#grotesque music box
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Planets in the 12th House 🧿
SUN IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Multiple personalities and they're all confusing. Either seems like a narcissist or a wallflower but they're really not. Most of them are massive insomniacs but also can freakishly thrive on very little sleep. MUST work on their solar plexus chakra (may either be blocked or overactive). A lot of them strongly believe in past lives/reincarnation and could be very naturally tapped into their Akashic Records. Deja Vu 24/7. In the arts, they are absolute icons and trendsetters. Could be more of a leader in their creative field but passive otherwise. If their father is in their life, no one drives them crazier but there is no one they admire and respect more. If not, they feel better off without a father and don't see it as a void in their life.
MOON IN THE 12TH HOUSE: The "child whisperer"; babies and kids instantly feel safe and soothed and understood around them. Capable of 100 different moods in the span of a day. Yet will insist they're "fine" when you ask. Uncannily capable of telling when others are not as happy as they appear. CLAIRSENTIENCE. An empath who needs to protect their energy for the sake of their sanity. Must express their emotions maturely or else they get very self-destructive. Deep, deep love of movies or music that may just be a hobby. Most feel incredibly indebted to their mothers or can have a very codependent motherly bond. Messy as hell sleeping schedule: staying up late, sleeping in late, insomnia, sleeping 10 hours, etc.
MERCURY IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Throat chakra probably needs a lot of healing. Could have a speech impediment early in life or be neurodivergent. They could also be judged very harshly (and unfairly) for their accent. Knows what people are thinking somehow and it freaks them out. Clairaudient abilities. Secretly very shrewd and cunning. Learned how to "play dumb" or "say less" early in life so people can't predict their next move. They have highly communicative Spirit Guides and they're always interacting with them but they may not be consciously aware of it. Natural channelers or mediums. NOTHING is a coincidence to them. They see signs in everything because they're always in dialogue with the Universe.
VENUS IN THE 12TH HOUSE: The biggest sweethearts but may hide that by acting kind of "mean". The best connections for them are the ones who see the big softie under the tough exterior. A lot of powerful feminine Spirit Guides around them. May also be very connected to love/beauty goddesses like Aphrodite or Freya. Is either seen as a goddess type or has a strong romantic relationship with a partner with big goddess energy (regardless of gender). Major Twin Flame vibes. Major soulmate connections. A divine counterpart could spiritually awaken them or even act as a guide (in human form or in the Spirit Realm). Art = healing. Could make their best art about the one they love or in collaboration with them. Heart chakra blockages that must be addressed.
MARS IN THE 12TH HOUSE: A dormant volcano that rarely explodes but causes total devastation when it does. Recurring nightmares that may haunt them through adulthood. Might be incredibly drawn to "scary" art: horror movies, heavy metal, grotesque visual art, etc. Would SERIOUSLY benefit from taking up boxing, self-defense or any kind of martial arts. As a teenager, they probably convinced adults they were perfectly well-behaved all while secretly drinking, having sex or smoking a lot. Becomes more open about their "bad behavior" with age. If they don't let themselves rebel, they'll implode/break down/become very destructive. Probably needs to heal their sacral chakra. Knows how to fulfill all their partner's sexual fantasies/desires but needs to express theirs.
JUPITER IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Knowing that abundance is not just about money. They have an abundance of many spiritual/emotional/creative blessings (love, inner peace, talent, psychic abilities) and financial abundance follows. People constantly being jealous of them and they're just like, "Jealous of what?" Their humility and belief that everyone can win brings them more blessings. Incredibly inspirational. They make people want to be better versions of themselves. DREAMERS. Figuratively and literally; their actual dreams are like nightly movies. Constantly rescued or kept out of trouble by their Guides. Very active spiritual life. May start life very religious but benefits from exploring lots of spiritual paths.
SATURN IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Somehow super-grounded and very otherworldly, at the same time. Most likely to make skeptics see the truth or value in spirituality or psychic phenomena. Some may claim to be skeptics themselves but that's either just a phase or what they tell themselves to cope with this reality. Very powerful and natural psychic gifts that they may resist, dismiss or fear until they're called to embrace them. Although they see themselves as a hot mess, a LOT of people look up to and admire them. Major "older sibling" energy (regardless of if they actually are a big brother/sister or not). Also, "wise mentor" energy. VERY divinely protected. They have a lot of masculine, formidable Spirit Guides who do not mess around when it comes to them. One or two of their Guides or just a compassionate mentor may play a fatherly role in place of their father figure in this life, who could be absent, passed on or emotionally checked out.
URANUS IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Highly clairvoyant. As artists, this makes them ahead of the current trends and very cutting-edge. They could also have predictive dreams and visions. Raven Baxter vibes (including the chaos and calamities). Very good at convincing others that they are straight-laced or "normal" but the weirdness eventually slips through. Might be a model child and save all their rebelliousness for adulthood. Or they could be a model citizen but totally wild behind closed doors. They stand out through either controversial artistic statements or a very unique fashion sense. Really sensitive to mental health issues. Kind of like medication in human form; can help stabilize people's instabilities.
NEPTUNE IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Virtually hypnotizes people, without even trying. They have a striking beauty that is more about their aura/energy than looks (even though they may be gorgeous). Magical, mystical beings. A fairy, elf, mermaid, etc in human form. Often feels burdened/cursed by the pedestal others put them on. Humbly owns their flaws/faults while others are like, "Nah, you're kind of perfect actually". Seen as an angelic presence or guiding light to those they influence. Can go to some DARK inner places but can also heal/redeem themselves. Extremely psychic and trusts their intuition. Third eye and crown chakra are wide-open. Spirituality is the air they breathe. Highly connected to their past lives and were most likely artists or spiritual teachers in previous lifetimes, repeating those skills in this one.
PLUTO IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Often has to play the villain before they can become the hero. Get accused of absolutely untrue or unfounded things by people who are threatened by them. Can develop a very "bad reputation" that hides the fact that they're actually really nice or level-headed. However, they secretly enjoy being feared so they may encourage that illusion around them. Many of them have natural, powerful witchcraft abilities, due to a past life or more as a witch. As a result, they may be incredibly drawn to the occult/paganism or be one of those intense "that stuff is evil and demonic!!!" types. Their Spirit Guides are forces to be reckoned with, delivering retribution to their enemies yet also giving these people "cruel to be kind" lessons that change their lives. Walking bullshit detectors. Forces people to deal with their hidden truth but become more subtle and graceful about it with age.
#astrology#12th house#12th house planets#12th house placements#12th house stellium#sun in the 12th house#moon in the 12th house#mercury in the 12th house#venus in the 12th house#mars in the 12th house#jupiter in the 12th house#saturn in the 12th house#uranus in the 12th house#neptune in the 12th house#pluto in the 12th house
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2023.11.06 DIR EN GREY at CLUB CITTA
The beginning of the ending as Kaoru said.
The doors opened at 18:00, the start of the show was scheduled for 19:00.
The final sound check started 18:58 so it was certain the show won't start on time xD they were 14 mins late xD
The animated intro
A book titled Phalaris opens and for a brief moment we see the text on the first page.
Phalaris was always renowned as extremely cruel. (googling the sentence took me to Wikipedia, they actually simply copied the Wikipedia entry about Phalaris xD)
In the intro Phalaris is portrayed as a parasite, changing it's forms one by one, from a larvae to an insect to a monster to a dragon to a brass bull, changing its hosts into something evil until they infect the next victims. The parasite growing inside their bodies into something grotesque and transforming them.
A set of dice next to the book.
Priests and prayers mixed with torture and dying girls, women.
Is Phalaris a sickness of cruelty and hatred causing people lose their humanity?
The members walked on the stage as the intro footage was shown on the front screen. They played Otogi as the images continued on the screen.
The screen went down as Otogi ended.
Die had his fabulous hair and a black jacket with red stains.
Shinya wore white shirt with silver decorations.
Toshiya had a sparkly jacket with one sleeve only, shorts and long leather boots.
Kaoru's hair was silver? grey? He had some kind od painting on his face but from my place I couldn't see properly what was it, like lines over his cheeks and forehead? (apparently he cosplayed Father Pucchi from Jojo😆)
Kyo came wearing a black Adidas tracksuit, he removed the jacket a bit later on, staying in a white cotton tank top. He's growing a mustache or a goatee I think? His hair was parted and sleeked back a bit, not so much hair product to make it flat.
The set list was so interesting. The energy went up with the few following songs, then Oboro shifted the mood and finished with the Inward Scream. The sound/musical part of the inward scream was new. Kyo ended it with '壊れて・broken' cried softly.
And after a brief pause they continued the set with The World of Mercy.
The first line of 誰が知る？本当の私 本当の心 Kyo changed 'kokoro' to '意思・ishi' (intentions).
During Rinkaku's 'Minerva' we got to shout for him as he turned with his arms stretched to the sides.
The following flow with 13, keigaku, different sense and Eddie was so good! Kyo moved around his box to get fans to let go even more and give him more😁
The main set ended with Kyo leaving quickly. Fans were clapping and shouting encore. Btw we had to wear masks for this show but singing and shouting was allowed (so hot with a mask on😂)
Encore started with Increase Blue, very nice as Kyo got us singing and dancing.
But when I heard the first notes of NATIONAL MEDIA BOYS I almost cried. I hoped they will do something as a tribute and they did😢❤️
Interestingly a lot of people didn't recognize the song and thought it was a new dir's song😂
TDFF and Rubbish Heap were pure 🔥
Toshiya climbed to the back of the stage so he stood at the bottom of the back screen, showing off his looooong leather boots and shorts.
Finishing with Kamui changed the mood drastically though. The footage matching the style of the intro started on the back screen.
Some images of the war they used before but the main theme was different.
A girl standing inside the sinking boat, the sea being so angry.
Small group of people walking through a desert.
A praying jew.
A bible.
A cross.
A closeup of the chest of Christ, a trail of blood and next to it a trail of tears.
So much death.
The footage ended with the tour title on the black background.
Kyo left very quickly after the song ended (usual for him, especially at the start of the tour).
But Shinya did as well? Did I miss him throwing stuff or he really didn't? Die and Toshiya walked around the stage throwing picks, all smiley.
Kaoru stayed the longest having fun spraying fans with water, then throwing those bottles into the crowd. I bet he was in the celebrating mood with Hanshin Tigers winning Japan Series.
Before Kaoru left he pointed at the screen in the back to show there will be some announcements, waved and left :)
First we got 19990120 and then the special January tour info.
We tried briefly for the second encore but the staff insistingly kept announcing that the performance is over so we clapped one last time and it was over.
#dir en grey#Attempt at live report#TOUR23 PHALARIS FINAL -The scent of a peaceful death-#CLUB CITTA
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FOLKTOBER 2023 PLAYLIST
🎃🔮 Darling revellers, creatures of the night, and spooky scary skeletons alike! For you we present a tricksy treat...
A playlist of melodies designed to send shivers down your spine 🦴💀 with music selected by YOU, you'll haunt the Brugh, you'll delight in BOOS! 👻🎶🎵
In this playlist, we have compiled all of the song prompts which so graciously haunted our suggestion box for Folktober 2023, and now we wish to cast your magic far and wide! ✨🦇
Are your teeth clattering in excitement? 🦷 Are your bones a'rattling with all-Hallow's glee? ☠️
Prepare yourselves for grave-rising ballads, grotesque bangers, and everything in between! 🔮🎃
▶︎ listen 👻
join the revel 🦇 | consult the grimoire 🔮
#join the revel 👻🎃#jurdannetfolktober2023#jurdan#tfota#cardan greenbriar#jude duarte#the cruel prince#tcp#the folk of the air#the wicked king#the queen of nothing#queen of nothing#twk#tqon#qon#judecardan#holly black#jurdannet
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xvn fic recs !!
i have been meaning to do this for a while : mostly because fic recs are fun to compile and also thee seems to be a BIG shortage of any fic rec posts!! so here are some fics i have enjoyed over the years!! ofc this list is non exhaustive
please note the ratings of each fic and heed the tags before reading! sorry, that i am putting in the shorter summary
anyway!! feel free to put in more fic recs too!! :D
End OTW Racism | over the edge of all our knowings by merthurlin [ G, 10,146 words , 1/1 ]
Years down the line, after the whole business with Lumine and her brother has been concluded, Venti decides to go on a world tour.
He sends Xiao letters.
merthurlin got me into xiaoven so ofc my list starts with her fic! this is just so so sweet and even if its not necessarily fluffy there is a warmth to the writing it is a comfort read for me! i recommend every work by her (regardless of fandom). though in xvn End OTW racism | never dreamed of nobody like you is another excellent fic!
nocturne by yanrans [ T, 34,540 words, 4/4 ]
In which Venti sells magical music boxes, Xiao is his unwitting customer, and there is absolutely, definitely nothing more to it at all.
modern au where venti is - a scammer? - i mean a music box seller and xiao is just a regular guy and and. its funny and delightful and absolutely breath taking. i wouldnt elaborate more so as not to spoil anything further but the fic has many unexpected surprises in it! yanrans is another writer i definitely recommend to check out more! their writing style is very flamboyant and poetic.
what hides in neon shadow by morii_tea [ T, 7,547 words, 1/1 ]
In which Xiao is a cyborg, Venti is a thief, and the glittering city of Teyvat hides more secrets than they’re prepared to find out.
its so rare to see morally grey venti is potrayed (even though he isnt v morally grey but still. xiao having to remembering that venti isnt as honourable as he appears is yesssss wohoo). this fic has some thrilling action and a v fun cyberpunk world!! i wish it was longer but it is v exciting nevertheless
every morning in the dark by magicites [ M, 77,124 words, 34/34 ]
Stuck in a time loop where he succumbs to his karmic debt, Xiao struggles to see the point in moving forward. Venti struggles to save him.
READ THE TAGS!!! character death and suicidal thoughts are two major warnings. but DAMN this fic it's just so. SO FULL of everything WRONG with xiao!! and venti too but such a GREAT angst fic!! it gets everything so Right. magicites also happened to have written one of my most favourite genshin fic too :] and if you havent read her other works!! you are missing out!!
the half-life of the yaksha is absolute by GStK [ G, 1,000 words, 1/1 ]
Venti digs his thumbs in to keep open the wound but it is too late
His gaze snaps over to the teal essence dancing over Xiao’s fingers.
Now all those words will belong to him
And Venti will belong to him, only.
READ THE TAGS!! now that i have went into the time loop fic ofc i have to mention the beautiful corrupt xiao prose. the imagery is flowery and grotesque!
foreigner's god by smallghosts [ T, 3,818 words, 1/1 ]
Lord Barbatos falls asleep for a few hundred years. Xiao copes with his absence in strange ways.
a pre-canon fic where xiao becomes - in a way - a worshipper? it's SO GOOD. its about the yearning!!!!!!!!! SCREAMS i dont think i have to explain further
love me like you do by Limerancy [ T, 3,000 words, 1/1 ]
They aren’t the kind of friends that touch.
TOUCH STARVED AND TOUCH AVERSE XIAO!!!!!! this fic makes me a lil bit feral. a little unhinged. i absolutely enjoy reading about the yearning , the desire JUST!!!! AAAA. this writer also writes v fluffy modern au one shots!!! so be sure to check them out too :)
The Kissing Tree by Princeliest [ G, 7,581 words, 2/2 ]
Venti kisses Xiao, and Xiao does not understand why.
VENTI COMMITMENT ISSUES!!!!! as much as i adore reading xiao angst, venti angst is still something i love seeking out and its a tragedy that its not explored enough in this ship :c but anyway!!! such amazing characterization and exploration!! princeliest is one of fav genshin writers and this fic delivers!
wishing on dandelions all of the time by OedipusOctopus [ T, 8,270 words, 1/1 ]
When Venti first catches sight of the swords artfully hung on the wall of his new roommate's bedroom, he regrets putting up the sublease on Craigslist. Firmly believing this guy is a total weirdo, Venti is more surprised than anyone when he realizes the total weirdo is actually adorable.
It's not against some invisible Roommate Code to dream about kissing your roommate, right?
ofc there is a classic roommate au fic!! this was one of my most favourite fic from last years xvn week: its hilarious and silly and just a perfect relaxing read!! the characterization and their banter is so entertaining i admit i have read this multiple times!
Where Words Fail by kavvueh [ T, 27,926 words, 11/12 ]
"You're Barbatos," Xiao repeats breathlessly. The young man in front of him nods.
"Yep."
"But..." Xiao cuts himself off and tries again. "You're the God of songs and poetry."
The Anemo Archon nods his head sagely. "More or less."
Xiao fixes Lord Barbatos with the most incredulous look he can manage.
"... You're failing Music Theory."
this fic is such a delight!! it has some light background lore, some silly shenanigans, miscommunications, pinning - a truly fun mixture! the fic is v light hearted but written with a lot of tenderness. i am v excited to see its conclusion!
what queer sins stain thy soul by Anonymous [ M, 3,232 words, 1/1 ]
In which Xiao, long-established asexual, learns that identity is not as stable as he’d like to believe.
there is some explicit things in it (in non explicit way) i believe religious guilt is one of the best flavouring to xvn. it is an under-explored area in this ship imo and this fic not only has that but also!!! asexuality !!!!!! this fic so so personal and its exploration of desire that gets to me a lot
unholy virtues by morphasia [ E, 17,065 words, 6/6 ]
In exchange for his body in more ways than one, Venti summons a demon to reclaim something that has been stolen from him.
It's a just contract. That's all it's supposed to be. That's all it was ever supposed to be.
READ THE TAGS!!! this fic truly went creature/creature. this au is just so fascinating and funny in a twisted way (but not bad). this fic isnt for everyone though but it is definitely worth the shot.
#luna rambles#genshin impact#xiaoven#venxiao#thats all i think ?#anyway this made me realize that i forget to bookmark so many fics.....#whoops#and also that i tend to like fics on how much i like venti's characterization. hehe#but yeah this is non exhaustive list! if someone wants to add they can ofc! sorry for my over commentary#and even though i repeat it in the post itself 13804 times: check out other works by the writers!!!#i wanted to include more but. but the post is so long already you know? like i couldve done a shorter format BUT AAAAAA#i could idk it's just not. the same#making such posts is just a destress activity to me tbh
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Well, I'm not much at dancing...
What a Young Man Should Know, 1933. A checklist for becoming a proper man.
This was published in the March 1933 issue of Harper’s Magazine.
The writer, Robert Littell, details the abilities, skills, accomplishments, and extra-curricular proficiencies that every man should have if they are to become a self-sufficient and well-rounded human being, ready for life, and eventually, marriage and raising their own children. The learning starts from a very young age.
Here is the (short) list:
1. He should know how to swim at least a mile, dive creditably, and not feel panicky under water. He should be able also to revive those less skilful than himself by rolling them on a barrel and pumping their helpless arms.
2. He should be able to drive an automobile well. And he should not be altogether helpless when a car breaks down. He must know how to change a tire and offer some sort of diagnosis when the engine sputters and dies.
3. He ought to know how to clean, load, and shoot a revolver or a rifle.
4. As for self-defense, a man should certainly be able to take care of himself in a scrap. He need not learn jujitsu — old-fashioned boxing will be enough.
5. He ought to know the rudiments of camping, how to build a fire, how to chop wood, how to take a cinder out of his eye, how to deal with a severed artery, how to doctor himself for ordinary ailments.
6. He should also be able to take care of other people in emergencies, to apply first aid, set a broken bone, revive a drunk or a victim of gas, deal with a fainting fit, administer the right emetic or antidote for a case of poisoning.
7. And he should be able to feed himself, to cook, not only because some day he may need to, but because cooking is one of the fine arts, and a source of infinite pleasure. He should be able to scramble eggs, brew coffee, broil a steak, dress a salad, carve a chicken, and produce, on occasion, one first-class dish, such as onion soup. The more he can do, in these days of the delicatessen store and the kitchenette, the better. It is not effeminate, it is not beyond him, and the best chefs are all men.
8. He should know how to use paint brushes, a saw, a hammer, and other common tools.
9. He should also have a beautiful and distinguished handwriting. But the bulk of his writing, particularly if he is a professional man who has much of it to do, should be done on a typewriter, capable of turning out three thousand words an hour.
10. He should play one outdoor game well, and have a workable smattering of several more. An American who cannot throw and catch a ball seems pathetic and grotesque.
11. The bicycle has gone, yet every young man should know how to ride one.
12. He should also be able to skate, sail a boat, and handle a canoe passably.
13. Fishing is a specialty, like chess.
14. Walking is a noble but neglected sport. Americans “hike” once in a long while but seldom walk.
15. He should know a great deal about animals and how to take care of them.
16. He should know how to ride a horse.
17. He should learn how to stay in a saddle with pleasure to himself and a minimum of annoyance to his mount.
18. He should learn how to dance.
19. He should know to play at least one card game.
20. He must have knowledge of how to tip naturally, justly, without fear and without reproach.
21. On the matter of alcohol, he should learn his capacity and stick within its limits; he should know something about the different kinds of drink, and which drinks produce chaos within him when mixed.
22. Where s:x is concerned, nature clearly intended us to make many mistakes in her hope that some of them would be productive.
23. He should know the rudiments of gambling. But gambling might be placed on the same plane as drink — the less use one has for it the better.
24. Higher than almost any other accomplishment on the list is knowing music. There is no reason why any young man who is not absolutely tone-deaf should not learn how to play one musical instrument well enough for it to be a self-resource and a tolerable pleasure to others.
25. A civilized man should know how to read. The ability to read, or rather the habit of reading, is very rare even among intelligent people, and has to be taught and kept up if it is not to become rusty.
26. He should have knowledge of at least one foreign language. French or German preferably both. German children learn an amazingly good brand of English without ever crossing their borders. Why can’t we? For one thing, we don’t really want to. Yet we should. An American who knows only English is blind in one eye.
27. He should know to travel well, efficiently, without fuss or complaint.
28. A young man should be able to express himself clearly before a crowd of strangers, without shyness, muddle, or a pathetic resort to “so much has been said and well said” or “I did not expect to be called on.”
29. The American adult can get to his feet, propose a toast, introduce a stranger, voice a civic protest, heckle a windbag politician, and give utterance to an unembarrassed thought.
30. A a man should command the elementary tool of written language, and be able to put simple things on paper in clear words.
31. He should have a good workable understanding of the structure of business, investments, and banks.
32. Let every educated man, as a necessary part of his education, be thrown into the muddy stream of American industry and see what it is like to swim alone on daily wages.
33. He should before reaching twenty-two have done something because he wanted to, whether other people wanted him to do it or not.
34. He should not acquire property unless he needs it. Insensitiveness to his personal property, unless of course it is extraordinarily beautiful, is a desirable skill for any man to have; It must be learned and worked at.
35. Unusual though this young man may be, he should not seem so. Is not a parent’s basic ambition for his child that he be very different from other people, yet manage to seem almost exactly like them?
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Taglist: @oleander-nin @radicallxser @itsyagurlchip
Tw: Mentions of stalking, recording devices, bugging devices, and police. Framing and defamation of person. Yelling and threats briefly.
Word count: 1,098
Mic Testing - Chapter Seven: What to do
A week had passed since the event with Mike happened. Your schedule of street performing was only slightly diverted by the police officer stationed close to your apartment. They still hadn't caught the person that had done it and you knew they only sent the officer as a courtesy. Not that they would do much despite how grotesque the damage was.
Also the strange presents kept showing up at the same time every day. So that chalked the Kendlys out of giving you them. As sweet as the old couple was, you knew they couldn't afford to keep sending purple wrapped presents. Plus you doubted they could be that exact.
Fidget toys, gift cards with an insane amount of money on them, poems, and anything under the sun were presented in the wrapped gifts. You were starting to gain a little collection that took up so much of your dresser you got a huge box you shoved it all into.
You checked your alarm as loud knocking erupted. Right on time. You casually opened the door, picking up the predictable purple present. You closed the door and plopped on the couch.
Just then your roommate passed, stopping as they spotted the gift in your hands. "Another one? I swear, this is excessive." You shrugged and started taking the gift wrapping off. "I mean we can't even catch them on camera footage." Your roommate continued ranting about the odd situation as you lifted the gift out of it's box.
You froze at the unexpectedness of the gift, your roommate also gawked upon seeing it. It was a wooden music box with golden painted vines covering the wooden exterior. Your roommate quickly scrambled to sit next you on the couch as you opened the music box.
Inside were more golden painted vines and a flower that was also the golden color as the vines. At the center of the flower was a small keyhole. Your roommate immediately grabbed the box and searched around, pulling out a tiny key, handing it off to you. You quickly turned the key into the keyhole and it started playing your favorite lullaby from your childhood.
You didn't even notice the way your hand covered your mouth is disbelief. Your roommate nudged you and started inspecting the music box. The song continued playing until it finished. They frowned as they stood up. "You've mentioned this was your favorite song as a kid, right?" You nodded, lowering your hand.
They carefully placed the music box down and started pacing back and forth. "And you said that the gift cards and small improvements for your devices were all centered around your interests." They paused in thought as you nervously pondered on the information.
"You might have a stalker…" You looked at your roommate with a bit of concern as they continued. "...Think about it, I'm your roommate and I don't even know all your hobbies and interests. You hardly tell just anyone about your childhood in debt. And what about Mathew or whatever his name is. He got injured literally the day he made you uncomfortable."
You slowly pulled your knees to your chest and hugged your legs, looking at the music box. "Tollen, they haven't done anything to me and this is all just speculation." Your roommate paused their pacing and looked towards you. "Leave the presents alone. We're getting rid of all the ones you have then we'll just throw out any boxes that come."
It honestly was a blur after that.
You hesitantly nodded as they grabbed your hand, pulling you up and towards your room. You both quickly grabbed the box of things, including the music box, and brought it down to the dumpster. You held up the lid as Tollen dumped the box inside.
Once finished your roommate dragged you back inside to your room and did a thorough inspection for anything. Bugs, listening devices, recording devices, the works. Lucky for the two of you there was none that you could find.
You were still skeptical about the overreacting from your roommate. Just because they line up doesn't mean it had anything to do with you.
Tollen ordered pizza and put your comfort movie on the TV. They said they'd be right back as they left you alone in a locked apartment.
Not even an hour in your phone rang and you answered it, thinking it was your roommate. Unfortunately that was not the case and you were met by the barrage of yelling from your producer.
"Have you seen the media lately! Your face is everywhere!" You blink in confusion, and as expected before you can answer they start barking again. "You'd better fix this or I'm terminating your contract with us!" That was the final thing they said before hanging up.
You quickly opened up your different social media and looked in utter horror as some random girl was claiming you to be a fake and that it was her music. She was a bigger creator and was bashing your name in every way possible while showing faux proof of the music being hers.
The stress built up as you tugged at your hair, throwing your phone to a different cushion to just cry. First a brutal maiming case with someone you had recently talked with, then a supposed stalker, now some popular artist is trying to take your hard work and livelihood.
You bit your bottom lip and took a few deep breaths as you lowered your hands to your sides. There was no point getting so worked up over speculation and an issue that could be fixed with simple communication.
You hesitated before shakingly grabbing your phone and reaching out to the creator claiming your music. You politely asked them to please stop saying all the awful things about you and to apologize. You once again shut off your device and left it.
As a small artist, there wasn't much you could do. You didn't have a big scary company backing you. And the connections you did have were going to bail the moment things got messy.
You sat in the quiet and pondered what more you could do. Then a lightbulb went off in your head and you scrambled to contact someone. Someone very important.
Mrs. Madeline.
You pressed the call button and heard it ring a few times before a click was heard and a cheerful, "Hello, there darlin' ", was heard on the other end. You smiled and cleared your throat.
"Hey Mrs. Madeline, do you have any singing jobs available?"
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Fluffbruary 14: Teach & Fruit
Check out all of my @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!
Fandom: The Sandman (2022)
Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling
“—and so, we see the arrival of Yersinia pestis—the Black Plague—crop up in England around 1348.”
Hob is smacking a projector screen with a meter stick when Dream appears in the back of the lecture hall. There’s a map on screen, marking the coming and going of the disease throughout Europe. It’s not the most romantic subject matter for Valentine’s Day, but Dream doesn’t care. He could listen to his lover talk about anything with rapt attention. The way Hob tells stories, especially those that he experienced, is intoxicating for Dream. He feeds off the energy Hob brings to his students, the fire and passion with which he teaches. Even talking about the grotesque, Hob glows with excitement.
Hob turns from his assault on the map to look out at his students. His eyes track over them, noticing who is online shopping and who is engaged with the subject matter. When he spots Dream, he breaks out into a grin.
“What’s so funny, Dr. G?” a student in the front row asks. Dream reaches for her subconscious. Sarah Williams. Her daydreams during this class are filled with images of his lover kissing her, touching her, telling her soft and sweet things that only Dream should have the luxury of hearing. He bites back a possessive growl when he notices Hob’s eyes are still locked on him as he opens his mouth.
“Looks like we have a very special guest that I just noticed!” With a flourish, he points Dream out. “My husband must’ve snuck in to embarrass me on Valentine’s.” The students all turn around to stare at him. Dream fights the urge to vanish himself as the students’ minds start to wander, making the connection between their professor and him, and what they must do in their private time.
“Now, now, I know he’s pretty,” he winks and Dream flushes, “but we do have to learn about the plague for the next 20 minutes. So, if I could get your focus back up here—”
Hob continues his lecture, diving into the intricacies of medieval ports and shipping, wandering through a tangent about what people in the Middle Ages thought about hygiene. It’s music to Dream’s ears as he relaxes into his seat and watches his husband at work. Somehow, the students are much more engaged, asking questions which Hob answers excitedly, jumping about the classroom and whacking the screen more than once.
“Alright, so make sure you read the next section I’ve assigned on the course website! We’ll be going into more of the consequences of the Black Death next time and I want to hear your takes on it. Have a great rest of your day. Go eat some chocolates!” Hob chuckles as Dream descends the stairs toward Hob, gift in hand. “I believe I’m about to have my fair share of them. Bye!”
“Hello, Hob.”
“Hi, love. Warn a guy before you disrupt his class next time, eh?” He wraps his arms around Dream’s waist, giving him a peck on the cheek.
“I enjoy hearing you tell a story. It is… romantic for me.” He shifts the box out of the way of Hob’s body, dropping his arm down to his side.
“Of course! The plague’s the most romantic thing in the world.” Hob rolls his eyes. “You insane creature.”
Dream presses their foreheads together for a moment, then looks Hob in the eye.
“I believe a gift is to be given on this day?”
Hob releases Dream from his grasp and looks at him eagerly. Dream smiles, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. He hands the box over to Hob, who tears through the bow.
“Chocolate-covered strawberries! Dream, you didn’t have to get me these!”
“It is of no consequence.” Dream says, his eyes sparkling at Hob’s delight.
Hob immediately picks the fruit up, lips wrapping around it as he takes a bite. It brings images of what else Dream has planned for their night to his mind, which he is all the more eager to get to as Hob moans in delight.
“Oh, Dream, it’s delicious! Thank you, dove.” He plants a chocolatey kiss on Dream’s lips.
“I obtained them from the dreams of a French chocolatier.” He moves to whisper in Hob’s ear, his cool breath making Hob shiver. “I have more gifts for you. If you will accompany me to our home.” He steps back and examines his husband. Hob’s pupils are blown, and he has begun to pant.
“Yes,” Hob blurts. “Let’s go. Now.” He sets the box of strawberries down and stuffs his course materials and laptop in his bag, then throws the satchel over his shoulder and grabs Dream’s hand. Hob power-walks toward the door, dragging Dream behind him. There are a few spots that Dream can transport them away without being seen, but the middle of a lecture hall that has student stragglers around certainly isn’t one of them.
If Dream shuts down a few dreams students have about them that night, Hob doesn’t need to know.
#fluffbruary#aquila writes#dreamling#dream x hob#hob x dream#professor hob gadling#professor!hob#how to seduce your man with strawberries by dream of the endless#happy valentines day yall!
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How would Jaune react to the Raffle? Not good I bet.
Cut to Jaune, strolling through the streets of Columbia, the city in the air. Happy people a bustle around him, enjoying the various attractions lining the fairways.
Jaune: *Holding a stuffed plushie of some dude in a powdered wig, a box of cracker jacks, a few balloons, and eating a hot dog* ( This place rocks!!! Carnival rides, awesome street food, quirky music, steampunk robots?! They're even giving out free Semblances in a bottle! Tastes terrible, but seems like smearing it on my hand still does the trick. Man, who would need rescuing from this place- OH CRAP I'M ON A MISSION! Right. I just need to make my way to the big Angel Statue and the girl should be-)
Fink: And now, the 1912 raffle has officially begun! *Crowd Cheers*
Jaune: Oooh a raffle!!! *Hurriedly walks to the crowded stage*
Pretty Girl: Hey, Mister! Hey Mister!
Jaune: *Looks around and points at himself with the hotdog*
Pretty Girl: *Giggles* Yes you, Cutie! Want a ball for the raffle? *Holds wicker basket full of numbered baseballs*
Jaune: Oh! Sure, how much?
Pretty Girl: *Giggle* Silly. There's never a charge for the raffle. You been sleeping under a rock?
Jaune: S-sorry, ha-ha. Just new in town. *Finishes hot dog, and then grabs a baseball with the number 77 on it*
Pretty Girl: 77? That's a lucky number! I'll be rooting for you~
Fink: And now, bring me the bowl! Is that not the prettiest young white girl in all of Columbia? Ha Ha!
Jaune: (...Weird. But ok.)
Fink: *Reaches into the raffle bowl* Alright then... the winner is... number 77!
Jaune: *GASP* I won! I WON!
Pretty Girl: *Giddy* Over here! Over here! He's the winner! *Gives Jaune a wet kiss on the cheek.*
Jaune: *Blushes and laughs, holding up his base ball for everyone to see, causing the crowd to cheer*
Fink: Number 77, come and claim your prize!! First throw!!
The big red curtains on stage opens to the sound of wedding music. Card board cut outs of jungles and cartoonishly grotesque monkeys move and shift on mechanisms. In the center of the moving parts, an interracial couple, bound to stakes and dressed in dirty rags made to resemble wedding garbs. They both look terrified.
Jaune: *Smile instantly drops and his veins run ice cold*
Crowd: *Join in chorus, singing a long to the tune of the wedding music in a mocking fashion* First throw! First throw! First throw!
Bride: Pl-Please... don't do this!
Groom: It was me! It was all me! Please, please! No...
Jaune: *Looks around him to the cheering crowd, noticing not a single other person looking as horrified as he felt.* What...
Groom: PLEASE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?
Fink: Well, young man?! Are you going to throw it... or are you taking your coffee BLACK these days?! Hahahahaha!
Crowd: *Laughs and jeers*
Pretty Girl: Well go on now!
Jaune: *Grits his teeth in anger, drops his merchandise and baseball and hops on stage*
Fink: Oh?! Want a closer shot-?
Jaune: *Snaps* Let them go, NOW!
Crowd: *Boos*
Fink: Ha-Ha! Funny! Want to give them a head start, hm? *Leans in* Listen, kid. These people waited all year for this, so go bleed your heart out somewhere else!!
Jaune: *Pushes him aside, surprisingly hard* I'll do it then! *Walks up to the couple and starts undoing their binds*
Groom: T-Thankyou. Thankyou!
Fink: *From the ground* T-That was assault! POLICE! POLICE!
A pair of police guards hop onto stage as Jaune manages to get the couple free.
Jaune: *To the couple* Go! I'll hold them off!! *Reaches for Crocea Mors when he suddenly remembered that the twins made him give up his gear, armor, and clothes in order to better fit in* Well that ended up doing no good.
Policeman 1: Down on the ground, son! *Goes to swing his baton*
Jaune: *Blocks the strike with his left arm and reels back with his right for a haymaker* How about YOU go down?! *Hits the police man straight in the face, a sickening crunch as he felt the man's skull cave in*
Policeman 1: *Soars back into the crowd, landing in a bloody heap as his face was all but gone*
Jaune: *Looks in shock, looks to his hand covered in the man's blood* I... I didn't-
Crowd: *Screams and scatters from the police man's corpse, fleeing the area*
Jaune: *Feeling tears well as he looks at his bloodied fist, flashing back to Penny* I- I didn't mean to! I didn't want to-
Policeman 2: YOU BASTARD! *Revs up a rotating hook gadget on his arm and slashes at Jaune*
Jaune: *Crosses his arms, the serrated hooks grinding against his Aura*
Policeman 2: *Grunts* W-What in the hell are you?!
Jaune: *Grits his teeth, manages grab onto the policman's arm and wrench it to the side, surprising himself when he heard a loud SNAP*
Policeman 2: GAHHHHH! *Drops to his knees as his gadget fell to the ground and his broken arm bent at an impossible angle.* GAHHHH!!
Jaune: *Looks like he's about to puke* (T-They're so fragile! Is everyone in this world not able to fight like people on Remnant?!) *Thoughts interrupted as he feels his head snap back from a painful pinpoint force, nearly knocking him down. When looks to the ground he sees a bullet had just struck him in the forehead*
Policeman 2: *Firing his pistol with his good arm* DIE INTRUDER!!
Jaune: *Flares his Aura, taking a couple more shots before digging in his pocket for the Possession bottle, and splashing the liquid into his face. Now glowing green, Jaune place a hand on the man's head* Drop your weapon!
Policeman 2: *Face goes blank as he instantly drops his gun, seemingly unaware of the immense pain his broken arm should be giving him right now*
Jaune: N-now, stand up, take off your ammo belt, and go to the nearest hospital! GO!
Policeman 2: *Drops his ammo and police baton and starts walking away*
Jaune: *As soon as the policeman is out of sight, Jaune bowls over and starts puking his guts out and hyperventilating* Wh-what have I done?! What- What do I do?!
Sounds of police whistle sound in the distance, along with the sound of something akin to a tornado warning siren.
Jaune: *Looks frantically around him, then looks to the giant golden angel in the clouds in the distance. After a second to calm his frantic breathing, he kneels down attaches the ammo belt to his waist and holsters the firearm. In one hand he held the baton and the other he slipped on the sky hook gadget. With one final breath he begins jogging, deeper into the city in the clouds*
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steve harrington | no monsters
masterlist | request | ko-fi
words: 1.7k
warnings: no spoilers i don’t think, panic attack, ptsd from, well, hawkins, anxiety, mention of nightmares, monsters, and deaths. nothing you haven’t seen before if you watch the show. angst, comfort, fluff.
prompt: could you do a request for stranger things where the reader is hanging out with everyone (mike, el, max, dustin, will, and Lucas) and they end up having a panic attack and either they calm the reader or they call Steve to come and help calm the reader down.
— I changed it up a bit because i really wanted to write a soft steve thing for a change!!!!
Everybody else seems to move on so quickly, but not you. You feel like you can’t breathe most days. You can’t watch television anymore without seeing the monster in the white noise. You jump at everything: car horns, conversations, loud music. You sleep with the light on because you worry that even now it’s over, the demogorgons still wait in the darkness — where they’ve always been. It was easier before you knew.
Problem is that you work in a movie theatre. While you usually avoid having to work in the screening rooms, your co-worker has called in sick and you have no choice. Worse, Aliens is screening. The creatures remind you all too well of what you and your friends have faced over the last couple of years. What killed Barb and almost Will. Almost all of you. You’re trying to avoid the screen as you stand by the doors, making sure everything is running smoothly, but even when you close your eyes, you see that grotesque face printed on the inside of your eyelids, made more real by the vile noises of the creature in the movie. Your palms grow clammy and cold, your fingers trembling until you clasp them behind your back. When a character screams, you’re not in the theatre anymore. You’re back there, fighting monsters that shouldn’t exist.
Your stomach plummets and fills with sharp-edged nausea. Your lungs tighten until your breaths become shallow gasps. You turn away from the screen in an attempt to distract yourself, but there’s no escape from it now. It’s happening. As though you never left. You can’t stay. You run through the doors and into the light, dizzy and holding back sobs as you search for the bathroom. You’re too disoriented, the world turning beneath your feet — until you hear your name.
“Y/N?” Dustin is suddenly in front of you, brows knitted in concern beneath his cap and a box of popcorn in his hands. “Woah. Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
“I…” You stutter on your own words, your knuckles turning white as you fist your uniform and try desperately to breathe again.
“Hang on.” Dustin is pushing you back. “I’m going to go and get Steve.”
“Steve?”
“He’s right over there.” Dustin points to the queue of people waiting for popcorn and snacks. Steve is at the front with a humongous tray of nachos and a tall cup of cola. “See?”
The sight gives you a little bit of relief — until Dustin mindlessly shouts across the foyer: “Steve! Over here, man!” And then everyone is looking at you, and if you’re not eaten by the monsters in your head first, you’re most certainly going to get caught and fired for leaving your post. But you can’t think about that, because you can still hear the faint rumblings of the movie slipping through the red double doors, and you still can’t breathe, and Dustin or even Steve can’t fix what was broken the night you discovered that monsters are real. That Hawkins sits on top of another world that wants to eat you all up.
Steve abandons his ten-dollar bill as well as his snacks on the counter when he sees you. He runs over to you both, concern etched into his features. You can’t even ask what he’s doing here. Usually, he tells you when he’s going to stop by — to have lunch with you or pick you up, but sometimes to watch a movie with Robin. Your relationship, friendships, was the one good thing to come out of all of this, and you’re terrified now that you might lose it when he sees just how broken you are. You’re usually so good at hiding it. At waiting until you’re alone at night to descend into the fear that never goes away. At smiling and nodding when he asks if you’re okay even though you’re having flashbacks and trying not to scream.
“Babe?” Steve asks again, tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
You choke on your own words, squeezing your eyes shut until tears pour down your cheeks. Steve looks at Dustin in question. Dustin shrugs. “She was like this when I found her.”
“Alright. Let’s just sit you down.” Gently, Steve guides you to the nearest bench beside a poster for Stand By Me. “Are you not feeling too good? Stomach flu or cramps or something?”
You shake your head. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.” You say it to convince yourself as well as him, clamping down on your wobbling lower lip until it hurts.
“No, babe, you’re not. Talk to me.” He crouches in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs and running his fingers across the shape of your face. “Please talk to me. You’re scaring me.”
“I…” A sob breaks from you as you try to put it into words; can’t. “I don’t know.”
“Did something happen? Did someone do something to you? Is it that hotdog jerk again?”
Another shake of your head. The hotdog jerk is the arrogant, gross thirty-year-old who works on the hotdog stand and is trying to make his way around every female member of staff here, but you’ve already told him where to shove it and he usually leaves you alone. In fact, you wish it’s only that now. A human man you can deal with, even a slimy one like him.
This… This you’ll never be able to fix. It just feels so big sometimes. Like any moment, the Upside Down will open up again and swallow you.
“Then what’s got you this upset? C’mon, baby.” He’s whispering now, begging.
“I was… I was in the screening for Aliens and it just… it felt like it was happening again.”
Understanding dawned across his features, his forehead lining with sympathy and his eyes glimmering. “It’s not. You’re right here with me. You’re safe now.”
You squeeze your eyes shut again, trying to block it all out, but it’s still there, running through your head on a loop.
“Hey.” Steve tilts your head down, so soft it’s like he’s worried you might break. “Look at me. You’re in the movie theatre. You smell that?” He takes a deep breath and you frown in confusion. “Breathe in with me.” You do. “You smell it?”
“What?”
“Popcorn. Buttery, magical popcorn. And listen. Shitty music. There are no monsters here, Y/N. Just popcorn and shitty music and me. Focus on that for me.”
You do, breathing in and out again under his instruction. Slowly, the tension in your chest starts to ease. You keep looking at him, replacing the monster's face with his soft brown eyes and stupid hair and pink lips. And the claws that were scratching you are just his fingers, feather-light and tender over your cheek, your chin, your neck, your hair. He wipes away your tears as you lean your head back against the wall, exhausted.
“Okay?“ he asks.
You give a weak nod, suddenly aware Dustin has watched the whole thing. He winces and hands you his soda. “I still get nightmares too.”
“You think you can give us a minute, Henderson?” Steve asks.
Dustin gives you another solemn smile before walking away, leaving you with Steve.
You can’t look at him. You’re embarrassed and exhausted and you’re not sure what would have happened if he hadn’t been here to pull you back.
“This happened before?”
You tip your head, tears still streaming steadily down your cheeks.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
A shrug. Your voice cracks as you say, “Everyone else is just trying to move on from it. Forget. I feel… stuck. Weaker.”
“Are you kidding me?” he replies. “I feel like I’m just waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Always. It’s terrifying. It’s not something any of us can forget, and you’re not weak for being afraid. Jesus. I’d be worried if any of us were fine after what we’ve been through.”
“Yeah. I guess.” You attempt a mirthless laugh. It’s not that you think Steve is fine about it. It’s just that he holds it so much better than you. He can make jokes about it. He can carry on with his life. And while there are moments with him where everything feels okay again, where his love makes you genuinely, truly happy, it rarely lasts. There’s always something to push you back to this. To the terror. To the “what ifs” and the dread and the unanswered questions.
“You should have told me. I want you to talk to me about stuff like this. I don’t want you suffering all on your own,” he says.
You swallow another sob, unable to reply. Maybe you hadn’t known just how much you needed someone to be with you in moments like this. Just how much you needed him.
“You don’t have to be okay. Not with me. But you need to tell me what’s going on. You’re not alone in this. We went through it together. We’ll keep going through it together. Okay?” He laced his fingers through yours.
You soften, finally meeting his eye and squeezing his hand. The weight of it, the warmth, is more comfort than you could have asked for. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Of course.” He kisses your knuckles and moves to sit beside you, pressing his lips on your sweat-slick forehead and pulling you close. “That’s what I’m here for.”
You hold him for all it’s worth, steadying yourself in his grip. He’s your shield, keeping you safe just as you’re about to collapse, and you’ll never not be grateful for the way he loves you. “Go find your boss. Tell her you’re not feeling well. I’m gonna take you home.”
You don’t even have it in you to argue. You know there’s no way you could go back into that screening now, even if your wobbly knees would let you.
“Does that mean we’re not watching the movie?” Dustin complains.
“Sorry, kiddo. I gotta take care of my girl.”
Dustin feigns a gag, and a strained laugh bubbles from you. “It’s okay. We can rent something and watch it at home. No monsters, though.”
Steve smiles, peppering your nose with kisses. “No monsters.”
It’s all you need to hear.
“Also, are we going to talk about the fact that you’re willingly at the movies with Dustin on a Saturday?” you tease.
“Hey!” Dustin scoffs at the same time Steve deadpans, “No. Never. We’ll never talk about it.”
Unlikely, but you let it go. For now.
#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington fic#stranger things#strangerthings#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things imagines#stranger things one shot#stranger things fic#imagines#one shots#imagines masterlist#imagine masterlist#joe keery imagines#joe keery one shot#x reader#fanfiction
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🪐
What if she got isekai'd into Bloodborne instead?
Bloodborne - Blood and Death CW (.... it's kind of in the name to be fair)
One night couldn't last forever, could it? A period of time in a bubble that just refused to give in? It was looking for something to burst it, to let all of this eldritch horror finally disperse and fade into the daytime. To crack open a bottle of blood red wine and consider the morning arisen as the moon finally sets one last time on Yharnam.
But the night couldn't last forever. Rose spent minutes in one moment, scrounging for whatever ammunition she could find. She could spend an hour traversing a lower street, ducking and weaving to avoid riflemen hellbent on considering her the grotesque beast when she was the most human of them all. Coming face to face with a monstrosity so familiar but tugging at the primal fear of something with that many fangs and an arm that brutally malformed. The kind that could crush a human into a bloody pulp, which she soon found herself being subjected to.
But the night seemed to go on. She took the time to breathe, her awakening in the Dream so sudden it was like a gunshot had rung out. The Doll gave a light pat to her head as she sat there beside them, staring off into space with the hood upon her head the only protection from beastly attacks. And after a few minutes of resting her heart, she quietly settled a hand above a grave, returning to where she had been to bathe in blood anew.
The night stretched longer. A beast she would fell, a beast would fell her. The spine of an ogre she'd tear through its own skin, a werewolf her neck and chin would crunch in one, firm bite. It all bled together, her own blood gradually tainting as she continued onwards. A music box could stun a man into losing himself entirely, and she'd wake up with sharper fangs upon her jaws. Still herself, but changing.
The night trudged onward, longer still. The moon had risen fully by now, so she knew there was time passing. But was it truly passing in her own perspective, or was it only going forward in a way that others saw it at one speed... herself another entirely? That skull conveyed knowledge to her that she couldn't understand. She couldn't. But she did. She knew. That thing used to be a man... were her gloves always stretching at the nails that much?
The night yawned wide. She sat in front of the spider. She sat in the very moonlight she had dove into. Her jaw ached. Her body quivered with a need to continue. A drive forward to know more. An urge to push onwards despite her sight clouding and clearing in equal measure. An irresistible pull to know what was happening. Why this was calling her forward. Why she was even here. Why blood tasted and felt so good and vile and refreshing and revolting. Why her heart skipped a beat when another was halted, why her pangs of guilt for destroying that poor girl's family tugged ever harder at her mind.
The night clamped down, consuming all within it. Consuming Yharnam in blood and crimson moonlight. Swallowing the beasts into a frenzy of fear and hunger. Sending all within its grasp into a pit of mindlessness and madness... but spitting one thing back up.
It couldn't keep her down.
It couldn't warp her mind enough.
Claws as her weapon, matching the fangs along her jaws. Pistol as her arm, black fur gripping it under the blood-drenched armor still seeming to keep her feeling enshrouded in safety. Blue eyes shimmering under her hat and cowl as ears perked to both sides, centered on her prey: the gods themselves.
So many Hunters became beasts. Few retained their memories. Fewer still retained their senses of self.
One retained her mission, and she had a little girl she needed to make sure would survive this endless night of blood.
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youtube
I love this game
I REALLY love this game
If I had to choose a favorite game of all time then I feel it would come down to either Sonic 3 & Knuckles or this one, the former shaped my gaming tastes during my childhood while the latter did the same for my adolescence
I have a lot of great things to say about this game, but also some negatives as well because no game is perfect and this is very important to remember especially in the case of games that have become so universally beloved that people have come to believe they have no flaws or areas to improve, which is never truly the case
I think the first thing to note about Super Metroid, and one of its most beloved aspects, is its atmosphere and general aesthetics
It's often said that Metroid has a dark and foreboding atmosphere and nowhere is this more evident than in Super Metroid
This game's spritework is detailed, grotesque at times. Its locations dark, eerie, grimey, organic. The colors are dark yes, but not washed out, in fact I'd say the color pallette is rich just enough to keep the game from looking dull while not compromising the element of general creepiness and darkness
The music is booming, melodieìc, creepy, cavernous, everything in this game is meant to make you feel like you really are going deeper and deeper into the inner bowels of an alien planet
I especially love how the overall artstyle feels like an evolution of Metroid 1's: the old Tourian looks like an SNES upgrade from the original, as does the beginning of Brinstar and the returning enemies from that game, though of course guys like Ridley and Kraid have been given massive redesigns. It really drives home the idea that this is Metroid 1 but MORE, it tells you "hey remember this place on the NES 8 years ago? Yeah here it is now like you remember it but looking better than ever". It truly is SUPER Metroid. Just compare this with how Zero Mission just completely altered the artstyle for something much more stylized and cartoony
The beginning acts are just a masterclass in atmospheric setup: from Samus narrating the prologue while mostly encased in shadow while the game's unnerving theme plays, to the Ceres Colony being all dark and lifeless with only the low humming of machinery keeping you company, to how deserted and foreboding Crateria looks at first before springing to life. A true masterpiece
I mentioned before that no other game after the original trilogy managed to truly recapture this kind of atmosphere and I believe it's true: no other game feels this ominous, so foreboding, so cavernous, so....dark. All the other 2D games after this usually go for a more....generic kind of atmospheric feel, the kind that checks a box off a list
Fusion can be creepy and unsettling yes...but the actual areas themselves are pretty standard
Zero Mission barely even tries to feel atmospheric, mostly just being really energetic and adventurous
Samus Returns and Dread, again, are a bit generic in the atmosphere department, save for specific moments such as the EMMI zones.
The Prime games on the other hand are indeed very atmospheric, even more than Super, but they mostly go for a different kind of atmosphere than that of the OG trilogy, which is all fine of course
I think a good way to illustrate what I'm saying is to compare the various versions of the Theme of Super Metroid that have been made over the years: they're all good versions in their own right, but none manage to capture that sense of pure menace, of sheer foreboding that the original has, rather mostly focusing on the more upbeat parts of the track
To change the subject: poor Kraid. He was the toughest of the two main bosses in the original game but now, despite having received a literally colossal redesign and looking more menacing he's actually much easier now and has been reduced to "first boss bitch". Unfortunately for him this is only the start of his misfortunes :P
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Egyptian gods: Bes
Bes is one of the Egyptian gods most noticeable by his physical appearance. Unlike most of the Egyptian gods, which were depicted as tall, thin, beautiful human/humanoids (and always on the side!), Bes was a stout, potbellied and ugly dwarf (and always depicted from the front!). His face is bearded, his eyes round and bulging, his tongue constantly out of his lips, his head abnormally large, and he keeps contorting his face into all sorts of grimaces… Add to that the mane/ears of a lion, a leopard’s tail coming out of the leopard-skin-loincloth he wears, and a headdress made of ostrich feathers, and you have a truly bizarre deity… But far from being scaring, Bes’ twisted and deformed physique was meant to be funny and hilarious. Bes was a jovial and happy being who acted as the jester of the gods, amusing them by his strange physique, his constant jumps and acrobatics, his hearty laugh and his music (Bes is often depicted holding a drum, and in the Late Period a lyre).
Legend claims that Bes was a deity from Nubia, who was brought back to Egypt by the Eye of Ra, when it returned, appeased and joyful, from her exile – Bes was following her (no matter if the “her” is Hathor or Bastet). As such, Bes was a god of dance, of laughter, of joy, of drunkenness, entertainment and parties – women dancers of Ancient Egypt had the habit of tattooing him on their thigh, since they considered him their patron god.
But more than just a bringer of merriment and fun, Bes also had an apotropaic function, in a similar way to Thoueris (that I described in a previous post). By his wild music, his twisted dances, his grimaces and his grotesqueness, Bes was thought to scare away evil spirits and push demons away from their victims. This protective role was sometimes highlighted by Bes holding weapons, such as a knife or a bow. Thought to be a god of the house and the family, Bes was especially renowned as a protector of newborn babies and mothers in labor. He also was prayed to so robbers, murderers and other criminals would not enter the house – and his protection extended to shielding Egyptians from dangerous beasts (scorpions, crocodiles, snakes…). His face basically worked somewhat like the face of the Gorgon in Ancient Greek art – as a hideous protective sign/spell.
Bes was a VERY popular god, with a widespread cult among every Egyptian house: his face was often carved on beds, since he was thought to defend the sleep of humans against nightmares. His face carved on beds was also supposed to protect men against… let’s say “sexual failures”, as he boosted their bed-prowess. In fact, Bes was thought to have (and often depicted as having) an enormous penis, contrasting with his dwarfish size – even in the most SFW depictions of the god, where he wears a loincloth, you can guess the large size of his genital by his bowed legs… It was because Bes was a god of all the forms of joy, and all the ways of enjoying life – ranging from music to the “pleasures of the flesh”. More surprisingly, Bes was also associated with prettiness, or rather the art of makeup, makeovers and every-day preparations of women. This is why his face was depicted on things such as perfume bottles, blush/rouge boxes, or hand mirrors. The ugliest of the gods was in charge of making women pretty…
His importance grew so much that, when depicted with a shield or a sword, he became one of the forces supposed to defend Egypt as a nation against its enemies! Mind you, Bes never had a true temple or sanctuary to himself – he was a god with a « home-worship » and « house-cult », present everywhere in the shape of amulets, little statues, paintings, carvings and other depictions easy to place on a vase or a furniture. His only altars were found for a very long time within one’s home… But his immense popularity made it so that, by the New Kingdom, Bes gained his own oracle, in Abydos, in the funeral temple of Sethi the First: people came from the four corners of Egypt to ask the god questions, and obtained answers through dreams. Egyptians asked Bes all sorts of questions: how to heal my sickness, will I find a wife, will my travel go well, will my troubles at work soon end, how can I help my family who is in a bad situation currently… As you can see, these were mostly day-to-day concerns, since Bes was one of the gods of daily life; and apparently the answers people received were so good that the oracle kept working all the way up to the fourth century CE! Bes even grew to become one of the protectors of the dead in the afterlife – with a fame rivaling the one of Osiris himself! Bes also had a special relationship with Horus, especially in his form of “Horus-The-Child”. The two were often depicted together, with Bes acting as either the protector of Horus-the-Child, or as his servant/assistant in other functions (such as healing/medicine-god ones). In the home-altars I described above, you often found an incantation engraved on a back of a depiction of Horus (as a young naked child depicted from the front) crushing crocodiles with his feet an strangling snakes or lions with his hands – his head surmounted by Bes’ face. This was an “Horus of the crocodiles” depiction, and pouring water on the depiction while reciting the incantation, before drinking the water, would make one protected against things ranging from lion attacks to insect bites and the venom of snakes. And during the Late Period, the relationship of the two grew so much that some amulets or protective images depicted Horus-the-Child with the head of Bes…
Bes’s immense popularity was such that he survived for a brief time the Christianization of Egypt, in the form of a local legend of Karnak – though it is a warped and much more demonized version of himself. According to this tale of early-Christian Egypt, Bes haunted/was hiding inside one of the doors of the Karnak temple, and if anyone mocked his ugliness or deformities, he would strangle them ferociously…
I will end this brief post with two gods I do not know much about, but which are important to understand the figure of Bes. One is Beset, who is basically the female double of Bes and thought to be his wife – as you know by the “triad logic”, Egyptians thought a male god could not exist alone, and so were always prompt to invent him a wife. Egyptians first did so by literally creating a feminine double for Bes, Beset, a deity that protected the household and was depicted as a woman with the head of a lion, holding snakes in her hands. However, as Bes was associated with Taweret/Thoueris, the two forming the duo of deities protecting women in labor and newborn babies, some people decided to make Taweret his wife instead of Beset. The second name I want to mention is Aha. Aha is an old good spirit/benevolent genie, maybe even minor god, of Egypt, whose name was known and invoke all the way up to the Middle Kingdom. Aha is thought to be the “ancestor” of Bes, as in one of the prototypes of the god that ended up “absorbed” by his descendant: Aha was a warrior-spirit (his very name means “warrior”) as well as a fecundity spirit, whose job was to protect pregnant women and children. Similarly to Bes, Aha was depicted as a dwarfish or gnomic humanoid, half-monkey (or half-distorted human with a very round face and long limbs) and half lion (mane, ears, and tail).
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I could really use some TLC right now. There was a huge fire in my home yesterday. Large parts of my home are completely destroyed. With God's grace, everyone is safe though my sister injured her hand and some of her hair got burnt.
Barring two rooms, everything else has been burnt.
Years and years worth of memories— just gone. Appliances worth lakhs of rupees— melted into a black, unrecognisable mass. Our fridge (and the fridge magnets on it collected over the years from our travels), which my late mother had bought and which still worked perfectly after over 20 years— destroyed to the point it hurt to look at it. Aged and flavored cheeses bought lovingly for pasta dishes and handmade artisan pizzas, homemade fruit preserves and relishes, a rich fruitcake sitting soaking in rum, de-seeded and sliced calamansi from my music teacher's own garden which was to be turned into a jam, spices collected and blended painstakingly over a long time— nothing but a heap of charred carbon.
Years and years worth of school books and children's magazines collected with care— ash. Clothes and toys and memorabilia from competitions won during our formative years— charcoal. My only photograph from my high school farewell— I can't say what even became of it. School supplies, art supplies, shirts and pants and dresses that belonged to the youngest children of our family— indistinguishable from the smithereens that covered the floor in heaps and heaps of utter ruin. A doll I bought 25 years ago before my baby sister's birth— a twisted and grotesque mocking reminder of what fire can do when it turns into a destructive force.
There is so much that I cannot really even catalogue. But imagine for a moment, if you can, what it feels like to walk through a field of debris that used to once be everything you loved about your home and took for granted.
And as you shuffle your feet around thousands of shards of broken glass, trudging past soot-blackened walls, melted tubelights and fans, broken pieces of the ceiling, and melted jars and boxes of tea and coffee, the smell of burnt organic and inorganic matter hits your nose and gives you a nausea-inducing headache.
You wonder if it is an emotional response or a physical reaction. And when you don't know what to settle for, you crack dark jokes before falling into a troubled sleep on a bed not yours, hoping this would all just turn out to be a bad dream.
I pray none of you ever experience something like this. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.
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What a Young Man Should Know, 1933. A checklist for becoming a proper man.
This was published in the March 1933 issue of Harper’s Magazine.
The writer, Robert Littell, details the abilities, skills, accomplishments, and extra-curricular proficiencies that every man should have if they are to become a self-sufficient and well-rounded human being, ready for life, and eventually, marriage and raising their own children. The learning starts from a very young age.
Here is the (short) list:
1. He should know how to swim at least a mile, dive creditably, and not feel panicky under water. He should be able also to revive those less skilful than himself by rolling them on a barrel and pumping their helpless arms.
2. He should be able to drive an automobile well. And he should not be altogether helpless when a car breaks down. He must know how to change a tire and offer some sort of diagnosis when the engine sputters and dies.
3. He ought to know how to clean, load, and shoot a revolver or a rifle.
4. As for self-defense, a man should certainly be able to take care of himself in a scrap. He need not learn jujitsu — old-fashioned boxing will be enough.
5. He ought to know the rudiments of camping, how to build a fire, how to chop wood, how to take a cinder out of his eye, how to deal with a severed artery, how to doctor himself for ordinary ailments.
6. He should also be able to take care of other people in emergencies, to apply first aid, set a broken bone, revive a drunk or a victim of gas, deal with a fainting fit, administer the right emetic or antidote for a case of poisoning.
7. And he should be able to feed himself, to cook, not only because some day he may need to, but because cooking is one of the fine arts, and a source of infinite pleasure. He should be able to scramble eggs, brew coffee, broil a steak, dress a salad, carve a chicken, and produce, on occasion, one first-class dish, such as onion soup. The more he can do, in these days of the delicatessen store and the kitchenette, the better. It is not effeminate, it is not beyond him, and the best chefs are all men.
8. He should know how to use paint brushes, a saw, a hammer, and other common tools.
9. He should also have a beautiful and distinguished handwriting. But the bulk of his writing, particularly if he is a professional man who has much of it to do, should be done on a typewriter, capable of turning out three thousand words an hour.
10. He should play one outdoor game well, and have a workable smattering of several more. An American who cannot throw and catch a ball seems pathetic and grotesque.
11. The bicycle has gone, yet every young man should know how to ride one.
12. He should also be able to skate, sail a boat, and handle a canoe passably.
13. Fishing is a specialty, like chess.
14. Walking is a noble but neglected sport. Americans “hike” once in a long while but seldom walk.
15. He should know a great deal about animals and how to take care of them.
16. He should know how to ride a horse.
17. He should learn how to stay in a saddle with pleasure to himself and a minimum of annoyance to his mount.
18. He should learn how to dance.
19. He should know to play at least one card game.
20. He must have knowledge of how to tip naturally, justly, without fear and without reproach.
21. On the matter of alcohol, he should learn his capacity and stick within its limits; he should know something about the different kinds of drink, and which drinks produce chaos within him when mixed.
22. Where s:x is concerned, nature clearly intended us to make many mistakes in her hope that some of them would be productive.
23. He should know the rudiments of gambling. But gambling might be placed on the same plane as drink — the less use one has for it the better.
24. Higher than almost any other accomplishment on the list is knowing music. There is no reason why any young man who is not absolutely tone-deaf should not learn how to play one musical instrument well enough for it to be a self-resource and a tolerable pleasure to others.
25. A civilized man should know how to read. The ability to read, or rather the habit of reading, is very rare even among intelligent people, and has to be taught and kept up if it is not to become rusty.
26. He should have knowledge of at least one foreign language. French or German preferably both. German children learn an amazingly good brand of English without ever crossing their borders. Why can’t we? For one thing, we don’t really want to. Yet we should. An American who knows only English is blind in one eye.
27. He should know to travel well, efficiently, without fuss or complaint.
28. A young man should be able to express himself clearly before a crowd of strangers, without shyness, muddle, or a pathetic resort to “so much has been said and well said” or “I did not expect to be called on.”
29. The American adult can get to his feet, propose a toast, introduce a stranger, voice a civic protest, heckle a windbag politician, and give utterance to an unembarrassed thought.
30. A a man should command the elementary tool of written language, and be able to put simple things on paper in clear words.
31. He should have a good workable understanding of the structure of business, investments, and banks.
32. Let every educated man, as a necessary part of his education, be thrown into the muddy stream of American industry and see what it is like to swim alone on daily wages.
33. He should before reaching twenty-two have done something because he wanted to, whether other people wanted him to do it or not.
34. He should not acquire property unless he needs it. Insensitiveness to his personal property, unless of course it is extraordinarily beautiful, is a desirable skill for any man to have; It must be learned and worked at.
35. Unusual though this young man may be, he should not seem so. Is not a parent’s basic ambition for his child that he be very different from other people, yet manage to seem almost exactly like them?
What do you think? Doable or unreasonable? And now that you know what is expected of women in the 1930s, is it fair?
#1930s #1930sstyle #vintagehistory #historylovers #historyfacts #vintageaesthetic #didyouknowfacts #howtobeaman
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Starlit Fighter: Tifa's Grace by Jade Gretz
Tifa slammed her fist into the grotesque parody of a teddy bear, its stuffing spilling out like entrails. The air, thick with the metallic tang of blood and something far more unsettling, hung heavy in the crimson-tinted room. This wasn't Midgar. This wasn't anything she recognized.
She'd followed a distress signal, a desperate plea for help emanating from the depths of a corrupted data stream. Now, Tifa found herself in a twisted world cloaked in a perpetual twilight. The once-cheerful tune of "Aerith's Theme" playing from a warped music box served only to heighten the surreal horror.
Each familiar object – a chipped mug, a half-read book, a child's swing set – was twisted into a grotesque caricature. The mug oozed a viscous purple liquid, the book's pages whispered gibberish, and the swing set, rusted and creaking, seemed poised to impale anyone who dared touch it.
Tifa scanned her surroundings. The familiar weight of her gloves provided a grounding anchor in this maddening realm. Cloud was missing – no surprise there. Her spiky-haired comrade always seemed to vanish at the most inopportune moments. But there had to be a way out, a way back to the real world.
The teddy bear attack, swift and unexpected, had served as a gruesome welcome. Now, she had to move carefully, her senses on high alert. The very air vibrated with a malicious energy, threatening to warp her perception further.
Suddenly, a distorted voice, reeking of putrefaction, echoed through the room. "Welcome… to the Realm of the Broken Mind." A figure emerged from the crimson haze – a humanoid shape with no face, its body stitched together from discarded toys and broken furniture.
Tifa readied her fists. "Who are you? Where am I?"
The creature chuckled, the sound like nails scraping on a chalkboard. "You are lost, warrior. Lost in the fractured memories of a broken mind. Soon, you will become part of the collection."
Tifa gritted her teeth. Another corrupted monster manipulated by a malicious entity? This seemed eerily similar to Sephiroth's machinations back in the days of Shinra. But this
…(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)
#tifa#tifalockhart#finalfantasy#clouldstrife#gamer#gamerart#videogames#ai#aiart#digitalart#jadegretz#fantasyart#fanart#beautifulgirl#aiartwork#aiartcommunity
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WTYP: The Shandor Building, Part 5
[Do you like the colour of the fanfic? This is long and if you expand it you're gonna get the whole thing, because Tumblr hates you. Don't say I didn't warn you!]
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Part 5: Alice's Pick
[Beware of strong language, mention of all kinds of death, gore, and Lovecraftian horror.]
[SLIDE: Ad with blue background, WTYP avatars on yellow, and PO box information, but it appears to be dripping a certain amount of pink slime.]
[soothing music]
R [voice-over]: Hi, it’s Justin. This is a commercial for the podcast you’re already watching. People are annoyed by these so I’ll get right to the point: We’ve pissed off an ancient Sumerian deity and we may not live through this. Thank you for joining the Patreon, we really appreciate it, but we need a little more help. I’d say “pray for us,” but I think we’re trapped in some kinda pocket dimension, and it may not do any good. Far be it from me to impose upon your religion, or lack thereof, in any case. If you know anything about Gozer the Gozerian, or ancient Sumer, you might want to update their Wikipedia pages, because we do somehow still have our laptops and what appears to be a working internet connection, but by the time you see this it’ll probably be too late. So, for the first time ever, don’t join the Patreon. Or do, if you want. It’s your call. I’m sure my cats will appreciate the money in the event of my untimely disappearance or death. And, as always, we do not want to die. Now, back to the show.
[SLIDE: Gozer the Gozerian, the Ghostbusters version, with Vinz Clortho and Zuul.]
G: HOW ARE MY LEVELS? TEST. TEST.
D: No, you don’t need to, uh… Fine, actually. Thank you for turning down the howling noise.
G: NO PROBLEM. JUST LET ME KNOW WHEN WE ARE BACK FROM THE BREAK.
D: We’re already… Uh, yes. We’re back in, uh, three, two, one…
G: MY NAME IS GOZER THE GOZERIAN, I AM THE ENTITY THAT IS SPEAKING NOW, AND MY PRONOUNS ARE XE AND XEM.
A: Neopronouns! That’s interesting!
G: THEY ARE ANCIENT SUMERIAN PRONOUNS.
A: Oh. Lovely.
L: Sweet, I don’t think we’ve had one of those before.
A: …and I’m not just saying that because this form you’ve taken is smoking hot.
G: THESE ARE VINZ CLORTHO AND ZUUL, WE DO NOT SPEAK MUCH, AND OUR PRONOUNS ARE WE AND US.
R: That’s a bit presumptuous.
A: And I am there for it! Are they, er, are “we” your pets, Lord Gozer, or is it more of a polycule?
G: YES.
A [thrilled]: I don’t think it’s going to solve anything, but this podcaster is definitely becoming more rigid!
D: Please don’t make me get the spray bottle, the control room is full of slime.
A [wistful]: “Control room,” what a lovely thought.
R: Are we gargoyles or grotesques?
G: WE ARE YOUR DOOM!
[thunder, lightning, gales of wind]
R: Oh.
G: AND WE IDENTIFY AS TERROR DOGS.
L: Aww. Tummy rubs.
G: SO, ARE ANY OF YOU GODS?
R: We are definitely gods. I misspoke before, and I apologize. We are all gods here, thanks.
A: We’re a regular pantheon! Is that a knockoff Rolex you’re wearing?
G: I ALSO HAVE A CAMERA.
A [awestruck]: Fuck.
G : IF YOU ARE THE GODS OF THIS WORLD THEN WE MUST FIGHT…
A [happily]: I promise I’ll lose!
G: …TO THE DEATH.
A: Oh. Nevermind. Damn.
R: This Wikipedia page badly needs updating.
G [with mild irony]: ARE ANY OF YOU GOING TO SHOOT AT ME DURING THE NEGOTIATION AND VOID THE TERMS OF THE DUEL?
[slight pause, frantic shuffling]
D: We don’t have any proton packs, do we?
A: I have a bit of cheese in my purse, and a Slimfast bar…?
D: Proton, not protein!
A: I KNOW, I’M JUST VERY NERVOUS!
R: I got this here laptop and a stapler, I guess. Shame nobody uses CRTs anymore, at least they accelerate particles…
L: Uh, no?
G: THEN, AS THIS IS YOUR WORLD, I CEDE THE FIRST PICK OF FORM TO YOU.
L [excited]: We get to pick our form?
D: Uh, I don’t think…
L: I mean, I’m totally a god, so I knew that. It’s just cool! I’m gonna be a ‘93 Nissan Lamassu!
D: Liam…
R [quietly]: We can’t actually pick our forms.
A [muttering]: I can, but it’s a bit of a process…
D [raising voice, trying to sound confident]: Um… We choose the form of an engineering disasters podcast!
G: WOULD YOU NOT PREFER THE FORM OF SOMETHING SLIGHTLY MORE POPULAR?
L: Ouch.
R [defiant]: No.
A: God, I want liposuction.
D: We’re good like this, Lord Gozer! Thanks!
G: VERY WELL. THEN I CHOOSE THE FORM OF AN ENGINEERING DISASTER.
A: Shit.
R: Makes sense.
L: Yeah, probably should’ve seen that coming.
D: I’m so sorry, you guys.
A: S’all right, Dev. You tried.
R: I died doing what I love… Podcasting and editing a Wikipedia page for accuracy. And I got to ride a high speed train made of meat.
L [raising voice]: Hey, Gozer! Which engineering disaster? There’s a lot of ‘em! You haven’t been back here for a while, buddy, we’ve had a few more fun ones.
R: Yeah, these billionaires got crushed in a submarine of their own making, that was fun…
A [hyperventilating]: Oh, God. Oh, God…
D: Rocz, shut the hell up!
[crinkling wrapper, sound of Alice self-soothing by eating a bit of cheese]
G: THAT DOES SOUND INTERESTING. MAY I BORROW YOUR LAPTOP AND HAVE A LOOK?
L [quickly]: No! Engineering disasters don’t have laptops!
R: Y2K…
D: Shut up!
G: CHOOSE THE FORM OF YOUR ENGINEERING DISASTER!
L: All right. This is it.
D: Nobody say anything. Nobody think anything! Play dead! Eventually, xe may get bored!
A: Like a grizzly bear?
D: Happy thoughts, Alice. Happy thoughts. Anything but an engineering disaster…
Part 6
#wtyp#well there's your problem#ghostbusters#long reads#fanfic#fanfiction#crossover fic#gozer the gozerian#alice caldwell-kelly#liam anderson#justin roczniak#devon#engineering disasters#podcast
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