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lincolndjarin · 6 months

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my sister lives in the attic.

main masterlist

joel miller x reader

warnings : angst, death, child loss, grieving, denial

a/n : i've never written something like this but i'm in a weird place and this idea has been following me for quite some time now so i decided to take a few minutes and write it, i'd love some feedback on it since this style is kinda new to me !!

He didn’t like to talk about his children.

“Do you have kids?”

“Two daughters.” Was all he said.

That’s what he had told you on your first date. He was so abrupt about it that you didn’t ask about them again, instead opting to wait until he told you on his own terms.

On your fifth date he told you that Ellie got in trouble for cursing in gym class that day.

On your seventh date he told you Sarah was away at college, and that he missed her terribly and wished she would visit.

On your eighth date he told you that Ellie made him a card for his birthday. He even brought it over to your house to show you. It was a drawing of the two of them floating through space. The inside said:

i love our family to the moon and back!

You didn’t ask why Sarah wasn’t included in the crayon family portrait.

On your ninth date he showed you the photos in his wallet. A baby girl with her curly dark hair up in two little buns sitting in the sand. The one below it was a girl who looked to be about five, giving the camera a toothy grin, standing next to Joel in a courthouse, holding up her adoption papers.

On your twelfth date he finally invited you over for dinner, you happily accepted.

Joel introduced you to an extremely energetic seven year old. He gave you a tour of the house (only the first floor.) and you smiled at every family photo hung on the walls.

“I invited Sarah but she couldn’t make it, she’s got midterms but I’m sure you’ll meet her soon.” He tells you before leaving you with Ellie, going to pick up a pizza for the three of you.

Ellie tells you about school, about her best friend Riley, and about playing soccer in the backyard with her father.

And then she says the strangest thing.

“My sister lives in the attic.”

“Excuse me?” You had given her a confused smile but she carried on as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“My sister, Sarah, lives in the attic.” She said it so plainly. Taking your hand and dragging you up the stairs, pointing up at a staircase on the second story that led to a singular door, pink paint peeling from it with little wooden letters spelling out SARAH, the sight of it put you on edge.

“We shouldn’t go up there honey, let’s wait until your father gets back.” You had put up a bit of resistance but she ran ahead of you, you watched helplessly from the bottom of the stairs as Ellie pushed open the door and ran inside.

“It’s okay, dad says I can talk to Sarah whenever I want as long as I don’t touch her stuff.” She had shouted, already inside. Despite every nerve in your body singing for you to go back downstairs and wait, you knew better than to leave a child alone so you climbed the steps and entered the room.

Nothing strange, nothing frightening, no secret nightmare.

When you look around all you see is a room, albeit a child's room but a room nonetheless.

Ellie sits in a love seat, suddenly repeating everything she told you about her day to seemingly no one as she stares at Sarah’s bookshelf. You walk around, trying to recall when Joel said she left for college. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust but strangest of all this is clearly not a teenager's room.

This is a childs room, for a girl about Ellie’s age. Every photo on her desk doesn’t show her older than what looks to be twelve.

“Ellie, honey, when you said your sister lived in the atti-'' She doesn’t stop talking from behind you, ignoring you entirely but her words stop you dead in your tracks.

“Dad keeps saying you’re coming home for Christmas but he also said you’d be home for his birthday, he keeps telling me how much we’re gonna get along but I just tell him we already get along fine.”

It sends a chill up your spine, you aren’t superstitious but in a moment of weakness when you turn a part of you almost expects to see a ghost.

Of course that isn’t the case.

When you look Ellie remains in the loveseat, seemingly the only thing that isn’t covered in dust up here. Her eyes trained on the highest shelf, when you follow her line of sight all of it starts to make sense. The shelf is covered in books and toys and trinkets, all of which are showing signs of age and disuse but the top shelf is neat and tidy, it even looks recently dusted.

Only two things are on the top shelf.

A beer bottle with the label ripped off, a lilac sits within it, a few stray petals lay in a halo around the makeshift vase.

And a dark purple urn.

You struggle to swallow the lump in your throat, unable to tear your eyes from it.

“One time Uncle Tommy told me she was an angel.” She whispers when you stare in silence for far too long. “Dad got so mad we didn’t see Tommy for like a month after that and when we did see him again everything went back to normal.”

“What happened to her?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, she only shrugs in response.

“It was before I lived here, I never ask, I’m worried he’ll send me to live with Uncle Tommy if I do.”

“Oh, honey.” You crouch down beside her, she hugs her knees to her chest. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m still not gonna ask. He doesn’t talk about her that much, only when someone else brings it up or if I ask to come up here to see her.” You nod slowly before holding your arms out to her, she wraps herself around you and you carry her to the door, eager to leave the tomb you’ve stumbled upon. “Bye Sarah.” She mumbled against your shoulder as you closed the door, the sentiment sent shivers down your spine.

When Joel returns with the food it’s as if you never were in the attic at all.

Ellie runs to him, wrapping herself around his leg as he laughs, trying to kick her loose.

When the three of you sit down for dinner she never says a thing to him about any of it.

She asks if she can go to her friends house after dinner, their mom is going to take them to the arcade, Joel grins at you, asking if she was good while he was gone and you put on a smile, nodding.

“Then you can go.” He ruffled her hair before she ran off to get her backpack. When it was just the two of you he took your hand, mentioning something about catching a movie while she’s gone, you nodded absentmindedly when he gave your hand a gentle squeeze you finally looked him in the eye.

You’d never noticed it before but there is a permanent sorrow behind the dark expanse of his irises, as if he’s never really happy, he’s sometimes just less sad. “Everything okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t bring up the attic at the dinner table.

Or in the car.

Or at the movies.

He just needs time, you tell yourself. Maybe he’ll tell you on your thirteenth date, maybe it won’t be until your hundredth date. Until then you won’t tell him that you know who lives in the attic and you’ll nod with faux disappointment when he says that his eldest won’t be home for the holidays this year.

And you’ll take extra care of him on days when he comes home with fresh lilacs.

a/n : yeah so uhhhhhhhhhh tell me how y'all liked this haha idk if i'll write anything like this again it was just sort of something for me to vent with, hope everyones having a good day and thank y'all for reading <3

#lincolndjarin #one shot #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x reader #tlou joel #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #the last of us #tlou #joel the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel and ellie #sarah miller

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faeriekit · 8 months

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Health and Hybrids (XI)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREEis here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here and this is part eleven.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Bart and Wally bonding! Wally met his kid relative's weird friend. Stuff got thrown. Everyone enjoyed the thought of playing around with offbrand floam in the ao3 comments.

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny’s alone when the itch starts.

And. When it starts. It’s just that: an itch. It tingles, and Danny tugs at the loose skin with his claws, and it fades into the choir of background pain in his mind.

It happens a few more times. In his stomach. In his eyes; Danny bats at the sensation with his hands, curled and careful, and it…tamps down. A little.

And then the itch stops going away.

He gets visitors; the humans like to play with his toys, and Danny lets them, because they’re young and he’s nice and they’re not mean to him. Not like— Their names escape him, but all the beings in his head are blue and firey and loud and not nice, and the green inside his blood burns instead of soothes.

Danny presses himself against the mattress of the cot. His towel wraps around his middle, to catch the Grossness. The young humans are nice. They are not a threat. Even when they’re loud, they’re not mean; they’re just young, and just playful.

He doesn’t want to play with them today, though. They ask him to play, and he bats them away with his claws put away inside his skin.

The itch has become a burn. He can’t play with them today.

It hurts.

Danny hurts.

Danny hides under his blankets and then he doesn’t, because the blanket on his cot scratches up against his itchy parts and he can’t sleep away the burn.

He wants to hide in his core. He wants to hide. He doesn’t, because he’s safe here, and if he goes back into his core then his flesh body won’t heal.

But it hurts.

Danny doesn’t even notice he’s curled up and crying until something touches his shoulder. It’s gentle, but Danny is so scared. He bolts upright—

Oh. The touch is from the alien’s friend. The lady.

He knows this lady.

…Danny starts crying again. He doesn’t know why—except everything hurts, and he’s unhappy, but he’s well fed and well watered and clean, so why does his body hurt so bad?!

The lady pulls back his sheet, makes quiet, insistent, worried words, but Danny can’t understand her and everything hurts and he doesn’t know why and he wants his mom. Danny wants Mom, and she’s not here, and she never ever ever will be ever again—

There are gentle hands on his body. They hurt, even when they’re light and gentle.

Danny cries.

The human lady peels back his towel, and—he doesn’t know what she sees, but she says something stern and not as gentle-quiet and Danny hisses, scared, so scared, so hurt, so frightened.

The soft words come back. A soft touch to his shoulder. An apology.

The whole world hurts, and no one can help him.

…And then there’s a hissing sound.

Something very very cold touches him.

It’s not real cold because it doesn’t make him feel better, but his nerves are trying to interpret what he feels and what they come up with are a “????” that blisters across the wildfire of pain burning through him.

The hissing sound comes back. Again. More cold. More—something else touches him. He’s moved. Something else touches him again.

It hurts. Everything hurts. Everything hurts and Danny wants to go home and go to bed. And he can’t. And—

Someone pulls his blanket. Something pulls at him. There are hands, and there is a hissing sound, and there is a sensation of something Cold and Wet touching him across his burning abdomen.

Danny cries.

He cries.

He cries when a pillow appears in his arms and he cries when his spaceship appears there too. He cries when he’s alone and he cries when he knows humans are there. He cries, and he cries, and he doesn’t stop crying until the wildfire pain becomes only a burn, and then only a pain, and then only an itch again.

It itches.

Danny sniffles through brand-new sinus cavities. He itches. Everything is sore and he’s unhappy.

He’s also…on his back. The lady is there in the chair the buzzing-human-adult left there after its own visit. She is slumped over.

Danny doesn’t have the strength to purr for her attention. He’s too tuckered out.

He just. Warbles.

Thankfully the noise is enough. The woman carefully rises in her chair. She doesn’t move for a second.

Danny warbles again. A little quieter. A little more scared.

She leans closer. She says something—the syllables don’t make sense, but she sounds wet, and she sounds tired, and she sounds sad. And she’s still sitting with him anyway. There’s something in her hand, and—

Danny taps the occupied hand. What is it?

She makes a noise. She lifts her hand.

Danny moves the hand instead of the object of interest. It’s objectively easier.

The item is a spray bottle. He sniffs it. Smells kinda weird. Does it taste like anything? He presses his tongue to it.

Well. That tastes bad.

…And then his tongue goes numb.

Oh.

Oh!

And Danny’s still too tired to purr, but he makes a few grateful noises anyway, and the lady pets his hair with her blue-gloved hands.

The itching is gone. Numbing spray doesn’t last forever, but it’ll work for now. He has to rest while he can.

The burning will be back.

But for now...he’ll nap.

#Diana: !!!!!!!????????????!?!?!?!??!?!?!??!?!??!?!?!!!!!!????!!#Diana: *yanks phone off hook* HELLO HEALERS. WHAT DO I DO.#Victor (on help line duty): ?? Wh— Medical? This sounds like...I'm forwarding you to medical. one sec. Hold on.#dp x dc #tw gore #tw medical #tw body horror #health and hybrids #dpxdc #dcu crossover #danny phantom #cryptid!au

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bongo-clash · 1 year

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Peacock Au Part 4

DP/DC week prompt: Eldritch Entities

'Joker has broken out of Arkham for the thousandth time, and is roaming the streets unhindered. Unfortunately for him, something finds him before the Bat does.'

(body horror tw || fic under cut!!) (Part 1 Here)

See, the situation is as follows: the Joker is out on the streets post-Arkham breakout, and he knows there’ll be an announcement issuing everyone to stay inside before it’s even been made. He’d be a lot more pleased about all that if the getaway car he’d arranged to be outside had actually shown up, but unfortunately the goon he’d left it to had bailed- whether it counted as chickening out or growing a spine was yet to be determined, though regardless he was fairly sure their brains would be outside their skull by the end of the night. As it is, he’s sticking around the shadier streets to avoid attention before he has access to more of his stuff. Right now all he has is an officer’s gun and the willingness to use it. Not much, but it’ll do.

It’ll do for dealing with this kid in the middle of the road, at least. Just because he isn’t fully-loaded right now doesn’t mean he can’t have any fun, does it?

“Well, say,” Joker whistles, sauntering up into the dim-light of the open road for the first time that night. The boy before him is relatively plain looking; pallid, with big blue eyes and black hair half-blending into the shadows behind him, wearing clothes not quite suited to the sudden chill of the Gotham streets, just a t-shirt and jeans. Perhaps a little peculiar, especially alone, but nothing special. Just another face he’d probably wipe the life out of if it didn’t end up more interesting to keep him alive. “What’s a little boy doing here alone with all the big, bad wolves out tonight? Looking for some trouble?”

The boy’s gaze lifts from the ground he’d been staring at so intently and- wow, those blues are weird to look at! Although… are they blue? They look more green now that they’re catching the light, the way he’s heard the eyes of the little bird he did in do when he’s angry.

Doesn’t matter, either way. The resemblance’ll just make scaring him more fun, something of a trip down memory lane. Even if the kid doesn’t look quite so frightened yet (shock, he’s sure. That’s happens). “I was just checking on something from a little while ago. Keeping tabs, y’know?”

“Oh, I know all about that. Gotham’s my playground- I know it like the back of my hand.”

“That’s great!” The kid exclaims, suddenly perking up, as if he’s only really started paying attention to the conversation now that something relevant’s come up. “In that case: can you tell me if anything’s been up in the last few weeks? No more shadows than usual? Nothing overly strange happening?”

It’s not often the Joker finds himself confused, but the lack offright or any other kind of negative reaction to his presence is starting to get on his nerves. Either this kid is out of it, or on something- but Joker knows how to spot a user, and he isn’t on something.

He turns the gun over in his hand, pretending to admire it but really just trying to remind the boy of the current threat he’s being posed. “Well, I was a bit locked up the last few weeks, but I’ve got ears everywhere and I can’t say I heard a thing. Say, do you like clowns, boy?”

Something in that question changes the boy’s demeanour. His shoulders go back just a tad, like he’s leaning on a wall the Joker can’t see, and his stare shifts. It wasn’t on him before, he only realises it was focused just over his shoulder until they’re actually making eye-contact, and the Joker hasn’t been afraid for a long time and refuses to break that streak, but it is a lot colder than it was before.

The boy’s grin is sharp. Joker can’t remember how many teeth people are supposed to have. “No,” He muses, casual in a way that implies confidence that implies danger. “No, I can’t say I’ve ever met a clown I got along with. Why, is that what you’re supposed to be?”

Okay, enough’s enough’s enough. He’s the Joker. He will not be made the joke, least of all by some nothing-no-one brat with a little too much confidence for someone walking alone on a break-out night. Incensed, he twists his grip until his finger’s on the pistol trigger, aiming it right between the teenager’s eyes.

“Funny boy, aren’t you? Y’know, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before, so you must be new. You don’t know the rules around here. You don’t know who’s at the top of the food chain. Allow me to fill you in.” He seethes. “When faced by the Joker, there is one thing you need to be aware of: no matter the circumstance, you are the prey.”

A thing happens between the pause at the end of his own sentence and the beginning of the child’s. “Hm.” The boy says, but it’s not confusion, and nor is it dread. His grin is lean and far too casual for someone with the business end of a bullet aiming right at their brain, but as the sound drags on sing-song it stretches, stretches, stretches-

Like shedding skin, the monster unfolds from the boy. Cold in a firestorm, the transformation is the inverse of a supernova, everything tumbling out as if desperate to spit its soul before caving back in to something witnessable. Almost the figure of a person, the opposite of a shadow, and the horrible cousin of a world-eater. Something flares out at the back, flowing like waves or feathers or a thing with eyes in all its centres.

Eyes, then mouths. The aftertone sends shockwaves. Its voice is ice-needles and fingernails and pierce-static and laughing at him.

“You think you’re bigger than you are.” It says, looming over him like the end of days or whatever he used to think death was before he’d forgotten to keep believing in it. He certainly remembers it now. “You think you’re bigger than you are, and you don’t know when to cow, and you are very, very mortal, and that is a horrible combination of things to be.”

“I know who you are. I know what you’ve done, and I know why you did it, and I know what will happen to you in consequence- and I have made choices not to interfere with someone else’s course, but I will tell you this now and once and never again. You are someone else’s problem, but if you try to become mine, I will unmake you.”

For the first time in perhaps his whole existence as the Joker, there is not a word he can say in response. He doesn’t agree, doesn’t refute, he doesn’t do much of anything as the form before him unwinds into rivulets, curling in on itself to reveal, once again, the boy. Blue eyes, black hair, pallid just like before and just like nothing’s wrong. But beneath it, that pretence of flesh and bones, he cannot unsee what he’s seen. He cannot stop seeing what he knows is hiding in there.

The child gives him a very boyish grin that feels like it’s going to snap into a blackhole if he looks away. “You’re obsessed with Batman, right? That’s your whole thing, being his foil or something.” He crows. “You want to keep doing that ’til you kill each other? Leave me out of it, and he’ll still remember you existed.”

The sudden green of his eyes spreads out like a flashbang, and when the Joker squints, he is slumped over in his Arkham cell. When he comes to, the guards will gleefully recount how Batman got the drop on him before he could even get to one of his warehouses, knocking him out without a single other casualty- his shortest reign between imprisonment to date.

It’s an embarrassment.

He’s going to be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life.

#dp/dc week 2022 #body horror tw #I talked with stealingyourbones about this kind of scene a while ago and it was Too Good not to write something for #I actually wrote this in October but this seemed like a good time to post it so!!#I want to do a part with Danny interacting with the JL at some point too so hopefully that'll happen!!!#dpxdc #danny phantom #danny phantom au #dp au #Bongo's Aus!!!#Bongo's Writing!!!#peacock au

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stnaf-vn · 1 year

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Hello! I just finished playing Friend and it was a very good experience, I wish a could erase my memory and play it again lol I wanted to know if you had share Friend's backstory or past, if so, I'm interested in knowing about him and the other characters in your blog so please tell me where I can read it🙏🏻😩 I'm currently playing A Cry for Help and I look forward to your next project <3

I have! Back before I like knew how tumblr worked, so the comics and stuff I made may have gotten lost....

I'll make a short list here and add them to the FAQ!

TW: CHILD ABUSE, MANIPULATION, FAMILIAL DEATH, DRUG AND ALCOHOL USAGE

Just A Dream

Friend going to Therapy? Friend....crying? High School Friend Friend comes from a wealthy family Friend's Sexuality Friend wears makeup And feminine clothes How Far Would He Go to Have You? Keagan's Opinion on Friend Keagan Talking about....that night.... Aftermath: The 'Accident' Friend's Side of the Story Friend Falling out of Love?

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I'm gonna make a small recap of what Friend's childhood was like behind closed doors, as well as what the 'accident' mentioned before was....

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Friend's Childhood:

Friend grew up in a wealthy home. His mother was a strict and shrewd woman, and his father was also strict. They were both very serious people. Friend's mother wanted to have an heir for the family company that they inherited through their parents (Friend's grandparents). They birthed Friend, and they decided that they wanted to wait to give him a name until they can see what he is capable of, so he didn't receive his birth name until he was old enough to read and write. Because of their lineage of inventors and businessmen and women, Friend's parents expected him to be good at everything he touches as soon as possible. But he wasn't. And so, he was practically cast out of the family. He'd get hit often if he messed up and his mother was very homophobic and hated how "girly" he'd act when he sewed or sung or get in her makeup. Then, he met you. Elementary School. He uh....he was pretty rude to you as kids, and he'd always get annoyed when you'd call out to him.... but, he liked the name Friend. So, he wanted you to just call him Friend. He slowly started getting used to you being around, and he even started being nicer. Although....he was covered in bandages a lot.

His mother thought of him as nothing but a disgrace, so she birthed his sisters: the triplets. After that, his mother gave up on having children as they are "wastes of space" and "can't do anything right." So, she neglected them. Their father, even though he was also pretty stoic himself, was frightened of his wife. Friend practically raised his sisters from elementary to when he was just going into middle school. Which is when the first accident of STNAF happened.... His entire immediate family died in a car crash on their way to a corporate meeting. All Friend has left of them is the amount of wealth given to him and the hair clips his sisters wore. He moved in with his grandparents after that.

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Accident Two: Electric Boogaloo

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In high school, you and Friend were always together 24/7. At the time, he didn't realize he had feelings for you and he was just an average delinquent. His grandparents, although they are nice people, never really got involved in raising him. They just let him do what he wanted. If it wasn't for you, Friend would have probably not passed high school. And there, you met Keagan, an athlete of the school. One day, he suddenly asked you out, and you said yes. Keagan didn't like Friend very much due to the weird "serial killer" aura he gave out (in Keagan's terms), and you and Friend eventually started drifting apart. One night, Keagan started taking you and his friends home. You were the only sober one in the car. And his friend and Keagan thought it'd be funny if they left you in the middle of town, at like 3 AM. So, that's what they did. They drove off without you, leaving you stranded. As this was happening, Friend was also high at a different party. He started getting annoyed because other people kept hitting on him, so he went outside and was desperately wanting you to talk to him Then he got a message from you with your location in it. And he high tailed it to you. (This is where Aftermath: The 'Accident' comes in) That's where the...obsession started. At first, he wasn't sure what to call it. He never felt something like this before, but now.... he just can't imagine his life without you in it. And having you away from him for so long....what if you leave him again? But, he knew what it was when you two graduated and you asked him what his plans are for after high school. He wanted to be with you everywhere you go, do everything you wanted to do together. So, he cleaned himself up, cut his hair, cut back on the weed and alcohol (Although he does indulge from time to time). And, he started studying on how to be the perfect partner. He has mastered every domestic skill needed to have a happy fulfilling relationship. He started working out, and he started actually paying attention to his appearance. He has, and still is, learning how to be the best partner for you. How to be patient, how to make your heart skip a beat, how to be confident but not too confident..... he wants to be perfect for you.

#jesus i didn't realize how much lore I've written over a year--#💾- see thru need a friend game #✨-friend #💔 keagan the tsundere #♡-stnaf lore

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blvvdylcve · 10 months

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BloodLust. Ticci Toby x Fem. Reader

Chapter Two.

MINORS DNI 18+

TRIGGER WARNING AHEAD!

[Y/N] -> Your Name. | Word count : 4872

MASTERLIST !!

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"And how close would you say you were to Anne?"

You shuffled in your seat, clenching your jaw and feeling uncomfortable altogether as whole. Not only had you witnessed Anne's dead body, you were now a prime suspect in this investigation and there was nothing worse than being blamed for something you hadn't done. You cleared your throat, running a hand through your hair and giving a soft shrug. The chair beneath you was cold and hard, the table in front of you was the same. You weren't handcuffed, which was something you was seriously thankful for, but the light within this room seemed brighter than necessary. The investigator in front of you was in his mid fifties, white hair and a wrinkled forehead. He wore a suit, real professional looking.

"You aren't in trouble, kid," it was weird that he addressed you like that, like he felt guilty that you were part of this mess. He sighed and rubbed his temple. "You're just a witness, alright? Anything you might know will help us in this investigation." You pursed your lips. That's right, there was something you knew and yet there was an urge that you shouldn't even whisper it. The envelope, what she said to you. Shaking your head, you gave another shrug.

"We weren't that close. She was nice, friendly, I think she helped me moved some stuff in when I first came this way. Anne had arguments a lot, with someone or herself, I don't know. You could hear it late at night and sometimes it became unbearable, but the next morning when you saw her, she was fine with smiles and such." You looked down, it hit you that she was dead. She died alone, disfigured and suddenly you clasped a hand over your mouth and felt soft tears flow down your cheeks. "Oh, god.." you mumbled, feeling uneasy knowing that you had been smelling her for months. "I didn't know what a body smelt like, I thought maybe it was her fridge, you know?" The investigator sighed and pulled out a packet of tissues from his breast pocket before pulling one out and handing it to you. "Here," he said with a soft smile, welcoming and warm, kinda like a grandpa. He sure looked like one. Giving him a soft smile, you didn't decline before taking the tissue and wiping your eyes. "Does her family know?" you asked finally after a couple beats of silence. The investigator didn't seem to bare good news, that was evident by the expression across his face. He wasn't going to give away such information like that, this was an active investigation and he didn't want you to run off to the press to talk about the case. His face gave you enough information and slowly, you gave a nod.

Anne always seemed alone but she seemed happy, the night you saw her was genuinely the first time she seemed frightened and now you were contemplating whether or not to feel frightened too. The investigator sat back and that disturbed you from your thoughts as you looked up at him. "Your mom is outside," he said in a gentle voice and immediately, you wished he hadn't spoke at all. It made sense as to why she was here at the station, but you needed to gather your thoughts and having her here right now wasn't going to help you much. With a heavy sigh, you nodded.

The interview felt as if it only lasted an hour and as the chair scraped back and you stood from the table, you shot another look at the investigator. Should you mention the envelope now? Or what Anne had said to you. "Do I get to know a funeral date?" you asked, which now seemed like a stupid question. The investigator gave a weary smile, he didn't have the answer and it was obvious by the look in his eyes. You nodded, his eyes said enough and you returned a warm smile. As you approached the door, his voice broke the silence.

"Be safe, alright? Maybe stay at your moms." You took in his words but you wouldn't comply to them, staying back at your moms house felt like hell itself and you really didn't want to deal with her more than you had to when you left the room. "Thanks," you replied before opening the door.

The hall to the station was long and occasionally a cop here and there would pass. You glanced down the corridor to see the entrance before turning to walk down it. They awoke you pretty early morning for questioning and upon entering, they took all your belongings so your empty pockets felt a little alien right now. As you got your wallet and phone back, you could already see your mom in reception and you mentally prepared yourself to speak to her. Stepping out, your mom raised her head at the sound of the door opening and jumped to her feet. Your dad was there too, sat beside her reading a newspaper that looked as if it was dated for yesterday. That didn't bother him, it looked like he didn't want to be here in the first place and a part of you didn't blame him.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, are you alright?" your mom already began with questions as she clasped her hands against your cheeks. You pulled away, avoiding her gaze. "I'm fine, just tired. It's been a weird night." Your mom pursed her lips, her face was laced with worry and she turned to her husband to motion for him to get up and comfort you in one way or another. He glanced up from the newspaper and set it down before standing, giving you an awkward nod. "You should be careful." Was all he said, it was better than nothing but your mom didn't seem so pleased. She shot him a glare before turning back to you again. "We'll drive you back to ours, stay with us, until this all blows over." Blows over, she says that as if a person, your neighbour hadn't just died and you shook your head in disappointment. You had no choice but be in the same car with them, the cops did escort you here to begin with and unless you wanted to blow out more dollars on a cab, it just wasn't worth it. "Can you just drive me back to mine, I'll be fine, I just wanna get some sleep," you admitted, your mom went to argue but she opened her mouth and just closed it. She could tell by your weary look that you weren't in the mood for an argument but her stubbornness got the better of her. "No, no, no, no, you are coming back with us." You sighed, you really were not in the mood for an argument. "I'm actually looking after someone's dog right now, I gotta get back to make sure it's okay." You lied through your teeth but it was anything to avoid just staying at your moms. Her brows twisted, like she was conflicted between believing you or pushing your excuse under the rug but she soon enough gave in with a frustrated sigh. She turned to your dad and gave him a nod and that was a clear enough sign.

The drive back was quiet, how you preferred it really and it seemed the neither of them didn't have any questions. Maybe it was too fresh you just assumed, they'll bombard you with questions when she was buried and the investigation was called off. As they pulled up outside your apartment complex, you glanced out the window and noticed crowds. "Oh great, the press, really, you should just come back with us," your mom broke the silence in a desperate urge, a plea to try and convince you but you were already one foot out the car. "Thanks for the ride, see you guys." You called out and as you closed the door, you could see your mom already ranting to your dad who followed you with a worried expression. You were in your twenties now, it wasn't like you were a kid and he couldn't control you anymore. As you stepped across the road and approached the entrance of the apartment, you avoided the gaze of the press. A part of you thought you actually managed to get past peacefully until you heard something just behind you and suddenly there was a tug against your elbow.

"Hey! Excuse me, excuse me! Do you live here? Do you have any information on the young woman's death?" Before you knew it and practically within a blink of an eye, you were surrounded. Camera shutters were clicking and blinding you, microphones thrusted up by your mouth and a swarm of people bombarding you with questions with little notepads in their hands. You reached out for the handle of the door, your fingertips just brushing up against it until you were shoved. There were some cops guarding the entrance and they came quickly to help escort you in, but even then it seemed like too much for them. "Leave me alone!" you yelled out helplessly. "Don't you have any respect!" you attempted to cover your face from the cameras but you could already sense that the attempt felt useless. Then there was another tug, a strong one and it had pulled you from the crowd to within the reception of your apartment complex. You were trying to gather your breath, vision a little hazy from all the shutters and flashes of the cameras and as you rubbed your eyes, you glanced over to your saviour.

It was Toby, the same guy you spoke to the night before and after touching you, he was using that same hand to wipe it against his trouser awkwardly. You straightened, clearing your throat before going to speak. "Thanks," you mumbled, only assuming it was him that had saved you from that mess you wound yourself up in. Toby didn't say anything, his back was now turned toward the mailbox and you felt your lips purse. Maybe now was a good time more than anything to get to know something about him, he was so mysterious that it almost lulled you in more. "Are you new here? It's just.. I haven't seen you around." Toby turned to glance at you from over his shoulder before his neck twitched and clicked, causing you to feel a little nauseous at the sound alone. "I've lived h-h-here for awhile n—now," he stuttered, almost looking at you like you were crazy before turning back to the mailboxes and shuffling through a box which had his name on it. Now you did feel crazy, he had lived here for awhile and you just somehow never noticed? You felt your palms grow a little sweaty, something about this guy was giving you the creeps. Forcing a smile despite the fact that his back was turned to you, you turned on your heel and began for the stairs. "See you around," was all you could muster up saying before disappearing back off into your room.

Your mind wandered as you walked down the corridor. Toby must've suffered with ticks or something, or maybe a stammer? God, you kinda felt bad for him. Growing up with that shit wasn't easy, especially with the kind of people who walked this face on earth. What was with gauze too? Had he hurt himself or recently come out of a hospital? Maybe that was why you hadn't seen him about? Whatever it was, it wasn't the right time to get your head wound up in it all as you approached your door. There was a beat as you glanced at Anne's apartment door, usually if she heard you, she'd come out to say hello by now and that silence was really hard to come to terms with. There was police tape over her door, they were still investigating by the looks of it and with a sigh, you pushed your key into the lock and walked back into the comfort of your home. The smell of Anne's body stuck to everything. You had to wash all your bedding and clothing because all you could smell was her rotting corpse.

As you stepped inside and peeled off your jacket and shoes, your eyes glazed over the floor momentarily before you felt your body freeze.

A brown envelope. Not creased, in perfect condition, laying on your wooden flooring like it had been pushed under your door. You wanted to throw up, no, this couldn't be happening. First your neighbour dies after she hands you something like this and now you received another one months later? The thought of bending down to even pick it up was making you tremble, like the very touch of it would kill you right there and then. As you picked it up, you could see that the front was blank and upon flipping it over, hesitating, your finger slid under the seal and tore it off. Inside was another white letter, the same usual sharpie which bled through and soon enough, you opened it up to read what was inside.

'Poor Anne. It's a shame it had to end that way for her. The fun was about to start but don't worry, yours is just about to begin.'

Frozen, you read the words over and over again. Someone murdered Anne, that was obvious enough. It had to be someone living in this apartment complex, unless there was some crazy murderer out on the streets? But why were they targeting this block to begin with? You threw the letter and envelope to the floor and felt the shake in your knees as you backed up against the wood of the door. What the fuck was going on? You frantically reached for your phone and immediately began to dial 911. This had to be a good enough evidence to help support Anne's case and not only that, but protect you too! As you pressed your phone to your ear, hands shaking slightly, it dialled until a sharp, sudden static noise was heard. You yelped out in pain, throwing the phone to your floor but the noise wasn't coming from your phone. It was like the static noise was inside your apartment, no, in your fucking head. You grabbed your ears and felt yourself collapse, desperately trying to shut out the noise. A yell could be heard from you, wanting this all to be over until there was nothing, silence. Just the sound of you whimpering and trying to catch your breath. Your ears were ringing, which only told you that what just happened was more than true. Pulling your hands away from your ears, you sat back so your back was pressed to your door again and tried to focus on what was going on. It didn't seem like you were in immediate danger, but whatever and whoever was sending you these letters had bad intentions.

Anne passed something onto you, something you couldn't begin to describe and before you could reach out for your phone again, there was a warm, soft trickle that ran down your nose and upper lip. Then one singular droplet of blood fell and landed upon your wooden flooring, until more and more began to fall and now you were clasping a hand over your nose in an attempt to stop it. Why the sudden nosebleeds? Maybe it was just stress from the envelopes, the letters and a sudden death of what you called a friend? But there was a feeling that lingered, a feeling that made you feel unsteady. That feeling that you knew someone was watching you and it made you feel sick to your core. Cautiously, you stood to your feet and approached the kitchen sink to let your head hang over it and the blood trickle into the sink, tinting it into a red colour. Here's what you had to get straight, Anne died, no, she was murdered and now you were receiving creepy messages. If you don't find out what the fuck was going on, you could be next and that was something you did not want to ponder on for too long.

Leaning over to grab some kitchen roll, you ripped a little portion off and stuffed your nose with the tissue before letting out a weary sigh. It was a troubled sigh, you felt like this was the start to a shitty week and now you were gonna be plagued with bad luck. It wasn't just the nosebleeds that were confusing you, it was that static like noise that left your ears ringing. Whatever was going on, you seriously hoped it ended soon.

—————————————

A couple of days had passed since the finding of Anne's body and as much as you didn't want to jinx it, things were going okay. After dropping out of school, you were hunting for a job that could scrape you together some money and after a successful interview, you landed at a job of a small cafe. The money wasn't great, but a good atmosphere of a small cafe would be good to clear your head. As you awoke and dressed yourself, you were off to start for the day. Admittedly, the shifts were.. okay but long and thankfully, you managed to make a pretty good friend to work closely alongside with. Pushing the door open with your foot, a familiar ding from the bell above run out throughout the small cafe which alerted your colleague of your entrance. Her head peeked up from behind the counter, she was crouched down, almost as if she was looking for something.

"Hey, you!" a friendly voice came from her. Her name was Bella, she was lightly tanned and had beautiful long hair. "Hey," you chimed, a smile forming across your face as you stepped toward the counter and stepped behind. There was a small cupboard where you put your belongings in and soon enough, you were wrapping and typing an apron around your waist. "I feel like it's gonna be a busy day today," chimed Bella as she continued to shuffle through some packaging of coffee beans and syrups. "I just feel it." You shrugged, that didn't sound too bad and usually Bella had a good instinct to these things. You swore she was like spiritually talented or something. A long day meant it would go quicker after all. "Sounds good, you better be right about that," you said with a smile, leaning over the counter to grab a cup from atop the coffee machine and you began the process of making yourself a coffee to help wake yourself up. Bella could be heard scoffing and finally, she emerged back standing on her two feet. "I'm literally always right," she said matter of factly before giving a shrug. Despite the shop being open, it was quiet and there were few customers sat.

You had the regular in the far left corner, an elderly gentleman with a newspaper in his hand. Bella told you he lost his wife and ever since, that left hand corner was a distant memory of their laughter and chats. Then on the right were the group who studied, with laptops and textbooks out on the table. It made your mind drift a little, this is were you probably would've hung out too if you didn't drop out of school. Then there were a couple of regulars who came in to pick up stuff and leave. Moms after dropping their kids off to school, businessmen in their fancy suits. It was nice to have some familiarity. As the day ticked on slowly despite Bella's prediction, you served, cleaned and had small chit chat before the door let out a familiar ding of a bell. In walked in a man, with his hood up and over his face. It was a brown like hoodie, with stripes down the arms and he sat so his back was facing you. Mysterious. As you watched him, you felt that familiar trickle down your nose and you quickly slapped a hand up to stop it.

"Fuck," you mumbled, which caught Bella's attention. "Oh, a nosebleed? Here, go clean yourself up," Bella gently pat your shoulder and with a thankful nod, you quickly went to disappear out back to the storage room for a moment to wipe up the mess. Your eyes were focused on the guy with the brown hoodie and as you finally peeled your eyes away, you disappeared downstairs. These nosebleeds were becoming a regular occurrence and not an inviting one at that. There was a small chill in the basement and you felt a soft shiver as you pulled a tissue out from your apron pocket to wipe your nose. Then there was a soft chime that came from your pocket and you narrowed your eyes. It was rare for you to get text messages unless it was from mom, admittedly, you didn't have friends and usually you hated texting people because you were hopeless at even remembering to respond. Unlocking the phone, you glanced over the message carelessly until you felt a pang hit you in your chest. Like dread, fear.

'you look suuuper cute today. that apron does fucking things to me.'

It was an unknown number and you scrunched your brows up. As far as you could remember, you hadn't given your number out to anyone recently. With shaky hands, you stuffed the tissue back into your apron pocket now your nose had stopped bleeding and immediately began to text back. You had to, this had to be some kind of prank. Shit gets leaked and people get cocky, something like that, right?

'Who the fuck is this. How did you get this number?'

Your eyes glazed over the text as you impatiently waited for a reply. Whoever this person was, they knew where you were working, they had seen you today, surely and now you felt sick. There was no reply and the curiosity was biting you harder than anything. You opened up the contact and dialled the number, pressing the phone to your ear.

"The number you're calling is no longer in service."

You froze. A dead number? You glanced down at your phone as the call ended and you clenched your jaw. Was this some kind of sick, cruel joke? You stood in the basement for a second, desperately trying to connect puzzle pieces that were refusing to connect and now you felt like you were going crazy. Pushing your phone back into your pocket, you took some cautious deep breaths before stepping back up the stairs to the shop floor. Bella glanced at you from the corner of her eye, giving you a reassuring smile but your eyes immediately glanced over to the table where that guy in the brown hoodie was sitting. Was. He no longer sat there anymore, it looked like he left altogether. "You feeling okay?" Bella asked, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, yeah," you mumbled, pushing through your feelings and giving a smile. Should you even mention the text? The number? This was your business and you didn't want to get Bella involved. What if something happened to her like what happened to Anne? "Something came for you," Bella chimed before leaning under the counter to pull out a brown envelope. Your heart sank, you felt like you were going to heave and you forced a smile regardless. "Thanks.." you whispered as you reached toward the letter. It was unmarked. "How do you know it's for me?" You asked, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "Because I never get mail, duh," Bella said, almost as if you should've known that and now you felt a little stupid. Giving a brief nod, you took the envelope and cautiously glanced up at Bella. She was occupied serving a customer.

With a tremble in your hand, you opened up the envelope and instead of being greeted by a usual white letter, a small polaroid fell out and landed on the floor just by your feet. Before you could even bend down to pick it up, the photo landed right side up and you found yourself stiff. It was a photo of you, standing behind the counter with your apron on and chatting to Bella. You were smiling in the photo. It looked like whoever took this photo, took it outside across the street. Your breath had a tremble, your bottom lip wobbled and slowly you bent to pick up the photo. This was wrong, whoever the fuck was pranking you was taking it too far. You flipped over the polaroid, there was writing and it was the same, shitty handwriting as before except this time, it was written in a red like substance. You wanted to say ink but considering how fucking frightened you were, you thought the complete opposite.

'the things i would do to you. smile !!'

You caught your breath and pressed a hand against your mouth, feeling like you were about to heave. Bella noticed and tried to peek at what it was before she paused. "Holy shit, you're pale, you okay?" she asked, trying to catch your eyesight but you were so focused on the polaroid that your mind was a jumble. "What is-" "Who gave you this?" you asked sternly, looking up at her with a face of horror and Bella gave you a questioning look. "What?" she asked. "Who gave you this? This envelope?!" there was urgency in your voice and you gave her a look that was begging for an answer to your questions. Bella shook her head, rubbing her temple. "Just some guy, I dunno, I didn't take a name-" "What did he look like?! Please, Bella, please—" you were begging helplessly and Bella was growing worried. "You really don't look well-" "BELLA!" You pleaded desperately and quickly, you found yourself stuffing the polaroid back into the envelope. Your shouting now caught the attention from the other customers and Bella seemed a little flustered. As your fingers frantically began to pull at the strings of the apron, you ripped it off and placed it on the counter.

Your mind was a jumble. You were being watched and that was for sure. Whoever this was, they were watching you have a complete breakdown, probably laughing at the mess you were getting yourself worked up into. You turned, grabbing your jacket and bag before making your way to the door with envelope in hand. Bella was speechless, she didn't call out to you but from the way the colour drained from your face, she didn't protest either. As you stepped out onto the street, you felt yourself hyperventilating, your body was sweating and you swore any second you were about to pass out. What made it worse is that your head was throbbing, a migraine coming out from nowhere and hitting you harder than ever. With each step you took, you felt yourself growing dizzier and dizzier until you blacked out.

Fluttering your eyes open slowly, you tried to figure out what just happened. Your head hurt, that was for sure. You remember passing out but where were you? Slowly, you sat up and took in your surroundings. It was soft beneath you, which told you exactly what you needed to know and that was you were lying on a bed but the more you looked around, the more confused you felt. This was your bedroom. The same stuffed animals in the corner of your room, the laundry that scattered the flooring. You narrowed your eyes, was this a dream? You were out on the street? How did you end up here. Glancing down, you were still in the same clothes and cautiously, you shuffled to the end of the bed so your legs were dangling and soon enough they met the floor. As you got up, still trying to make works of what the fuck happened and how you ended up here, you opened up your bedroom door and peered out. This was your apartment, the same kitchen, smell, the same grubby couch with packets of chips on it. You narrowed your eyes, holding your head for a moment but as soon as you lifted your arm, something caught your attention just on your wrist and reluctantly, you pushed back your sleeve. There were bruises on your wrists, both actually and they were raw to touch, like they were new almost.

Your mind was a haze, you don't remember walking back to your apartment? Surely you did pass out but now you were beginning to doubt everything, whether this day actually existed or not or if it was some kind of messed up dream you had while you were napping. Before you could even step out into the hall of your apartment, there was a knock at your door. You narrowed your eyes, frozen in the spot.

It knocked once, then again and then there was a beat of silence.

#creepypasta #ticci toby #xreader #fanfiction #slenderman #fanfic #toby rogers #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanons #ticci toby x reader

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screemnch · 2 months

Text

The Pathologic Russian and English analysis: Clara Saburova the Changeling.

Time is a flat circle, similar to a frisbee, and the world is using it to wack me repeatedly on the head with it. So anyway, I finally got my shit together and made another addition to this madness project. This time including images of both English and Russian text. Let us begin

It’s a bit… difficult to pin down what kind of person Clara is in the English translation - partially because you don’t always know for sure which Clara you’re talking to, as well as the fact that she is, most of the time, an obstacle. She seems to shift between “mean child who’s acting like she hasn’t learned about empathy yet”, “kind earnest and trying her best”, and “ominously inhuman and deceiving”. This is, obviously, because of Clara’s main schtick - the fact that there’s two of them (and also because she knows a lot more than the two other healers). Most of the time, however, she comes across as someone with either good or dubious intentions. It’s like she’s trying to help (or acting like she’s trying to help), but things keep going horribly wrong. Since we’re not playing as her, we don’t get nearly as much insight into how frightened she is and how shaky and unstable her current situation is, so she is judged by both of the healers in a very harsh way. She seems a bit verbose for a kid/teenager, however that is nothing out of the ordinary in the town on Gorkhon. Her lines, a lot of the time are either indirect or very direct jabs, so there is an impression that she thinks she is smarter than the other two and is quite fed up with them. It’s difficult to say much else about it without getting into specifics, so here we go.

As the bachelor: Clara only gets interactions on days 3, 6, 11, and 12. You might think that that would make it difficult to write about her, but wow did they put so much stuff in the very few conversations she gets to have with Daniil. There is a level of consistency between how she speaks in English and Russian here, though she seems a bit more earnest in this campaign. Like she’s trying to help, but she also thinks that Dankovsky is unable to receive the help she’s trying to give. Or unwilling. Mainly, however, in Russian there is a very weird quality to her way of speaking that I’m not quite sure carries over well to English. See, (and this is where it gets the tiniest bit anecdotal) I’ve had my fair share of hearing religious talk in Russian (but not in English, which is why I’m not sure if this is even a valid point) - I’ve been to orthodox churches, and in general Christianity is very largely propagated in the part of Russia I grew up in. So I, like presumably many others, am familiar with the very distinct way that religious figures speak. It sounds ancient, but not the same “fairy tale” ancient that I talked about before. Instead of changing the sentence structure, they utilise more biblical words in places where any other person would use regular modern words. Best way I can explain it is how someone might say “t’is” instead of “it is” but like… Religious? “For” instead of “because.” And that is the tone that Clara takes on sometimes. It meshes really well with her “divine messenger” persona, even though she still acts like a child every now and then. It’s a very unique combination that gives her way of speaking a distinct sound that exists outside of time. Overall, however, the translation was pretty close to the original Russian version, so let’s look at where these two diverge.

What’s a little weird to me here is that umm… This is the conversation Daniil has with Clara on day 3 about the Taglur and when I read this in English I was a little confused, because it sounds like the Bachelor is asking a question about Clara’s plans for making a new world or whatevsies, but… This dialogue option is one of those that immediately ends the conversation, which didn’t make sense to me at all. In Russian it’s a bit more akin to “And who’s bright idea was it to place this miracle here?” (or literally “to whose head did the idea to place this miracle here come?” A bit more confusing, but yeah) See, the word here for “miracle” is “чудо” (pronounced smth like “choodo”), which can mean miracle or wonder, but can also be a shorthand for “чудище” or “чудовище” which is a word used to describe monsters. You know. Wonder-creatures. In this context, the word “чудо” when aimed towards a person (Clara) is meant to signify someone either ugly, eccentric or nonsensical. So to sum up, the best way to understand this line is “Who’s bright idea was it to bring this weirdo here?” in which case… Yeah, I can definitely see why that would end the dialogue.

Here’s a fun little thing: I’ve mentioned before how the Haruspex defines Clara in very vague terms. Here, when the Changeling (the real one, guys, trust me) is asking the Bachelor to deal with the Changeling pretending to be her(yeah, go figure), in English she calls her a “loathsome creature”. However, in Russian she calls her (according to Google translate) an “abomination”, “filth” or (in my own translation) “grossness”, which - you guessed it - is indeed a very vague term. Regardless of who you think is talking to the Bachelor at the moment, it’s still very interesting to see, for various reasons. She also does this later in the dialogue (and the English translation ignores it again)

More out of the same dialogue tree where the Bachelor is trying to get Clara’s blood. I’ve made a point in the analysis of the Bachelor from the Changeling’s perspective, where he calls her “darling” where the original was something like “sweet/dear creature” and almost had a sombre mood to it. In this one, however, it is the complete opposite. Not only does the word he uses here actually translate the best to “darling” (or dove), but it also has the same kind of ironic connotation to it as I mentioned. In this particular scenario he almost sounds… Thuggish? The words he uses, as well as the use of the “-ка” sounds similar to the snarky, confrontational way that thugs and bandits speak in cartoons. Something like “c’mere, dear” that makes it clear you’re about to get beaten up.

Two things here: firstly, in this dialogue line Clara refers to Daniil using the informal version of “you”, while the lines said by the Changeling whose blood he doesn’t get uses the formal version. In the interaction on day 3 Clara doesn’t address him directly at all, but I think in other dialogues she also addresses him informally (It isn’t surprising to see Clara address Daniil of all people informally, because not only does she see herself as, at least in part, a tool of divine whatevertheheck, she also rightfully believes that he is an idiot. She does not need to be polite to the stupidest man this side of the Gorkhon (I say this lovingly, of course).

Secondly though, I’d like to point out the way Daniil talks to her in here, because when I did my analysis of his lines I talked about how the English translation dials down the intensity of the stuff he says. This here is a prime example, as the Russian version is not only more curt, but also uses a much more cutting insult. Of course, people are well aware of the Russian language’s rich curse word vocabulary, but it also has the wonderful capability of making non-curse words sound like the most humiliating thing ever. I think maybe it’s the way Russian combines rolled “r”s and multiple consonants (which is less prominent in English) that allows its words to have that added weight to it. Here he calls her essentially “trash”, specifically - something that’s been so torn up and worn out that it's become useless. The way the word rolls off the tongue when you say it out loud is almost like a spit in the face, and it’s not softened by calling her “little” or anything. He calls her trash. How dare.

I’m bringing this up because it has me genuinely confused? The English version makes sense, or so I thought until I read the Russian version? Because the Russian version kinda states the opposite. It says “You can’t come up with a better knife for this than a conversation - of course, only if you’re in a hurry.” Which is very different from “unless you’re in a hurry” because those meanings are like… The opposite? The English implying that a conversation is a good way to see what’s going on in her soul, but the Russian one alluding to the fact that it’s only good if you’re in a hurry? Or is she agreeing to give her blood because they don’t have time for a conversation? I don’t know. I’m confused. Help.

I think the metanarratives of pathologic are very cool, so when I read this line in English I got really excited, because I thought it might be implying that Clara is aware of the fact that the player may have died a few times during the bachelor route alone (similar to how she calls the other healers her past or future). Then I realised that it simply could’ve meant “dying” as in being close to death. Then I got excited again, because I thought the Russian version might elucidate the issue for me. And… I think I was right? I think she implies here that Daniil has died several times, although it was probably just left vague for this specific purpose. Either way, the fact that it can be read this way and was probably worded like this just to confuse the players (and reward those who may have been on the lookout for it) is really cool to me. Also in response to that (where in English Daniil says Clara has “a shrewd eye for human condition”) he calls her a psychologist, and then brushes her off as trying to charm him, which means we don’t get to gauge the meaning of what she was saying through his response either.

This one has a couple of fun differences. Firstly, instead of referring to the town in its “true form” Clara refers to saving it “the way that the town turned out.” This, to me, is a slight difference that paints the contradictory nature of the town in a different light. The English version claiming that it’s the town’s “true” form almost makes it seem like a design from an outside force, both bringing up vibes of intelligent design and the fact that the town was made this exact way by the children. The Russian version’s implication that the town “turned out” this way has a more “nature is a chaotic force with no purpose” vibe to it, that would more suit a person unaware of the whole “we’re dolls for a children’s game inside of a video game” thing. Maybe I’ve just gotten used to being picky about the tiniest word choices because of my studies, but I feel like this difference changes the overall vibe. Like painting with the same colour but using a different brush.

Secondly, in Russian Clara calls Aglaya’s mission “simply a performance for fools” which to me is a wonderful choice of words, given all the theatre themes included in the gameplay.

I’ve kind of set a precedent where I make all of these “translation differences” have some sort of significant meaning for the narrative, but I just think this one is genuinely cool? It’s a bit of a “same colour, different brush” situation, where the sentiment is the same, but the word choice carries a different vibe. Focusing on the last sentence here, the Changeling specifically says “You were supposed to bribe him with your honesty” instead of “get at him”. And I just think that’s neat, because like. I always thought of “getting at someone” as like… An attack or provocation? But “bribing” someone has a bit more of that slimy vibe, which clashes with “honesty” so well, and… I guess it’d technically be an oxymoron.

During the conversation in regards to Clara acknowledging Maria as a mistress, in the Russian version she frequently switches between formal and informal “yous” when talking to the Bachelor. However, as it becomes clear here, this is an instance in which instead of a sign of respect, it seems that she is referring to several people at the same time. Namely, that she is directing her words both at Daniil and Artemy. During the Bachelor’s campaign she seems to think that the Haruspex is a lost cause and they seemingly don’t interact (and she even believes that he is dead during this day), so I doubt she actually ever spoke to him about this. It’s interesting then that she still tries to convince the Bachelor, even though she often calls him a fool. Makes you wonder what the differences are between this scenario and the Changeling campaign (in which she can invite Artemy to the Cathedral on the final day fully knowing that he chooses to stay oblivious).

Here’s some silly Clara on day 12 (right after giving a whole speech about the Polyhedron) and I just wanted to point out this very fun change. Instead of saying “pretty face” she instead says “мордашка” (pronounced “mordashka”) which is a diminutive of “морда” (“morda) which is usually the word people use to refer to an animal’s face. Except it can also be used to refer to a person’s face if you’re calling them ugly. The addition of the diminutive adds a little mischievous tone to it, which turns it from ugly into a “cute” kind of thing. Like… Derpy, I guess. Anyways, I think it’s absolutely hilarious that Clara says that while also talking about the eldritch concept of being a multitude of people, or perhaps just one person controlled by the will of different people at different times (which they all are, by the way).

Big difference here that I found absolutely odd as in why they cut it out of the English version? This is from the “did you know we are toys?” dialogue tree and if you look carefully, you’ll see that there’s a bit here in Russian that for some reason wasn’t included in the English version. The last sentence after Clara says that she has an advantage. She adds “and I intend to use it.” Which like… I feel to someone who hasn’t played patho before would sound antagonistic, but to those who know - this is a direct indication to how it feels like playing as Clara in the campaign. You know a lot more about the game and the characters from other campaigns. And you already know that the kids are there and that they are toys. While playing you use all this knowledge to your advantage to play the game better. So yeah, don’t know why they cut that out of the translation.

Alright, I think that’s about all I’ve got for Clara’s role in the Bachelor’s campaign. I’d say the biggest differences that I notice is, of course, the biblical language (which I didn’t get good examples of unfortunately, but the whole “your eyes are white for you are blind” is a good example) and the subtle ways in which the words Clara uses hint to her knowledge of what is going on. As always, it’s something that’s also present in the English version, but there are also things that are characteristic to the Russian language that allow her to break the fourth wall. Like, with the change to a formal “you” we can get a bit more clarity on whether the Clara we’re talking to is real or not. With the specific verbs she uses we can almost see the outline of a false bottom to everything she says and I think that’s really cool. Outside of the translations, I think it is genuinely fascinating to get a better glimpse into Clara’s story during the Bachelor campaign - I feel like if we got more of her, it would give the whole game away. In what she says already, talking about the wills behind her, behind the Bachelor (although she does count Artemy as part of the “special toys” camp, she always says it with such disappointment. Cuz she compares herself to him, but is also frustrated that he refuses to get it) she alludes to being aware of not only the stagehands, but also the player and the power that they have. It’s also really cool because you can almost compare her to Aglaya, what with all the knowledge, sacrifice, and being doomed by the narrative. Except Clara’s approach is entirely different, although it’s difficult to glimpse through her frequently changing attitude. They both know “the Law”, both talk about how miracles should not be captured - except Aglaya seeks to undo what has been done, while Clara wants to forge ahead, accept the changes as part of the world. They both seek to fix what’s wrong, but what to them is considered “fixing” is so directly opposed that they have to destroy each other. I don’t know. I just think that both of them are really cool characters that totally don’t make me wanna scream, cry, and throw up, and you know… They deserve just as much love and obsessive analysis as the men in the story (speaking of which, in one of the dialogue trees where Clara talks about Block essentially becoming a crusader she can also admit that she knows it’s not true and that he’s also doomed, but she feels so bad about it that she pretends that he isn’t. And who knows, with a miracle worker like her it might just become the truth).

Also I'm thinking of maybe at one point or another making a name pronunciation, meaning, nickname, and literary references guide? Idk, sounds like it'd be fun.

I feel like a weird little bog creature whenever I emerge with one of these. Have fun and remember to engage your critical thinking skills, fact check, and let the media you encounter change you (be it through vulnerability or empowerment) instead of just being fodder for your consumption.

#pathologic #pathologic classic hd #мор утопия #ramblings #clara saburova #daniil dankovsky #we're at 26 pages yipeee

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diagonal-queen · 7 months

Text

The Flags in Highschool

♡ characters: Pianoman, Albatross, Doc, Lippmann, Iceman

♡ synopsis: What type of student would each of the Flags be in highschool?

♡ cw: Swearing, Lippmann is nonbinary cry about it, mentions of vapes

note: I have no idea where this came from. I guess my need for Flags content is taking over my brain lmao (I promise I won't only write Stormbringer content from now on I pinky swear) and I know I have tons of stuff still in my inbox from ages ago that you guys requested. I HAVE seen them and I do plan on writing them. At this point in time I'm just sapped dry of any inspiration, so sometimes I just need to get whatever I can. This time around it was flag shit. I apologise for the wait and I love all of you. Apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Pianoman (the prep)

Definitely the leader of whatever student council is at the school he attends (unanimous vote)

He is always on top of his shit. He never gets detention, never turns in any late assignments, never gets into any fights

Has extra supplies for people who've forgotten theirs, from spare pens and pencils to spare tampons for the period-havers

Is the kid that your parents compare you to and say 'why can't you be more like him' (if your parents are anything like mine, anyway)

Helps people study and write notes for exams- he has a collaborative doc that nobody ever needs to edit because the notes are always perfect

Is the one that has to show the new kids around because he makes the student body look really good lmao

Hosts every single event, fundraiser, volunteers a lot

Though he looks like he knows what he's doing he definitely doesn't get enough sleep

So he has a very concerning coffee dependence- probably drugs himself up on caffeine to get through exam weeks (please someone tell him to stop)

He might be generally nice and an academic but he also has blackmail on basically anyone who's ever crossed him so...don't get on his bad side I guess

Albatross (the goofball)

The class clown that everybody loves even though he's a little piece of shit

Definitely bounces from clique to clique, cus he's friends with literally everyone lmao. Even the kids who don't even like him are willing to have him around

Is the reason why Pianoman began bringing spare supplies to school (he fully gets by by just borrowing other people's things)

Never wears his uniform correctly, and is always getting in trouble for it with his teachers, but he never changes anything

He skips classes ALL THE TIME and doesn't bother to hide it. If you have a free period and decide to go to the store for something you'll more than likely find him vaping out the front lol

(Sorry yall he just seems like the type of guy who vapes- I do not endorse the use of e-cigarettes. There now you can't sue me)

Spreads insane rumours about himself because he thinks it's funny, and then acts shocked when people ask him about said rumors

Always has food/snacks in class and teachers are far past trying to stop him from eating while in class

He's so good at P.E. it's kinda scary. He can throw, run, swim, kick...everyone wants him on their team

If there was ever a Matilda-style student uprising...we all know who's leading it lmao

Doc (the weird kid)

Okay when I say weird kid I don't mean 'kid who crosses your name off the list when you're nice to him'

I mean 'kid who sniffs glue and knows too much about WW2'

Doc is absolutely the type to get straight As without putting in even a LICK of effort. He just never studies, and he never helps anyone else study either

A bit of a wallflower, but he's by no means a bad guy. He's just kinda offputting at first

A little bit too enthusiastic about the science classes where he gets to dissect small animal corpses (he's really good at it it's frightening)

Brings his own lunch from home

Always in the nurse's office, he keeps other sick students company (he's exempt from P.E.)

He's like reverse gifted kid burnout- when he was younger he was a late bloomer but now he's one of the smartest kids in the grade

Even though people don't spend time with him they don't wanna get on his bad side because they know he's gonna become some world-renowned doctor after school and they don't wanna deal with that karma. Plus he's a little bit creepy

Nobody knows ANYTHING about his home life

Lippmann (the popular/theatre kid)

You might be thinking that 'popular kid' and 'theatre kid' contradict one another but you'd be surprised. Everyone LOVES this guy

The lead in every single school play regardless of what type of character they are (gender and body type mean nothing to him)

Also lowkey kind of a whore. He's probably dated most of his peers and yet they're all still enamoured with him

Probably has a super high follower count on Instagram (why are highschoolers so obsessed with Insta)

Kinda friends with all the teachers and so people call him a teacher's pet/tryhard (i'm TOOOOTALLY not projecting here)

One of the first kids to come out as queer (nonbinary) so he supports other kids and helps them with their own sexuality/identity

Though he mediates when his classmates fight, he secretly LOVES the drama and lowkey wants to be an enabler (but that would ruin his reputation)

Definitely comes from a rich family and probably helps fund the school- gets a lot of awards for nepotism reasons

Has tons of potential with his academics but never utilises it- he's more comfortable not studying and getting 80% than studying and getting 90%

Gets voted most likely to be famous in the yearbook

Iceman (the scary dog)

He's actually really good at school and gets pretty good grades. How does he do this? You'll never know

Always sits in the back of the class, but he's not bothering anyone back there so teachers don't care. In fact they'd probably rather have him back there because even they're kinda scared of him

Also knows a concerning amount about WW2, but it's less the gory gore stuff and more the war-y war stuff

Surprisingly good at humanities subjects. Never try to get into a political argument with him because he has his sources CITED

Though he's really scary and not many people would willingly approach him, he's actually really nice and gentle

Stands up for kids who get bullied and checks in on them sometimes

Scholarship kid

Likes loitering in the library and reads a lot in his spare time (he has tons of overdue library books to return)

If a bird or a bug or something flies into the classroom he's the one who's always designated to pick it up and gently guide it back outside

Always argues with teachers if they say homophobic/sexist/racist things and gets in trouble for it but doesn't care (a king)

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd fanfiction #bsd fanfic #bsd ff #bungou stray dogs fanfiction #bsd hcs #bsd headcanons #hcs #headcanons #bsd pianoman #bsd albatross #bsd doc #bsd lippmann #bsd iceman #bsd stormbringer #stormbringer #bsd flags

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redamoureux · 9 months

Note

Hello! I saw your headcanons and I loved your work, so I decided to request something myself.

Could you write about the Medic with a teenage daughter (you can alter to be gender neutral if you prefer) except this daughter, is a clone of his?

I'm guessing it was one of his experiments that he grew attached to, and saw as his own kid. Maybe headcanons of how she would be with her dad, or with the other mercenaries?

Tysm!!

General Red/Blu Medic with Clone Child Darling headcanons

↳ content warning: fluff, comfort, light angst, small mentions of objectifying darling, darling is semi-medic's child?, gender neutral darling, ooc(?)

• genre: platonic

• a/n: not my best work jshbn and kinda rushed- and ngl this somehow kinds of reminded me of emesis blue but bit lesss angst, lol thanks for requesting!

It was just an experiment. They're just an experiment.

Yet, who could've expect him to love them as if they were an actual human? He certainly hadn't think so much about it either.

Sure, he is somewhat fond and affecionate towards his experiments, but it was in a rather twisted sense and because they showed good results.

If the results doesn't satisfy him as much.. well, he'd still care for them, just not as much as for the succesful ones.

After a small success in a project he and engineer had collaborate to create, an idea came into his mind.. although even he wasn't sure what he wants to do, he decides to give it a try. After all, he is a scientist! What kind of scientist doesn't like to try out new things?

Was he crazy to mix his DNA into this to create something akin to this humanoid like creature? Maybe.

Was he crazy to somehow brought this thing to life and gives it its own sentience? Hah, no!

The mercs can complaint all they like about how weird and creepy the duplicates and clones in his lab are, he cares about good results! If that means almost filling his lab with those things so be it. Atleast heavy doesn't mind it so much.

You were yet another clone of a bunch prototypes he'd worked on. Unlike the other clones which would often break, you were much more capable! Sure there were some flaws but that can easily be fixed. He's just so delighted to have created such a impressive outcome!

Oftentimes he'd make you do things that's almost against your will but that's fine. Just some reiterating and you should be exactly like what he wanted.

But that didn't happen. Instead it makes you more aware. It's like you are an actual human and it takes awhile for him to actually acknowledge this. When he do, he'll also realize how his ways of showing his favoring changes to actual love.

The others would pointed it out, how he treated you alot better than his other experiments. How he'd brush your hair and interacted with you as if he's talking to his own kid. Some had expected this however, he is mad anyway.

Soon he see how the others treated you over time, from awkwardness and confusion to slowly warming up to you and accepting you! It makes him feel happy that they aren't forever so frightened by you. You are his best after all. He's also pleased how you went from hating doing experiments with him to actually enjoying it aswell. He doesn't want you to miss out to the fun!

Would probably read you bed stories whether if you asked for it or not, be it from books he had when he's younger or just random stuffs he thought of.

Outside battlefield stuffs, he enjoys doing domestic and simple things he didn't think he wanted to do before.

Medic didn't realize how much he actually enjoys the idea of having a child or rather because it is his own creation, either whatever the reason is, he's just grateful for your existence.

REBLOGS/ FEEDBACK/ COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED!

@redamoureux

#team fortress 2 #team fortress 2 x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #tf2 headcanons #tf2 imagines #tf2 medic #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 engineer #tf2 pyro #tf2 scout #tf2 heavy #tf2 demoman #tf2 soldier #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy

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ginger-futch · 3 months

Text

Poppy Playtime Headcanons (some spoilers ahead):

Personally I see the toys as adults.

No, I don't say that for weird porn reasons. I don't think Playtime Co. would've gave their "family friendly" abominations the anatomy to do anything like that. But they do have human nervous systems and are strongly implied to have humanlike organs, given how the Bron experiment tape explicitly mentions lungs and a thyroid gland.

It just makes more sense to me that they'd be, neurologically and perhaps hormonally, akin to adults. Horribly traumatized adults whose brains have developed in strange and frightening ways to cope with what's been done to them, but adults no less.

I do not subscribe to really any theory that focuses on souls and rituals and stuff. This game leans a little more science fiction than fantasy in my opinion, compared to, say, FNAF or Bendy and the Ink Machine. The process to turn someone into a toy isn't a ritual but instead a procedure. The people doing the dark shit aren't cultists but scientists.

In my general headcanon, Theodore Grambell was 7 years old when he was transformed into CatNap in 1990, making him 12 at the time of the Hour of Joy, and 22 in the game.

Similarly, I headcanon Marie Payne to have been 10 years old when she was turned into Mommy Long Legs (because of her maternal behavior towards the other kids and experiments; big sister vibes) in 1991, making her 14 during the Hour of Joy, and 24 in the game.

Mostly I say all this as a reference point for my own sort of Hurt-Comfort AU, which I'm tenatively calling the Recovery AU. Basically, instead of an employee returning to the factory, it's a former orphan who used to live there, and the young adult makes the decision to rescue her old friends by whatever means she can.

Of course, the bulk of the AU is what happens after they all get out of there. It's easy to end a story of great suffering with a cathartic death - the long fall, the crusher, the closing shutter, the stabbing hand, all after a long and terrifying chase sequence - but it's a lot harder to take those same characters and see how they might adjust to the "real world" outside the very specific circumstances that turned people into monsters. I want to see how Huggy Wuggy or Kissy Missy navigate therapy without the ability to speak or use normal hand signs. I want to see Mommy Long Legs reunite with her foster mom and shed tears at the feeling of the sun on her face. I want to see CatNap get deprogrammed and learn how to value himself and others without dipping into black and white thinking. I want to see Poppy try desperately to keep up with technology that is already far beyond anything she could have imagined when she was first "created" and locked away.

#poppy playtime #tw body horror mention #tw mental illness #AU name pending

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charliedawn · 1 year

Note

Hello 🤗 do you remember when you made a slasher x asexual reader??, how about this time is aromantic

This is my first request on Tumblr and I hope you have a great day 💕

I mean Jason wouldn't care. A friend is a friend.

He would be happy to have someone sticking around long enough not to run away as soon as he appears.

He would try to respect your wishes and not to frighten you.

He would feel like the confession might be important to you, so he will keep it in mind and not do anything that would feel too personal.

However, if he did have a crush on you.

He would find it difficult to communicate and basically run out of the room when you arrive.

"Not into all the lovey-dovey stuff, heh ? Good for you. And good for me too.."

Pennywise hates physical contact and doesn't like making any effort.

Having an aromantic reader by his side would be to have someone willing to stay with him without making things weird.

Besides, him and Penny cannot technically fall in love. So, you wouldn't have to worry about that.

"Nice."

Penny is a being whose love language is TOUCH.

He can't help it and will try to touch you every chance he gets.

See the problem ? He may eventually try to show you his love with words and make things awkward very quickly..

Penny *giggles and wraps his arms around you* : "I LIKE YOU, HUMAN !"

Yeah..Will try his best to keep his distance though. Better stick around his brother at the beginning though..

"Good for you, kiddo. Believe me when I say love is bullsh*t. You're better without it."

Jack has been married and was basically trapped in the marriage.

He knows all about the downsides of love and would be happy to live without the complications.

At this point, his only love is his bottle of whiskey he keeps around.

Jack *offers you a glass* : "Come on. Let's have a toast on being sick of love. Good riddance."

Five : "Believe me, you won't have to worry about me."

The boy is 100% dedicated to Dolores and reserves all his love for his mannequin.

Besides, Five is usually awkward around people he likes. The fact that you are aromantic would make things far easier for him.

He would be able to talk to you without actually holding back, scared of what you may think of him.

Five : "...and this is how Klaus managed to stuck his hand in the cookie jar and it was only hours later that he admitted it to me and asked me to jump back in time to dissuade him. Can you believe it ? Me ? Telling Klaus not to do something ?" *bursts out laughing*

"Aro...Aromantic...Arrow...What a funny name. You know what it makes me think of ? Tarot without the t's. So, congrats kid, you're a whole card game."

J is open-minded.

As long as you don't say that you're a sympathiser of Batman, he's cool with you being whatever.

Besides, J is not very romantic. He would be if he feels it necessary, but would be as happy without it.

He would also offer you a job and wouldn't have to worry about the "matters of the heart" holding you back or stopping you from doing your job. (like Harley)

Now, Michael is going to be thrown off because he believes in romance. He was a happy family man before his sudden shift to a slasher.

It's because he cares about his family and loves that he can't help seeking them out, even though Myers will probably kill them at the end.

If you're in a relationship, he will feel betrayed by the sudden confession.

However, Myers wouldn't.

Myers *waits a few seconds before writing down* : "Alright. Good."

Michael is the heart and Myers is the knife.

But, the knife can be more understanding than the heart on rare occasions.

Besides, it would be another person he wouldn't worry about killing.

Brahms : "..."

Poor boy wouldn't know what to say.

It means no hugging, no hand holding, no sweet kisses ?

You would very sadly not be his type in a more-than-friends relationship, but he would support you nonetheless and be your friend.

But, you would have to expect some exceptions. He would sometimes hug you out of the blue and tell you things that may make you uncomfortable.

But, don't hold it against him.

It would be difficult for him to accept that you cannot have romantic feelings for anyone, but he would eventually get used to it and accept you nonetheless.

Norman : "Hello Aro, I'm Norm."

Norman would make sure to tell you that it doesn't change a thing.

He likes you. He likes you.

That you're aro or not doesn't matter to him, as long as you are a good friend and a hard worker.

He would support you.

Even though, he could sometimes forget.

Norman comes from an era where romance and good manners were almost worshipped.

His mother forced him to become the perfect gentleman, so he may sometimes act lost or confused around you.

But, give him time. He'll eventually figure it out.

Now that I think about it, Freddy might very well be aromantic.

He does have sexual wants, but he doesn't believe in love.

He believes in casual buddy-buddy sex.

Freddy *smirks* : "I mean..I ain't gonna kick you out because of it. Love is complicated. I understand."

Freddy would 100% go on a date with you and wouldn't make it weird. Congrats. You would hit it off pretty quickly.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 2017 #pennywise x reader #slashers #michael myers x reader #pennywise 1990 x y/n x pennywise 2017 #freddy krueger x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader #j x reader #the joker x reader #jason voorhees x reader #norman bates x reader #jack torrance x reader

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unforth · 1 year

Text

I've been trying for ages to figure out how to put something into words about The Youth In Fandom and I still don't think I've quite got it but I did reach an insight about it that I think is valuable enough that I'm gonna take a stab at writing it.

For starters, I want to make it clear, there is no "The Youth In Fandom Problem." Based on my efforts running the art sideblogs for danmei fandoms, I can say with a fair degree of confidence that a vast minority of people of all ages are antis, purity wankers, pro-censorship, ageist, etc. Even among people who mark their bios with their age, it's a shockingly low percentage of people under 18 who are being super weird about this stuff, and I think that's something a lot of older folks bemoaning The Younger Generation could stand to know and be reminded of. This isn't a majority, it's just a vocal minority, and tbh...that vocal minority has always been there, at least in my own fandom experiences.

That said, I've personally been the target of "y r u in fandom, old woman? Go take care of your kids!" bullshit, and yes it's definitely real and yes it definitely happens. (I am not old, I am not a woman, I was here before the people who said that to me were born, and I spend all the rest of my time taking care of my kids, so...).

All that introduction is to posit a theory:

The kinds of people who say "you should grow out of it, you're too old for fandom, etc." don't actually really...like what they like.

I know that sounds batshit. They're here blogging about it 24/7, of course they're obsessed! But I really genuinely find myself wondering...like...are they actually obsessed? Or are they just performing obsessed because that's what their peer group is doing? Are they just following along with their friends, mimicking their friends' enthusiasm, going with the flow because they're scared of what will happen if they say "actually I didn't think that show was very good"?

I ended up with this as a theory to posit because is to arrive at "you should grow out of it," you have to start with "I will grow out of it." And to get to "I will grow out of it," you have to start with "I may be into this now but I will definitely Change." And to get to "I will definitely Change," you have to start with the base assumption that loving certain types of media isn't just part of who you are, but rather a temporary persona you've assumed overlaying some deeper Self that will be revealed with time - or that's already been revealed and that you're deliberately masking for whatever reason.

Lemme put it less abstractly (but more longwindedly, lmao).

When I was 16, I was fucking terrified. There were all these things I loved - Star Trek, Hercules and Xena, Babylon 5, Slayers, Evangelion, Fushigi Yuugi, the Wheel of Time, many others - some I'd been into for years, some I'd only just discovered. And I looked at the adults in the world around me, who didn't sleep with stuffed toys, who got into long-term romantic and sexual relationships, who settled into careers that they stuck with for 20, 30, 40 years, who had heaps of responsibilities, and it was so frightening I literally had trouble sleeping at night. My senior year of high school, I trained myself to sleep with a pillow instead of a stuffie because "what would people in college think if they saw me snuggling a stuffed wolf?" That was something I was prepared to sacrifice to be An Adult (tm), something I was (irrationally) ashamed of, something that wasn't so much a part of my personhood that I couldn't give it up. When I left home to go to school at 17, I left my wolf at home. (I brought him with me a year later, and he's now on my bookshelf. Less disposable than 16-year-old me thought, as it turns out, but that's another story.) But there were things about myself I wasn't prepared to sacrifice to fit in during college. I still wore my Star Wars shirt. I still hung my anime posters. I still listened to J Pop. My roommate might judge me. My classmates might judge me. My professors might judge me. I didn't care. Loving those were part of who I was, and I wasn't prepared to give that up.

I found solace by looking at the adults in my life who hadn't had to give up their "childish fancies." I looked at my mother, who introduced me to Star Trek, and thought if she didn't have to stop loving Star Trek to be An Adult, then why should I? I looked at my grandfather, on whose bookshelves I first found the Lord of the Rings, and thought if he didn't have to give up LotR to be An Adult, then why should I? They might not wear fandom shirts, they might not go to conventions, they might not engage in the same way that I did, but they still loved these things, and it gave me hope.

When I was saw adults who still did fan things, who dressed how they wanted, who had cool hair styles or colors, who had tattoos, I thought "wow, what a cool person. I hope I get to grow up to be like them. I hope I'll be that comfortable in my own skin when I'm that age, because I'm sure not that comfortable in my own skin NOW."

I'll have to change in some ways - find A Career, figure out this "attraction" thing everyone keeps fucking talking about, buy a house, all the rest - but I'll be able to love the things I love.

I will still be "me" when I'm an adult, just Me-Plus-More.

I wanted to grow up to be that adult. I was prepared to take figurative arrows, to fight, to slog through, to retain the part of me that felt most valuable - my ability to love the things I loved without apologizing for it. And I knew I could do that, because I already had. Man, the shit people gave me in middle school for being an out-and-proud Trekkie? smh. It was baaaaad.

Time passes. Now I'm 40, and yes, I have changed. I've had more than one career. I got married. I figured out I never did have to figure out that "attraction" shit because I learned asexuality existed and. uh. Oh. I had children. I bought a house.

And I still have a bookcase of manga and I still have a Tumblr blog and I've found new fandoms - many, many new fandoms - nearly all for franchises that didn't even exist when I was 16 and so so scared that I used to literally break down and cry over the prospect of "having" to "give up childish things."

I got myself through on the belief that I'd still be me, and I was right. More than 20 years later, I AM still me.

And that's what leads me back to "why do The Youth think they'll age out of fandom?" And it leads me back to "I can only assume their fandom participation is mostly performative." Because look. This is who I was when I was 10 and read Lord of the Rings, and it was who I was when I was 12 and I started watching Star Trek when Voyager debuted, and it's who I was when I was 17 and I pulled an all-nighter to watch the second season of Fushigi Yuugi, and it's who I was when I was 21 and spent my birthday totally sober and gaming with my friends, and it's who I was at 26 when I got buried up to my eyeballs in Supernatural, and it's who I was at 37 when I watched The Untamed and knew as easy as breathing oh my god I've found the next obsession.

If it's an embraced, realized, adored part of your persona, there's absolutely no reason to think it's going to go away. And there's no reason nor need for it to. There are always gonna be people who judge others for having passions, and there are always gonna be people who embrace others for having passions, and you just gotta identify and avoid the former and find and adore the latter. If you're young, and you love fandom, and you're afraid you, too, will "have to" give up childish things...congratulations! You've got nothing to be afraid of! You never have to change that aspect of yourself!

But...I know these teens on Tumblr who are bullying others already know that because they can see us everywhere. And instead of going, as I did, "oh wow, those older people who still love the things they love are cool! how reassuring! I can be like them!" they think "EW OLD PERSON NOT ALLOWED THIS IS MY ROOM DO NOT ENTER."

And that's weird. When I try to think, "What kind of mentality would lead someone to feel that way, act that way, etc.?" I arrive at: being in fandom is something that they're embarrassed about. Something they're ashamed of, that they think is shameful. Something childish and therefore only for kids, even when the media they're a fan of is entirely made for and by adults. Something they think is made for them in that moment but that they'll be able to easily discard when they move on to more important parts of their lives. Something they know in their heart is transient. Something they're just doing because their friends are doing it.

That's when they'd think "why would an adult still do this?"

When it's something you "know" will be "just a phase," you don it like you don the identity of "high school student," something that'll get shucked a minute after graduation.

And while I found the idea of giving up fandom terrifying, I again can only assume that for these type of person, NOT giving up fandom becomes something terrifying. "Of course this is transient. Of course I'm going to change. I can't wait to change, I hate who I am now! Why did these so-called adults not change? Changing to not like this kind of thing is a sign of Maturity and Adulthood that I am eagerly waiting for, because I believe there's something wrong with being this way, and therefore I assume the adults I see doing this are immature, have something wrong with them, are childish, cannot be Doing Adulthood Right, because they didn't give up the thing."

"I know, in my heart, that I can't WAIT to change, so if they don't want to change, if they haven't changed, something must be wrong with them."

And don't get me wrong, I'm not saying this is the only reason. People are way too complex for there ever to be One Explanation Of All. I'm sure some of the teens who engage in ageist bullying just think they're ~cool~ and ~different~ and their name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way. Others are just uncomfortable with adults, with or without cause, and think "you don't belong in the same space as me." Some surely have drank the conservative kool-aid even as they've tried to change and are pantomiming the bullshit they were fed by those around them in new and unpleasant ways. Some think "this media was made for people like me and anyone who isn't like me can't possibly be engaging it in the Correct And Proper Way."

Some will grow out of it - out of fandom, or out of thinking that being an adult in fandom is wrong/bad/inappropriate/immature/whatever.

A few especially unpleasant ones...won't.

Unlike young!me, who looked at fannish grown ups and thought "wow, I could grow up to be like them, they're so cool!", you think "ew, I hope I don't grow up to be like them, they're so weird!"

And if that's you...why are you here?

If you don't actually like who are you when you're in fandom, that's okay. You don't have to stay. If you lose your friends because your interests change, then those friends stink and you didn't need them anyway; people who actually care about you will always keep by your side even if your interests and theirs diverge. But just cause YOU are performing your interest in fandom...doesn't mean the rest of us are. Some of us genuinely like it here. And you might think that's fucked up of us, but it's honestly none of your fucking business. You do what you gotta do to grow up, and leave the rest of us already-grown-ups alone.

And if you do genuinely love it and you're just scared because you think you'll have to change - that you'll reach some mystical age of majority and suddenly wake up a different person...you won't. For better and for worse, you'll still be you, so if there's things about yourself you don't like, it'd be better to start working on unpacking that psychological baggage now, because there's never gonna be a miracle point where you Feel Better And Like An Adult unless you put in the effort to change.

Teenagers...you will not grow up to be a new person. You will never give up who you are. You will grow up to be You-Plus-More.

And if that's something you hear and go "omg that's great news!" then I'm glad to be the one who told you. Take heart. There's hope. You can be you and that WILL be okay. You can face up to and grow from the things about yourself you don't like. You can learn more about yourself. You have time, and you will be able to improve yourself, to become more like the parts of yourself you like and less like the parts you hate.

And if that's something you hear and go "oh god no that's the worst" then you need to stare that reaction in the face and understand that the only way change is coming is if you make it happen for yourself. No one is strong-arming you into being a fan. If it's not for you...then stop. It's literally that easy. But don't take out your uncertainty and fear on other random people who are more comfortable with themselves than you are. Most of us are not here because of fear. We're here in the face of our fear, as a fuck you to our fear, because we also grew up being told we'd have to give up so-called childish things to be An Adult, and it turns out that was a pile of bullshit and we can have careers AND anime posters. And we can afford more anime posters, cause our parents are no longer telling us how to spend our money.

If your participation in fandom is primarily performative...just stop performing. Be yourself, and find your OWN passion, and stop shitting on the people who have managed to be more true to themselves and their own interests. You're not cool and edgy and different; you're just an asshole and a bully, and I pity you.

Anyway as you can tell from this rambly mess of a post, I haven't really gotten my finger on my point yet, but idk. I've been thinking about this and I think there's something there???

#unforth rambles #drama #hopefully now that I've written this I can finally get it out of my head #my posts like this pretty much always flop but that's okay #if it helped me think things out for myself #about why some people are Like That #then its job is done #anyway I wrote this post in between helping my daughter get dressed #and getting my son on the bus #and making tea #and straightening up the living room #and now i gotta start work in three minutes #the big difference between teen me and adult me is that now I have to fit the fanning into these miniscule windows of time #between all the More Important Things That Need Done #it's tiring but it's worth it

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mattypattypinky · 2 months

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Sometimes I worry that ppl judge me for self shipping w him and that popular 🌻 artists r gonna think I'm weird............ reblogging their shit constantly...

but then again like if they didn't like me reblogging their art they can just block me or tell me and i can block them, it's rlly not that deep??? I doubt ppl actually dislike me interacting w their art like rbs are a good thing right??? but then again idk. I guess it comes down to communication? like if they didn't like me they can tell me to stop interacting or block me. maybe ppl don't even dislike me and I'm just... coming up w a scenario in my head BAHAHAH😭

I'm just over complicating it sometimes in my head bc I am afraid of being unwanted and also slightly anxious about being a visible figure in the under.tale community bc like...yeeeeeeeeesh......

Especially since a lot of the fandom debates on his age and his sexuality and stuff. like I remember seeing that shit BLOW UP on twitter a few months ago.

Which like, to each their own, both hcs are not incorrect

if u hc him as a kid still or as aroace / loveless that's fine, like we all interpret him diff and I'm not gonna sit around and say the loveless thing is entirely incorrect / not canon

I'm just so worried abt like ppl w the opposite hcs or views coming at me since it has happened before on twitter and stuff I've noticed and it's frightening to see which is quite silly imo bc it's not like I'm like... committing a Heinous crime by fantasizing abt romantic dinner dates w a flower 😭

#mattypattypinkyposts #🌻💔#ruins romance

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avatarvyakara · 11 months

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Presenting the premier Addy Brock collection from Strands of Webbing!

Starting out with diversion of a canon event because, honestly, [bleep] that noise:

52. React

"DON’T!" she screams. But Ven#m is already halfway towards the M.O.R.B.I.U.S. device, a look of determination on its electronic inFace—

Until, with a grunt, all three point one five tons of SP//dr shoves the other mech out of the way of the beam of light just in time. A nearby building fuses into a twisted mess of metal and glass, like a Vonnegut crystogram.

"What the hell was that for?" comes the angry voice of Addy Brock from Ven#m's modulator.

"Rule number one on this team: you don't get yourself killed to prove a point!" snaps Peni.

Ven#m's inFace expresses strong shock.

"…we're a team?"

"I didn't say that."

That chirpy expression looks really weird in black and neon white. It probably doesn't help that the teenager inside has a much more…smug face, and that Peni can see both of them quite clearly.

"You implied it."

"Shut up. Now help me figure out this thing's weak spot. And don’t you dare die."

(Addy survives. But Peni's not sure, after the loud squeal at the end of the fight, whether her eardrums are going to last the week.)

60. Introductions

“You’re welcome to stay longer,” she tells Gray with a little hesitation, as they sit atop the New Chrysler eating putty-cakes from a street vendor below. “You could actually come over.”

His eyes shine, but his brow wrinkles—for once he’s got the mask off. He looks like Peter Parker. He looks nineteen. (Thirty. Eighty.)

“I don’t know if your folks would be okay with that.”

“You already met Addy.”

“Well, yeah.” Admittedly, she did threaten Gray with a fate worse than death and a mech. Neither of which seemed very effective to the other Spider, who had just laughed. One Saturday she’d be very happy to forget, honestly. (But he laughed, so there was some success that day.)

“I’ve been trying to explain this to them, the whole multiverse thing,” she says, and huffs. “They still think I’m crazy. Or that I’m lying and that I’ve actually just gotten myself some shady lowlife koibito to spite them.”

Gray’s face hardens. “If that word means what I think it means, then they should know way better.”

But it softens again when he looks at her. “But a six-foot-three-inch-tall nineteen-year-old with a face like a darned sock isn’t going to be much help to you, kiddo.”

“You’re literally from another dimension—”

“And I look scary. I won’t be making it easier for you on my own, not with how you say your aunt and uncle are. Maybe you can get Miles and Gwen in on this?”

She wants to protest, but then he says: “Maybe Ham and Peter too, Make an outing of it for the whole cluster. That way the others can distract them a little.”

“...I guess that makes sense.” He’s her best human friend, and she wanted to recognize that. But even so...maybe that would be better. She was able to pass off Miguel as a Mercurial pen-pal with a cosplay addiction (most Earthers will believe anything about the decadent and obscenely wealthy and more-than-slightly inhuman Spacers), but the rest are going to be harder—her black-and-white and cartoon counterparts especially. Telling the whole story, with proof, becomes easier if there are kids her age to help soften the blow. (Plus, Peter B couldn’t look threatening if he tried.)

Still.

“You’re not scary, though,” Peni insists. “Not to me.” She grins. “You’re too much of a dork for that.”

He squeezes her shoulder, and gives her a smile no less warm for being in monochrome. “Whereas you frighten the life out of me, doll.”

She hugs him. This time around, he doesn’t resist.

“...seriously, though, what’s in that crispy paste stuff?”

“Sun-fried seaweed, Mercury-style.”

“...it’s not too bad. Tastes kinda like latkes. Like a latke dough, but you can eat it.”

“It’s pretty good. My favourite’s yungay potato.”

“Ah, a lady of quality.”

She laughs at that.

80. Comrade

Adelaide Brock is fourteen when she makes her first two real friends. People who actually get it. Who understand the thrill of the ride, and the joy of the psychic link.

They have their differences, of course. Peni’s more of a drill sergeant in the field, always efficient, applying incredible precision. Addy’s always been more of a performer at heart, and her spider (her spider), Weying, seems to sympathize. Ven#m likes the spotlight, isn’t really up to just fighting and heading home, prefers to mug for the crowds and crow over a few muggers. (And occasionally fantasizes about trapping and eating the monsters they defeat like the oversized prey they are, but that’s spiders for you.) Maybe it’s showboating a little, but hey, if you have a ship, why not display it?

But at the end of the day...Peni saved her life. Soon after, she saved Peni’s. They’re a team. They’re actually talking. And she and Weying have been working together for ages now, and New York loves them. Life is good.

Now, if only Peni would actually let her know who she keeps talking to on that weird 2D group chat of hers...

170. Hardcore

“...until ultimate termination.”

Peni blinks.

“Are you sure we’re the same person?”

Other Peni rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Even if your SP//dr is a bit...”

“A bit what?”

“You know...impractical? For fighting bad guys?”

Peni frowns. “Mostly kaiju, actually.”

“You sit in a glass cockpit and punch giant monsters and somehow you’ve survived as SP//dr for...how long now?”

“Three years. How about you?”

“Two. ...oh, no, there is no way you’re older than me. You look twelve!”

“Uh...I’m sixteen.”

“Ah, Peni! I see you’ve met Peni?” says Ham, striding through the workshop with a sandwich and out the other side. “Have fun!”

“I guess,” mutters Other Peni.

“...Dad’s death still bothering you?”

“What? No, that was ages ago.” Other Peni sighs, which helps Peni feel less like yelling at her dismissive tone (which would be counterproductive). “Mostly it’s just the job. It...kinda grinds down on you after a while.”

“...I guess I can relate to that.”

Other Peni coughs. “So...you like listening to music while you work?”

Peni lights up. “Do I? Come on, let’s get the sound started. Have you heard anything by Karam Heiwa?”

For the first time in the entire conversation, Other Peni smiles.

“I can see you’ve got good taste.”

“It’s probably a Peni Parker thing,” says Peni, conversationally. “Gray’s stuck on swing, Peter B’s more Silver Age Electric, and Gwen’s into punk, but you just can’t beat KH for tunes to work with.”

Other Peni cautiously goes through the playlist on the holographic display, as though she’s worried about breaking something. Then her faces lights up.

“Hey, is this ‘Nuke-ular’? I haven’t heard this album in ages!”

...of course Other Peni would choose the most depressing song in the mix. Still, baby steps.

183. Talk

The first time Addy stops by the workshop when Other Peni is there, Other Peni is furious at Peni for suggesting she come and say hi. Genuinely furious.

The second time—after some prompting and a long discussion where Other Peni Parker cries for the first time Peni remembers—Other Peni is there to greet her.

“Uhhhh...Peni? Is that you? You look tired. And...older.”

“...hey, Addy. It’s me. This is gonna sound weird, but...I’m from another dimension and I just...kind of wanted to see you again.”

She sounds so tender.

Addy blinks.

“It’s okay,” says Peni, coming around to the front of the space. “She’s...a friend. Sort of. But you have to keep this a secret. This is beyond mech stuff, it’s insanely important. Swear?”

Addy nods, wide-eyed.

“Good! You two have fun!”

“Peni, you weren’t supposed to—” Other Peni growls, but Peni’s already wheeling herself out.

It should help. She knows it would help her. And she’s about 90% certain Addy will forgive her, and has fifteen different prospective options to hasten that process.

...figures that when she steps back in, Addy and Other Peni give her rather evil grins.

“You know,” says Other Peni casually, “the nice thing about being the same person? It means you’re already well aware of a fair few...embarrassing incidents.”

“...you didn’t.”

“Me? No, no. We just traded life stories. If they match up, it’s just a coincidence, right?”

Addy cackles.

“I’ve created a monster.”

“Aw, lighten up, Choking Hazard.”

“Adelaide Brock, you swore not to tell a living soul—”

“Actually I just said I’d only talk about it with you. And, well...”

Other Peni laughs.

(The sacrifices one makes for the good of one’s fellow Spiders...)

238. Rudolph

“If you think I’m missing this, Peni Parker, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Addy...I don’t know. I mean, yes, you got bitten, but...I’ve never met another Addy Brock out there. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Addy tosses her head back and offers her friend an easy grin. “Then I won’t get hurt. Simple as that. Trust me, Peni. I know when to pull back now.”

Peni sighs. “Fine. But be careful, right? Follow my lead.”

The red SP//dr enters the hole in space just before the black Ven#m does, and leads the way.

And on the other side—

“Hey!” calls Miles happily, coming over to meet them. “Glad you could make it!”

“...hi,” says Addy, blushing quite pinkly all of a sudden.

Peni rolls her eyes. “Excuse my friend. Addy, this is Miles Morales, Spider-Man. Miles, my best friend and coworker Addy Brock and her Spider Weying, alias Ven#m.”

“...how are you pronouncing that?” asks Ham. “Hey, I thought me and Mister Egg Cream over there were your best friends.”

Gray looks like he’s trying not to grin. Peni can feel a blush coming on herself. “I’ve got four best friends. Addy’s the only one you guys haven’t met yet.”

“Well, welcome to the team,” says Miles easily. “And Happy Hanukkah!”

(“Should I tell him you’re a Zuhariyya Muslim?”

“Nah, it’s okay.”)

297. Tea

“So, that’s one Earl Grey for Billy, one Boba for Peni, two Green for Hida and Other Peni, one Black for Cindy, one Lemon Grass for Roshni, and one Masala Chai for me,” says Pavitr, taking notes.

“I feel like we’re inviting stereotypes here,” says Roshni.

“I don’t reckon so,” Billy replies, preemptively reaching for the sugar.

“For Peter...coffee. And a reminder of what civilization looks like when you don’t commit blasphemy.”

Pauker glares. “I told you, that was in Boston!”

“And a Peppermint for Addy.”

On her shoulder, Weying the spider bounces excitedly.

“...no, Addy.” That’s from both Peni Parkers at the same time, exasperated in different ways.

“Aw, man...”

322. Mitosis

“Don’t count on it working,” says Other Peni. “And be careful.”

Peter cracks his knuckles.

“Just gotta give it the ol’ college try.”

And he walks up to the bulky form of Ven#m. Not as nice-looking as Addy’s, honestly. And a cannibal at that. Joke about it though he may, he doesn’t much like cannibalism.

Peter doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, but there’s always such a thing as giving it the ol’ college try.

(Granted, he never went to college.)

—what are you?—

“Me? I’m just a good buddy here to annoy you into spitting out my friend’s loved ones.”

The capsule opens, revealing a tangled mess of cable-like tentacles that snake towards him.

—is Peni so desperate that she’s sending in cartoons to aid in her futile endeavours?—

—hahahaa—

—don’t make me laugh, little piggy—

—we are Ven#m—

—what are you going to do?—

—“huff and puff and blow my house down”?—

Peter pulls out the giant horn his niece Dahlia sent back from a trip to Switzerland.

“Something like that, yeah.”

362. Celebrity

Do I get one? I get one! Wheeee! ...um. Sorry. Anyway.

My name is Addy Brock. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for five years I’ve been one third of the one and only Ven#m. I’m from New York in the year 3150, I have a psychic link with a spider who lives inside the robot I tried to take for a joyride when I was fourteen, and my best friends in the world are Peni Parker and Weying, the aforementioned radioactive spider.

Pretty sure you know the rest. Saved the city, mugged for the camera, saved the city again and again, had a hundredth-of-life crisis during which I, uh...we don’t really talk about that. (I’m banned from Greater Peru until I’m eighty-five, on a completely unrelated note.) But I got back up. Also, I met an alternate version of my best friend who lost her me and really needed someone to keep her laughing. And that’s me. Addy Brock, clown superhero extraordinaire. (Peter Parker? Never heard of him.) Peni may be the OG, but I’m the sequel that nobody knew they wanted but now can’t get enough of. I’ve even been to Mars on business—you know how difficult it is for an Earther to get direct to Mars, let alone for a job? Usually they hire local, or take on seasonal workers from the ecoships. This is big stuff.

...but at the end of the day, I love being Ven#m. And...I like having friends who get it. I got randomly assigned a last name matching my closest genetic relatives, but Peni and her Aunt May and Uncle Ben are the first real family I’ve ever actually had. So guess what? Ven#m is here to stay, with the Parkers, in the Republic of New York, on Earth.

As long as they’ll have me.

(“Well, then, looks like even reincarnation won’t be enough to let you get away, Addy.”

"And when they get sick of you, me and my aunt and uncle and Other Addy will take over."

“Aw, you guys. Peni Parkers? Ultimate upgrade in superhero mettle. Besides yours truly, of course.”

”How modest.”)

#spider verse #addy brock #peni parker #peter benjamin parker #spider man noir #sp//dr #venom #peter porker #addy x peni #if you squint #pavitr prabhakar #obligatory tea joke #(made PRE-movie thank you!)#strands of webbing #across the spiderverse #happy ending #non canon #because i said so #one shot collection

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