who-is-cannon

[who-is-cannon]

@fenertainmenttonight

New blog for DP stuff

Going to get a completely new account in case anyone is curious. Will be Fenertainment_Tonight or something along those lines

[who-is-cannon]

Going to get a completely new account in case anyone is curious. Will be Fenertainment_Tonight or something along those lines

[who-is-cannon]

read my “my spirit academia” au

[who-is-cannon]

Why is it so hard to believe that a princess would lie?

No one entertains the idea that the new tax is for the purpose they claim. The king lies, the streets remain potted with holes, and we all knew this would happen.

Dukes and Duchesses and princes? Do you trust their words more?

No.

So why do you trust hers?

Is it because she's a merchant's daughter, and not a highborn girl of status and power?

Tell me, do you really trust the wealthy shopkeeper to give you the most of your money's worth?

I thought not.

You trust her story because you want to. I get that, it is quite the tale. I know my words will fall on deaf ears, but I cannot go forever without telling it. Princess who's love would have me executed or not.

We never called her Cinderella.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Ella. Ella was the name of my new sister. She was younger than Anastasia, but older than me. I was excited to meet her. She was not excited to meet us.

The first night in the new house (It was an extravagant place, then before we'd gotten used to it, it had stairs!), Ella shut herself in her rooms for dinner, then breakfast, then was coaxed out by her father for lunch. Her eyes were puffy but she still leveled us with a glare that felt like a drafty window.

Ella did not want us here.

"Give her time," Mother had told us, "Her mother passed away recently, this is a big change."

So we gave her time. Two years should've been enough to dull the hostility, but when I'm pranked so viscously, I retaliate. I regret it a bit now, it was childish, but I don't think I would've ever done anything differently. See, Ella's father, the man I should call my papa like she did, didn't believe Ella could do wrong. I could tell him that she'd put rotten egg in my shoe, but Ella wouldn't do that, it must've been Anastasia, if I wasn't lying. So I fought back in my own way, and got punished for it more often than not.

Two years later, and we were just as much enemies as Ella had expected of us.

Then Ella's doting father died.

Here's the beginning of her story, she "Became a servant in her own house," right? Honestly, I think she actually thinks that's how it happened.

Context, Ella, is important.

Mother didn't appear to grieve (She did, of course, but Ella never learned to read my mother's face.) Mother couldn't afford to waist time lounging with her tears, we were living in a house we couldn't afford. So Anastasia sat at the table and started embroidering for hours, Mother and I ripped the useless flowers from the garden and planted the dye plants we knew so well. We secured an income to keep the warm, draft-less building. Mother tried to remarry (yet again), but some nasty rumors of poison kept the husbands away. I still wonder if Ella, the charismatic socialite, had something to do with them.

We couldn't afford to keep servants, but we knew how to clean and cook, and do all the things we did before. Ella did not.

I do wonder if our work all went unnoticed. Did she really not care that I made dinner, because of how horrendous it was to was dishes? She says now, that we all lounged around and did nothing. Well, Ella, maybe its because I stuck my hand in the laundry water and scrubbed instead of swishing it around hoping the dirt wouldn't get on me!

It does not take that long to do simple chores if you dig in and do them!

(And before you try to say it, we did teach her how. But the washboard chipped a nail and was then onward unusable.)

Mere months of this, oh, that's right, Ella doesn't use the correct dates in her tale, No.

This didn't go on for six years, like she'd have you believe. Her father hadn't been in the ground for a year when the ball's invitation came.

I wish it had been longer.

She would've figured chores out and had a bit of free time. Then, maybe she would be content to not ruin us.

I think you can figure the rest of the story out. I dyed fabric, Anastasia embroidered, and Mother stitched dresses together for all three of us. Ella's didn't meet her standards and she wore something from an old chest of her mother's. It had been a beautiful gown, I could imagine a fairy stitching it.

The party came and went, we had fun and Ella had a hook in the prince. The envoy came to collect her a week later, and she'd had soot on her fingers from scrubbing the fireplace.

That was the first and last time I'd ever see Cinderella.

[who-is-cannon]

Ok so there’s a bunch of headcannons ( aus ? ) floating around right now for who Walter Weston got with to have all the Weston children.

I purpose that Walter just slept with a lot of damn people. Supernatural folk in particular.

I like it when people make Walter unabashedly a whore.

I think Easton Weston is born completely human ( eldest brother ) and really did drink some funky Amity water and now is magic.

I think Kyle and Wes are twins, and that they had a Fae parent. Kyle has Fae-ness about him, but it’s pretty low level. Wes has very little ( maybe it’s why he’s obsessed with the supernatural? He’s got this strange little voice in his brain? ) Fae business and is for the most part just a human.

Well, as much as anyone is a human.

Anyway it’d be absolutely hilarious if Walter has met numbers of supernatural creatures that hunters can only dream at. Until, of course, the hunters learn what these meetings entailed.

Walter is a walking bestiary due to… experience.

Easton’s parent was probably human. At this point, Walter can’t really remember. All Walter knows is that he’s got a fine boy with a good head on his shoulders.

Kyle and Wes’ parent? Ah, well, he remembers them…

That year was good. Little Easton would make grabby hands at something furry. Or was it scaly? Either way, he’d shriek in joy and point out stars that weren’t in astronomy books. During the day.

Nights would be wild. Literally. His hair grew long as ferns and feathers traced patterns across his skin.

But Good Neighbors can only stay for so long. And now he has two more children. One sharp and another fuzzy at the edges. He loves them.

[who-is-cannon]

valerie holding a gun to phantom: tell me the name of god you spectral piece of shit

phantom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters

valerie cocking the gun, tears streaming down her face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU

[who-is-cannon]

i realize i could easily add typed text to this but i think it takes something away from it

[who-is-cannon]

Nails being dragged across a chalkboard

~~~

First time using my Far Below concept

Summary: Danny has a talk with a strange ghost

~~~

The sound was grating.

Like nails being dragged across a chalkboard.

The sound of someone peeling away dry paint.

The creak of old floorboards and the laboured breath of the dying.

It was all of these sounds and none of them at the same time.

Danny shook his head.

He had to get out of here. This place was messing with his very sense of reality and soon he wont even know down from up.

(Did he ever really know down from up in the infinite realms? Was there even such a concept?)

Danny made his way through the old wooden house, careful of broken glass and always knocking before going through doorways. It just felt polite. Something in his core warning him to be wary and to be a good guest.

As soon as he got to the other side of the house he was bolting.

Finally he came through a doorway and could see across the room was the door leading out. But the room wasn't empty or unoccupied like the rest.

The fireplace was burning bright with a warm yellow and orange fire. There was a kettle going on the stove top on the other side of the room and by the fireplace was a comfortable looking arm chair. It had an intricate quilt draped over it, like something you would see at a grandmother's house. There was a small coffee table and another chair, this one not as luxurious or comfy looking as the armchair, it was just a plain wooden one like you would sit at a dinner table.

The walls were decked with pictures of people, all standing infront of an open field with a small house visible in the background. The house in the picture looked almost exactly like the one Danny was in now, if only the one he was in now wasn't run down and at the bottom of the most dangerous place in the infinite realms.

It took Danny too long to notice the figure standing next to the stove waiting for the kettle to boil. The sudden comfortableness of the room infront of him shot his focuse but he managed to regain it as the kettle went off with a high pitch squeal- (like nails being dragged across a chalk board)

Danny shook his head of the thought as he focused on the figure that was removing the kettle from the stove top and pouring a black goopy liquid into two ceramic tea cups covered in intricate flower patterns.

They were tall, their head would probably hit the ceiling if they stood upright. They were hunched over slightly and like many of the residents of the Far Below they didn't seem to have any defining features about them, just a black shadowy mass for a body. They were humming a soft tune that made Danny's eyelids feel a bit heavy but he shook it off. He had to focuse!

He tried sneaking past but a creaky floorboard betrayed him.

"Why don't you sit down for a drink dear?" Came the smooth echoy voice of the ghost who still had their back turned to Danny. Maybe they had known Danny was in the house all along and had just been waiting for him to make it to the last room? But why?

With a resigned sigh Danny sat down over on the wooden chair. The fireplace drowned the whole room in a warm orange glow that only served to increase the feeling of comfort.

The ghost finally turned around as they made their way over with the two cups of black goopy substance. Their only features were two glowing white eyes on an otherwise completely void black face. As they placed the cups down on the coffee table that was between them and Danny he saw they had long sharp thin needle-like fingers that worked delicately around their surroundings.

The ghost sat down on the arm chair and Danny inexplicably felt himself relax.

'No! Bad Danny! Stay focused!' He reminded himself as he tensed again. The logical part of his brain knew not to trust anything that looked nice or appealing in the Far Below. It was always a trick, like a venus flytrap offering sweet necture to an unassuming fly. Danny hated the fact that he was the unassuming fly in this metaphor.

"Well little one?" They spoke again in that buttery smooth voice "What brings you to my parlor?" They asked.

Danny got the sudden urge to spill all his secrets, to tell this ghost everything until he had all his thoughts out on the table, like showing his cards but he swallowed the urge down as he spoke in a shaky voice "I'm just passing through"

"Hmm" the ghost tapped their long needle-like fingers against their chin "it is dangerous to travel these depths when so young. Would you like to stay here a little while until you are better prepared?" The ghost offered.

"N-no thanks" Danny shakily replied. He had a white knuckled grip on the chair's arm rests.

"Very well, but I insist you have some tea before you go" the ghost said, gesturing down to the cups of bubbling black goo.

Danny looked down at the tea. It looked like tar, like some disgusting rotting substance. But as he focused on it the smell finally hit his nose. It smelled delicious. Like chocolate cake and flowers and all the good things in Danny's life. Danny had been travelling through this hell scape for a few hours now but it felt like it had been forever since he was home. Maybe one sip wouldn't hurt. Just to feel home again.

Before he knew it he had his shaky fingers around the cup and was bringing it towards him. The logical part of his brain was screaming at him to stop run get out. But it was just one sip? What could it hurt?

Danny held the cup in shaky hands up to his mouth. Why were his hands shaking? It was just a little tea. Then he made the mistake of glancing up at the ghost. Another feature was visible on their face now, a mouth of razzor sharp teeth, all curled into a sadistic smile. The image was such a sharp turn to the comfortable daze Danny had just been in that it shocked him right out of it, right before he took the sip.

He suddenly jerked the tea cup back down onto the table "I- I think I'm good! Thanks". The smile had disappeared from the ghosts face. Had it ever really been there? Danny didn't want to look back down at the cup, he didn't want to get entranced by it's empty promises of home and comfort.

The ghost sighed "I suppose it can't be helped"

They suddenly stood up and Danny tensed more. His mind, now clear, noticed all the little things of the room that hadn't clicked before. How the stove fire had never been on. How the people in the pictures on the walls looked unhappy, horrified even. How the fire had turned from a warm orange-yellow to a sickly green-gray with ash and soot routinely puffing out. The light it cast was no longer comfortable and friendly.

Instead of attacking like Danny expected they would, the ghost merely stood infront of the fireplace, their back turned to Danny again.

There was a silence. A pause. Danny considered leaving, bolting for the door as quickly as possible but he knew he would never make it in time. He was suddenly very aware of how easily those needle-like fingers could pierce his skin.

Finally the ghost broke the silence "Human's are like sheep in a factory, all meant to be slaughtered"

Danny felt petrified on the spot.

"Ghosts are the sheep that escape. They get a taste of life without death, or maybe it's death with life? But either way they will be found by the farmers and brought to their fate as well"

The ghost suddenly turned around. Their glowing white eyes pinning Danny in the spot with their intensity.

"But you, you are like a sheep that escaped and found it's way onto a raft in the open ocean. What will happen? Will you die, meet your fate like the rest of us? Or will you find lands untold? An existence that we could never dream of? A freedom of the slaughterhouse of inevitability" there was a brief moment were it was just silent. Like the whole Infinite realms was holding it's breath. Danny felt crushed under the silence, like it was suffocating him.

Then the ghost blinked and the feeling vanished.

"Such an interesting concept" they cocked their head to the side "Thoughts?"

Danny's ears were ringing. He could hear the sound of glass crunching under feet, of a cat sharpening it's claws on a scratching post, of nails being dragged across a chalkboard.

"I need to go" he managed to wheeze out.

The ghost nodded at the door and Danny got up and ran, never looking back as he escaped that house.

[who-is-cannon]

Phantom of the Office Masterlist

Disclaimer : I'm listing here my own posts only, but feel free to reblog with your additions :3

This masterlist is updated over time.

The OG Post : The one that started it all - Contains a bit of context, some built up additions by other authors, and my Slime ficlet First Day : Danny's first day at Dunder Mifflin and he's already regreting his life decisions

The Ghost Shield : Dwight tries to trap Danny in the breakroom with his newly acquired ghost shield.

The Specter Deflecter™ : Dwight got a Specter Deflector, and he can't wait to use it on Danny.

[who-is-cannon]

Phantom of the Office - First Day

Phantom of the Office - Masterlist

"Pam! Pamela! Pamey-pam!" Michael Scott, regional manager of Dunder Mifflin’s Scranton branch, called obnoxiously loud.

Pam, who had been on the phone all along, didn’t bother to look up at her approaching boss.

"Please, hold a minute," she said into the receiver before pressing a button on the phone base, just in time for Michael to reach her. "We can’t take Ryan back," she deadpanned.

Michael slumped on the counter.

"Ugh. But he was so perfect!"

"He really wasn’t."

"No one can be as good a temp as he was." Michael continued, ignoring her comment. "Did you know he went to business school?"

"Didn’t he get expelled though?" a man with wild hair and a baby face pipped up from his desk.

"Jim, do you know if that before or after he got arrested for diverting company funds to back his own Kickstarter?" Pam pondered.

"I’m not sure, timeline’s a bit fuzzy," Jim replied, fake confusion etched in his tone.

"You guys are just jealous," Michael declared, heading back towards his office.

He took only three steps before he turned around and strode back to the reception desk.

"Pam?" He whispered urgently.

Pam hid her exasperation poorly, but Michael seemed oblivious.

"Yes, Michael?"

"Do we really have to hire a new temp?"

"The agency faxed the signed contract yesterday," she replied.

Michael grunted.

"And what if I fire him now?"

"You can’t do that. He’s not even here yet."

"Ok, but Pam. Pam. Listen." There was a pregnant pause. "What if he’s not as pretty as Ryan?"

"That’s definitely not a reason to fire someone," the receptionist deadpanned.

"Ugh. Fine," Michael relented.

———

"People often tell me I’m a very spiritual man," Michael confessed to the camera. "I don’t know if I am —although I must be or people wouldn’t tell me, right? But what I can tell you is that I believe in intuition. If I have a gut feeling about something, I listen to it. And you know what my guts are telling me about that guy?"

Michael leaned forward.

"He’s bad news." He whispered ominously to the audience. "Just thinking about him makes me want to barf, and I don’t even know his name yet. My advice? Always listen to your guts. They don’t lie."

His stomach grumbled loudly.

"And don’t drink milk for breakfast if it smells funky," he added.

———

The sound of the entrance door opening and closing echoed through the relatively quiet open space. A young man approached the reception desk, looking very uncomfortable in his suit.

"Hi," he greeted Pam, sounding uncertain. "I’m Danny Fenton?"

"Hi Danny! We were expecting you. Welcome to Dunder Mifflin," the receptionist smiled warmly, getting to her feet. "I’m Pam."

She went around her desk to stand next to Danny.

"Everyone?" Pam called for her coworkers attention, before gesturing towards Danny. "This is—"

"No!"

Michael erupted from his office.

"No, nope, nopitey nope. You don’t need to introduce him, just show him to his desk and give him something to do," Michael ordered without giving a single look at Danny. "Let him organize the staples by color or something."

"Don’t be like that," Pam scolded.

Danny shifted awkwardly.

"Um…Is there a problem?"

Michael turned to Danny.

"Yes, there’s… " Michael’s eyes grew wide. "No problem at all. Did anyone ever tell you you look like Ryan?"

Pam blanched.

"Oh no."

Danny shot her a concerned look.

"Who’s Ryan?" he whispered.

Before she could answer, Michael had an arm around Danny’s shoulders.

"Tell me, did you go to business school?"

Danny squirmed his way out of Michel’s grip.

"I’m just fresh out of high school," he chuckled awkwardly, before shooting a pleading look at Pam that screamed "What’s going on??".

"Argh, Doesn’t matter," Michael dismissed as he turned towards the open space and clapped his hands, calling for his employee’s attention. "Everyone! Conference room, now! You all gotta meet the new temp guy!"

Michael was the first in the room. As the office workers got up to squeeze their way through the door after him, Pam held Danny back.

"See this man?" She whispered to Danny, pointing a finger at a red-headed middle-aged man. "This is Toby, our HR rep. You can talk to him if you need to."

"Er… ok?"

"Come on, kid," Michael prompted from the conference room.

———

"I have a lot of hope for that kid," Michael confided to the camera. "He has so much potential, I can feel it. He’s like a younger Ryan."

———

Danny walked into the conference room, looking unsure. He skimmed over the bored audience, before making eye contact with one of the cameras for the first time. He stopped dead in his tracks.

"Why are there cameras?"

"Oh, that? Don’t pay attention. They’re just filming a documentary," Michael brushed off. "They’ve been here for years, I don’t even notice them anymore. They’re like desks, they’re part of the officescape. You’ll get used to it."

"But I wasn’t told there would be cameras," Danny stepped back, looking from his new boss to the cameras.

"Aw, he’s shy," Michael cooed.

"I’m not shy! It’s just — it wasn’t part of the contract!"

"Actually, it was," Toby spoke up. "Did you take the time to read it?"

Danny opened his mouth in protest, but closed it soon after. He crossed his arms, skulking.

"Fine."

———

"Do I really have to do this?" Danny asked, looking at someone off-camera.

He frowned, probably in reaction to the answer he got.

"Ugh. Look, I just really need the money. Moving here was kind of a spur of the moment thing, you know? I guess I’ll just keep looking for something else in my free time," Danny told the camera.

He closed his eyes in defeat.

"Who am I kidding? I don’t have free time. I’m stuck here," he groaned.

———

Michael clapped his hands.

"Alright! Now that it’s dealt with, everyone welcome….?"

"Danny," the temp filled in unwillingly.

"Danny!" Michael repeated louder. "I read all about you. I knew from the start you’d be a great match for our office! I personally chose you to fill our ranks."

Danny rubbed his neck.

"Er… Thanks?"

Jim raised a hand.

"Yes?" Michael acknowledged.

"If you chose him personally, how come you didn’t know his name?"

"I did," Michael said slowly. "I was just giving Danny a chance to introduce himself."

Jim looked skeptical.

"Uh-hu. Then I guess you can also tell us where Danny is from?"

"Of course! He’s from… Scranton. Born and raised," Michael declared with a big smile on his face. "Right Danny?"

The new temp made a face.

"Where are you really from?" Pam asked warmly.

"Er… Amity Park?" He answered, rubbing his neck. "Look, do we really have to—"

"No way." All heads turned to the very unstylish man who just got to his feet, looking awed. "You mean the haunted town in Illinois?"

"You heard about it?" Danny asked, surprised.

"We all have, it’s often on the news," Pam supplied.

"For real?" Danny seemed genuinely surprised.

"If you’re talking about that town that fakes ‘ghost attacks’ to lure tourists in, then yes," Jim explained plainly. "At least once a month."

"Oh but trust me, those ghosts aren’t fake. The fights we see on TV? Totally real," the unstylish man asserted.

"Dwight, come on…" a latino man complained. "The only reason we even hear about Amity Park is because their publicity stunts get wilder every months."

"It’s become a running gag at this point," Jim added for Danny’s benefit.

Dwight moved to the front of the room, looking each of his colleagues in the eyes.

"It’s real. I didn’t believe it either at first, but my cousin Mose did. We went to check it out for ourselves. It’s all true. Tell them, Danny."

Danny shot a quick look at the camera, looking uncomfortable.

"Er… Sorry to disappoint, but yeah, they’re fake."

"They’re not!" Dwight exclaimed, looking at Danny, scandalized. "The ghost kid saved me! A car was flying right towards me and he made me intangible. He touched me, right here!" Dwight protested, pointing at his upper-arm. "You’re from there, you must have seen him at least once!"

An exasperated "Flying cars? Really, Dwight?" was heard coming from somewhere in the audience, off camera.

"Look, it’s not real. The ghosts are just… er… holograms." Danny said, poorly masking the uncertainty in his voice.

Dwight scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Yeah? They do a lot of property damage for ‘holograms’."

"I mean… It does make it look more real, doesn’t it?" Danny supplied.

"Dwight, the kid says it’s fake. I think he would know better than you," Michael intervened, once more wrapping an arm around Danny’s shoulders. "Don’t you, Danny?"

"Please don’t hold me like that," Danny whined, finding himself forced to squirm his way out of Michael’s grasp for the second time. "Shouldn’t we be working instead of having pointless debates?" he chuckled awkwardly.

"Yes! Yes we do. Back to work, everybody! You heard the temp!" Michael clamored enthusiastically, before turning to Danny. "I’ll show you to your desk."

As everyone slowly trickled out of the room, Dwight stayed rooted on the spot, glaring at Danny.

———

"He’s hiding something," Dwight told the camera, looking every bit the hunter. "Look at this."

He held up Danny’s resume, showcasing it to the camera.

"His full name is Daniel James Fenton. From Amity Park. And you know who else is named Fenton and is from Amity Park? Drs Jack and Madeline Fenton, famous ghost hunters and researchers."

He lowered the resume and bent forward, his face almost filling up all the screen space. Paper was heard being scrunched of camera.

"There’s something he doesn’t want us to know, and I’m going to find out what it is."

———

"He said what now?" Danny asked, dumbfounded.

He rubbed his face tiredly.

"Crap, why is it that I always stumble on nutjobs like this? I could be starting on my first semester of astrophysics but nooo, I ended up here instead," he muttered, probably thinking he muttered too softly for the microphone to pick up.

He looked up at the camera, staring it dead in the lens.

"Look, I’m not hiding anything. Is it that crazy for a guy fresh out of high school to want to move away from his crazy town? Get a first job experience, earn some money to pay rent?"

He shook his head, looking a bit too done for a first day at work.

"Unbelievable."

[who-is-cannon]

Ghost Train

[who-is-cannon]

Danny: So they’re asking for violence?

Jazz: You’re making assumptions! You haven’t even spoken to them yet!

Danny: Life is made up of assumptions. Such as you assuming that I care.

[who-is-cannon]

I have ascended to a higher plane and removed the like. Not desktop, but I somehow removed the like. I am forever in your debt. Thank you.

WHY CAN I HEART MY OWN STUFF AND HOW DO I REMOVE IT?

NO TUMBLR, I DO NOT WANT TO “LIKE” MY OWN STUFF. THIS IS NOT HELPING MY SELF-ESTEEM

[who-is-cannon]

WHY CAN I HEART MY OWN STUFF AND HOW DO I REMOVE IT?

NO TUMBLR, I DO NOT WANT TO “LIKE” MY OWN STUFF. THIS IS NOT HELPING MY SELF-ESTEEM

[who-is-cannon]

( I love your name by the way )

…

I honestly do not care if that’s cannon or not I forgot high school sports worked like that

I have not considered these possibilities.

And like teams have to play at one of the schools fields right? ( Am I saying that correctly? I really don’t do sports. )

Could you just imagine a bunch kids - half of them look terrifying - just strolling into Amity and sweating the entire time? The football or whatever team is one of the very few groups of people from out of town that gets to be subjected to Amity Park on a semi regular basis.

The rest of Elmerton feels sorry for these kids.

These kids get a seat to true Amity Park nonsense. That would be perfect for outsider POV.

And then what happens when Amity Park goes to them?

Amity Parkers have been set loose in Elmerton.

It probably feels like seeing an ostrich in the Arctic. The wrongness of seeing an Amity Parker not in Amity Park.

It’s evident in how Amity staff prepare for the event. There’s a swiftness and familiarity between teachers and kids that shouldn’t be there. The Amity kids stick close and are surprisingly unified. Their eyes are sharper than you’d expect from a town with such a low crime rate - you know their prisions are nearly always empty. It’s nothing like your city. You want to hate how safe their streets are, but you would be getting mad at a lie. Their eyes are too alert for that to be true.

Their reflexes and senses are quick and amazingly ( alarmingly ) accurate for a bunch of teenagers. They can go toe to toe with players who live in the worst of places. People who live like tripwire for necessity. Not much makes your stomach turn due to your diet of glass weekdays and dreary weekends, but something in your gut clenches. It’s not quite solidarity. That implies you can understand.

The Amity kids really don’t mingle, and their low conversations peter out before you enter the room. Funnily enough, even thought they are high strung 24/7, there is never any fear to it. Once there was a shooting three days before they came. It wasn’t near the school, so nothing major got canceled, but nobody expected Amity kids to come. Other schools never did.

Well they came. Won the game that time too. When Elmerton’s Principal addressed the shooting before the game; the kids and the teachers and the staff listened intently and took it in stride. They were… different that game, but they played all the same.

And then these people that don’t feel real? They pack up and leave. Just like that.

I have this head cannon where Amity park is almost impossible to find.

I mean, if you try hard enough, you’ll find it. Eventually.

But otherwise? People just aren’t capable of knowing about or finding Amity Park.

I like to think it’d be for a slew of reasons, but boiled down it’s mostly just that the United States government likes secrecy and Amity Park itself does too.

I want there to be one exception : Elmerton.

Why? Fuck if I know

I want Elmerton to be the one unshakable connection Amity Park has to the outside world.

Not that Elmerton is especially proud of this, but there isn’t much to be proud of when the near entirety of your city is constantly fighting urban decay.

I want it to seem ( from an outsider’s view ) the perfect creepy town. Which it is, don’t get me wrong, but it just doesn’t hold a candle to Amity.

There are creepy things that duck into Elmerton’s alleyways at night, but it’s not the same thing as expecting your dead grandma to wake up one more time. It’s not the same thing as knowing the glowing people that destroy buildings and wreck cars are often dead people. It’s not the same as knowing there are voices out in the garden and you are not to follow them. It’s not the same when you look death into its maggot covered skull and know there are far worse things than it. You have seen them.

Anyway I want Elmerton to seem like the creepy haunted town from an outsider’s perspective and then they go to Amity Park and realize that was a very wrong opinion.

In case someone does not know, Elmerton is the only other town that’s really fictional and shown in the show. It is where the Grays live after Damon Gray, the single father of Valerie Gray, gets fired from work and his reputation tanks. The place is shown to be run down and low-income.

[who-is-cannon]

It's casual friday

[who-is-cannon]

just bought $125, 7” platform boots