fixing the “family photo”
I was working on a drawing for another request and came up with this idea in the meantime
S5 Jon replaces photo’s corrupted by the nothem with Polaroids he’s been taking of Sasha
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*mashes my two favorite fandoms together*
scp tma crossover anyone??
writing a fic of it now :D
(btw I know some of the numbers are already taken but i was too lazy to look free ones up)
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I want more fanfics around not-sasha pleeeeeeeease
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ALRIGHT FOLKS so I can’t stop thinking about my tma theme park au so here’s a little bit about the Stranger’s attraction.
It’s a mirror maze. As you walk into the big red tent where the mirrors reside, all of the first ones are shockingly warped versions of yourself. They are so strange that it’s almost perverted. As you walk further down, though, they get more and more similar to you, until they’re exact likenesses, the reflection somehow more alike to you than normal reflections could ever be.
And yet it isn’t you. Something about the reflection is wrong. It’s just slightly off, the expression betraying an identity a thousand times different and darker than your own, even though you are identical in body and movement. You keep walking forward, almost compelled to do so. You want to go back. This reflection, though it behaves exactly as it should, sickens you and fills you with an existential dread you can’t quite explain.
You move to turn around- except you don’t move. You keep walking. You strain to go back, but you can’t. The reflection sees you and laughs, laughs with a laugh that is yours but isn’t, not any longer. To your horror, you mimic the movements and expressions of the reflection, though you make no sound. The ‘reflection’ turns, still laughing, and walks back the way it came, towards the exit. You turn in tandem, a silent, unwilling mimicry.
It walks back through the halls, smiling uncannily, and the mirrors begin to distort the reflection. Except that thing on the other side of the glass is no longer the reflection- you are. Your body bloats and changes into something that isn’t you- that couldn’t be you- but who are you, anyway? You thought your body was you, but now that thing wears it, and there is nothing left of you except for your current form, even now changing into more and more disturbing shapes.
Maybe this is you now- it’s awful, but perhaps something that can be adjusted to or accepted-but then the thing that is not you but is leaves the tent, leaves the reach of any reflective surface, and even that twisted perversion is not you anymore. There is no you. Have you ever been without a you? No, not until now. You’ve never had the experience of being faceless and bodiless, without mind or self or name or even a mouth to scream your agony with. You’ve never had to be without being before. But now you do. Now there is no you, nor even a recycled version of it like those twisted reflections you previously inhabited. There is simply the mirrors, and your unending anguish.
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I loved The Thing enough I'm gonna try watching the prequel (probably not all of it tonight though because eepy and work in the morning) BUT
I stand by my synopsis being "It's the Not-Them in Anartica"
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pro-AI in the sense of "they taught a bread scanning computer to recognize cancer cells" etc etc
against AI in the sense of "we stole artwork from hundreds to thousands of artists, didn't credit them and didn't financially compensate them"
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