said that. He deserved that slap and more. You're a good friend for defending Chiara."

"And you," [Name] adds, raising an eyebrow at him. "He almost called you a pimp if I hadn't slapped him fast enough."

He grinned, recalling the events earlier. "Did you see his face? He couldn't believe it wasn't me who struck first."

They both laugh at the moment, remembering the shock and horror on Aeron's face when they all realized it had been [Name] who smacked him. [Name] stared at her palm. For once she felt the anxieties of the world wash away when she told Aeron off. Like a piece of a puzzle fell into place when she defined a line.

"Either way, it drained me. Who knew going to a club does that." [Name] jokes, making Benji perk up a little.

"Its more fun when there's no pricks like Bracken around. Join us next time." He urges. [Name] only nods, not ready to protest and reason right now. Not to mention, she'd get too curious and ask about Ulla Greyjoy.

Benji seemed to have sensed her hesitation from how he opened his mouth before quickly shutting it to not comment on it as [Name] walked up the stairs. She was grateful for his silence, not sure she was ready to open that kind of box yet.

Mingling, socializing, making friends - all of this was a new concept to [Name]. The only friends she had outside of Chiara was Syrax the store cat. It was a strange feeling but it sent a buzz in her system that made her want to continue looking for it. Still, it was a scary feeling and [Name] wanted nothing more than to push it away for now, the club, the slap, and Ulla's hand on Benji's arm still fresh in her mind.

"Baby steps." [Name] whispers to herself, shutting the guest room door so she can finally let the energy from tonight wash away in the shower.

taglist

@not-a-glad-gladiator @opheliaas-stuff @sahvlren @nikki-is-a-nerd @weird-things-i-think-about @cxcilla @anakilusmos @haydee5010 @waystarkia @newestobsessionishere @herejhsttostan @hardkiddonut @aisselasstuff @rebeccawinters @aemondsb1tch @radiantdanvers @northofvalyria @accidentpronedork @cafemirka @hobis-hope95 @nixtape-foryou

[911bts]

that strobbing lights scene starts at about 21:00

Thank you!

[nextgenfoals]

Neon Strob and Bumblebee :>

Another next next gen!! Despite Jitterbug’s bright colors, they don’t really like attention, and would much rather be playing video games :) — mod charm

[spyderlondon]

An au, where everyone’s memories are lost including the crew thinking they were ever real/humans when they got transported into the digital circus, they all think they are their respective characters and act as their characters personalities, heavily deviating from the ones in the show

Pomni a semi crazy goofy jester

Kinger…. A normal king

Jax, a helpful voice of reason(with a little southern accent)

And so on

A/N: .......evil Caine route? Evil Caine route. Definitely no showtime in this- it'd be far too toxic. There will be a referenced BunnyDoll though.

CW: Mind wiping, mental manipulation, puppeteeing unwilling participants, amnesia, loss of free will

Art by @00belle00lovely00

Pulling All the Strings

Ko-Fi

----

There was a small gasp then a groan as a small woman awoke in a dark room with no light visible aside from a small crack under, what she assumed, was a door, "Ugh... where-where am I...?" She mumbled quietly.

There was an almost unnoticeable dark chuckle from the corner of the room, "Seems my new puppet has awoken from her sleep~" A voice called out as she was forced onto her feet slowly and steadily as if strings were pulling her upwards against her will.

Her eyes widened in fear as she began struggling, attempting to get away. Only to feel her flesh being cut into by the invisible threads. She could only gasp in pain, "Let go! Let me [^^%*&^%] go, you ba-" She cried out as the strings seemed to yank against her neck, threatening to cut deep if she spoke another word.

Once the woman went silent and the figure seemed to feel slowly stop to struggle, he spoke up again, "They always struggle." He sighed as he on the strings once more before loosening them up, "Always struggle, almost always curse. You're all so... human." He hissed out 'human', sounding disgusted by the word. He went silent as he looked down at her, only his glowing narrowed eyes could be seen. It was as if he was examining her, judging her, figuring out who she was, "Hm, yes, you'd make a wonderful jester~" It sounded as if he was grinning, "Let me adjust your mind a tad..."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN AD- Ack!" She was silenced with another pull of the invisible string on her neck, drawing blood.

"Now, now, pet. You needn't worry about a thing..." A hand was placed on top of her head, forcing her to peer up into his heterochromatic eyes that began to quickly flash with dots and strobbing lights. She attempted to shut her eyes to avoid looking into his but that merely resulted in tiny strings taking her eyelids and forcing them open, "Do not look away from your new puppet master." He commanded with a low growl. She whimpered in fear as she had no choice but to submit to him, gazing into his flashing, wide eyes, "Good, my little jester~ Just stay like that..." He mumbled as watched the color from her eyes slowly dull from the bright violet coloration they once had and slowly had the colors separate into blue and red in a pinwheel pattern before her eyes were allowed to flutter shut.

------

"Pomni. Wake up. Time to prepare for the show." A voice spoke out, waking the jester from her sleep.

She rose as if booting up like a computer. She looked up at the floating figure in front of her with blank eyes for a moment as if registering who she was looking at- red coat... white under shirt... black pants... top hat... oh! "Hello! Caine!" She greeted as she jumped out of her bed with a bright, kind've unnatural smile on her face.

Caine hid a smirk as he watched the girl- his new puppet. His new 'AI' smile at him while rocking back and forth on her feet as if waiting orders from him. He hummed as he silently looked her up and down, admiring his work on the jester. She had a black and red color scheme unlike her blue and red eyes but her outfit had entirely changed- she had a hat on that completely covered her hair with the front part of it going down in between her eyes and barely going over the bridge of her nose with little yellow bells on the ends of the liliripes; she had a dark red vest with little purple jewels attached on the lapels; gray long sleeves that had cyan embroidery on it of some swirly patterns as well as the letters 'C&A' on the shoulders; she had dark blue and crimson gloves on her hands; her tights were black and red alternating zig zags; and her shoes were like her gloves dark blue and crimson.

The ringmaster rolled his shoulders a bit, "Hello, my dear." He mused as he greeted her, "I apologize for how I had to force you into sleep mode last night, you were just acting out too much. I had to reprogram you a bit." He explained with a feigned sigh of disappointment, "But, don't you worry, any injuries sustained were patched up Bubble!" He clapped his hands together as if everything was going as normal as always. Pomni's programming simply messed up and had to be fixed after!

"Oh! Sorry for whatever I messed up on, Ringmaster!" The jester apologized with a silly bow before glancing up at him to see him chuckling in amusement, brightening her mood up.

"Ah, it's all okay. No harm, no foul after all, my dear." He waved off, "But we mustn't stand here chatting! Jax and Ragatha's act should be over here soon! You are up next, my dear, the audience mustn't be kept waiting after all!" He urged her to get ready before he zipped off to check on the current act.

----

"You cannot see

How much I long to be free..."

A stiff looking rag doll was spinning on a large music box in the center of the main stage of the circus- she was dancing around as if she was nothing but a decoration on the mechanical contraption.

Near her was a purple rabbit with a yellow light jacket on top of a seafoam green shirt and dark yellow pants. He was moving and dancing around as if under control of an invisible puppetmaster, "Truly Scrumptious~" He sang towards the doll despite how she never glanced his way and remained ever turning, "And if I may seem presumptuous..." He danced over to the mirrors attached to the music box and looked at himself like it was choreographed... until he paused and stared himself in the mirror as if he saw a flaw on himself.

"Turning around-" The doll's eye subtly wandered towards the rabbit and noticed what he was doing, she could tell the audience and the now nearby Caine, were becoming suspicious by the rabbit's actions, "-on this music box that's..." She waited until she rotated closer to him before jolting a tiny to ram his face into the mirror, making him stumble a bit and looked around.

There was laughing from the audience and the rabbit went back to singing, "Never... never... ever..." He wandered back in front of the doll's music box where he saw a hand close to his and he couldn't but use his puppet like movements to get close to trying to give her hand a kiss.

"Wound by a key." Her moved upwards quickly, slapping one of his ears lightly- causing more laughter from the crowd.

"Go away." She made sure her arms and head moved in a perfect, robotic motion as she spun and tried to ignore the blush that tinted her cheeks a little when she saw him try to kiss her hand.

"Yearning..."

"My heart beats so unruly..." The bunny placed a hand on his chest and had it move like a heartbeat.

"Yearning..."

"Because I love you truly..." He opened his arms wide as if to get a hug from the doll.

"While I'm..." The doll sent him a small look that told him to 'stop it'.

"Honest, Truly..." The rabbit hugged himself instead.

"Turning around and around." She suddenly became frozen, the music box no longer turning.

"I do." He halfway flopped downwards, the tips of his ears barely touching the ground.

Once the music ended and there was a roar of cheering amongst the crowd, Caine popped in between two, "...meet me in my office after the show..." He ordered the two of them silently, his eyes glowing a bit as the two of them gave a quick nod before running backstage.

The ringmaster looked up to the audience, "Weren't they wonderful, audience?!" Everyone in the stands cheered loudly, "Hope our next act, the jester can impress us all just as much!" He roused up the crowd, getting them excited for the new jester.

The rag doll and rabbit stared in horror from behind the currents as they heard the announcement of a jester. The doll had to grip the rabbit to keep herself from letting her mask fall, not when another character was so close by, "He got a new person..." She mumbled under her breath, her voice trembling as she watched Pomni make her way up to where the trapeze platform were, "...we have no net to catch her if she falls..." Her face paled, "Jax..." Her grip tightened.

Jax put a hand on hers and tightened it a bit, "Caine can control her, she'll be fine, Rags..." He murmured to her, his own eyes never leaving the sight as well. Especially now that the jester had begun her performance.

-----

Song used in the fic: "Doll on a Music Box" from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

[ssreeder]

Everyone else at the club

Me:

I can’t believe you would get food without me jail for you 1000 years you’re selfish and I swear if you don’t share your fried rice with me I’m going to implode. Why would you do this to me it’s the cruelest thing anyone has ever done to me no you don’t know who this is it’s anon so you don’t know shit now PLEASE GIVE ME SOME RICE IM OBVIOUSLY DEAD INSIDE PEAS AND CARROTS THANKS YOU DAMN IT!!

funny how i got anon hate AND this message only like. 2 minutes apart mhmmm you're right you're anonymous, therefore i don't know who you are.

btw i also can't believe you got drunk last night without me while being THIRTEEN HOURS AWAY??????? so as you can see we can't all have nice things, prison pal.

[duckiemimi]

strob

[memecatwings]

reblogging every gifset i can find of Something In The Dirt to convince my followers to watch it im doing my part 🫡

[connectionterminated13]

Connection established welcome!

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Hello my name is connection terminated13! I am a 16 year old Canadian learning artist. I use she/her

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I am big fan of the stupid bear game (fnaf).I do like other things though like little nightmares, Adventure time, John dies at the end. But it's mostly just fnaf!

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Also please remember I have dyslexia and use speech to type! I often make spelling errors so if you see one just tell me:3

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DNI list: Proship, Terfs, Pedophiles/Zoophiles, Bigotry of any kind, No extreme NSFW (I mostly mean purposely sexual stuff)

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Fnaf AU's!!!

#fnaf Inferno au

Basically my version of the events depicted in the stupid bear game :)

#fnaf Death swap

Almost all of the deaths are swapped in the main series. Charlie lives Sammy dies, Charlie's friends are the Mci, Michael dies to baby instead of Elizabeth.

The plot mostly follows a much older Elizabeth Who is soon to turn 22, Lives in a small apartment with her girlfriend Susie and plays in a punk band that she created called "Baby and the circus freaks". One night she gets a call from her father that Michael is still here, at circus babies entertainment in rentals and it's Elizabeth strobbed to put him back together...

# Fractured Memories

Evan survives the bite But understand that he is supposed to die. He also knows that his family all die and become horrible monsters. At tonight he can see the monsters his family becomes. As for the family they're dealing with the physical afflictions of death's not yet to come. All Evan can do is sit back and watch as his memory and reality fractures further

#cub au

Cassie is phone dude's daughter, phone dude dies in FNAF 3 and having no one else to take care of her Michael decides to adopt her.

It's mostly just Michael being a really good dad and Cassie being a cute little kid

#fnaf Rewrite

A rewrite of the twisted ones but mostly the fourth closet novels. Getting rid of the gross stuff and generally trying to improve the story!

#Gears and rot au

William made some robot versions of his dead daughter and son then realized how fucking weird that was and shut them down in the murder clown basement. Years later Michael goes down and does a sister location. The robot version of Evan is able to save him before he becomes a skin suit but Mikey still "dies" from internal bleeding

It's now Michael's job to take care of the little robot even though it is creepy and weird...

#Victorian AU

I can't believe I haven't added this one yet! Should probably summarize it

It's kind of like 5 nights at Freddy's but Victorian... There's some twists added in.. You're just gonna have to go and find out!!!!!

# Farbear fright re imagining

Basically my take on fazbear frights :3

Cassie in the dark

It's not just a normal AU it's an ask blog!!!

@cassie-in-the-dark

General goofiness

I have like 6 au that I never really did anything with... You can find them if you want...

Upcoming???

Extremely silly :3

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And here's some of my arts!!

[kiraman]

Killing Strangers PART II, must read PART I. first. Read them back to back if you can for the full experience.

JOHN WICK AU. death/blood/violence cw / Mizu x female oc

wordcount: 3,905 / soundtrack

People don't understand the word ruthless. They think it means 'mean.' It's not about being mean. It's about seeing the bright, clear line that leads from A to B. The line that goes from motive to means. Beginning to end. It's about seeing that bright, clear line and not caring about anything but the beautiful fact that you can see the solution. Not caring about anything else but the pure, absolute, unbridled perfection of it. – K.A Applegate.

No one's expecting the girl who burned to rise from her ashes. She is not her; she is neither here nor there, she's a ghost, he's smoke smoke smoke, it slips through your fingers; ashes and embers; consuming and resuming herself. They do not know they have been promised death by her hand. But she does. Smoke does. And a promise made, Must be honored.

She does try to stay in the shadows at first. There are 10 million dollars hanging heavy over her head, and she will not fill anyone's hands with them; blood money. Stained by fear; weakness; desperation. She does not care that the world is hot on her trail, death dogging her every step. Like smoke, she slips through the cracks, filling their lungs with her death; a pistol cold in her hand, silencer on, bullets flying; precision; effectiveness. No witnesses left. They come for her, and she takes down five men in a back alley, stitches half torn open, snarling fiercely, growling her rage; she does not shed blood with her knife this time, only with her gun. She does not stop to watch who's chasing after her shadow.

She knows where to find him now; and that is all that matters to her.

It's New Year's Eve and the Cellar, (what they call the obscenely large space Violet uses to throw sinfully lavish parties at his mansion where he lives with his wife and daughter, half way across New York where the core of his group operates. ) is thrumming with life, packed full of people,  all flushed, decadent exuberance and loud techno music blaring through the night, filling the air with its hollowness.

Mizu stares through the windows, letting the flickering strob-lights blind her until it's time to move.

With swift, controlled movements she pulls her jacket on, black, slick, bulletproof. She readjusts the holster of her dagger, strapped at her hip. Neon light glints off her sunglasses, neatly arranged onto her nose as she moves.

Like a shadow, she delves into the depths of his lair, unassuming, swift, like smoke, like the wind, unfathomably quick, unerringly, expertly infallible in her calculations.

Crowds throng her way, pulsing with music, swelling, swaying in the rhythm, the low, droning sound of it. She pushes her way through the throng, the grimy light of the club casting her in silhouette as she ascends the stairs to the second level. Unarmed, no guns are allowed here, in the club; still, she takes down the man guarding the door to the second floor; he grunts, a vicious, wounded sound torn from his throat as she wraps her arm around his throat and squeezes the life out of him; he thrashes violently against her, but she calmly covers his mouth with her other hand and squeezes viciously against his nose, not giving way, until he slumps over, heavy with death. She tosses him aside, and reaches for his gun, frowns when she notices it doesn't have a silencer.

Fuck it. So be it. Loud it is.

When she shoves her way onto the second floor, she sees him; sitting across from her. The strobe lights overhead cast his face in strange half-light. He is here, alive; throbbing darkly, darkly; she cannot see past his hand, curled around some young girl's waist; that same hand, stroking her hair; Mother dead in the bathtub, drowning in her blood; she cannot see past his face, dark, head thrown back in laughter, and everything around her fades away.

Smoke— ?

a man snarls somewhere near her, surprised. She looks his way, hand on her gun; his eyes fall to her hand. — You working?

Everything around her freezes, becomes smoke, fades away with her breath.

No. Not tonight... You?

Yes.

They stand, like this, motionless, stiff, breath thick in their throats, something dark trembling at the very edge of the room, and for a moment, the whole world seems to stop spinning, comes to violent halt to stand right in front of her.

She is faster than him, gun flashing under the lights as she lifts it and fires, shot after shot piercing the air, cold, metallic. Glass shatters, an explosion of metal and light as she shoots at the glass ceiling overhead, bullets riddling the mirrors flashing under the strobe lights, smashing them onto the floor and onto the bodyguards guarding the stairs leading to the third floor. Pure adrenaline washes over Mizu, and she is at her feet, growling as they hurriedly carry Violet away; his name poison in her mouth as she calls out to him, amd he looks back, pure terror in those dark eyes before he's ushered away to safety. There are throngs of people screaming around her, scrambling for the exits, but she does not even see them, her eyes, dark and terrible and dark, honed in on him; she kicks out powerfully at a man running towards her, swings and disarms him, ferociously snapping his wrist and twisting his hand towards himself, emptying his own gun into his stomach, then with a sharp, sudden twist of her torso, plunges the last of its bullets into the head of a second guard launching himself towards her.

The rasp of a door breaking open on its hinges crackles in the air, and metal floors squeaking from the men rushing in. Mizu quickly stands and turns, viciously collars the woman running by her, Violet's daughter, with her left hand and lifts her out of the grasp of her bodyguard clean into the air, unhesitatingly shooting him in the face. Snarling breathlessly, she hoists her in front of her body and turns towards the door, kicking out and ducking, shooting at another man at her left, kicking him back down and crashing his skull with her boot, and then the men from downstairs are flooding in, their rifles pointed in at her and the first man pauses as he comes through the hysterical crowds around them to take in the sight of the girl hanging in the air in front of Smoke and in the moment of his hesitation Mizu, unflinchingly, shoots him dead. She uses her body as a shield, relentlessly firing round after round until the dance floor is littered with bodies, sticky with their blood.

Another one she recognizes as one of Violet's right hands rushes in, and she throws her dagger at his chest, unerringly piercing it open. The man’s legs collapse from under him and Mizu drops the girl into a swing and launches her into the air at the other man taking aim with his gun and the man recoils in horror as the daughter of his boss flies towards him, drops the weapon to catch her as she crashes into him and Mizu is already on top of him as they fall to the ground and she smiles into the man’s eyes and fires the last round left into his head. She looks up towards the stairs leading to the third floor, and takes the man’s rifle, swings it smoothly upwards on the ball of her foot and then she is out the door and after Violet, leaving his daughter behind, unconscious but alive.

It's dark in the hallway, the low drone of the music coming from underneath, vibrating through the floor. She holds her gun tighter, loaded and cocked. It is so quiet she can only hear her own heartbeat, a distant humming, static, electric, the fan overhead, whirring in the smoky air. The walls that line the hallway are made of glass,  reflecting the light pouring in through the windows back onto one another, a narrow strip of low-light. She walks, noiselessly, ears pricked, until the slightest motion pierces the dam of the silence surrounding her, and she is furiously ducking, flying onto the floor as she expertly fires a bullet through two of the men laying in wait for her around the corner, sending them smashing through a glass wall. Glass shatters all around her, and she groans, blood streaming down her face and into her mouth, but she does not feel it, she can't feel anything past the rage in her blood. She is angry.

She cocks her rifle and empties it into the vague shape of a figure that she can see running along the hallway on the other side through the glass, and the wall shatters, shards of glass exploding, raining down onto her head; she tosses the empty rifle aside and quickly, too quickly, turns around, gathering a fistful of glass, sharp shards of it that she unerringly throws into the throat and neck of a second guard running down the stairs towards her, shooting blindly. With a cry derived far more from anger than pain, she head butts the other bodyguard that comes pouncing towards her from the shadows -shattering his nose, his face instantly crimson with blood- before slashing the last of the shard of glass in her hand wide, severing the bodyguard's artery. She reaches for the gun of the first man and loads it; she is angry; she can't see past the blood trickling down her cheek, beading at her neck. She throws herself onto another man, swings her legs around and wraps them around his throat, squeezing until his spine breaks as she uses his body as a shield, expertly shooting another five men dead with no more than six bullets; shot after shot after shot, she sends them all crashing into the glass walls, each with a neat bullet hole through their spines and the arteries lining their thighs. Spitting out blood, she is on her feet and ducking behind a marble statue just as she hears more men running up and down the stairs; she is angry; she reloads another gun she took from one of the dead men while running over their bodies, and stills her breathing to near motionless, laying in wait, blood pounding at her temples; silence. Shards of glass crashed under the heel of a boot; her breath, slow, tight in her throat; pulse beating in her neck;

This is death hanging on an infinite number of miniscule mischances.

Anything could tip the world around her, here. Someone coughing in the dark, a distraction. A variation in the low light filtered through the glass, a deceptive shadow.

She is angry. She lifts her gun and waits, silent, invisible, unseeable; they round the corner and with a twist of her body she powerfully, flawlessly swings onto her feet around the marble statue and riddles their backs with her bullets; blood sputters and stains the glass, streaming down the walls; one of the men, growls, furious, and pounces, throws himself at her from the dark, she had not seen him, and Mizu, gasps, shocked, ripping her shoulder away from his hand and furiously punching her elbow into the side of his throat.

Having already thrown her empty gun aside, her hands are free and her fingers, extended in a leap, dig into the edge of his jacket. The man loses his balance; the tug bends him backwards, forcing him to totter back. He struggles furiously, violently rips the jacket off his shoulders and frees himself. Too late. Mizu spins him round by hitting him in the shoulder with her right hand, then immediately strikes him in the neck under the ear with her left. The man - Violet's highest ranking assassin, she realizes; the Jackal- reels but does not fall. She is furious; her eyes, flash, a low growl of pure, uncontrolled rage thrumming in her throat; Jackal digs his fists low into her ribcage where her stitches have torn and she groans, anger flaring up inside her like a flame that explodes, shattering the world around her. Mizu grabs him by the front of his shirt, spins him violently and throws him to the ground. She clenches her fist and thumps him from above. Straight in the mouth. His lips split like blackcurrants, blood filling his jaw and chin, teeth smashing. She growls, moans against the sting of his fingers still digging into her side; one of her hands holds him down by the throat, viciously, like a hammer, like a knife, the other one breathlessly reaching for the gun thrown near them, spinning around and shooting another five, six, seven men down, a bullet through two lungs, a bullet to the side of a neck, then right through a skull, one, two, three shots, a bullet to a thigh, then chest, ripping it open; blood spatters, splashing her face. She reels around, draws her hand back from his throat and punches him again.

She is punching him, over and over, her hands a flurry, a black blur. His face is hot and stinging as boiling water. She is angry; she sees him, black suit, black coat, black sunglasses, a black tiger tattooed on his wrist, emerging from the fire. Mother dead in the bathtub, drowning in her blood.

She punches his face into a pulp, then draws back, groaning, clutching her side. She wastes no time; with an almost frustrated groan she pulls herself to her feet, and staggers down the hallway.

The shattered glass walls shake, vibrating with the distant music coming from down below. She bends and picks up the dagger she had thrown to a man's throat, cutting it open, finds a gun amongst the guts and blood.

She walks slowly down the hall; her face is covered with blood, and her lower lip is split open. Blood is spilling through her shirt where her wound has been ripped open. She does not care; she does not feel the pain.

She's close so close; her hands are cold, precise, calmly, furiously, ruthlessly holding her gun.

And then, she sees him, there, black suit on, immaculately pressed, sat at his desk under a glass ceiling, and she is sunk for a few seconds in the strangest calm of her life. There, within her reach, sits him; him who has violently ripped her life away from her; he, who has plunged her into that fire that still burns inside of her with a rage that nothing could ever snuff out.

His eyes are open and stare back at her with something frighteningly calm in them. Except for the irises, which are of flecked grey so that they seem smokey like the hoar mist on a winter's morning, his eyes are dark. Black. It takes Mizu a few seconds to realise that they have no expression at all.

She steps forward, her boots, slick with blood, making soft, strange noises as she walks towards him slowly, her mouth twisting into a terrifying snarl. Blood trickles down her chin. She licks it away, eyes unblinking, piercing him through with their rage.

"you won't make it out alive... kill me, and then what? you think you'll somehow walk away from this unharmed?"

Mizu does not answer. She cocks her gun.

"there is more coming..."

"—let them." she snarls, calmly, a dark edge to her voice.

She is furious. Her pulse shatters in her throat.

He blinks, and she can see the fear rising in those eyes; he looks behind her, into the hallway, the floor littered with bodies. There's no other coming.

He huffs, reaches for the bottle of whiskey set somewhere near him on the desk, pours himself a drink, then another one, presumably, for her.

Pathetic.

He gulps thickly, his left hand twitching.

She is furious; her blood is pounding at her ears, each beat bringing her closer to that fire, that flame that burns everything inside of her to ashes and from it, rises only smoke, smoke, smoke.

Silence; the clink of a glass against the bottle; his breath, hard, riven with fear. Her heartbeat, furious, dark, thrums in her throat.

Mother dead in her blood. Fireworks lighting up the sky, exploding into flames.

"no one, not even you, can kill everyone. you are not God." he sneers, a hideous glint in his eyes. His fingers twitch.

"I am your God." she coolly drawls.

Silence. Her breathing stilled to near motionlessness. She hears him swallow and the sound makes her sick.

He reaches for the whiskey, his ring clinking against the bottle.

Mizu pulls the trigger.

His head jerks back violently, splattering the desk with blood.

Mizu stands in the blackness that surrounds her and watches his head loll to the side, the glass of whiskey slipping from his hand, crashing onto the floor.

Blood from her nose spatters the floor nearby.

Outside, fireworks explode, lighting up the sky.

The year must have changed.

Silently, she turns around, and walks away.

She does not look back; she does not look back again until she's at the door, reaching for the knob;

A bullet comes whizzing right past her left ear, and she turns around, furiously, hand on her gun, cocking;

There is a boy stood at a door, near her. He can't be more than seven. His hands, tremble as it raises a gun he's taken from one of the dead guards upstairs, no doubt, and aims it towards Mizu.

Shock floods her system; she did not know Violet has a son; had a son.

Mizu's hand curls, twitches. She hesitates; she hears his little breath, sharp in his throat; hears his feet scuffle against the floor. She feigns a smile, says, it's alright... it is alright, then pounces, easily removing the gun from his hand. She calmly, too calmly, pulls back the slide, locking it all the way to the rear, and empties the chamber, pouring the rounds out onto her open hand, before tossing the magazine aside. She lets the boy watch her, lets him look into her eyes as she loads her gun. Lets him memorize the shape of her face, sharp and horrible in the shadows; she blinks at him for a moment, blankly, silent, not seeing him but his father in those small, dark eyes of his, and, then, without so much as a second glance, walks away and into the night.

Into the cold night air, the wound in her side is continuously sending sharp jolts of pain right through her. She clutches at it, hissing, walking away swiftly, in control, slick, dark jacket soaked with blood. Distant sirens pierce the silence, and there is police crawling all over the streets around her. She turns a corner, heaving for breath; her steps are calm, measured, but quick, hurrying away. There’s an unmarked car idling in the alley—there always is, she doesn’t know where she gets them—

Mizu blinks and suddenly she’s beside her, a warm shape in the dark. 

"Took you long enough." Geraldine says, breathless, her cheeks scarlet with rouge, cold from the wind lashing against her as she stands in the night, waiting for Smoke, and then, "come on- hurry..."

Mizu pours herself into the backseat, groaning. When Geraldine leans over to click her seatbelt into place, her hair—loose and spilling over her shoulders—falls against Mizu's torn cheek. She shuts her eyes, a pained sound dying off in her throat, breathing in the faint smell of warm skin and her perfume, something sour and sweet; smoke and lilacs.

When she opens her eyes again, Geraldine is sitting in the front, furiously driving away. The light of the GPS casts her face in strange half-light, occasionally sliced-through by the flash of the streetlamps through the window. She could be carved from marble, impossible and cold under her hands.

Not that she has ever touched her.

“I thought I defrauded more money for you than this,” Mizu says archly, feeling the car speed up dangerously. “No, Smoke." Geraldine sighs theatrically, exasperation in her voice. “No. You did not. shame on you. Hold on.” she shifts gear, and the car flies down the street, like a bullet, piercing the night.

“Right,” Mizu says, and lets her head loll back against the leather. She can feel the beginning of an ache, behind her eyes— her blood is hot in her veins, it's lava; live coals; she is still burning. “Yes.”

She stares out the window, letting the flickering street-lights blind her until she falls back into uneasy sleep.

Her phone rings, tearing her from her sleep.

She blindly reaches for it and answers, but does not speak.

She blinks through the pounding in her head; she is still in the car, it's still night outside; Geraldine is still driving.

She can't have been out of it for more than, what? Half an hour?

This isn't over. a cold, sharp voice on the other side of the line growls low in her ear.

Mizu does not answer. Geraldine flicks her eyes over to her, watches her through the rearview mirror. Her eyes are so bright; burning with something furious; fierce beauty and hunger,

Mizu does not know why she notices right then; she stares right back at her through the mirror, blindly, listens to the man on the other side of the line breathe, waiting for her answer;

when she does not give it to him, he says, fury in his throat, you think I'll let you walk away from this? you think we won't come after you with everything that we've got?

As she listens to the voice on the other end, Mizu remains still... stoic.

Yeah. Yes... I would not know how to respond to this either.

Mizu does not react. Geraldine's eyes in the mirror reflect the light; like flames, dark, carnelian; she blinks, a frown lining her face.

The man on the line is cut off by an intercom which squawks to life in the distance, a screaming voice reduced to panicked static. He laughs, and there is nothing in that voice; it's dead, cold. Empty.

Fowler. Can't be anyone but him.

But you betrayed him-

...and she betrayed us.

They are not our friends - Geraldine had said, laughter in her voice; silk; smooth, tickling her ear; no one is our friend.... everyone is our friend.

Why? What could we have possibly —

Realization washes over like a tidal flood, adrenaline bursting through her veins, ears ringing. Mizu cuts him short, hanging up; the line goes dead.

There is fury in her eyes now; and she says, move over, and Geraldine screams, says what the fuck, Smoke? as Mizu climbs her way into the front and hurriedly makes her switch seats with her so that she can drive down the harbor, furious, enraged, a hurricane, tearing the veins of the city open.

When they park outside the Cabinet, the flames have already consumed it whole, floor to ceilings, and Geraldine pours out of the car in shock, screaming her throat raw, sinking to her knees amidst the ashes. Her father looks down on them blindly, throat sliced open, hanging, dead and heavy, from the rooftop, swaying in the air.

And for a moment, only for a moment— Mizu forgets how to breathe.