#vhs fuzz

[jellycreamjammedart]

ＳＨＯＷ ＳＴＡＧＥ

just a further edit of that fnaf movie trailer pic, now with more eye-candy and some vhs fuzz

[meet-me-at-the-food-court]

wake up

[dreamswillbeyourwintermeat]

Am I young with flawless skin in that photo or was it just taken through the forgiving lens of an early- model camera phone??

[jessiesjaded]

whenever I watch a show or movie and they have a character find what's supposedly a home movie from any time pre 2010 and yet it's in 1080p HD quality I'm immediately rolling my eyes- like cmon you couldn't even try dodgy up some fuzzy pixelated vhs vibes? bored gifmakers on tumblr tried harder to get that at home vintage vhs effect when making lana del rey edits in 2013. And they didn't even have studio money!

[micechicken]

I still thing "analog horror" is a fucking stupid name. like we still use analog technology, we didn't stop.

[synthient]

2nd watch, a few new details:

On the first watch, I was like "of course Owen couldn't go with Maddy the first time, her mom had cancer :(". But this time I caught that Maddy went missing "a few weeks" after Owen's mom died. Owen had nothing left to stay for. Maddy probably waited around for those extra weeks, just in case Owen had a change of heart. And yet,

The first time we see the dress flashback, it's through what seems like a relatively objective perspective. The second time we see it (as they walk to the grave), the memory has taken on the vhs-fuzz and aspect ratio of the pink opaque tapes. The real becomes unreal, an impossible fantasy, "kid stuff"

Happened to see a captioned screening this time, and the Tara from the streaming version is described as "Fake Tara."

The tv guide page Owen finds by the electrical field is for "season 6, episode 1: Escape from the Midnight Realm"

Mr. Melancholy and Maddy's ex friend who accused them of dykery ("like a secret agent sent to ruin my life") were the same actor

All the school hallway motivational posters are thematically relevant, but this time I caught the "the only easy day is yesterday" and "courage: without it, no other virtues matter" ones

You can see the emotional shifts between Owen and Narrator Owen in real time (ie, Owen looking distraught as the firefighters surround Maddy's tv, then dropping the expression and looking coolly into the camera as she starts to narrate again)

There's an interesting recurring thing where audio from the near "future" plays over footage from the "past." ie, we hear Maddy's planetarium monologue, while we watch Owen still walking to the school to meet them. Something about time not working right, something about Owen playing back memories that already happened, something about inevitability and walking down a path with a fixed ending

Void High School, or VHS

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: Xavier had been tormented by many things since Maddie's disappearance, Simon's distrust and hostility at the top of the list. but there'd been other things that'd kept him up at night as well, and for a much longer time. I know we don't talk about it, he'd said, but maybe we should...

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.20

Xavier stood in front of the closed door, wary, unsure if he was allowed to open it. He knew what was behind it, knew you were in there because you hadn't been in your room when he'd gone to check on you after he'd heard the pipes shudder and the water stop.

He'd spent the last thirty minutes with Abigail—your grandmother—in the kitchen, their conversation skirting around the topic of your panic attack as if admitting what had caused it would conjure another episode. Abigail had fed him cookies and chocolate milk like he was still the little boy she'd been introduced to years ago, all scraped knees and peach-fuzz hair, adult teeth too big for his smile.

A massive tupperware of spaghetti and meatballs waited for him on the bench in the foyer where he'd kicked off his shoes and hung his jacket upon entering the house. Abigail always fretted over him. Hugged him and held him like her own. Xavier adored her. Adored your whole family, really; profoundly grateful to be accepted as part of it. Especially after his own had dissolved into something he couldn't hold together no matter how much he'd tried.

Still, being accepted into your family didn't mean Xavier had access to every corner and cranny. Some things were off-limits, private, For Our Eyes Only, and the room he lingered outside of was one of them. But, fuck it, he'd already missed his Bio test; had skipped last period to get you home safe, and he needed to make sure you were okay before he left.

With a grounding breath, Xavier summoned the courage and opened the door.

The room was daytime-dark, curtains drawn, the stars tacked on the ceiling glowing an eerie, phosphorous green. He could easily make out the child-height furniture. The shelves of picture books and action figures. Spiderman sheets, sleeves of Pokémon cards, and a stack of VHS tapes Aurora had insisted on playing whenever she'd been forced to babysit—"This sucks, Rory, we want Netflix!"—"Shut up. This is so much better!"

The air smelt stale, stuffy, and there was a thick film of dust on every surface but the bed. A shrine untouched in the years between Then and Now.

Xavier's eyes fell to where you sat on the floor, knees up, head tipped back to rest on the low, single bed. He wanted to turn around. Leave. Being there felt intrusive. But, you didn't yell at him. Didn't tell him to fuck off. Didn't throw something at his head. You barely acknowledged him apart from patting the ground beside you in behest.

He dropped down easily; accepted your weight when you slumped into his side, head on his shoulder, damp hair soaking a wet patch into the collar of his shirt. He rested his elbows on his knees, hand clasped around opposite wrist, and pressed his cheek into the top of your head. Glancing down the length of you, he noticed the stuffed lion in your arms. A long, gangly thing with a round face and button eyes, features sewn in black thread on a corduroy canvas.

Aidan had toted that thing around like a limb, Xavier remembered.

It hurt everywhere to think of the little boy who'd inserted himself into the sleepovers and hangouts you'd had in elementary school. Afternoons and evenings spent shooing him away only to give in within minutes because neither you nor Xavier or Hana had the heart to say no to him.

"Sissy~, I want to play, too!"

A lump formed in Xavier's throat, pressure behind his eyes that he ignored to ask, "Are you okay?" He kept his voice just above a whisper, the way people spoke in church. Afraid to disturb the spectral peace that pervaded the room.

After several beats, you finally admitted, "I don't think so," and held the lion tighter.

Xavier didn't know how to respond, the agreement you'd both made six years ago—no questions asked—weighing his conscience down. He wanted to respect the promise. Had always respected it just as you had done for him. However, things felt too heavy not to at least broach the subject.

On a shaky exhale, Xavier ventured, "I know we don't talk about it, but...maybe we should."

"Zav..."

"No, listen, you freaked the fuck out back there and it scared the shit out of me. I haven't seen you that bad in years." He nudged you off his shoulder with a minute shrug, shifting to prop his head against the bed. You studied him, thick lashes starred from your shower, and eyes glassy. The misery miring your expression was visible enough through the dark that Xavier felt guilty for saying anything. He said anyway, "Please don't shut me out."

His mother had very little interest in him; his dad treated him like an unbroken animal. And Maddie...he'd fucked that up so much that, even if she came back, he wouldn't be able to look her in the eye. And yes, yeah, he'd done it to himself, okay? He knew that. He'd always made sure not to let himself get too comfortable. Kept people at arm's length because, if he didn't, it would hurt so much worse when they eventually left.

But you were different. You'd been there since he'd pushed Harrison Levi out of the sandbox in kindergarten and split the kid's eyebrow open. The only one in the class who hadn't been afraid of Xavier after that, and had shared your crayons and glue during crafts period.

Xavier needed you like a lifeline, the one person in the whole damn world who saw him for who he was and hadn't left him in the past. You'd stayed through the angst of his parents' separation; through a childhood filled with inappropriate humor and distasteful comments. Through above-average forgetfulness and outbursts he couldn't control.

He felt the warmth of your breath on his cheeks, smelt peppermint toothpaste and vanilla shampoo; faces close, sides pressed together in a soft line. An intimate bubble of privacy and safety.

"I saw Ms. Chung in the hallway before class." You said at last, as if that explained everything, and okay, sure, Xavier could work with that.

Kind of. "Who?"

"The grief counselor that Principal Hartman brought in on Monday." You elaborated. "She, uhm...She was the counselor I saw after..."

Xavier understood what you couldn't say. Nodded and smiled gratefully at you for having shared that much. He filled in some blanks himself, "And, I guess, this whole thing with Maddie is hitting pretty close to home, huh?"

You snorted, "Yeah, it definitely has the whole 'someone you think you can trust ends up betraying you' thing going for it."

Xavier's blood ran cold.

It would occur to him later that he didn't fully understand how your comment related to your trauma. It was the one police file his dad had ensured Xavier couldn't get his hands on and snoop through.

For now, he was blindsided by fear. Because who the fuck else had Maddie been meant to trust and was instead betrayed by? Sandra, perhaps, but you didn't know that. Did you? Had you also been to see her? No, that would be weird as hell. You and Maddie were friends-by-extension. Xavier didn't think you even knew where Maddie lived. Thus, as far as Xavier knew, he was the only one who fit the profile, which meant that, oh God no, you knew about Claire and this was the moment you banished Xavier from your life forever. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to be entirely alone, not yet, please, not yet—

"What does that mean?" He fished, tone even, though inwardly he was losing his shit.

Your focus went distant as you seemed to think carefully about what you wanted to say. With his heart in his throat, Xavier listened as you told him, "Simon and I think Mr. Anderson had something to do with Maddie's disappearance."

And he almost cried in relief. Until a certain part of your statement sunk in.

"You and Simon?"

You leaned back, looking at Xavier like you were mentally fitting him for a dunce cap. "Really? That's what you're concerned about? Zav, you went on an adventure with his only other best friend yesterday. He didn't have anyone else to talk to, so yeah, I'm happy to help him follow whatever leads he finds."

"At least Nicole doesn't hate me." Xavier hissed, "Simon dead-ass accused me of hurting Maddie in front of everyone."

"Okay, a) I made sure to get it through his skull that you're innocent. And, b) Simon doesn't hate you." You stopped, appearing somewhat hesitant to continue before you went on in sympathy, "He's just obviously in love with Maddie and you're the guy she chose instead."

As if Xavier hadn't been painfully aware of Simon's big, fat crush on Maddie since the fledgling days of their relationship. Simon had been a looming presence; had viscerally attempted to hold back glaring daggers at Xavier across the lunch table or over your and Mathilda's heads at shows, or movies, or tailgates.

"We're all trying to figure out where Maddie is." You said, bringing the situation to order. "And it seems like we've all been doing a better job than the cops because you and Nicole found boot prints and a ticket, and Simon found a stash of cash in Mr. Anderson's classroom. Plus, after talking about it last night—"

"You saw Simon last night?"

You talked over Xavier, the volume of your voice rising marginally, "—he and I think he's hiding something in the theater, too."

Xavier hung his head, cracked his neck, and rolled his shoulders, trying to calm the wave of conflicting emotion cresting inside him. You were his best friend. Yet, you'd buddied off with Simon Creepy Possessive Elroy to—

"Wait. Anderson has money in his classroom?"

You rolled your eyes, sporting a sardonic smile, "Yes, Officer Baxter, welcome back to the point. You done being weird?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Xavier apologized sincerely, ducking to catch your eye. He swiveled to rest his side against the bed and face you more easily. "That was a lot of information to digest. I didn't mean to get weird about you and Simon being close all of a sudden."

You playfully shoved a hand into Xavier's face, "Aw, Zav, don't worry, I'm still all yours," and winked before dissolving into a merry cackle.

Xavier reached across the narrow space between you both and slung an arm around your neck, dragging you close to ruffle your hair. It didn't have the same effect as when your hair was dry, tangling and teasing it into an 80s starburst, but it was close enough. You squealed and giggled, laid Aidan's lion on the bed, and then wrestled Xavier off you. In retaliation, he banded his arms around your torso and pulled you into his chest, fingers dancing along your sides.

It was fun, silly, something neither of you had been in what Xavier felt had been forever. Your laughter brightened the room, pushed the melancholy shadows into the corners, and made way for a cheerful lightness that hadn't existed in the space for too long.

"You're an ass." You wheezed, squirming out of Xavier's grasp and settling back against the bed, one leg held close and chin propped on your knee.

"Yeah, but you love me," Xavier teased.

He was loathe to ruin the moment—you beaming at him with dimpled cheeks and crinkled eyes—but his phone started to buzz in his front pocket. He dug it out, saw who was calling and glanced at you for confirmation that he should answer.

At your nod, he accepted the call, "Hey Tilda, sorry for not calling before, but—"

"SIMON, DON'T SAY A FUCKING WORD UNTIL MY MOM GETS THERE!" Mathilda shrieked on the other end of the line and then, into the phone, "What the fuck, Xavier, I tried calling you three times already!"

She had? Xavier hadn't felt his phone vibrate before then...Of course, when he was hyper-focused on something, everything else fell away, muffled by the void until he poked his head out of whatever rabbit hole he'd tumbled down. And, when it came to taking care of you, nothing else penetrated until he'd exhausted himself putting a smile back on your face.

Something he'd just succeeding in doing, damn it.

You pounced forward, grabbing Xavier's phone out of his hand and putting the call on speaker, "What's going on?"

"The cops just dragged Simon out of the school." Mathilda relayed, harried, clearly on the move. "I called my mom, but she won't be in town for another hour!" You and Xavier shared a look before Mathilda pulled attention back to what was unfolding on her end, "They're putting him in the back seat! That's bad, right!? XAVIER!? Is that bad!? What the heLL IS GOING ON!?"

"It's fine, Tilda," Xavier reassured firmly, eyes fixed on yours. "Unless he's in handcuffs, they aren't arresting him. They probably just want his statement on the record."

"His statement for what?" Mathilda sounded ready to go to battle, "They already asked us about Friday!"

Oh shit, you mouthed, the money.

Xavier muted the call to ask you, "Would Simon call the cops on Anderson?"

"I mean, he stole the man's phone. If he found something, he definitely wouldn't wait."

"Simon stole his phone?" Xavier almost clutched his proverbial pearls like a maiden aunt. The unhinged act of devotion to Maddie made him reconsider what it meant to care.

Simon was on the warpath, no fucks left to give, ready and willing to throw himself on the sword if necessary. Was that the kind of love Xavier had been meant to summon for Maddie? He had a lot of big feelings for her, most of them overshadowed by guilt now that she'd taken off without a backward glance, but none of them had inspired him to burn the world down in pursuit of her. There were—maybe—only two people he'd ever felt that kind of feral protectiveness over, and one of them was dead. The other...

He glanced up at you carefully, saw the distress in your eyes as you worried over Simon. "If they're taking him in," Xavier said, putting a hand on your knee for comfort, "they didn't find the money in Anderson's class."

"Then Anderson moved it." You choked. "Simon wasn't lying, Zav. If you'd seen how Mr. Anderson was acting last night, you'd know it was true, too."

"Hello!? Are you still there? Xavier!"

Xavier unmuted the call, both you and he chiming, "Yep, here!"

"Can't you call your dad?" Mathilda demanded and Xavier could picture her perfectly with her hand on her hip, brows furrowed, eyes ablaze, about to scold him like a mother hen. "He's the Sheriff! He could make them let Simon go!"

"Not necessarily, Tils. What if Simon knows something we don't?"

"Like what? He was at the APEX with us last week when Maddie took off. I saw him with my own eyeballs, Bax, he didn't know anything." Mathilda argued.

"Guess she's not pissed at him anymore," You commented quietly, more to a general audience than Xavier specifically.

"Alright, how's this. I'll go see what I can get out of my dad. You've already called your mom, she's on her way," He stated in a measured cadence, "There's nothing else we can do."

Begrudgingly, Mathilda agreed, closing the call with a semi-threatening, "Call me immediately, babes! I want to know why you weren't in Bio," directed to you, and then, "Love you both~!"

"I wasn't in Bio, either," Xavier grumbled, pouting at the white call-ended screen, "I don't count?"

You didn't indulge him, instead asking, "What should I do?"

"What should you do about what?"

"Tilly called her mom, you're going to sniff around your dad's office. What should I do? I can head back to the school and see if there's anything in the theater."

Immediately Xavier was on edge. The idea of you going back to the school and getting caught—possibly by Mr. Anderson who was, if as guilty as you inferred, absolutely going to be on alert now that the police had been called—didn't sit well with him. Not after what had happened to you earlier.

"No." He said, authoritative, stiff, "That's...no."

"I have to do something. What if Mr. Anderson hurt Maddie, huh? What if that money ties him to her somehow? And now he's going to get away with it because the police are focused on Simon."

Xavier grabbed you by the back of the head, angled your face so you had to look at him when he told you in no uncertain terms, "You're not going back there, kiddo. Not without me, okay? You've been through enough today, you need to rest."

"But—"

"How about this," He reasoned and dropped his hand to your shoulder, "We go in tomorrow morning before class and take a look around. Together."

You deflated, "And what about Simon?"

"There's literally nothing we can do about that right now, okay?"

An unhappy silence followed as you chewed over the alternatives Xavier offered. He was gearing up to sling you over his shoulder, carry you back to your bedroom, and lock you in your closet until he came to get you in the morning. Completely dismissing that you had a whole family who would hear you trying to escape and then very likely sneak you into the school themselves just for shits and giggles.

Color him surprised when you actually seemed to acquiesce.

"Fine." You said, audibly pissed that you were being benched, but, hey, Xavier was being sensible for once, the least you could do was humor him for one night. "But you'd better be here at dawn, Xavier."

Xavier traced an X over his heart, "I promise."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Of course, Xavier really should've had you promise to do as he'd said because, as soon as the coast was clear, you snuck out of the house, donning a pair of sleep shorts and your Uncle Andrew's hoodie.

💀___________________________

PART NINETEEN - PART TWENTY-ONE

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[hiskillingjar]

ugh your kinktober fics ruled so hard!!! Also, if you were up for taking requests, could I request some fox streaming mc with humiliation/general nastiness. I really loved the parts that touched on that for day 29

thank youuuuu and i gotcha ✌

1000+ words, fox/mc, third person. is it humiliation if you're too dumb to be embarrassed? the world may never know. cw for coerced consent :P

"You know what happens, folks! If we get to three hundred tokens in the next hour, I'll turn up the Sybian another notch!"

Fox grinned widely as he watched the subject writhe helplessly on top of the heavy-duty toy, their thick, parted thighs trembling wildly as their hips bucked against the vibrating rubber, desperate and hungry for more.

Thick chains and shackles around their wrists kept their arms held high above their head, and a metal ring between their teeth reduced any pleas or beggings for mercy into mindless mumbles and spittle down their chin and their heaving chest, ample breasts bouncing and moving in time with each of their erratic thrusts.

His own private porno, that he was being so gracious and sharing with hundreds, if not thousands of happily paying viewers.

Seeing such a mindless display of desperation would have been humiliating for anyone, especially when it was played back in real-time in front of their wide, waiting eyes on three full-size computer screens, each screen fixated on a different angle of their naked, shaking body, not an inch of skin left behind or not scrutinised over.

But not for this subject,

Their dead, thoughtless eyes were fixed on a fourth, smaller screen on Fox's computer desk, which was playing their favourite loop of endless VHS static, keeping them in a blissful haze of conditioned thoughtlessness and ignorance, no longer a mind but a body, a body built for service and submission, a vessel for pleasure and delicious pain.

Speaking of which…

"Ah, there we are, three hundred tokens already." Fox mused to himself, turning his attention onto the computer screen with a hidden grin, smiling even wider when the number of tokens kept ticking upwards, showing him just how eager his audience were. "My, my, we're an eager bunch today, aren't we? Of course, I had no doubt we'd get there with plenty of time to spare. I have total faith in my lovely audience!"

Fox let out a playful huff through his nose as he approached the subject, tilting his head as an involuntary spasm shot through their body, making it still and shiver mindlessly on top of the buzzing toy.

"Well, you know what comes next, darling," He crooned, pushing a hand through the subject's hair (for the sake of the camera more than anything else, since they were past the point of feeling any sensation other than the toy between their legs) as he crouched down at their side and turned up the notch on the toy. "Up we go!"

The subject squealed helplessly as their writhing body thrashed on top of the toy, the rumbling vibrations getting louder and louder as they were gradually inched up, vibrating against and stimulating their sopping wet cunt even more.

"God, I hope you can all see that," Fox mumbled hungrily (mostly to himself), hurrying to stand to his feet and take a smaller camera from its tripod, bringing the lens down to his level at the subject's side and zooming in on the wet mound of their slit. The wet sheen of pre-cum totally covered the short fuzz of pubic hair over their mound, their thighs, and the rubber top of the Sybian. "Just look at that, would you?" He said, indulgently running his tongue over his jaws under his metal mask, getting all the more hungry himself. "And not a single thought behind those eyes but getting their cunt wet. Fuck."

He idly palmed himself under his trousers, squeezing as his cock grew harder and harder at the sight of the subject as the camera panned up to their sweaty face.

Their eyes (empty, expressionless, like glass eyes embedded in porcelain or plastic, a doll's eyes) were still glued ahead and fixed on the static, dazed and totally thoughtless, giving away not even an inch of interest towards their audience (or towards Fox) as they huffed desperate little whimpers and whines against the metal ring gag, still drooling thick strings of spittle down their chest.

It was utterly pornographic, but Fox didn't mind that at all. In fact, he'd found that he enjoyed the nature of these streams, even a little more than his last ones.

At least, the clientele wasn't as pushy.

"They don't even have the good grace to be embarrassed about what they're doing," Fox then rasped as he set the camera down on the ground (what would one fucked up angle do, really?) and reached forward to hungrily grope the subject's chest, indulging in their luxuriously smooth skin and the heavy weight of their breast in his palm. "Too dumb, too stupid to even be humiliated. God…" He dragged a claw over the blooming bud of their freshly pierced nipple, giving it a little squeeze. "Can you even imagine how good it would feel sinking your cock into a dumb, little doll like this, that doesn't even have the brain to fight back?"

"Upmff-NNF!"

The subject whined loudly again as another vicious spasm overtook their body, the muscles in their soft thighs tensing up and their thoughtless eyes squeezing shut suddenly, as a sudden gush of liquid shot from their cunt and covered the rubber surface of the Sybian, marking another orgasm earned from their endless torture.

"HA!"

Fox brought his head up with a bark-like laugh, looking over his shoulder to see an explosion of excitement and emojis in the chat, message after message coming in, barely seconds after each other.

"Oh, wow! How impressive! Tell me, was that the third time they came or am I miscounting?" He asked them, ever the attentive showman for his audience, standing back up to his feet and approaching the computer, where the chat was confirming a third orgasm from the subject (and their obvious enjoyment of the display). "Well, well. How sweet, they can't even hold back for a second, can they?" He let out an airy titter as he started to palm his cock again.

"So, you all certainly know what comes next, don't you? If we get to FIVE hundred tokens in the next hour, I'll turn up the Sybian another notch!~"

[xenosagaepisodeone]

Hey, by any chance do you know or have the post that's a quote about how the quality of a medium that is kind of the most degraded or distracting part of it becomes what defines it or is remembered later - like the fuzz on a VHS tape or the crackle of a record player. If you do happen to know it/ the source or have the post on hand ur literally my hero and a god.

of course! it is The brian eno quote of all time

[clownboybebop]

shows up to queer movie night with a vhs copy of Hot Fuzz

[asprinbrews]

Chapter 1: Welcome home.

-Wally Darling + Reader

———

It was a day like any other.

Eat, sleep, work, rinse, repeat.

I’m not sure what happened between 17 and 18, but whatever it was sucked the life out of me. And as my Uber took me home on that late Friday night, the whole world flashed by my head like a shooting star. Sitting good and quiet. I noticed my fingernails overgrown, and how dry and cracked my skin was. Like one of those nightmares where your teeth fall out, except my disfigurement was very real.

But what to do? You don’t cure your funk in a night. I had to take a few nights, maybe call in sick. If I got fired for this it’d be a problem.

No. No, I had to stop thinking. It’s not my problem tonight, I reassured myself. So arriving home and settling in, I planned on completely disconnecting. And I engaged in…a guilty pleasure.

My body ached as I pulled out the VHS player, sending dust down my crusty airways. Along came my favorite tape.

The title’d long worn off, but it didn’t matter. It was the only one I kept.

And so I sunk beneath my comforter, biting back my anxiety and letting the fuzz lull in time with my breathing.

Unfortunately I didn’t make it through the intro credits. I never did nowadays.

—

“What’re we s’posed to do about this?!?!”

A squeaky quirky voice pinched my ears between fog and drowsiness, and I felt as a circular object tapped the tip of my nose.

“They aren’t wakin up, Franky!! I’m scared!”

A deep grunt contrasted her whining, “I…” he seemed at a loss for words; I then felt the thing bump me again. A loud wailing followed, which showered an…insane amount of tears onto my face. That was when I finally had the gall to snap my eyes open.

Screaming above me was a big-mouthed girl with big blonde hair, I saw her first. Her colorful clothing fading into the distance as she ran like the devil. And then the other…

Me and Frank blinked slowly at one another. Quietly. A dapper-dressed man with proportions stranger than the girl’s personality. A gray face full of concern and just a little disgust. Like he was looking at a dead body.

I didn’t move, but I eyed the world around me carefully. And for a second I was worried that I had a concussion; the grass, the sky… everything had an antique-like tint to it. And it felt wrong.

“Are you feeling okay?” Like he’d snapped back to reality the man crouched down beside me and dropped his net. I noticed a small bug sit inside it calmly…much unlike a butterfly. “Oh- yes, I’m okay. I’m just…” I scanned the area again, “I’m not sure how I got here.”

“Can you stand up?” He asked, and I pushed myself off the ground. “I’m going to walk you to the neighborhood… we’ll get you some help there.”

The neighborhood? Why did that sound so familiar? “The neighborhood… alright.”

He walked ahead of me, checking back every couple of seconds to make sure I was still behind him.

How did I get here…? More importantly, I had work. I had to get to a phone, as quickly as possible. “Your name’s Frank, right?”

He gasped softly, “how’d you know?”

“I heard it earlier. I’m guessing Franky isn’t your preferred name.”

“Right, right.”

…

“Do you have a phone I could borrow?”

“Heavens no, not right now. Those are far too big to carry around.” He replied, and then it was quiet again.

I noted him down as awkward, which was fine. I was a stranger, anyways. And I probably looked like death. Eventually though we came across houses, and he brought me straight to a big red barn.

Looking it up and down, I was skeptical. But out came whiffs of smells. Baking smells. The kind where you’re not sure if you’re smelling bread, fruit, or pure sugar. Seeing the bird that hussled out in front of us though I started to understand pretty quickly.

Before I had the chance to say anything she was all over me: lifting my arms, pinching my face, and squawking on in a shrill voice. How my face was so pale, my eyebags so big, my posture terrible. “Frank! Where did you find this one?? They look dead! The walking dead! Dead but walking!” Then she sat me down onto a haybale, holding my face in her wings. “Stop walking! You’re going to die!”

I couldn’t see over her big rainbow feathers but I could tell he was just as overwhelmed by this lady as I was. “Excuse me ma’am…” I croaked, “can I…”

She craned her head towards me as I asked, “can I borrow your phone…?”

The chicken loomed over me in a dead silence before I found myself dragged inside and nearly force-fed a multitude of different pastries, which I then tried to pay for. Unsurprisingly this earned another shriek. “What kind of money is this??? Where did you come from??”

“My house! I came from my house!” Like a hostage I lifted my hands up in surrender, and I’d expected another argument from her. But…no. Something clicked behind her eyes, and without speaking she disappeared and returned with a plate.

A plate of apple crisp.

I knew it as soon as I smelled it, feeling my eyes widen as the aroma hit my nose. Like a faint memory, nostalgia panged through my chest and reverberated like a brand new heartbeat as I took that first bite. Marveling in sweet fruit nestled under a warm blanket of thick brown sugar.

Once it was over with I was going to ask- except she’d already disappeared to her phone. A landline. Busy feathered fingers nervously fiddling with the curly wire, I caught bits and pieces of her loud voice. Concerned, suddenly frantic! Then quiet. I leaned in over the table to hear more but then was met with a shriek. “My goodness! Your clothes are getting in your pie!”

Indeed, looking down I realized I’d leaned so far over the table that I’d begun to crush the pastry. Leaving a dark stain on my T-shirt. The bird rushed around and started trying to wrestle it off of me— “No, hey!!” We struggled with the article, she shouted “I need to wash it! Come now!”

“What on earth is going on!?” Gray hands forced us apart and Frank pushed the bird lady for an answer while I caught my breath and smoothed my clothing.

“Look at them! They got their shirt all dirty, I was only trying to wash it.” She huffed, to which Frank pinched his brow with concern. “Polly… that’s beyond impolite!”

“It’s just Y/N!”

The man double-taked for a moment, slowly turning to me then raising a hand skeptically. “No, no… that can’t be right. They’re a lot smaller than that.”

“That’s what I thought!” Polly said, “but look at that face! And you know they loved my apple crisp! It has to be!”

I stood frazzled in front of them as they marveled, “did you just say… my name?”

Slowly stepping forward, Frank reached out as the bird suddenly rushed me. She hovered over me and ripped off my shirt with such momentum to tear the neckline. My arms rushed to cover my body in shock while the grey man swiveled to face the other direction. He shouted, “well they’re far too old for that!”

“Po.. Polly!” But she didn’t seem to hear me, sauntering off to a wash bucket and beginning to soak it. She waved a feather, “now then, go play! I’ll take care of this.”

I felt heat rise to my face, in disbelief at this woman. First she feeds me, then tears my clothes off?? “I’m so confused! And half-naked!” Crying out, even Frank seemed at a loss. He didn’t look and made his way to the door, “I’ll- I’ll find you something to wear! Stay right there!”

So there I was, half-naked in a barn-themed bakery waiting for either Frank to come back or Polly to be done with my shirt. I’d given in at that point. Notably despite Polly being a bird, she was really sentient. I saw other chickens but she was different. At least Frank resembled a man… but she was a straight up chicken.

Then a slow, steady knock came. The barn grew quiet, and it’s large doors creaked open. Standing in the center a silhouette of someone. His voice broke the silence, soft and calm if not monotonous.

“Aw Gee… it has been a very long time, Y/N.”

————-

<a/n>

Hi! Hope you enjoyed the first installment. This is mostly a comfort character series, so things between Wally and reader won’t get very romantic. Still! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. Feel free to ask me questions or give me ideas, since this is in progress!

Bye now! You are the absolute most!

[splatloafbud]

Hey so striving artist here, I was wondering how you did that low-res VHS era style crt fuzz on your art? I really love that look! (I instantly followed, liked, and reblogged)

Thank you a ton!! ‼️‼️

For the visual VHS effects, I use a program called ntscQT! It's a program that allows you to add adjustable VHS filters to your drawings, videos, or even animated gifs (as far as I know, ntscQT only works visually so it doesnt have VHS audio effects yet)

Here's how it looks (using one of my A Salmon Good Time drawings as an example):

And then after I save the effects I'm going for in the drawing, I go back to the art software I use and save it as a jpeg and pick the lowest quality settings to add more to the old school VHS vibes haha

[rassilon-imprimatur]

I'm such a Biogoji purist compared to the later Heisei designs and suits. I think I've always really resonated with how it syncs with Godzilla vs Biollante's wider biopunk horror aesthetic and grim tone, and I think the design just barely borders being flatout disturbing?

So much of the look of Godzilla vs Biollante clearly and famously owes to Gunhed, which reflects a sense of the Cronenbergian in its grisly biology just as it is a showcase of gorgeously grisly mecha.

Putting the obvious factor of Biollante herself aside for a moment, the whole of Godzilla vs Biollante feels so tethered to the roughly contemporaneous Shin Kamen Rider: Prologue and Zeiram. Its truly a flatout biopunk horror flick. It’s to a point where it actually looks a little wrong to me without VHS fuzz.

Feels like a relative of Hiruko The Goblin as well, if I'm being honest.

I dunno! The movie’s just blatantly a horror picture show in a way not a lot (not enough) of Godzilla movies are? 

I think Biogoji becoming the basis for the later Heisei suits, the design morphing over the 90s to the 1994 and 1995 suits becoming the "defacto" Godzilla for so long, has overshadowed the aspects of the design that are truly... gross? The texture of his skin, constantly soaking and in the movie's color palette, his dark brown predatory eyes that look completely black (like a shark's), his double rows of shark teeth. His dorsal fins, while a reworking of the classic 60s look, are actually distressingly "gory" in a way I think that gets taken for granted. Bone tearing out of his flesh.

There's so many classic elements of his body (mostly the Shodaigoji and Kinggoji) at play, and he is supposed to carry a regal “classic” aesthetic to contrast with and act as an uncanny dissonance against Biollante's more blatant nightmare, but I dunno! He's a quietly nasty boy, a simmer of energy Shin Godzilla cranked up to a boil?

(And he's goT THE BEST WITTLE ANGWY SCWUNCHED UP FACE!)

[probablybadrpgideas]

Trending TV shows By Warhammer 40k Faction

Imperium Obviously it’s propaganda. What you might not expect is that due to a mix-up its actually pro-chaos propaganda. Alas, admitting they fucked up would get the producers shot so they just badly dubbed over it.

Nurgle: Teletubbies if it was the most nightmarish thing you’ve ever seen in your fucking life.

Tzneech: Technically Tzneech worshipers don’t make TV, but they do insist on getting credited by news broadcasts.

Slaneesh: Actually nothing. Its pre-watershed so they can’t show any of it. If only the Eldar had thought to try that, huh?

Khorne: The Brady Bunch but the screen is getting closer to your face at roughly the rate a TV would move if someone had picked it up and thrown it at your face.

Tau: Just the “Greater Good” scene from Hot Fuzz on loop over and over forever.

Necrons: Really into detective shows now the period romance craze has died down. Look, they have a culture outside of being omnicidal doom skeletons you know?

Eldar: They don’t have streaming services anymore. Since the fall of the Eldar each craftworld is down to one analog set and a single VHS tape of Seinfeld. They all have to sit around it at once and it keeps skipping scenes. “It’s great art, it’s just not comprehensible to lesser minds” they say but honestly they’re not fooling anyone.

Dark Eldar: Ok, Jesus Christ, lets just turn off the TV and all agree to never talk about what’s trending in Commorragh ever again.

Orks: Actually, contrary to what you might expect, it’s mostly philosophical documentaries about what it truly means to have more Dakka in a postmodern haha I’m just fucking with you. Its just people beating the shit out of each other. The philosophical shows barely make the top ten.

Tyranids: In an interesting case of convergent evolution, the Tyranid fleshtelevision networks are totally identical to 2023 Netflix in literally every way.

Votann: Good news everyone! It’s another season of the hit game show: “The fuck’s a Votann?”

[lizzybeanbutt]

HI!!!!!! so. you saw the tv glow... what was your favorite part

Hii!! I sure did!! Man ok! I think this was definitely a moment that really grabbed me:

Owen watching the pink opaque finale when Mr Melancholy talks to Isabel and explains trapping her in the midnight realm. The two realities switching their respective video qualities. Mr melancholy becoming clearer, the video widening. The aspect ratio closing on Owen's face and taking on that vhs fuzz. The pink opaques is real, your best friend was right. its on the other side. The falseness of this realm closing in. And the that striking moment after. Desperate visceral acting. I'm such a sucker for the mediums formatting being manipulated and used as an active tool. A different favorite part is two scenes. When owen's mum stands in the hallway when shes about to ask her husband if owen can watch the Pink Opaques. She steps from the front door to the doorway of the living room and is bathed in blue light. The exact same shot happens with Owen later on. Something about owen rejecting his father after the finale situation but crying for his mother near the end of the film.

idk how good i am at conveying my thoughts and there's more stuff i could probably mention like the lighting but fuck man. good film

[nyanbinary-perineum]

Every once in a while I remember when I was like 13 ~ 15 (somewhere around there, don't judge the following) and I found a weird signal I barely picked up on my tv and had to do some finagling to get it to pull through clearly But More Specifically it came in much more clearly at like 8pm to 3am and then it was unintelligible fuzz most other hours

and this channel was some japan centric channel that would regularly marathon random as all hell episodes of anime and a TON of OVAs and they clearly didn't care what rating these seemingly gray market era rips were coming from because they'd throw OVAs that were very much "adult entertainment" both in terms of serious-but-fun stories, violence, and plenty of tits.

Anyways I remember so vaguely so many extremely interesting anime pieces I saw on that channel; Mechas seemingly centered around hangar drama that I couldn't make out a single word and the picture kept falling to fuzz but I was enamored by the designs and characters; Random erotic as all hell death scenes where the focus was on the sadness of the bleeding out person's passing but also Check Em Out- Look How Good We Drew This Tit ;)

And these memories are blended with how a few years later I got G4tv and could watch some more OVAs and anime series there (the short stint where that was a thing they did at like midnight every night) and how I never exactly found crossover between the exposure both of these gave me, but I did find shows that reminded me of those fuzzy CRT days like watching the R.O.D. OVA- that entire thing just SCREAMED "This would be on that weird OVA channel I'll never find".

Anyways, something something, OVAs are cool and I wish I watched more old anime, something something, I think it's funny when an anime gets talked about and I go "HOLY SHIT, that's one of the 500 random OVAs I could barely understand through the fuzzy picture! (Like Revolutionary Girl Utena! I got to see like 30% of the movie on that channel) something something 80s and 90s era anime tits I guess?

IDK, Go watch the R.O.D. movie and cry about lesbians.

I'm idly exploring (and struggling to explore because I need to update my romset collections) old unlicensed adult games that are filled with 80s-90s anime (as one would expect, being games from the 90s lmao) because I find the artstyles from that time appealing and because it's scratching such a specific nostalgic itch and it's making me think of that period of media and the weird ways in which I consumed it as someone who couldn't like, collect anime VHS like more serious fans would.