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theehoneeybee · 6 months

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Talking in Your Sleep. Chapter 3.

Talking in Your Sleep - Monkey Gone to Heaven

Children went missing at Freddy's in the 80's, forever tainting its reputation.

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

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Children screamed and ran through the pizzeria, high off of cheap sugary candy and excitement. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place had become the go-to place for children's birthday parties and cheap pizza. Food, arcade games, prizes, and of course, the animatronics: it was a kid's dream. Everyone had their favourite member of the Faz-gang. There was Freddy Fazbear, Bonnie the Bunny, Chica the Chicken and Foxy the Pirate. On special occasions, another character would come out. A golden bunny. He was different from the other characters. He was controlled by a person. Someone inside the suit would walk around and entertain the kids when the main gang weren't on. He gave you the creeps. There was just something off about him that you couldn't describe. One of the employees had told you that the bunny was from a different location, and was meant to be part of a duo with a golden bear. You didn't really care for the other animatronics but you tried to stay away from the golden rabbit.

Tucked away in the corner of the main room, you sat at an abandoned table and drew away. Freddy's was your unwanted second home. Your parents worked. A lot. There was little time for them to look after you, and though they could afford to pay a babysitter, they chose to dump you at the pizzeria. Weekends and school holidays, you were there from open to close. More often that not, they forgot to pick you up too, too invested in their work to care about their own child. You couldn't escape the neglect at home, you parents would leave you to your own devices, continuing to work from home. It had taught you to become independent. You knew how to cook, clean and take care of yourself. It wasn't like you had any other choice.

You stared down at the page. The cheap waxy crayons Freddy's provided strewn across the table. Drawing had become your escape. As soon as the colours hit the page, everything else melted away. The sounds of screaming kids, pinball machines and singing animatronics became background noise. It helped you pass the time. Being at Freddy's from 9am to 9pm multiple days a week gets boring quickly. You had managed to get the high score on every arcade game, collected almost every prize available at the counter and tried every pizza flavour. You just wanted to go home.

At least the staff were lovely. Everybody knew you by name, always stopping by to make sure you were doing okay. They sometimes snuck you free ice cream too. You couldn't complain bout that. Seeing you here by yourself so often made them feel horrible. Many of the parents would stare and whisper. What kind of parent leaves there child here? You tried your best to ignore them. On days when your parents would forget to pick you up, someone would stay well past their shift to make sure you get picked up safely, letting you wait inside to avoid the cold weather.

"It's showtime, boys and girls!" a loud voice boomer over the intercom. "Come join Freddy and the gang for their latest song!"

Immediately, a tsunami of children flooded towards the show stage, jumping up and down excitedly as they waited for their favourite animatronics to appear. You didn't look up from your drawing. Colourful strobe lights painted the room as the rhythm of a pop sing started to play, the animatronics mechanically lip-syncing along. The chair across from you was pulled back and you heard the thud of someone sitting down. You peered up slightly from your drawing. Across from you was a girl about your age. Her long, golden blonde hair tied up in cute pig tails, adorned with colourful ribbons. She started at you, bright blue eyes filled with curiosity.

"Do you always sit by yourself?" she asked, you gave her a slow now, not putting down the crayons. The girl shuffled her chair over so she was next to you. "Woah!" she gasped, staring at your drawing. "You're really good!"

You shyly smiled, "Thank you."

"I'm Susan, but everyone calls me Suzie." Suzie offered her hand out for a handshake. After a moment of hesitation, you took it and introduced yourself.

You and Suzie quickly became friends. She came in every Saturday with her family for lunch. You learnt her favourite animatronic was Chica. She would carry around a plush of Carl the Cupcake and wore a shirt that said 'Let's Eat!'. The two of you would draw east pizza and draw together, sticking up your artworks on the wall which were adorned with hundreds of other drawings. Suzie would always insist yours were the best. She made your time at the pizzeria more bearable. You actually looked forward to Saturdays were you would get to see her. Her family was sympathetic towards your situation. In a way, you were jealous of them. All you wanted was a normal family. Parents who actually wanted to spend time with you. They always offered you a ride home, but you couldn't accept. 'My parents will be here soon,' you'd always insist. They were reluctant to leave you, but there was always and employee who's wait and keep you safe. You didn't want to burden them.

One Saturday, Suzie wanted to go watch the show. Chica was going to be performing a Cyndi Lauper song, two of Suzie's favourite things. You decided you would keep drawing then once the show was done, you'd go play arcade games together. The show ended, but Suzie didn't come back. You waited for a few minutes, she had probably just gone to the bathroom. But after fifteen minutes had gone by and Suzie hadn't returned, you started to get worried. Packing up your crayons, you began your search of the pizzeria. You went through every room twice, even checking the bathrooms. Nervously, you decided to approach her parents.

"Hi sweetheart," Suzie's mum greeted you, a kind smile painted on her lips. When she saw the worried look on your face, her face fell to one of concern. "What's wrong?"

"I can't find Suzie."

The next few weeks at the pizzeria were quiet. Cops came and went, searching the pizzeria top to bottom to see if they couldn't find clues to Suzie's disappearance. Her face was plastered all over the news: Young girl goes missing at local pizzeria. Slowly, the investigation slowed as nothing was being uncovered. You didn't want to go back to Freddy's. Your parents would drop you off, kicking and screaming until you had finally had enough. They dropped parents not to take you there. You plea fell on deaf ears.

You stood up, dusting dirt off of your jeans to begin the journey home. You turned around, taking one last look at the sign, Freddy waving with a big grin, illuminated by cheap neon lights. The walk home was long. You kicked rocks along the path, scuffing your shoes in the process, holding onto the straps of your backpack. A faded missing persons poster was taped to a light post. Suzie's familiar face stared at you ,a bright smile adored as if she wasn't missing. You felt your bottom lip tremble, running the rest of the way home.

When you got home, you were out of breath, taking a minute to sit on the porch steps and breathe. You tried to door but it was locked. Somewhere in the garden your parents kept a spare key. For the next half an hour, you searched the plants, turning over rocks and faded gnome statues until you found it. The house was empty. It would still be hours until your parents came home. You didn't care if they would be mad. You refused to go back to the pizzeria.

It was almost 10pm when your parents came home. You were half asleep, laying down on the couch as the TV played quietly in the background. "Why weren't you at Freddy's?" your father asked nonchalantly. He was tired from work, loosening his tie as he entered the living room.

You sat up angrily. "I'm not going back there. Suzie went missing there, you know. I'm not going back!"

Your father groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Whatever, I'm not dealing with you right now. Just stay at home." He walked upstairs, leaving you alone.

You slowly wandered up the stairs to your apartment, lugging bags of groceries up with you. Your arms burnt as the heavy bags gave you a workout. Fumbling with the keys, you managed to make your way inside. As soon as you stepped in, you were greeted by a bundle of letters in the hallway, having been pushed through the rust mail slot in the door. You sighed as you put your groceries away. The fridge was bare aside from a few half-empty condiment bottles. You scooped up the letters and flopped down on the couch, opening them up one by one.

Electricity. Overdue. Gas. Overdue.

The last one made your stomach drop.

Rent. Overdue. Final notice.

Angrily, you threw the bills onto the coffee table. You had until the end of the month to pay this month, plus the back rent or you'd be on the streets. After the events at Freddy's last night, you were planning on calling Steve today to quit but it didn't seem like that was an option now. Even if you took another job during the day, with minimum wage you would never be able to pay it all off. You rubbed your temples, trying to fight of the headache you felt brewing. There wasn't anyone else you could stay with either. Your relationship with your parents was non-existent. The second you turned 18, you left like a bat out of hell. You decided to take a nap before your shift, curling up on the couch, trying to ignore your impending doom.

"Abby, give me my vest." Abby, with Mike's oversized security vest hanging off her shoulders, stood firm. "I'm serious," Mike stated. "Give me the vest."

"No!" Abby protested. "I don't want to stay with Aunt Jane. She smells like cigarettes," she whispered.

Max had gone MIA. She didn't answer any of Mike's calls. He even tried calling her brother but it went straight to voicemail. As a last resort, he called Aunt Jane. Of course, she jumped on any opportunity to make Mike look bad. Oh, you can't take care of Abby? I'm not surprised, I guess I'll gave to do it. Mike grabbed Abby, throwing her over his shoulder. She squealed, banging on Mike's back. After a struggle, Mike managed to steal the vest off of her.

"She's all yours," Mike huffed, grabbing his backpack and heading out the door.

Dread filled his body as he drove to Freddy's. Every cell in his body was telling him to turn around, to call Steve and quit, but Mike powered forward. He needed this job to prove to the court that he was a fit guardian for Abby. If that meant putting himself at risk at a haunted pizzeria, he'd do it. There's nothing he wouldn't do to keep Abby safe. Mike was surprised to see your car when he pulled into the parking lot. He was almost certain you would have quit. You had already opened the pizzeria and were set up in the security office.

The sound of the door opening startled you. "I'm surprised to see you back here," Mike says, putting his backpack into the locker.

"I could say the same for you." Mike wedged the chair under the door, tugging on the handle to make sure it was secure. "Trust me, if I could quit, I would," you said with a sardonic chuckle.

The two of you had an unspoken agreement that you wouldn't be leaving the security office tonight. While the whole pizzeria was a death trap, the security office was the safest room. Mike noted as you anxiously bit your lip. You both sat in silence, eyes glued to the monitors and listening intently for any noises. Mike yawned, almost nodding off as he tried to keep focus on the monitors. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and you noticed his usual undereye bags were even darker than usual.

"You can sleep, y'know," you offered.

Mike immediately shook his head. "No, I don't want you be alone."

"I'll be fine, Mike," you promised. "You really look like you need the sleep. I'll be okay for a couple of hours."

Mike looked between you and the monitors before reluctantly agreeing. He grabbed his cassette player out of his backpack and put his headphones on. You couldn't help the small smirk which formed on your lips. Mike gave your chair a playful kick before settling into his own. You kept a close watch on the monitors, letting Mike get some rest. Your mind couldn't help but wander back to your many bills. Your stomach churned with anxiety. Unable to focus, you decided to properly explore the office. Despite working here for almost three weeks now, you never bothered to properly look through the office. You poured over the shelves, mostly filled with old paperwork and memorabilia. As you checked through the lockers, a bright orange container fell out. Curiously, you picked it up. 'Michael Schmidt,' the label read. 'Triazolam. Take 1-2 before bed.' Sleeping tablets. You glanced over at Mike before carefully putting the bottle back into his backpack. Feeling like you had overstepped a boundary, you quickly took your seat and went back to watching the monitors.

"Garrett!" Mike called out, watching in despair as the navy blue car skidded away. The sound of a twig snapping behind him caught Mike's attention. To his surprise, five young children were standing behind him. The blonde boy stood in front of the rest, staring Mike dead in the eyes.

"What is this?" Who are you?" Mike asked with confusion, looking across the group. T he children didn't move, staring at him in silence. "That car. Did you see who drove that car?" Did you see who took my brother?"

In an instant, the children scattered, running in different directions. This dream was different. They were never different. Every night he would relive the memory of Garrett being taken, but something was wrong this time. Mike began to chase after the blonde boy, following him deeper into the pine forest. Just as he was about to catch up, his foot got caught on a rock, sending him tumbling to the hard dirt below.

"Shit! Are you alright?" you asked, leaning down by Mike's side. He was fast asleep, then the next thing you knew, he had flown out of his chair onto the floor. Mike groaned, rubbing the back of his head as he slowly sat up. He looked around your office, your concerned gaze focused on his face.

"I'm fine," Mike assured. "How long was I asleep for?"

You helped him stand up. "A couple of hours. It's almost six. Did you have a bad dream or something?"

Mike sat back down into his chair with a huff. "Something like that. It happens a lot though. I'm used to it."

Your eyes flickered over to the locker, then back at Mike. You noticed his forehead was bleeding. "You've hit your head. I'll grab the first-aid kit. Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Luckily the first-aid kit was kept in the office so you wouldn't have to venture out. Even though nothing strange had happened tonight, you were still on edge. Kit in hand, you scooted your chair closer to Mike. You pushed his hair out of the way, gently cleaning the wound. It wasn't very deep, just a small cut.

"I'm fine." Mike winced slightly as you cleaned the wound. "Y'know how I have that book on dream theory?" you nodded. "Well, I use it to relive a memory of my brother. When I was younger, he got taken. No one ever found him or who did it."

"I'm sorry," you apologised. Your last day with Suzie came to mind. It had been so long since you thought about her. "So, you're trying to remember if you saw his face?"

Mike nodded. "Not having much luck though."

You finished cleaning his cut and gently placed a bandaid on top. Of course, the only bandaids in the supply box were Freddy Fazbear themed, not that Mike knew that. You tried to hide your smile as you stuck the Foxy bandage to his forehead, letting his hair fall back into place. "All better now."

The alarm on Mike's watched sounded, signalling the end of your shift. You shivered as you stepped out into the cold morning air, locking the rusty metal gates behind you. You decided to sit in your car and watch the sun rise, giving Mike a wave as he drove off. You looked at the Freddy's sign through the rear-view mirror and felt a pang of guilt hit your chest. You knew what it was like to lose someone dear to you. You thought about Suzie and the other kids who went missing. It was unfair that they were taken away. Their families deserved closure. You wanted closure. You started your car and began the drive home in silence.

Tomorrow is another day.

#mike schmidt x reader #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson #william afton #michael afton #abby schmidt

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hermitcraftheadcanons · 3 months

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Joe Hills is, in fact, a regular man. But he's been through so many strange things, built up enough forbidden knowledge, acquired deals, boons, curses, artifacts enough to survive these experiences that he no longer reads as human to most creatures. Even he has to wonder sometimes, after all, what counts as humanity? He can't go back to his old home, time, dimension, world, community, and even if he could, there wouldn't really be a place for the person he's become.

Breaking into Hermitcraft was the best thing he's done. Not only can he finally rest, but he's found somewhere he kind of fits. Talking about pinball machines to a zombie is a vast improvement to trying not to be turned to dust by the embodiment of avarice.

#hermitcraft #joehills #mod mleem

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 months

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A year in illustration, 2023 edition (part two)

(This is part two; part one is here.)

The West Midlands Police were kind enough to upload a high-rez of their surveillance camera control room to Flickr under a CC license (they've since deleted it), and it was the perfect frame for dozens of repeating clown images with HAL9000 red noses. This worked out great. The clown face is from a 1940s ad for novelty masks.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/23/automation-blindness/#humans-in-the-loop

I spent an absurd amount of time transforming a photo I took of three pinball machines into union-busting themed tables, pulling in a bunch of images from old Soviet propaganda art. An editorial cartoon of Teddy Roosevelt with his big stick takes center stage, while a NLRB General Counsel Jennifer Abruzzo's official portrait presides over the scene. I hand-made the eight-segment TILT displays.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

Working with the highest-possible rez sources makes all the difference in the world. Syvwlch's extremely high-rez paint-scraper is a gift to people writing about web-scraping, and the Matrix code waterfall mapped onto it like butter.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

This old TWA ad depicting a young man eagerly pitching an older man has incredible body-language – so much so that when I replaced their heads with raw meat, the intent and character remained intact. I often struggle for background to put behind images like this, but high-rez currency imagery, with the blown up intaglio, crushes it.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy

I transposed Photoshop instructions for turning a face into a zombie into Gimp instructions to make Zombie Uncle Sam. The guy looking at his watch kills me. He's from an old magazine illustration about radio broadcasting. What a face!

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/18/the-people-no/#tell-ya-what-i-want-what-i-really-really-want

The mansplaining guy from the TWA ad is back, but this time he's telling a whopper. It took so much work to give him that Pinnocchio nose. Clearly, he's lying about capitalism, hence the Atlas Shrugged cover. Bosch's "Garden of Earthly Delights" makes for an excellent, public domain hellscape fit for a nonconensual pitch about the miracle of capitalism.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/27/six-sells/#youre-holding-it-wrong

There's no better image for stories about techbros scamming rubes than Bosch's 'The Conjurer.' Throw in Jeff Bezos's head and an Amazon logo and you're off to the races. I boobytrapped this image by adding as many fingers as I could fit onto each of these figures in the hopes that someone could falsely accuse me of AI-generating this. No one did.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

Once again, it's Bosch to the rescue. Slap a different smiley-face emoji on each of the tormented figures in 'Garden of Earthly Delights' and you've got a perfect metaphor for the 'brand safety' problem of hard news dying online because brands don't want to be associated with unpleasant things, and the news is very unpleasant indeed.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/11/ad-jacency/#brand-safety

I really struggle to come up with images for my linkdump posts. I'm running out of ways to illustrate assortments and varieties. I got to noodling with a Kellogg's mini-cereal variety pack and I realized it was the perfect place for a vicious gorilla image I'd just found online in a WWI propaganda poster headed 'Destroy This Mad Brute.' I put so many fake AI tells in this one – extra pupils, extra fingers, a super-AI-esque Kellogg's logo.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/05/variegated/#nein

Bloodletting is the perfect metaphor for using rate-hikes to fight inflation. A vintage image of the Treasury, spattered with blood, makes a great backdrop. For the foreground, a medieval woodcut of bloodletting quacks – give one the head of Larry Summers, the other, Jerome Powell. For the patient, use Uncle Sam's head.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/20/bloodletting/#inflated-ego

I killed a long videoconference call slicing up an old pulp cover showing a killer robot zapping a couple of shrunken people in bell-jars. It was the ideal image to illustrate Big Tech's enshittification, especially when it was decorated with some classic tech slogans.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/22/who-wins-the-argument/#corporations-are-people-my-friend

There's something meditative about manually cutting out Tenniel engravings from Alice – the Jabberwock was insane. But it was worth it for this Tron-inflected illustration using a distorted Cartesian grid to display the enormous difference between e/acc and AI doomers, and everyone else in the world.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/27/10-types-of-people/#taking-up-a-lot-of-space

Multilayer source images for your remixing pleasure:

Scientist in chemlabhttps://craphound.com/images/scientist-in-chem-lab.psd

Humpty Dumpty and the millionaires https://craphound.com/images/humpty-dumpty-and-the-millionaires.psd

Demon summoning https://craphound.com/images/demon-summoning.psd

Killer Robot and People in Bell Jars https://craphound.com/images/killer-robot-and-bell-jars.psd

TWA mansplainer https://craphound.com/images/twa-mansplainer.psd

Impatient boss https://craphound.com/images/impatient-boss.psd

Destroy This Mad Brute https://craphound.com/images/destroy-this-mad-brute.psd

(Images: Heinz Bunse, West Midlands Police, Christopher Sessums, CC BY-SA 2.0; Mike Mozart, Jesse Wagstaff, Stephen Drake, Steve Jurvetson, syvwlch, Doc Searls, https://www.flickr.com/photos/mosaic36/14231376315, Chatham House, CC BY 2.0; Cryteria, CC BY 3.0; Mr. Kjetil Ree, Trevor Parscal, Rama, “Soldiers of Russia” Cultural Center, Russian Airborne Troops Press Service, CC BY-SA 3.0; Raimond Spekking, CC BY 4.0; Drahtlos, CC BY-SA 4.0; Eugen Rochko, Affero; modified)

#pluralistic #illustration #collage #fair use #creative commons

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ellemfaoh · 2 years

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Pinball, Hair, and Detention Pt. 1 | Vance Hopper x Reader

Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Word Count: 2.9k

Categories: Enemies to Lovers (eventually lol), Rivalry, Angst, Fluff, mentions of past Bruce X Reader

Content Warnings: Swearing, Bullying, Mentions of Blood, Fighting, Female Reader implied

Summary: Reader and Vance have some sort of ongoing rivalry. You accidentally spilled your drink on his hair and he in turn gave you a “fresh cut.” You both end up getting detention together due to fighting. On the walk home one day— where you both live merely a block away, he barely misses your abduction and watches as you helplessly get carried away in a black van.

A/N: let’s pretend the grabber decided to start grabbing like a year or two later or smth cuz high schooler Vance and Bruce seems more plausible to me personally

A/N 2.0: Please excuse weird formatting like spaces behind paragraphs n shit. I wrote this on docs because my personal laptop is broken and my school laptops block tumblr—so all this uploading is done from my phone lol

——————————————

You never figured that walking into the Grab ‘N Go on a hot Denver summer day would have catalyzed as big a domino effect on your life as it did—and yet it did.

It was the middle of a Denver summer in 1977, the year before high school; and everyone was dealing with a week hotter than satan’s armpit. Most kids were either in their houses with the AC on full blast, in stores and the local theater, or away to go to the beach with their family. It explains why the town was just a little more empty this week. Both of your parents worked full-time jobs down in the city around an hour away, so you were confined to either your house or local entertainment attractions—the same ones you had been using since you could open your eyes. It was kind of old by the time you were twelve and stuck in your small town for yet another summer.

You were currently situated on your bed, reading last week’s edition of the Teen Beat magazine, flipping through the pages of celebrity interviews, dating tips, and latest fashion trends—which eventually got old, especially considering this was last week’s magazine. You checked the time. 12:53 PM. Probably the hottest part of the day. You only lived three blocks from the Grab N’ Go though, so if you biked or just walked quickly you probably wouldn’t get heatstroke just from being outside.

“Ugh.” You groaned, peeling yourself from the comforts of your bed. You had to change. “All of this for a magazine and some cola.” You muttered to yourself, sliding on the nearest (and hopefully clean) pair of jean shorts and exchanging your spaghetti strap pajama top for a plain white tee.

Getting out of your room and down the hall, you picked up the shoes you kicked off in the hallway yesterday and slipped them on, grabbing the $5 bill your parents left on the counter for you to order lunch with—which you were deciding to use for snacks. Maybe you’d pick up a small lunch thing on the way home. The money’s use was ‘to be determined,’ you decided.

Leaving your house and out into the Denver summer air, any amount of chill you felt on yourself before was wiped away completely. You needed to make this trip quick. What was a little jog compared to the instant relief of the too-cold Grab N’ Go?

Walking into the small convenience store was instant relief. Not too many people were around—and those that were wouldn’t bother you, the lady at the counter looked less bothered too, which was surprising since Vance Hopper was stationed at the pinball machine as per usual. Maybe it was because no one who would piss him off was there. Then again, anyone who bothers Vance must have a death wish.

Grabbing a soda and the new edition of Teen Beat, you walked over to the counter and slid the money over, opening the drink and quenching your thirst for a cold drink. Taking the return cash the lady gave you, you walked over to the exit, flipping through some pages absentmindedly. It was this exact moment where life seemed to have changed forever. An excited kid—probably an elementary schooler if you had to guess, ran into your arm, causing your soda to splash out of the bottle. You definitely had a death wish now, because your soda got all over Vance Hopper; the sugary drink now in his hair and on his back.

When the losing chime of the pinball sounded around the store and the blonde went still, the air in the mart tensed. Everyone was waiting. Watching. You didn’t bother to wait either, quickly speeding out of the store. Maybe he wouldn’t remember your face. You had never really talked with him before, the most you had done was look at him a few times in classes you had previously shared.

You had drank a little more soda and tossed it in the nearest trash. Sure you were running away from what was probably certain death, but you already bought the soda. Might as well finish what’s left before running away. You rolled up your magazine and tucked it into a pocket before moving into a slight jog to go back home. Or maybe you should go get something from a restaurant. Usually when you commit an unsaid crime hiding in unexpected places could benefit. You barely made it a block away before you heard Vance shout at you, his footsteps getting increasingly louder.

“Hey dumb shit! You just got your soda shit all over me!”

You sped up, breaking into a run and not responding to him. If you made it home in time then maybe he’d leave you alone. But what about school? You’d have to change your name and face and move across the country.

“I’m going to kill you!” Now he was running after you. He wasn’t unused to running after kids who fucked with him, so he was pretty used to this kinda thing. And he was fast at it too. “Gotcha!”

You yelped when you were grabbed and thrown down onto the grass next to the sidewalk. At least you were next to a park. Maybe God would be a little more merciful today, considering you could’ve been thrown onto the pavement. You really hoped that the next thing that would happen would be you getting saved right before he starts beating your head into the ground. You really didn’t feel like going to the ER today, and your mom would be pissed about how you knew you shouldn’t start shit with ‘Vance fucking Hopper.’ Your dad would probably beat you for a second time over the medical bills.

“I swear it wasn’t on purpose!” You pleaded, choosing to explain yourself as he straddled your waist, keeping you in place between his legs as he grabbed at your shirt collar. Maybe he’d punch you softer? “Some kid ran into my arm! I promise I’d never bother you ever, Hopper!”

Vance just started down at you, fist by his side, assessing your words. “Huh.” He said, letting your shirt go as your upper body fell to the ground. Now you were winded. Better than the alternative. “Guess I’ll just get a similar payback then.”

You watched in horror as he pulled out a pocket knife. What was he gonna do? Carve his name into you? Cut up your face? Oh god, he was gonna murder you. With a not-so-gentle hand, the blonde boy pulled your hair, hands threaded firmly in your locks. “What…?”

Vance cut off a good length of your hair, and you watched in horror (as best you could) at the hack job. What previously used to be your clean-cut hair was now resting on the floor or cut in the most uneven way possible. Maybe a bright side would be the fact you had the layers all of your hairstylists could never give you. After he was finished, he stood up and looked at the hair in his fist while you sat there crying. “Now we’re even.” He said, tossing the rest of your hair into the grass next to you.

That was the start of your burning hatred for Vance Hopper.

——————————————

High School had finally started a few weeks after your and Vance’s incident. At least your hair could grow into its new form for a little bit. To say your mom was angry when she came home that night to find your hair hacked up was an understatement. She was livid—ranting about, ‘how could you let this happen?!’ And, ‘We need to schedule you an appointment with Shelly immediately.’ You had to hand it to your mom and Shelly though; cuz they got your hair not looking as horrible as it did. Hell, they even kept the layers, which was actually really nice. As you walked through the halls, you could tell there were a few people talking about your hair. It made sense though, considering you ended school with longer hair.

You walked up to your friend, Bruce Yamada, leaning against his neighboring locker as you let out a quiet groan of exhaustion and annoyance. He just chuckled and closed his locker, slinging his bag over his shoulder and gave you a light punch in the shoulder. “Spur of the moment decision, or did you get caught in something?”

“Does Vance Hopper count?”

“Yikes.”

You quickly socked him in the shoulder, lips turned into a frown as you looked at him. Bruce just gave a light chuckle and apologized for the remark while rubbing his shoulder. You weren’t by any means a crazily strong badass, but you can pack quite a mean punch. Just not against Vance Hopper, or Robin Arellano. Though, after your run-in with Vance this summer, you did practice your swings and basic attacks—just in case, you thought,

“Whatever, let’s just go to class.” You sighed, grabbing Bruce by his backpack strap and pulling on him. You two were lucky to have three out of your six of your classes together, and they were in every other class period, so it wouldn’t be horrible.

Rolling into your first period, which was Biology, you were relieved to not see a certain blonde-headed dickhead anywhere around. Bruce chuckled at you when you let out a sigh of relief and dragged you to the last available seats that were next to each other. You both would be damned if you didn’t sit next to each other. Bruce wanted someone to help keep his ‘crazy fans,’ as you dubbed it, away from him. You? You just didn’t really wanna sit next to someone you didn’t know well. You really hated the awkward silence when the teacher asked you guys to do the ‘get to know your classmate’ activities.

“Class one cleared.” He whispered to you, getting a giggle out of you. That was the nice part of being friends with Bruce, is that he always knew how to keep the mood light. Previously, a few summers ago, you both dated. It wasn’t anything big, and it just felt like being friends. You both decided to just keep up with the friends thing, considering there was no romantic chemistry there. Now you were both the other’s special person. Bruce’s break-ups, your family issues, no secret was kept between you two.

——————

After Biology ended and you started heading toward English, your stomach lurched up your throat. Vance Hopper was right in front of you. Luckily he was walking forward so he didn’t see you, but you almost bumped into him for a second time. You didn’t need to be re-acquainted with his pocket knife again. You saw a small space in the hallway clear out and give you a direct ‘in’ into your English classroom, so you quickly ducked your head and hurried into the classroom, finding a seat in the back of the class next to the windows. Thank god this spot was still open.

You set your bag down on your desk and laid your head on top of it, listening to the buzz of kids talking with their friends as they entered the classroom. What was a short 5-minute power nap gonna do? Just before you could relax fully though, the buzz turned into a quiet hum suddenly. It was weird. Did the teacher walk in? Was it Mr. Manning? He was the worst teacher to have. You lifted your head up to see what the quietness was about, expecting to see a balding middle aged man at the front of the class, but you were met with Vance Hopper.

“Fuck.” You mumbled, watching him walk up to you.

“Hey dipshit, you’re in my seat.”

The kids in the classroom visibly tensed as he spoke to you, watching as you gave him a tired look. You knew the easy path would be to relinquish your seat and move, but you were particularly pissed at him. You didn’t want to give him the right to walk all over you. It was the middle of a school day—what was he gonna do?

“No I’m not. I’m in my seat.”

Vance gave you an angry look, standing right next to you. “Do I need to cut off your tongue next? I’m telling you to–”

“Everyone sit down and be quiet. I’m taking attendance.” Your teacher walked in, and what did you know? Mr. Manning. “Also, these are your seats for the rest of the school year, so enjoy.” Everyone looked up at him, waiting for him to finish with whatever paper he had in his hands. Please look up. Please notice Vance. “Hopper! I know about you. Sit your ass down.” He said, pointing at the seat next to you. Fuck. That wasn’t occupied?

Vance gave you one more angry glare before dropping his stuff and sitting down begrudgingly in the uncomfortable plastic chair. Well, at least Vance wouldn’t be able to torment you too much here. When you looked up though, he slid his finger across his throat. A warning.

You’re dead.

——————

“I’m telling you Bruce, he kept kicking my legs during class! It hurt like a bitch too. Have you seen his boots? I’m gonna die.” You finish telling Bruce, sitting at your table and chewing angrily on your sandwich. It was Friday, the last day of the first week of school, and you were just hours from 48 hours of freedom from Vance Hopper. “And I have to deal with him in history next.” Yes, you had Vance Hopper in two of your classes

“Wow. Good luck.” He says, trading you his apple for your peach. “I mean, good luck with getting through high school. With Vance in your classes and all.”

“Your support speaks volumes.” You say flatly, laughing along with Bruce. You couldn’t ask for a better friend—he just always made things feel so much better.

That was until you felt a cold substance coat your head entirely, slowly dripping in your hair to your clothes. Vance fucking Hopper just poured his milk all over you. Bruce just stared at you for a second, standing up instantly as you took a moment to process what happened and wipe the milk off of your face.

“What’s your problem with (Y/N), man?!” Bruce shouted at Vance, the blonde walking away with a cocky smirk.

“I mistook her for a trash can, my bad.” He chuckled, kids turning to look at the commotion building. “Maybe you shouldn’t hang around her so much, you wouldn’t want me to have to—“

Vance was met with a right hook to the face, not expecting you to fight back ever. The first time you had cried over a simple accident, but now you were swinging at him? Oh were you getting bold. He blinked in shock for a moment, pressing a hand to his face and looking at you. Maybe now would be a good time to back down and accept what you had coming, but you were feeling really stupid today.

He seized you by your collar, holding you close as he growled out, “You’ll regret that when you’re six feet under, you bitch.”

You spat in his face, kicking at his knee to get him to let go—which he did, and you fell back to the ground with all your body weight, watching him wipe the spit from his face as he wound back and gave you a good kick to your legs, a yelp caught in your throat. Now the entire cafeteria had eyes on you both, kids watching in horror, shock, and excitement. You’d love to see these kids go toe-to-toe with Vance Hopper the way you were now.

After a short while of fighting, you and Vance were on the floor. Scratches, bites, punches, hair pulling. Blood, and bruises, and welts. Vance’s arms were for sure fucked to hell and back, but he did a large number to your torso. You would totally believe it if you were told you broke a rib. It wasn’t long before Bruce had run back in with security and staff, watching the two of you get pulled apart.

Vance had a bruise already taking place on his cheek and his arms were visibly harmed—hell, you even got a hold of some of his hair. The previously fluffy but somewhat tamed mop on his head was now a mess of tangles and abuse. You meanwhile had a bloody nose, and you were holding an arm around your stomach, knees wobbly. While you managed to get back at Vance in your own way, you definitely took the brunt of the beating, and not to mention the milk in your hair was still there.

Vance fought against the grip on his arms like an angry restrained dog, while you stared at the floor, walking to the office with the teacher who was next to you. Looking over at Bruce, he mouthed a ‘sorry’ and you just gave him a small smile, shaking your head. You could always count on Bruce to somehow end up a hero in a sense. With a last look back at Vance, he also walked in defeat to the office, refusing to look at you. What a fucking asshole.

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jimmy-dipthong · 8 months

Text

I'm a big fan of localisation. I believe the goal of a translation should be to keep as much meaning and nuance as possible from the original. Localisation is key to this. Language and culture are inextricably linked, which means you must engage in cultural education and/or localisation to successfully translate. Cultural education is preferable, but in many cases it is not appropriate (not great having to pause every few seconds to read a translator note when you want to turn your brain off and watch a show). However, I think sometimes, translators take the wrong approach to localisation, and I want to talk about that here.

There was an example of "bad" localisation given by a twitter user in this Sarah Moon video: the example was anime characters subbed to use zoomer slang like "sus" and "cringe". I actually think that is an example of good localisation. I am not talking about that kind of thing.

This scene from 深夜食堂 (Midnight Diner) made me want to write this post. パチンコ has been translated as "pinball". I'm sure there are people reading that translation and cringing, just like I did! I tried to put my finger on what irked me so much about it and I realised: this localisation is localising the wrong part of the meaning of パチンコ.

Part of localising is choosing the closest cultural equivalent of a concept. This inevitably means losing some of the specific details of the original word, but usually those details aren't important (if the whole cultural concept is important, you should probably just use a translator's note IMO). For example, the word パチンコ has lots of bits of meaning in it: "gambling" "played on a machine", "time killer", "uses small metal balls", "generally played by older men", "big flashy lights", "money sink", and so on. In this context, the character is talking about "winning money" from パチンコ, so you'd expect at the very least that the localised word would preserve the "gambling" and "money sink" bits of meaning. However, instead they chose to preserve the "small metal balls" and "big flashy lights" bits of meaning (まさかの！). This is a very silly choice because those bits of meaning don't have a shred of relevance to this scene, or any other scene in this story at all. I can see a context in which "pinball" is the best possible localisation for パチンコ. But this was not it, and not even close. I've never heard of anyone winning money from pinball.

I think if I were a translator, my process for localisation would be to break down the word into those bits of meaning, then rank the bits of meaning in terms of relevance to the line/scene/story, then pick a localised word that hits as many of the higher ranked meanings as possible. In this case, there are many better localisations (read: localisations with meanings more relevant to the scene). If I were localising it, I would probably do this: "He took all the money I won from the pokies." but I am aware that pokies is an Australianism. Assuming I was localising for a global english speaking audience: "He took all the money I won from a slot machine".

(TBH though, I don't think パチンコ needs to be localised because the english equivalent loanword, pachinko, is already well known enough to be used in english subtitles imo)

#localisation #translation #japanese #langblr #japanese language #language #linguistics #jimmy blogthong

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justasimp1 · 2 years

Text

Vance Hopper x F! Reader

Protective and Fluff

Bronze Medal

The arcade's lights glowed on the dark walls. Vance snuck glances at you while maintaining a strict focus on his game, his knuckles turned white as he jerked the handle to the pinball machine. He was so close—just one more pull and he would be bragging about breaking another high score.

"What the hell" His nose scrunched in disgust as he looked at you again. The grip on the machine faltered, making him lose his process. The group around him let out sly snickers and gasps. Vance looked back at the game, pushing out a string of sore loser curses. But he couldn't be completely mad– especially not when a 5'4 idiot was talking to you.

Vance grumbled, shoving in another token, restarting his technique, making slow affirmations that you'll be by his side in a blink of an eye. He rapidly climbed the point system, and more kids wandered up, silently praying for his downfall.

"You live around here?" The shaggy brunette pushed his hair back. You shooked your head, trying to get a peak at Vance between all the crowded bodies. "Maybe after we get to know each other, I could walk you home?" He smiled, the neon lights made his braces shine.

You awkwardly laughed, biting the inside of your cheek. You didn't want to hurt his feelings but you didn't want to lead him on. "I'm sorry, I already have someone walking me home" You made a gesture towards Vance, who had his tongue poked out the side of his mouth in concentration.

"I'm sure he'll understand" He didn't get the hint...? He leaned forward, placing an elbow on the space next to your head to prop his head up. "We could always go somewhere else to get to know each other" He smirked, his lips parting while his eyes flickered go your lips.

You started to subconsciously chuckle, your brain panicking for the nearest exit. "I'm not interested in you, I have a boyfriend who would definitely not understand" You placed a hand on his chest, hoping to nudge him backward.

"I'm known to change female's mind" But he didn't—instead he leaned in closer.

It was an instinct for Vance to check on you or look at you for support whenever he was about to beat another score. He grinned, watching the ball hit sounds and blinding lights. However, the cocky ego was shot down multiple pegs when he saw the same guy with you, and he was kissing you.

He didn't wait for a second, pushing past the nosy children, marching over towards you. The many groans and protests fell behind him. You felt a harsh force pull you to the side. You yelped, clutching on the closest would figure. "What the fuck" By his pale knuckles, gripping your waist, you could tell Vance was holding back.

You looked up, an apology is already on tongue. You were his girlfriend, you shouldn't have let the situation develop as much as it did. Yet, he was burning holes in the boundary-crossing boy. The boy held his hands up in defense, his smirk dropping down to a quivering smile. "She didn't say she had a boyfriend"

You frowned, your eye twitching as you were about to argue against his statement. Vance let go of you, stepping up to the guy, he wrapped his hand around his collar. The boy's body made a thump when it connected to the wall. The group that was once admiring Vance play was now frozen, muttering about the scene.

"Don't fucking lie to me, dip shit" Vance swore, his fingers twitched closer to the guy's neck. Your brain took a long moment to process the slight choking noises. You were all for letting Vance beat up an asshole but getting kicked out of another place wasn't on your to-do list.

He leaned in, whispering something in the boy's ear. "—you understand me?" Vance applied more pressure on the blabbering male. You squeezed your eyes shut, hearing a connection between flesh happen. Vance pulled back his arm again, swinging it forward. The wide bruise on the boy's cheek grew, and his body suddenly limp.

Vance dropped the boy, his body crumbling to the ground. He was in the middle of kneeling and hitting him again when you spoke, "Let's go". You knew he heard you by the way his shoulders tensed, and his scarcely head turned. Vance's arm was still in the air, his fist clutched above the guy's face.

You sighed, turning around, and making a beeline to the door.

The cold wind hits your face. Your hands wrapped around your abdomen, bile scratching the side of your esophagus. The arcade's door chimed, and Vance slammed through, a deathly sneer on his face. He was already lettering something along the lines of "Someone had to teach that prick a lesson"

You huffed, kicking stranded pebbles across the concrete. You began to walk down the sidewalk. "I saved you from going to juvie" You chuckled, the heel of your shoes scratching on the pavement. His knuckles brushed past yours.

He started a few angry grumbling. You hide your laugh by readjusting your voice and intertwining your fingers. Vance's hand was calloused and rough but felt sweaty while being held by yours. He paused his furious breathing, allowing silence to consume the moment.

Distant barks of dogs echoed down the sidewalk. The branches of trees tussled, a few leaves drifting to the ground. "Did you..." Vance's voice gets lost in his throat. His hold on your hand got tighter. "Did you let him kiss you?" The words sounded forced, making the angsty sentiment evaporate.

You looked up at him, cocking your head to the side. "He didn't kiss me. And I would have never let that happen" You deadpanned in confusion. His long dirty blonde curls were stacked on his face, so you couldn't study his facial expression. Vance looked at you, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. You would've passed the movement as relief but you knew Vance way too well for that.

"What did you do...?" You hesitated, remembering Vance didn't immediately follow you after you left the scene.

"I thought he kissed you—" He darted his tongue over his lip, bringing your closed hands to his mouth. His lips moved over your skin, a grin plastering on the back of your hand. "—so I busted his lip"

Masterlist

#fanfic #x reader #fluff #angst #vance hopper x reader #vance hopper #the black phone #finney the black phone #vance the black phone #the black phone fanart #the black phone x reader #vance x reader #vance hopper fluff #the black phone fluff #vance hopper angst

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gnwookieee · 11 months

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Going to an arcade with zb1!!! Who’s the most competitive??? Who’s got the skills???? Who’s going to win you the biggest teddy bear????

: arcade with zb1!

📁 🖇️ : hi anon i love this request so much! thank you for being patient, i hope this meets your expectations <3 !!

genre : fluff

pairing : zb1 member x (gn!)reader

———————————————————————

: 김지웅 // kim jiwoong

honestly you probably had to drag him there

i imagine him not being that great at games (srry Jiwoong) at the beginning

but once he starts playing he gets really into it

makes up for lack of skill with enthusiasm

gets very invested in the game

so focused, really serious facial expressions while playing

soon he wants to try every single game the arcade has

by the end he is actually quite good

always plays fairly

: 장하오 // zhang hao

will spend all his money and time on the craw machines if you don’t drag him away

pride will be hurt if he can’t win anything

but gets so excited when he finally gets the one he was aiming for

hypes you up when you win games

honestly would love it if you won him a prize too

or even better matching prizes

pays attention to what other couples have won, secretly now in competition to win more

: 성한빈 // sung hanbin

okay so hanbin wants this to be fun, it’s a date after all

plans to be that boyfriend that wins you the best prizes

but if you are competitive then so will he

may or may not play fairly

playfully tries cheating on the 2 player games by trying to distract you

really good at throwing games like skee ball and pinball

drags you to the photo booth, takes so many photos and will always carry them in his bag

gets so smiley when he wins finally at a game after a failure streak

: 석매튜 // seok matthew

is really great at the games but isn’t focused on being competitive

wants you both to have fun and it not turn into an agressive competition

feel like he would be really good at air hockey idk why

probably lets you win most of the 2 player games

acts super offended if you accuse him of letting you win

careful with his plan, not letting you win every single time because he knows that is too obvious

insists he must reward you with kisses every time you win

so really he is winning too

sweetest

: 김태래 // kim taerae

drags you to the arcade

makes it his mission to teach you how to play different games

prefers two person games so you can play together

another member that plays fairly

makes sure you are having fun

highly amusing to watch him play dance dance revolution

pls video him

tries to show off but ends up failing

gets all shy and smiley in embarrassment because he insisted he was really good

holds your drink for you while you play a game, ready at all times to give you the straw when you need a sip while immersed in the game

supportive boyfriend

: 리키 // ricky

he wants to win you all the prizes

not bothered about the biggest. but the most

tries to bribe the arcade workers into giving him the prizes without the hard work of winning them

probably nearly gets you kicked out

finally gives up and accepts that he will actually have to win them

honestly ends up being pretty great at them

ao proud of himself but brushes it off pretending it is no big deal

*slightly freaks out when he wins at the claw machine*

blushes hard if you win him a prize in return

: 김규빈 // kim gyuvin

tries to break into the machines

espically the claw machines

insists they are rigged and that no one can actually win at them

sees another couple playing them and winning a prize on the first attempt

gets pouty

gets even poutier when you win a prize for him first

refuses to leave until he wins something

has 3 attempts at a game before giving up and trying another one

would be better at basketball games, his height would help

buys lots of snacks for the two of you for ‘energy’

: 박건욱 // park gunwook

this man’s goal in life is to win you the biggest prize possible

spends all his time at the same game because he knows they have the biggest teddy bear

you insist you don’t need the biggest one, you would be happy with any because you didn’t expect him to win a prize for you

obviously he succeeds because he is that type of boyfriend

takes so many photos of you two and the bear

very proud of himself

officially become the bear’s parents and debate over its name

“how about Beary?”

“omg no we can’t call our child that! that is the worst bear name ever!”

: 한유진 // han yujin

i imagine yujin would love going on arcade dates

probably your most frequent date

never pretends it is not going to be a competition

probably most likely to not 100% play fairly

it’s part of the fun for you two

you spend hours running around, playing every game possible trying to get the highest scores

time goes by so quickly when you have fun with yujin

both of you are so exhausted after but also really happy, probably just end up giggling at each other

📁🖇️ : hiii everyone! hope you are doing okay, make sure to look after yourselves 🫶🏻

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