#wholesome mangle

[e-rated-beardo]

Do we need another voice added to the conversation about The Thing? I guess it can't hurt.

I have about every feeling on Earth. I'm frustrated it's going to be shorter than we thought. I'm wary, because we've all learnt this year that a green light can be un-green-lit with no warning. I'm so relieved they've removed That Guy. I'm relieved we're getting something. I'm angry that That Guy had to secretly be a shit (judging from the info I have) which has caused all this bloody anxiety for all of us IN ADDITION to the actual proper shit things he's done to others in the past (given the info I have) and that his shittiness is going to sully people's enjoyment of this thing in big or small ways. I'm cautiously optimistic that we might get something faster, because fewer minutes means quicker work, maybe. I'm worried (as I always was) that it isn't going to be what I've hoped for. I'm frustrated that it's still so very quiet in media regarding what That Guy has done and mildly worried his ex-fans might never know a lot of things that might have led to closure.

I've never been in fandom before this and I have a vague understanding of how lucky I am that this was the one that sucked me in. I'm told not all fandoms are created equal. This one is a bloody marvel. A real fucking marvel. I'm not talking about the art and writing (which are just fantastic like I can't believe), but about how last night I first read The News in a Discord server and thus had other fans Feeling All The Feelings around me right from the start; how I went on Tumblr and found the early discussions and shock and complicated emotions from people whose handles mean something to me, and how I went on Reddit and saw other people gif-screaming in frustration while simultaneously trying to comfort each other. This is such a wholesome place. HOW is this such a wholesome place. Can we keep cultivating this? All of this? Keep welcoming the randos posting on Tumblr about experiencing the Final Fifteen for the first time with avalanches of emoji hearts and fanfic? Keep patiently explaining and re-explaining new and confusing news to commenters who haven't heard all of them yet? Keep showing strangers how to code on AO3 or how to be a lovely fanfic reader or introduce them to the metas people thought up in 2015 or encourage them to post their own loving, scrunckly first art piece and give them love and appreciation for it?

We've Had A Fucking Moment Year, haven't we? And somehow, as an overall experience, to me, this has been an absolute GOOD. Because there's a whole bloody world of other obsessed folks around me now, feeling the same conflicted feelings as I do, largely speaking, and mulling them over in open blogs and private servers and fanfics and comics and DMs.

I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. (Or more than half of you, more likely. We're not Hobbiton.) I really like y'all, anyway. You're neat. Can we be frembs? ❤️

If you want a little comfort fanfic escapism, I'm told this 7k-word, E-rated silliness I made once is a balm for S2-related wounds. (There's a podfic of it, too.) This thread on GOAD cropped up with great timing yesterday and is full of people's comfort fic recs. There's tons more of this everywhere. This fandom, man. This fandom. 🖤🤍

[ask-mangle-the-sad-one]

*mangle finally managed to calm down spring Bonnie, and spring Bonnie fell asleep in her lap, arms loosely around her, and head propped up against her body, spring Bonnie quietly slept in peace since he had cried all his demons out*

*smileing she said* so this is what it felt like to him, *she then doing her best to not disturb the sleeping golden rabbit, she tried her best to set her body on the ground, then she fell asleep*

[monty-glasses-roxy]

I should make a Security Breach rewrite AU where events from my Plex History stuff either happened or didn't happen to basically shake up everything.

This would mean Monty is an actual dinosaur, Chica can fucking fly, Roxy and Foxy are a wild west bandit duo with horsies instead of go-karts and that's as far as I've got but god damn can you imagine?? Gregory trying to run and getting fucking lassoed or snatched into the sky or something like. He'd have to be either a genius to still destroy them or be forced to free at least one of them from Glitchtrap to not die. He could not get away with his canon stuff here he's just doomed if he tries that lmao

[renfieldsheart]

Mafia!Husband x Vampire!Reader thoughts…

Depictions of: violence, guns, blood, fluff? (Is that possible?), dark yet wholesome?, slight suggestion at end but idk it’s pretty tame.

Vampire!Reader who gets restlessly jealous whenever they smell a stranger’s blood on their husband, but can’t bring it up without exposing their own vampirism.

Mafia!Husband who doesn’t understand how you always know he’s home before he opens the front door, or how you know where he’s been that day just by ‘guessing.’

Vampire!Reader who can smell the smoke from gunfire on their husband’s clothing when he comes home and tries not to show their concern.

Mafia!Husband who hid his job from you for months, scared you’d resent him, only to be completely dumbfounded by your obvious excitement when you finally find out.

Vampire!Reader who begged him to take them with him to his job one day, to which he firmly refused.

Vampire!Reader who confesses their vampirism to their husband, expecting an argument or at least fear, only to be met with pure fascination and curiosity.

Mafia!Husband who now takes you with him to work sometimes, letting you feed on the casualties.

Mafia!Husband who lets you take the wheel for torturing victims, your infectious bites being the perfect threat.

Mafia!Husband who doesn’t bother washing his bloody hands before coming home because he knows you’d lick him clean without a second thought.

Mafia!Husband who makes out with you in the middle of a shootout, lips interlocked and tongues intertwined as blood spatters and sprays through the air, mangled remains of what was once human beings tossed around like confetti.

Match made in hell ♥️

[thegnomelord]

Shark Merperson reader is real gud.

- 🦈

(HOLY FUCK. THANK YOU TO WHICH EVER ANON REQUESTED THAT BECAUSE I FUCKIN LOVE SHARKS.

Now Im thinking of a Price x Reader, because shars are the oldest species known to exist. Obviously sharks arent immortal, they've just been on this earth way b4 tress bloody existed.

So Im thinking the readers an eldritch creature, they represent sharks as a whole, as long sharks exsist they exsist. Heck they mights of even of been Prices mentor when he was in his draconic 100s? (Late 20s?).

Imagine Price missing his friend calls him up to see hows hes doing. Reader elated to meet an old friend, accepts the invitation to meets up with him. Reader definitely scolds him for lossing a wing, honestly is pertrified Price lost a piece of himself and thought he was retiring due to it. Cut ahort to him smacking him slap dab on the head when he learns he's lost it a long time ago and didnt tell him.

Cue wholesome interactions th 141 and etc. Heck maybe some romance with Price.

Just a blurb i had yo tell you abt)

Okay, this tickles my eldrich abomination trying to act human itch

CW:SFW, eldritch reader, kissing

Price knows you're there the second he steps onto the old wooden pier, able to smell seaweed and brine and something in the air — what he thinks the bottom of the ocean smells like, old rot of decaying whales and older heat of geothermal vents — the soft wind billowing his hair like the breathing of an elderly beast.

He knows you're watching him, passively at least, washed up mermaid purses dotting the beach to give you a glimpse of the world above the waves through the yolks vital for the pup's survival, able to dream of the warm sun and course sand while you slumber beneath the waves.

"Oi, ser, yer look like a wee lass waiting for her sailor." Soap's sharp voice cuts through the air, the werewolf far too energized for his own good, the sand in his fur not dampening his mood when he can just shake himself off and flick the grains on Simon.

"Hah," Price snorts, "Maybe I am." He tilts his head back to the sea, sharp eyes watching the breaking waves. "Time to wake up old friend." He mutters your mangled name under his breath, mortal lips and vocal cords unable to replicate your own voice.

The young ones in his team lack the sight needed to notice your form slowly rise from the sea like a submarine breaking through the ice, only the visible flicker of air and the receding water keying them in. Price old enough to see you without needing the inner surface of his skull to be dotted with eyes. Though even he sees your real form like a man having a stroke — vaguely familiar at first yet the details are undefinable — flesh and sea melding together without rhyme or reason, long strings of seaweed bearing miniature eyes with pups wriggling inside, cookie cutter sharks boring holes through finless corpses so long eel sharks may form ever reforming sinews, fossilized bone and old rock giving giving support to the massive insult to reality's laws; birth and life wrapped up in death.

You're an affront to logic. And with one sneeze from existence itself you're human standing in front of him.

Eerily human.

Perfectly human.

Almost.

"What the fuck?" He can faintly hear Gaz's voice, all of them only now noticing you stand where you weren't previously.

Your hand touches his back before he even registers you move, always slightly damp, "When did this happen?" You ask as you trace the spot where his wing used to be. "What did this?"

"And a 'hello' to you too sweetheart." He clasps a hand around your waist, purring softly in greeting as he pulls you closer to his chest. Even if he sees you once every few centuries, even if you don't possess the ability to reciprocate, his love for you is as youthful as it was when he was but a wyrm.

Your facial features remain neutral like the ones of sunken statues, but you blink, and for a few seconds he can see that yawning abyss in your eyes. "Hi." You say, your hand still tracing the bump created by atrophied flight muscles, trying to judge how fresh it is. "Explain."

Your tone sounds like a predator baring it's teeth, but he knows you wouldn't harm him. "In a lil' bit." He snorts, puts pressure on your back until he forces your legs to move. "Come, want you to meet my boys."

The introductions are odd on both ends considering you hadn't spoken with people other than Price since that Icarus of a passenger ship mistook your fin for an iceberg and they've never met an old one like you. But you like them, they compliment Price just like the small scale he gave you makes the pearls and gold offered to you through the ages shine more.

Even if your face is unreadable, somehow they can figure out you're not too amused when you hear he'd lost his wing during a mission. "I told you arrogance would cost you." You at least you can mimic a sigh as you rub your head, "At least you retired." You say,

"We wish!" Soap snorts before he can help it, and the next thing they hear is a horrific crack that has them jumping out of their skin.

Your head had whipped 180 degrees with the rest of your body remained in place, the laws of nature nothing more but blurry guidelines. "You. . .did retire?" You ask, voice like the roar of a whirlpool.

"About that," Price starts, unable to finish his thought as you slap him upside the head as if he's still the whelp who thought he could brave an ocean storm.

"You'll put me in the grave." You growl, holding him by the ear, words spilling from your mouth like seawater filling the empty bowels of a ship. "I swear your scaly hide hasn't learned a single thing-"

"Should we help?" Gaz wonders as they watch you chastise their captain like he's a boy.

"No, this is great entertainment." Ghost chuckles.

"Want me ta grab the popcorn?" Johnny ads, already snacking, tail thumping against Simon's leg and growling playfully when Gaz reaches for the snacks.

Eventually your anger relents, mood changing as swiftly as the tide. You spend the time they have left learning about the men he's chosen as his hoard. Kyle's a bit weary of you just due to his harpy nature, but soon enough you two can be found sitting on the pier and fishing, and if you purposely make the waves flow so a big fish snags on Kyle's line, Price never says anything about it, not when his boy has a smile as big as the sun when he looks at the gigantic fish flopping on his hook.

You attempting to help Soap cook the barbeque, but you're fine motor skills are rusty after all these years of slumber, so the food is slightly burnt but Price loves when his food's basically charcoal and eats it with a smile, especially as it keeps you from telling all the embarrassing stories you have of him, from when he got his ass bit by a squid to when he was so horny he ended up rutting against an extra curvy piece of rock, though the rest have already heard enough dirt to bury him for the next several decades.

Unfortunately for Price, you and Ghost hit it off like a house on fire, and Ghost ends up learning far too many ways to hurt people without killing them that most definitely are against the Geneva conventions but you pull seniority on it. Simon in turn, teaches you how to play cards, which, when you're literally a god that can see almost everything including your opponent's cards, means the shmucks Simon ropes into playing you and Simon end up with empty pockets.

As the sun stars to dip behind the horizon you wind up sitting next to Price by the fire, the others splashing in the water.

You feel his wing spread behind your back to pull you closer to him, "I missed this." He says, knowing you won't comment on the 'I missed you' hidden behind his vellum words.

"Last time we met like this Napoleon was still emperor." You hum, a small yawn escaping you, sharp tips of shark teeth peeking from human gums. "And you had two wings." You can't help but point out, making it clear you've not forgiven him about not informing you.

Price pointedly ignores your later comment, his hand tentatively, almost shyly, reaching down to sit on top of yours. "Afraid I'll forget about you?"

His pulse picks up when you shift your hand to hold his, fingers lacing together when you don't have a tail as a human. "You wait for me." You shrug, holding your free arm up, reality wheezing for a few moments before his scale is suddenly in your hand, shiny and unharmed just as it was when he'd given it to you all those years ago. "And I dream of you."

His eyes widen and heart melts, a purr rumbling in his chest "C'mere sweetheart," He rumbles and pulls you into a kiss, free hand holding your chin stable.

You taste of salt and blood, of chilling cold and boiling heat, of something ancient and familiar and Price drinks it all down like a babe, tongue licking in your mouth and fangs nibbling on your lip, feeling you respond, the touch of hungering god as soft as silk, just to him.

But he knows this won't last.

A shark has no reason to stay on land, and a dragon can't survive underwater regardless of how much he wants. Soon you'll return to slumber, and Price won't know when he'll see you again, if he'll see you again, or if you'll learn of his passing when your waves swallow up his ashes.

He doesn't notice the prickling in his eyes but you do, wiping a stray tear with the pad of your thumb, your other hand still wrapped around his. "Don't worry John," You say, statue features finally cracking into a small smile, "I'll stay for a little while." You say and lead him into another kiss, the other members of TF141 leaving you two to catch up on lost time...

[misasimagines]

daisy crown / reader x Jiro (Tokyo Debunker)

included characters: Jiro!

rating: SFW

warnings: um there's a bee visitor, but not described in detail. mostly this is just wholesome.

Quite a short fic!

You weren't in the habit of thanking Yuri for things, selfish and self aggrandizing as he was, but right now, you were thanking him. Even if he couldn't hear it.

He had kicked Jiro out of the lab, annoyed by his constant clarifications and suggestions on how to better perform an experiment. You were kicked out as well, not for your own suggestions but because you had no reason to be there to start with, sitting on an autopsy table and loudly sucking down a melting smoothie the entire time. Being a nuisance to the Mortkranken ghouls was in your job description so long as no one asked for proof.

Besides, Jiro didn't think you were a nuisance. He took regular breaks to talk to you and give you kisses and random tasks you were capable of completing mostly without risk or injury. You were like his unofficial union rep, if union reps got paid in kisses and teasing whenever they dragged a mangled corpse in and you jumped at the sight. It was fine by you, the kisses more than made up for the trauma.

Even so, you thanked Yuri because the sight in front of you was the cutest thing you'd probably ever seen in your life: Jiro, crouched down, picking flowers. The sun cast a little halo around his head and reflected in the lightest parts of his eyes. He had a basket where he was collecting them, flowers of all shapes and colors and sizes laid in an array next to each other. He was careful as he went, not picking anything that hadn't yet bloomed and not picking anything that was completely withered. A little bee flew around his head and inspected his flowers. 

Jiro inspected it back, granting it a few seconds of his gaze as it buzzed around him. He let it be (ha) and returned to his flower picking. It seemed interested in his actions, and kept flying around in his general vicinity, sometimes landing on the very flower he was reaching for. You couldn't help but smile when he gave up on a flower that the bee was bumping into. 

You kept yourself busy fawning over him and following a guide on your phone to make flower crowns. You wove the long stems of your daisies together, holding it above your head often to check for basic sizing. It was no neat thing you were crafting, but it held together remarkably well.

You focused on your craft until Jiro made his way to the bench you were sitting on and joined you. You smiled up at him as he sat down. “Did you get everything you needed?” You asked him.

He set the basket in his lap and responded, “Mostly. Some were out of season.” 

You frowned consolingly. “Maybe we can check Rui's garden?”

Jiro looked at the flower crown in your hands, “We can.”

You held the crown up triumphantly. A few petals fell off onto your lap. “It's finished.”

“People have used daisies in medicine for their anti-inflammatory properties,” he told you, picking up a petal from your lap and rubbing it lightly between his fingers. He dropped it on the ground and it fluttered as it fell. 

“Are they very effective?” You asked, leaning over him and putting the crown on his head. You repositioned it carefully until it sat balanced and even on his head. The white petals and green stems contrasted his dark hair nicely.

He watched you do it and made no effort to stop you, “No, drugs like ibuprofen are much more effective and accessible.” 

You sat back and admired your work. Jiro had a daisy crown sitting on the top of his head and a basket of flowers on his lap. It was such a different view of him than you were used to. He spent so much time in a fluorescent lit lab where everything was tinged with a slight green-blue hue. It made him look perpetually haggard, which you supposed wasn't inaccurate, sleep deprived as he was. It was nice to see him out of that dreariness and instead with the sun warming his cheeks. It took everything in you not to jump onto his lap, knock his carefully collected flowers to the ground, and cover those cheeks in kisses. That kind of behavior would have to wait until you were in private, especially because it would lead to planting kisses elsewhere on him and you didn't want to share that sight with any random person who might walk by.

He stared at you, expression the same as it always was, and you stared back, hardly capable of biting back your self satisfied smile. “Did you make it for me?” He finally asked.

“Mhm,” you admit. “And I did a pretty good job, I think.” 

He stared at you a second longer before looking at his basket and pulling out a specific flower. He turned to face you, his knees bumping yours, and you tilted your head in question. He reached towards you and delicately placed the flower behind your ear. His other hand held your cheek while he situated it and you felt a distinct comfort from his touch. Cheesy as it was, it warmed your heart.

“What is it?” You asked, now unable to see it clearly no matter how much you tried to activate your peripheral vision.

“A lily,” he kept gazing at you.

“What's it good for?” You asked, expecting some detailed but simplified explanation about how it prevented plague or something.

“Nothing significant. It's mostly just pretty.” 

Your cheeks flushed; You didn't miss the implication.

“Hm, it's also poisonous to cats,” he added, as casual as ever.

This made you laugh, the kind that caught you off guard and kept going when you looked at how expressionless he managed to stay while you erupted into giggles. It wasn't even particularly funny, it was just Jiro. “Thanks for the cat poison,” you managed to get out.

He put a hand under your chin, his thumb on your cheek, “You’re welcome.” He leaned forward and kissed you.

Eyes closed, the sun on your face, Jiro's lips against yours, you might have confused the botanical gardens of Darkwick for heaven. You kissed him back and kept your eyes shut a second more when he pulled away, just letting yourself exist in that peace for as long as possible. 

When you opened them, he looked away and down at his basket. The flower crown on his head was crooked. “I need to get these back to the lab,”

You nodded.

“You'll come with me?” He asked, standing up and offering you his hand.

You took it and got up to your feet, “I’d follow you pretty much anywhere,” you promised and readjusted your flower carefully. Didn't want that falling on the way. 

He didn't let go of your hand as you both started making your way back to Mortkranken, “Good,” he squeezed your hand lightly, “I'll take you pretty much anywhere,” he repeated.

[d8tl55c]

see? no evil ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ(December 1st, 2022)

let's do thiiiis :DD

#--/ archive (year) is how ill organize these oldies 💕

idr why i didn't post this one! i really liked it at the time. probably nervous abt the art style

it's part of a... wholesomeness series made in the same thin lines (hopefully tumblr doesn't mangle them- :'3 ). Autodesk Technical Pen my beloved

anyway this one was one of those first times i looked at that fuzzy period between AvA III and V. what were they up to after the (fanon dubbed) Blackfire Attacks???

and it's about how trying to enjoy something (someone)... while refusing to address the problems with it (chosen feels responsible for annihilating "bad" things (hence all the Xs))... doesn't hold up forever.

but there's also little nugget of hope there at the end. outside of The Narrative, people can work things out.

.

..

...wait, what the fuck? dark has his bracelets on- o_°

shit-

i have clearly misremembered the context here ppfpfppfp-

uH. well! i know it's still about those themes lmao. just. somehow scooted forward in time a bit, while not. atomizing him.

i was thinking about deadn't timelines a lot so. it's probably aligned with one of those ;P

past me, why did i do this to myself? ; v ; /silly

👉👉 oct 28: stargazing

[twothpaste]

thinkin bout kumatora & postgame claus

How surreal it must be - after fighting for their lives against the Masked Man multiple times - for Claus to suddenly be airdropped into Kumatora's periphery. How she knew, quite possibly from the first time she laid eyes on him, who he really was. But she refused to intervene, couldn't bring herself to tell Lucas, bitterly resigned herself to writing him off as a lost cause. Now, against all odds or reason, he's still here. And he's literally just a scared broken kid.

The fact he looks just like Lucas is probably beyond gutwrenching. Kuma traveled their whole tiny fuckin' world with Lucas at her side, put all her trust in him, welcomed him into her life as her dearest friend. She came to admire his bravery. She saw his innocence pitted against everyone else's cruelty, and swore to protect him. And now there's this kid - who shares his face - who got kidnapped and chopped up and stitched back together with incorrect metal parts. Got fucking lobotomized, totally mind wiped - everything Kuma finds wholesome and earnest and lovable about Lucas was ripped away from Claus. One of his eyes is sick with exhaustion, the other's some intrusive mechanical mockery they stuffed into his mess of scars. Even just glancing at him probably invokes horrific hypotheticals and gruesome imagery in Kumatora's head, what if they'd done that to Lucas, if they'd done that to Lucas she'd burn down the whole fucking planet Earth!! And why shouldn't she, when they did it to his identical twin brother?! And Claus flinches at the way she looks at him, senses her telepathic fury - probably thinks she's vying for vengeance against him, for what he did to her friends and her family - and he wouldn't blame her! And Kumatora's gotta stand up and leave the room, before her tears start boiling over.

How Claus tries his darndest to rekindle his old self, tryin to cast necromancy on his goofy childhood sense of humor, the boisterous little schmuck he used to be. He musters toothy grins, he attempts reckless stunts, he pokes fun at his brother. And sure, Kuma's heard plenty of stories from Lucas about that funny ol' farm boy. She's sharp as a knife though. She can tell Claus is forcing it. But somehow the effort is all the more tragic, even endearing, maybe even relatable. Hasn't she been putting up a tough front all this time, too? While she too oughtta be grieving her family? Claus cracks some corny-ass joke, and she catches the dry strain in his awkward tweenage voice. But she laughs with him anyways. And reaches over to ruffle his stupid orange hair.

He has trouble sleeping, often plagued by night terrors, and insomnia, and all the strange aches in his mangled and mutilated body. Kuma has trouble sleeping, too. It's hard to shut her brain up at night, now that her whole universe has been twisted inside out and turned on its head. While Lucas snoozes like a pile of rocks, she stays up to accompany his brother. They try to talk about everything besides the shit that's happened to them. If not just for their own sakes, for each others'. She'd like to take his mind off it, if she can. When he tells another dumb joke, this time about how badly Duster's socks reek, she blinks. Recognizing he's tryin' to do the same for her. His strains and migraines sometimes steal away his humor, his sleep, and even his breath. Kuma's got PSI Lifeup. Not as potent as Lucas'. But she'll offer what she can. Mixolydia taught her to knead tension from temples, and how to give a halfway decent shoulder massage. She's mortified to discover his muscles are just as tense as the steel on the other side. She tries to laugh that off, too. And hold back another round of broiling tears, when he musters a weak chuckle in reply.

Claus should've known the "tough older brother" schtick wasn't built to last. They're twins, for christ's sake. A difference of fourteen minutes doesn't make him any more reliable, doesn't make him a better protector, doesn't charge him with any more responsibility than Lucas. Still, the cutesy mythos their family and neighbors'd built around the two of them stays lodged in his chest. Alongside the bygone image of his wimpy younger twin, cryin' his guts out over a scraped knee. Claus' failure feels immense, unconscionable, treachery of the highest degree. Somehow, though? Havin' a big sister almost seems to balance the scales. Puts it all into clearer perspective. He used to wear 'eldest sibling' as a badge of honor. These days, he's relieved to find the burden's not quite all his. Kuma guides both twins to trespass with her on a high rooftop. And catches Lucas by the collar, when a clumsy overstep nearly has him slippin' off the edge.

She confesses her darkest secret, on one of those sleepless nights. Tells him she knew from the start, that Lucas had a twin. Put the pieces together the minute she saw him, leering down from that airship, his helmet gleaming in the sun. And her molten tears finally get the better of her - "damn it" - when she reckons she might couldda saved him, freed him that much sooner, kept him from havin' to fight his brother - if only she'd been brave enough to say so. Probably not, really. But maybe. Kumatora may expect somethin' akin to vengeance, in the way he looks at her. She wouldn't blame him. He shakes his head, though. Says he's sorry, too - for what he did to her family. That maybe each n' every one of 'em would still be here, if not for him. Probably not. But maybe. When she lost Ionia, Kumatora'd been convinced there was no one left in this world who would love her. She's starting to realize these days that she was gravely mistaken. She's not only loved, but needed. It's a warm, curious, brand new feeling in her chest. Deep in Claus' guts, twisted as it all seems, some part of him is just glad someone recognized the kid in the mask.

They hug it out. And maybe wrestle a little, before falling asleep at dawn.

[sarasade]

Claudia, Viren & The Very Real Parent-Child Dynamics of The Dragon Prince

Sometimes I wonder if I come across like I try to defend Claudia too much. That's not my intent at all. I just think she deserves more and better critique.

The Point I guess

Personally, I really connect with Claudia's brand of messy, unflattering and even pathetic rage and grief much more than the dignified and mature ways Callum and Ezran handle things (More on that later). Maybe this sounds unflattering but Claudia being also kind of an asshole really speaks to me. Like that's the kind of teenage girl I'm the most familiar with and we don't have enough media that has nuanced takes on this sort of troubled character. Exploring negative or even anti-social traits and impulses in fiction, especially in women, is kind of undervalued in my opinion. Those are part of humanity and therefore part of us and this impulse to completely reject them doesn't benefit anyone really.

Finally, some wholesome father-daughter relationship rep in media!

My way to view fantasy media is about how it can artistically portray something true to real life. That's why I'm the most invested in this kind of reading of the text. Fantasy media is often dismissed as mere escapism even by the fantasy fans themselves (*side eyes the dude bro Witcher fandom*) which ignores the emotional depths it can reach by approaching difficult subject matter more metaphorically.

Inject Viren & Claudia's Father-Daughter Dynamic Straight into My Veins

There is something viscerally real about Claudia and Viren's relationship. I've seen this kind of father-daughter dynamic play out in real life many times where the child gives and gives and gives yet the parent takes it all for granted until it's too late and the parent-child relationship is just a mangled corpse of its former self, way too damaged to ever be truly repaired.

Like if you've had a difficult relationship with your parents it can feel similar to how s4-5 Claudia struggles to keep Viren alive while Viren hesitates. The child is the one who tries to fix things in the relationship while the parent is in denial or completely oblivious. Viren doesn't really try to connect with Claudia further in s4-5. It almost seems like he's completely emotionally unprepared to have that conversation and oh boy if you know any boomer parents that's pretty damn realistic. He just sort of gives up and acts completely passive because he's so out of touch with his emotions.

There is also this aspect of your parent aging and then one day you realise that you, the child, are the one who has more power in the relationship. It's a universal experience. These are just some of the ways I can see Viren and Claudia's relationship in seasons 4 and 5 metaphorically portray real life parent-child dynamics. There is a lot of emotional truth to how TDP approaches these relationships even when the story itself is an over the top fantasy romp.

How much Viren relies on Claudia is revealed little by little: She got the unicorn horn for the spell that killed Avizandum, she got the dragon horn that helped them cross the lava to Xadia in s3. It's set up really subtly how there is almost this parentification of Claudia like she's the one who took her mother's place as the emotional center and caregiver of the family after Viren and Lissa divorced. It's a lot of pressure to put one a child to say the least. This extends to Soren and how he is treated as the scapegoat of the family when Claudia is the Golden Child. This sort of treatment of Claudia and Soren by Viren is probably the most common analysis of their family dynamic as far as I can tell.

You ever heard of the thing called "eldest daughter syndrome"?

Eventually Claudia's most admirable and positive traits get corrupted (insert here an analysis of the corruptive nature of the dark magic as a plot device). It's like this perversion of feminine nurturing instinct society values and enforces in girls. Claudia's love is not domesticated but something that's so all consuming it destroys everything in its way. In s 4 she insists Viren has to live. She does everything in her power to keep her family together even against the wishes of her loved ones; first it was healing Soren in and then it was bringing Viren back to life in s3. Claudia has fully internalised her role as the caregiver to the point of self-imposed victimhood.

All The Characters Have a Part to Play

Since TDP is meant for an all-age audience (And later for teens and up since they hiked up the age rating) all the younger characters Callum, Ezran, Rayla, Claudia and Soren collectively represent the kind of different and difficult feelings parental abandonment and neglect can cause. A real person most likely feels all of these emotions at some point of their life but in fiction they need to be spread out among different characters or the story wouldn't work as, well, a story.

"she was a mage girl committing warcrimes, he was an elf boy vibing in the woods, can I make it anymore obvious"

I'd gladly read some more critical takes on Claudia's character. There is something very interesting there about Claudia and Terry's relationship for example. Terry is clearly very enamored with Claudia whom he perceives as someone very vulnerable and in need of help. Terry isn't wrong exactly but it does get problematic when he goes to great lengths to protect Claudia to the detriment of his own wellbeing. While TDP itself doesn't draw attention to it there are also the racial and gendered elements, both implicit and explicit, because of Claudia's fantasy racism and because of Terry being a non-white trans boy character as well. Claudia is the most powerful dark mage in Xadia when Terry is just a normal guy. Given the context of the show there is a power imbalance there.

tHÖ END

Why I'm laying this all out is that I think the Internet would be a better place if people didn't try to constantly find an objective "right" way to view a piece of media but instead were somewhat transparent about what they personally got out of it. I think this Viravos meta is the most popular thing I've written so far and I tried to explain my approach in detail because I don't want people to go "look this person says Viravos is canon!". Jokes are fine of course but taking it too objectively ignores the fact that analysing subtext is valuable on its own.

Idk how to end this. Here, have this meme.

[gurokiitty]

Hi! It's me the one who said the thing about the bugs and skin I loved it and now I can't stop thinking about it in fact I'm thinking about it more

Idk why but now I can just imagine they just like scratching shit in general because I had this idea...lets pretend for a second that maybe they get to be collared too let's just pretend...because I can imagine them just aggressively scratching strades head because they "like watching the dandruff fall out"

I was scratching stuff and this came into my head

a/n: you are so interesting anon XD thank you for sharing your fun ideas with me. i hope you enjoy!

SCRATCHING THE SURFACE

{ strade x gn! reader }

part 1: BENEATH THE SKIN

word count: 760

warnings/tags: alcohol use, drunk strade, scratching, slight body worship/fascination, mentally ill reader, poetic descriptions of dandruff lol, kinda wholesome.

The evening air was heavy with the smell of beer and cigarettes, the flickering television light casting erratic shadows across the walls. Strade lounged beside you on the couch, shirtless and slightly inebriated, lazily holding a bottle of liquor. His usual sharp edge seemed dulled by the alcohol, his eyes half-closed as he watched the screen.

Despite the heavy bandages, the mangled skin of your forearm itched with a compulsive need that had never truly left. Strade’s attention was glued to a grainy action movie, allowing your mind a moment’s distraction in the warm, quiet room.

Your gaze drifted from the television to Strade’s exposed skin, illuminated by the screen's glow that highlighted the soft contours of his abdomen. Driven by curiosity and a relentless need to scratch, your hand moved almost involuntarily.

Initially, Strade didn’t react as your fingers made contact with his warm skin. His indifference encouraged you, and you began to trace your nails lightly across his stomach— a sensation vastly different from scratching your own scarred skin. His skin was smoother, warmer, and surprisingly responsive.

At the faint sensation, Strade's muscles twitched subtly, and a slight smirk formed on his lips as if amused by your audacity.

Emboldened, your fingers ventured further, tracing the lines that segmented his stomach. The scratching was gentle at first, but the familiar urge surged, compelling you to apply more pressure. Your nails pressed harder, leaving faint red marks that faded as quickly as they appeared.

Taking a deep swig of his beer, Strade finally turned to face you, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Like what you feel?” he slurred, his breath heavy with the smell of alcohol.

You leaned closer and scratched his stomach again, the fine hairs tingling under your fingertips. "You're smoother than I imagined... like tracing patterns on silk," you whispered, your hand moving upward to trace the lines of his chest.

He hummed in response, his smirk widening as you felt the changing texture of his skin near his collarbone. You paused, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, in sync with the low, erratic hum of the television.

Then, almost naturally, your hand drifted to his head, fingers tangling in his hair. You began to scratch gently at his scalp, the initial softness giving way to a more firm, scraping motion. As you enjoyed the sensation of his coarse locks between your fingers, tiny flakes of dried skin began to drift down like bizarre, unseasonal snow onto the back cushion.

His eyes closed and his smirk smoothed into a contented smile, appreciating how your fingers worked through his hair. The change in his expression seemed to shift the atmosphere, the room growing quieter despite the ongoing drone of the television. Each scrape of your nails seemed to sink him deeper into relaxation, his body loosening against the soft back of the couch.

You continued to explore the texture of his scalp, noting the spots that made him lean into your touch, his head subtly pushing against your hand like a cat seeking affection. The intimacy of the moment felt almost surreal, a stark contrast to the usual chaos that defined your interactions. This gentler, quieter side of him was entirely new to you.

As your nails found the dry patches, you gently loosened more flakes of dandruff. There was something oddly satisfying about watching the tiny white particles drift down, catching the light before vanishing into the shadowy room. Each flake seemed to momentarily soothe the relentless squirming sensation beneath your skin.

Your hand moved of its own accord, scratching harder, deeper, to free more stubborn flakes trapped within the roots. The frantic scraping of your nails against his scalp grew louder, almost echoing in his ears. As you intensified your efforts, a cascade of dandruff dislodged from his hair, swirling in a miniature storm of white specks. These particles caught in the dim light, swirling erratically before settling silently around you, like ash from a snuffed candle.

Suddenly, Strade’s eyes snapped open, and his hand clamped around your wrist with drunken firmness. “Like that, do you?” he asked, his focus sharpened despite his inebriation. Despite the pain of his grip, your fingers twitched, driven by a gnawing, primal urge.

"I-I like like watching the dandruff fall..." You murmured, his gaze drilling into you, curious yet hazy from the alcohol.

“Alright. Go on then, just watch the claws, yeah?” He replied, his tone carrying a hint of amusement as he loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to continue.

[pixies-and-poets]

No one knew exactly how long these mangled corpses were stuck there rotting.

They were discovered after many of Paletteville's villagers complained of a unbearable stench that leaked from underneath the bridge. The authorities arrived to investigate with almost everyone crowding around the scene. Some watched from afar, others dared to venture closer only to be stopped and turned back. A few discreetly took pictures on their phones. This morbid spectacle aroused such disturbing tension all throughout the area. It was bad enough already that Palette Prime was infamous for its bad luck, thanks to their poet for a warden, but now...

Words could not describe the sheer horror that was found once the authorities realized that the bodies were stitched together and hung up right underneath the wooden planks of the bridge. Such a sight made the squeamish sick, resulting in many cases of vomiting and fainting spells.

It was later revealed that four victims were identified, despite them being partially skinned, dismembered, and disemboweled. The victims were widely known to Paletteville to the point of adoration. One was a football player, two were beloved socialites, and the last was a judge. Not a single person could figure out why someone would go after such wonderful citizens. The investigation continued. Bloodstained golden cords pierced their flesh and fat and muscle, tying them into this grotesque, meaty banner that stretched from one end to another. Right below this display was a gathering of rocks, all colored in a deep red and positioned into a small circle that was just big enough for one to sit inside.

---

Woodrow woke up in his bathtub, his naked body motionlessly floating in filthy water. His eyes adjusted; his ears rang as his head throbbed. His senses slowly came to him as he lifted his arms up to pull himself up.

Then he froze.

...

It's just a hallucination. It has to be. There's no way any of this is real. He has done this before. They're only temporary. That's it.

Just temporary.

The poet closed his eyes and held in a deep breath. His chest felt like it was about to burst. Chills ran up his spine, intensified by the coolness of the bathwater, and he let out a exhale. Another deep breath in, and another long exhale...

Nothing changed.

Woodrow choked and gasped, finally crawling out of the bathtub and crashing down onto the cold hard tile floor. His breathing was now sporadic with a terror unimaginable, leaving him panicking like a newborn lost in the woods. Tears streamed down his face as he silently wailed in terrible realization. His body curled in a futile attempt to make itself warm.

There was silence.

...

And then the light flickered.

The fur on his back stood straight up. Woodrow shut his eyes.

He suddenly melted as a gentle, loving caress presses against his cheek.

"Please... no more tears. You did exceptionally well, my dearest poet. Soon all shall know what art truly is."

I know it's gonna be good when I open my notifications and see "No one knows how long these mangled corpses..." from you lol

Actually I read this last night and woke up still thinking about it. Your writing gives me chills and sticks in my brain as usual!

This is a less wholesome take on Phantom-possession, I take it? I like how Phandrow can be too extremely corny romantic art-dorks waxing poetic about each other and frolicking gaily through the woods forever, OR it could be a literally tortured artist pushed to his limits, and his supernatural boyfriend who is no stranger to lusting for revenge and could entice him to embrace his darker side and innate capacity for destruction. This ship is everything, mmhmm mhhhmmmmmmm

One thing is true regardless of AU, and the relative horror thereof: that when Phantom touches Woodrow he will forget all his suffering and figuratively turn into a puddle. Doesn't matter how many times it's happened or how long they have been together.

[ladyantiheroine]

Double Date at the Horror Show

Summary: There's a new horror movie in theaters, so Julie and Lisa decide to take their dead boyfriends out to the cinema. Read on AO3.

Pairing: Lisa Swallows x The Creature, R x Julie Grigio

Warnings: None. Wholesome!

Word Count: 2.6k words

Tags: double date, friendships, platonic relationships, date night, zombies, short & sweet, fluff.

Author's Note: I love sweet submissive zombie boys and the badass girls they love, so here they are together.

“Weird,” Julie said as she stared down at her phone. “Lisa said they’d be here five minutes ago.” 

She kept eyeing the glowing marquee sign above her and R. It was a Friday night and there was only one title blazing across it between the rows of blinking light bulbs: BLEED ON ME. By the ticket booth was the accompanying poster: A rotted, fleshy hand gripping a human heart and blood trickling between its fingers.

The movie was starting in ten minutes. If they were going to get popcorn and drink first, then the second half of their party had to get here quickly.

An autumn breeze chilled across Julie’s skin and she pulled her coat closer. R noticed her shiver, and lumbered closer to her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and set his chin on top of her head. Julie grinned.

“You’re sweet,” she said. “But I’m not sure how much body heat you’ve got to warm up.”

R made a disappointed groan but didn’t let her go. Julie rubbed at R’s arm.

“Don’t feel bad,” she said. “It’s not your fault. Plus, Swallows’s man can’t warm her up much either.”

That’s because Lisa was dating a dead guy too. When Julie caught wind that there was another girl her age in town who was dating a zombie, she knew she had to get to know her. Must have been something about this town that brought girls and corpses together. It was like the Paris of inter-living love.

Despite their differences, Julie and Lisa got along surprisingly well. While they had different senses of style (Julie preferred a more athletic, preppy look while Lisa preferred her black lace and skull earrings), the two connected pretty quickly. Of course, it helped that the two of them had similar taste in men.

“So your boyfriend has never eaten people?” Julie had said to Lisa while the two were walking through Bachelors' Cemetery.

“Nope,” Lisa said. “Then again, he wasn’t alive as long as yours. I guess electricity-induced zombies don’t need brains. Just a little trip to the tanning salon.”

The two of them immediately decided to arrange a double date with their undead boy toys. Luckily, there was a brand new zombie horror movie out in theaters. Julie and R had made it a tradition to watch every zombie movie they could find together so they could nitpick the least accurate parts (R called the fast movements of the zombies in World War Z “unrealistic expectations”). So, Julie invited Lisa and Creature along.

“Weird how she just calls him Creature,” Julie said. “I know his tombstone was a bit busted, but you think after how long they’ve been together that they’d decide on a name for him.”

R released a long, mangled groan. Julie chuckled.

“Then again, your name is just an initial, so I guess the dead make due.”

Just then, a cherry red car pulled into the parking lot and grabbed the last spot close to the front. Lisa, decked in her black frills and pink lipstick, stepped out the driver’s seat and rounded the other side to let Creature out. The boy was pale with decrepit flesh and messy dark hair, not dissimilar to R’s. But while R stuck to his signature red hoodie and jeans, Creature was decked in a black waistcoat and dress pants.

Well, she did say he was from the 1800s, Julie thought.

Lisa saw them standing by the front and waved to them with a big smile. Julie waved back while Lisa grabbed Creature’s hand and pulled him across the parking lot.

“Hey, Julie!” Lisa cried.

“Lisa, just in time!”

The two girls embraced each other and then Lisa turned to her boyfriend.

“This is Creature,” she said. “He’s the guy I found at Bachelors' Cemetery. At the grave I showed you.”

Creature gave a shaky but dapper bow and offered his hand. Julie put her hand in his and he kissed with shivery cold lips. He let out a long growl that Julie deciphered as zombie-speak for “nice to meet you.”

Julie gestured to her boyfriend.

“This is R,” she said. “The guy I met at the airport.”

“R,” Lisa said, shaking his hand. “R as in Robert? Ricky?”

R managed a shy smile and shrugged.

“He can’t remember the rest of his name,” Julie clarified. “So he’s just R.”

“Well, at least you have a letter,” Lisa said. “I was scrubbing Creature’s grave for weeks before we met and I couldn’t get any name.”

“Well, what did Shakespeare say? ‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet?’”

Suddenly, Creature started coughing. He turned to the side and hacked out a black glob of gunk onto the concrete sidewalk. The stench caught the air and the girls pinched their noses.

“Maybe smell as sweet is the wrong phrasing,” Lisa said. “I doubt Shakespeare knew any zombies when he wrote R and J.”

R, unfazed, looked down at the hot goo-ball on the ground. He turned to Creature with an impressed smile, and the two of them high-fived while making congratulatory dead noises. Both seemed pleased with themselves.

“Ugh, boys are boys even when they’re dead,” Julie said.

Lisa used her free hand to dust off her skirt.

“So, is the movie starting soon?”

Oh yeah, the movie. Julie looked at the time on her phone and her heart leapt. The movie was starting in five minutes and they didn’t even have refreshments yet. Although after smelling Creature’s deposit, she was close to losing her appetite. 

“If we move fast, we can make it during the trailers,” she said. “I’ve got all our tickets, but we need popcorn and soda.”

“Then let’s hurry!” Lisa said.

She grabbed Julie’s wrist and the two girls hurried towards the front entrance. But just as Lisa grabbed the door handle, both girls noticed that R and Creature were lagging behind them. The boys were slowly staggering in their direction.

“Boys, come on!” Lisa snapped. “What part of ‘hurry’ do you not understand?”

Both boys groaned in unison as they half-ran to meet them. The two couples hurried through the door into the lobby. The place smelled fresh of butter, the walls lined with posters for upcoming releases and a red carpet beneath their feet. There was even a cardboard cut-out of one of the zombies for Bleed On Me, which both R and Creature were eyeing.

“Lisa and I will get refreshments, you boys head to theater thirteen,” Julie instructed. 

Since the boys moved slower, they’d need a head start. Plus, not every cashier responded well to a half-decayed face trying to moan out “extra butter please.” Julie and R learned that the hard way on their first theater date when the girl at the register fainted.

Julie handed the boys their tickets and they started hobbling down the hall towards the door labeled “13.” The good part about being late was that the line at the concessions had come and gone, so Lisa and Julie could jump straight to the register.

“Two large popcorn buckets, two diet Cokes, one Pepsi, and one Sprite,” Julie said.

Lisa slapped a candy packet on the counter.

“And one pack of Twizzlers, please,” she said.

The cashier rang them up and the girls filled their arms with the snacks. They found the boys standing by the doors, which they held open so the girls could carry everything inside. Down the dark hall and into the theater where the trailer for a superhero movie was already playing. The girls were worried about getting the boys up the steps, but thankfully, there were four empty seats waiting in the front row.

“Perfect,” Julie said.

Julie and Lisa sat in the middle with each of their boys at their sides. Just as popcorn and drink were distributed, the whole screen turned red and black blood trickled down with the film’s title in gothic font. The opening scene began in a barn house in the middle of nowhere at night.

“No empty city with rusty buildings?” Julie whispered. “That’s original.”

“I always wondered if country folk would notice the end of the world last,” Lisa whispered back. “I mean, you live so remote, you don’t notice hell breaking loose around you.”

Someone in the row behind them shushed them. The scene continued, as the heroine slowly approached the barn doors, strange sounds emanating from inside.

“It’s giving me Texas Chainsaw Massacre vibes,” Julie whispered.

“Maybe they’re vegetarian zombies,” Lisa whispered back. “They only eat animals. Like the vampires in Twilight.”

Creature groaned something, and the row behind them squashed them again. Louder this time, and the usher was looking at them. Lisa covered her mouth and Creature’s, and every turned back to the movie.

They managed to be quiet for the rest of the movies. Julie and R silently cataloged all the zombie tropes to analyze afterwards. Meanwhile, Lisa pulled a Twizzler out of the bag and held it between her and Creature’s mouth. The two nibbled down until their lips touched in a kiss, like they were watching Lady and the Tramp and not an R-rated gorefest. 

The film’s plot crescendoed to its climax, as the final girl survivor was confronted with the shambling corpse of her former love interest. She lifted a spiked baseball bat, and with a scream she swung it at the dead guy’s head. The audience in the theater yelped, and with a wet splattering sound, the zombie’s head plopped right off with a geyser of blood.

Everyone in the theater was trembling in terror, but Julie and Lisa just gave each other a look, before looking at their boyfriends. R and Creature were looking at their girlfriends suspiciously, knowing very well that could be them if they hadn’t met more merciful girls.

Finally, the credits began climbing up the screen and the lights came up. Their popcorn buckets were empty except for a few kernels and their soda cups were empty. Lisa plucked the last strand of Twizzler and broke it in four pieces for everyone.

“That was crazy,” she said as the four of them sauntered out of the theater. “They don’t make campy stuff like that as much anymore.”

“I know, right?” Julie said. 

“And with practical effects instead of CGI? I could get used to this.”

R and Creature moaned in agreement with the girls. Julie threaded her hand with R’s.

“Be nice to us,” she told the boys. “Or it’ll be your heads getting the bat next.”

After the movie was over, despite copious amounts of popcorn, soda and Twizzlers, the gang were still hungry and didn’t want to go home. Thankfully, Julie knew a diner close to the movie theater that was open late at night.

“Late Night Cravings is great,” Julie told them as the four loaded into Lisa’s car. “R and I went there just last week. They have the best milkshakes.”

Just five minutes down the road, the car pulled up to a retro diner with “Late Night Cravings” blazing across the top in red, swirling neon. The four of them loaded out of the car and made their way inside, where a waitress brought them to a large booth table with red vinyl seats. They ordered a round of cheeseburgers and fries, and the waitress brought them a steaming tray of them.

“So,” Julie said, dipping a french fry in a cup of ketchup. “Zombie movie rating, what are we giving Bleed On Me ?”

“I give it a B+,” Lisa said. “I like the camp and practical effects, but the cinematography was so washed out. All yellow and brown and beige. Even the blood was more brown than red. I want some color back in my movies.”

“That’s ironic,” Julie quipped. “Considering how many black-and-white movies you watch.”

Lisa grinned and rolled her eyes.

“What about you?” she asked.

“A-,” Julie said. “Solid, but the whole ‘girl kills her boyfriend after he dies’ is a bit of a misrepresentation, don’t you think?”

She grabbed R’s hand on the table and Creature leaned his head against Lisa’s shoulder. She giggled and petted his hair.

“I’ll second that,” she said. She looked at R, then back at Creature. “And what about the experts? Good zombie rep or nah?”

The boy were quiet for a moment, pondering their responses. Then, R leaned forward, and for the first time, he spoke.

“Too…much…blood…” he said. He motioned a blade cutting his neck, referencing the final kill. “Dead…don’t…bleed…”

Lisa eyes widened and Julie giggled.

“He can talk?!” she cried.

“Yeah,” Julie said. “Didn’t I tell you?”

She squeezed R’s hand right.

“Dead Don’t Bleed would make a great movie title,” she said. “Maybe that can be the sequel.”

Lisa excitedly turned to Creature.

“Maybe we can get you to talk,” Lisa said. “Try some speech therapy practices, maybe we can retrain your vocal chords to work!”

Creature smile and opened his mouth to speak, but all he could make out was a long, mangled gargle.

“Takes…practice…” R said.

Creature reached across the table and scooped up R’s burger by its bottom bun. Then, his face twisted like a cat about to spit out a hairball. With a loud gag, he spat two worms onto the meat patty before returning it to R’s plate. R stared at it for a moment, then placed the top bun back on top and took a big bite. He chewed, nodded his head and gave Creature a grin and a thumb’s up.

“Thank goodness we’re the only ones here,” Julie said. She glanced toward the waitstaff. “Health inspector might chew us out.”

“He puts worms in all his food,” Lisa said. “I guess zombies who don’t eat brains eat bugs.”

After burgers, the waitress bought them milkshakes in tall glasses with red-striped straws. Creature reached into the back of his throat, pulled out two worms, and dropped one in his and R’s glasses.

“I’ll remember to go digging in the backyard next time R and I have dinner at my place,” Julie said.

“Look for wet patches of mud, they love it there,” Lisa said.

The four of them slurped their milkshakes down the bottom. Once their glasses were empty, R and Creature fished out their worms, clinked them together like glasses, then dropped them into their mouths. The waitress eyed them suspiciously but said nothing.

“When we all turn twenty-one, we should all order bottles of Mezcal,” Julie said.

“Oh, they’d love that,” Lisa said. “With the little worm at the bottom?”

The waitress brought them their checks. It was nearing midnight, and while dead boys like R and Creature didn’t need sleep, Lisa and Julie were getting sluggish.

“This was so fun,” Lisa said. “Next time there’s a zombie movie, we have to do this again.”

“Maybe we’ll rent and watch at my house,” Julie said. “So no one tries to shush us.”

R made some agreeable noises and Creature rubbed his chin atop Lisa’s head.

“That sounds great,” Lisa said. “And maybe afterwards we can all go to the cemetery. Maybe have a picnic!”

“Only if the boys don’t pack the basket,” Julie says. “I prefer my worms with tequila, thank you.”

The two couples made their way to their respective cars. Lisa poked her head out the passenger side window and waved to them as the engine revved up.

“Bye, Julie! Bye, R!” she called. “Nice to meet you!”

With that, the car’s tires screeched as it took off down the road, hobbling from one side to the next. Julie watched them go, then looked back at R.

“Was Creature…driving the car?” she asked.

R shrugged.

“Does he have a license?”

R shrugged again. Julie chuckled and settled down into the driver’s seat.

“Well, good thing she has that tanning bed,” she said. “She might need it in case they don’t get home alive.”

[mushramoo]

What are your favorite fnaf ships?

I am fluid with a lot of the ships, but I’d say my favorites are Glamrock chica x Roxanne, freddy x monty (and Bonnie, but I lean more towards monty), chica x mangle, etc. I also like some foxy ships but mostly foxy & freddy ^^

OH YEA AND Fredbear x spring Bonnie

(Afton ships are cool too, but it has to be wholesome aus, canon makes me uncomfy)

[cartoon-buffoon]

Late night, can't sleep, am bored. I'm gonna list off YouTubers that I watched growing up and some words on them.

Newscapepro—I can do a full rant on this channel/Corey alone and I'm devastated he privated or possibly DELETED his Minecraft roleplay series. I loved all of it, undertale, BATIM, FNAF, all his MC roleplays and minigame videos. The newscape team was a key part of my childhood and I still follow Unicomics, Ashlie9596, Nick, and Jon now that they are doing their own things (the first 3 still play together which is super nice). I'll forever miss those old videos (especially the FNAF ones, I miss bittybab and Uni as lolbit/Funtime Foxy).

Popularmmos—Pat & Jen were like parents to me and seeing them break up was devastating. I laughed to their videos all the time and they always cheered me up, so glad Jen is doing well for herself rn and although Pat went off the deep end for a bit he seems like he's doing okay although I'd love for him to return even if it doesn't look nor sound like Jen will. Him alone would make me happy.

VanossGaming/The Banana Bus Squad—Yes, I was an edgy little fuck, still am, shoot me. Anyways, yeah no all these guys were great (expect for Pablo and the bunny), they made me laugh just as much as Popularmmos yet their videos were obviously a lot more adult oriented. Thanks to them I developed a similar sense of humor to the stupid shit they did/said and my favorite crew members gotta be Marcel and Wildcat to this day, I do love Moo and Terroriser though yet both their jokes/bits were always hit or miss yet when they hit THEY HIT!

H2ODelirious—Adding him separate from the Vanoss crew as he was the only one who made content by themselves without the Vanoss crew that entertained me. If we're gonna be technical delirious is my absolute favorite crew member yet by himself is where he shined. His and Toonz' friendship is also by far one of like the most wholesome things ever and even when they'd yell at each other their camaraderie was unmatched and the chemistry made delirious' videos a joy to watch with Toonz in them. As I said before delirious also by himself is where he shined because he's a total goofball and sometimes stupid while also being incredibly witty and funny. His GTA character model of a clown perfectly represents him because he juggles the stupid and clever perfectly, still watch him to this day (proud member of the delirious army)

Dorkly—As stated before I was an edgy fuck and them video game parodies were as edgy as ever back then. Sonic for hire particularly was hilarious to me and I still characterize a lot of Sonic characters but their for hire counterparts and the phrase "Fryin' and Buyin'!" Lives in my head rent free. Not much to say

Tony Crynight—Fnaf animation man.... The FNAF animation in question being the one that was a love triangle between Foxy, Mangle, and chica where chica maims mangle. Honestly I do not regret watching those videos at all as they are genuinely better than half the movies I've seen in my life.

Balena Productions—This channel is on the list because he made mother fuckin' SONIC ZOMBIES! FUCKING SONIC ZOMBIES! Ong, Knuckles & Espio are still better gay representation than most of the shit they be putting in TV and movies. I absolutely loved the Sonic Zombies series when I was young and watching it now some of the jokes still do hit despite them being from a bygone era.

Jacksepticeye—This was his super high energetic era and I remember binge watching his happy wheel videos 3 times over, the entire series. Safe to safe I absolutely loved Jack and although I stopped watching him he holds a place in my heart as one of my favorite feel good YouTubers who were upbeat and wanted to bring joy for the sake of joy. And of course the "*WAPOOSH!* TOP OF THE MORNIN' TOO YA LADDIES!" Is legendary for a memorable intro.

Markiplier—wasn't a giant fan of Mark yet I did undeniably watch him growing up and binge a lot of his videos. Him being the king of five nights of Freddy's is obviously unforgettable and I also watched him during his "energetic era" where his montone and dull start of the videos would devolve into him getting overly into the game he was playing. So cool to see what he's done since then and now he's directing a movie, it's awesome.

FusionZGamer—was and still is the goat of FNAF content. Consistent uploads and is still getting scared for the sake of our entertainment. Not exactly as entertaining as Jack or Mark and he's obviously a more of a niche YouTuber but bro has been doing what he's been doing for awhile and found his audience. Kinda moved away from him for a bit yet I still go back and watch some of his older videos or binge his newer stuff as he hasn't changed a whole lot, he still plays horror games and cracks jokes whilst not actually getting in the way of gameplay, he knows when to be quiet and I appreciate that. A lot of YouTubers don't know when to shut up and appreciate a game and it's tension/moments yet he usually does and can wait like 3 seconds speak his thoughts or make a joke. Will say tho in his recent videos he do be getting a bit more wild yet I appreciate it as he started off not very family friendly yet moved more towards not cussing yet he's been getting a lot more loose with it. Whatever he wants to do he can do it though, just saying it seems like he's comfortable doing more stuff now.

That's all I can think of, this actually tired me out & goodnight?

[kazoofnafhumanaublog]

Can... can we have a wholesome Mangle moment?

Mangle enjoys when jj draws on their cast <3

[funtimespringscare101]

Five Nights at Freddy’s Corrupted Memories AU- Jeremy and Mangle headcanons

@chaosverse-mainblog @misterah13

Jeremy took the job as a way to spend the summer and to help pay the bills for his mom in hospital (they’re a poorer family). His best friend Lizzie, who becomes Tape Girl, was unsure about it and Jeremy wanted her to stop worrying and that it was going to be just fine. We all know how that turned out.

The Bite of ‘87 happened because “Dave” was in the area and Mangle’s faulty face recognition software activated but locked on Jeremy instead of William/Dave. When she came to, Mangle felt extremely guilty and was in extreme pain.

Jeremy actually calls Mangle by their actual name, Toy Foxy, and only uses the “Mangle” nickname around the workers to make a point.

Even after the Bite, Jeremy always makes it clear that Mangle is his favorite.

Jeremy survived the Bite and was the Jeremy mentioned in FNAF VR: Help Wanted. Although he manages to not cut his face off with a paper guillotine cutter. He does enough trauma to go to therapy… again.

When the Toy animatronics got brought back by Illumix for FNAF AR: Special Delivery after years of being in storage, Mangle actually ends up being lured to a strangely familiar house. When they got inside for the encounter, Mangle sees that it’s no other than Jeremy, now much older and with a healed bite wound. Mangle’s initial reaction was thinking that she was having faulty glitch hallucinations again, as after the Bite, they started to see it play again and again. It wasn’t until Jeremy touched them by putting his hand on their cheek that Mangle saw that it was actually him. This whole reunion is very wholesome.

Mangle and Lizzie’s reunion (they met a few times back in 1987) was also pretty wholesome, although Lizzie wasn’t initially thrilled about it.