#HANDFULLS OF DIRT

[obstinaterixatrix]

so like you know this post

I really enjoy george hearn’s version of ‘epiphany’ in sweeney todd 1982, I think he does a great job with emotion, but jung han ryu amps up the emotionality to INSANE levels. he’s wailing, he’s shrieking, he is throwing himself at the ground, there’s this moment where like. if you’re familiar with the lyrics at all, there’s a certain action that corresponds to a certain lyric that’s pretty astoundingly staged. for epiphany the timestamp is 1:15:05. but honestly watch the entire sequence from pretty women, the way this production builds to the climax of the song is REALLY something

oh my god someone uploaded korean sweeney todd 2007 to yt. listen to me. what you need to do is, if you're not going to watch the whole thing, at LEAST go to around an hour in and watch the sequence of pretty women to epiphany to a little priest, you HAVE to watch the entire 20ish minute sequence. then you need to click the link to act 2 and if you're not going to watch the whole thing AT LEAST go to around 15 minutes in to watch by the sea (this is actually my favorite performance of by the sea FOR REAL) and then skip to 52 minutes in and watch pretty women (reprise). you have to do this.

[gil-notskajla]

AUs were meant for independent fanworks by fans who cant coordinate and agree upon all details like a studio or singular author would. They weren't meant for corporations.

[yetistaysilly]

you think they eat dirt together?

[torturedpcets]

i love having relationship trauma

[sardonic-the-writer]

—keep playing please

SUMMARY | you've never liked storms. thank god for your weird neighboor and his impromptu band sessions

PAIRING | platonic tommy & wilbur x reader

REQUESTED | no

WARNING | reader doesn't do well with storms, hints at a sad past

WORD COUNT | 2.7k+

AUTHORS NOTES | a rewrite of this fic from almost over a year ago. tagging @lyssys @zooone @beep-beep1

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The walls in this place had always been too thin.

Apartments in Brighton normally had that one thing. That one tiny thing that made the picture perfect abode completely dog shit. You had learned that your first couple months after moving out. No matter now completely sound something may seem on paper, theres always going to be something to ruin it. Whether that be leaky pipes, no hot water, or an elevator that doesn't work. In your case it just happened to be paper fucking thin walls.

The fabric of the small couch you were attempting to sleep on had been rubbing up against your skin nonstop for the past sleepless hour. It was rough and smelled like every dingy bar you had to pass on the streets just to get back home from the train: cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol.

Unsent emails lie dormant on your flickering computer screen, the failing power curtosy of the storm wailing outside.

It, being the email, detailed your heated resignation from your dead-end job. An effort that had taken weeks of deleting and typing. Deleting and typing and deleting and typing until the print on your keyboard had been faded to a nothing but a distant memory. Maybe if one were to squint hard enough, they would see the letter a or f on there somewhere.

The device sitting no less than a couple of yards away might as well be halfway around the world in the great planes of Africa, too far from your reach for you to even consider getting up. Everything seemed like that nowadays, actually. There, but not really.

The sound of something shrill made you flinch. Was someone attempting to run a bar of metal through a cheese grater? Oh, right. That was just the sound of the window panes being thrust up against your brick walls. Normally, one would assume that having thin walls is where the misfortune regarding a shitty apartment would end. But apparently having only two windows, both as brittle as the expired candy you received from your batty grandma on the holidays, came part and parcel with it.

But none of that would matter—not a single email, or the lack luster walls, or even the window—would matter. If it wasn't for the tear tracks on your face.

Anyone who knew you even remotely well would have spotted something wrong the moment they entered your apartment. No, it wasn't the handfull of tissues that had missed their goal of the mini trashcan sitting by your side. No, it wasn't the pair of pajamas you hadn't changed out of in two days time. It was where you were sitting.

Ever since your days as a child, when your biggest woes were but an ice cream cone dropped in the dirt, the couch had always been the place to go when the familiar sting of tears rose. It was where the last happy memories of your family resided. And you knew it was stupid to hold onto something that had since fallen to peices, but humans had always been sentimental like that. And what were you if but just a human.

Every time a storm came in you would get like this. It would all surface until that same spot on the couch—propped between two pillows and enveloped with a heavy blanket—was taken up. By you, an echo of the person who had once been bright. Filled with the daydreams of the road ahead of you.

But you knew now those roads just led straight back to where you were now. With emails that would never be sent sitting across from you as you cried for reasons you couldn't explain.

As yet another round of bright electricity struck the ground outside your window, a new sound drifted through the air and into one of your ears. Slow at first, but growing bit by bit until it was enough for your eyebrows to furrow together.

It was a soft melody. Very out of place in your current situation. You felt like you should've watching a symphony from afar while hearing that tune; not wasting away on your couch in the dead of night.

A warm voice accompanied it as well, along with the slow sound of a steady drumbeat. It cut through the next round of earth shattering thunder like a hot knife in butter, dulling the anxiety provoking noise.

With trepidation, you found yourself propping your knees up on the couch, leaning your ear against their living room wall. It was something straight out of a cliche movie—children spying on their parents for instance. It was a poor attempt to be able to hear the weak music better, but for once, you were aiding the opportunity given to you by the poorly built walls.

With the peeling paint of your cheap apartment wall scratching at your ears skin, you were just in time to catch the tail end of the song.

The music was so much clearer now. Crisp, refreshing. Soothing. Before it was similar to the sound of water dripping from a leaky faucet. Now it was a roaring river, washing over you in waves. Bringing a smile to your cheeks that were still stained pink with streaks of salty tears.

You were drowning. Drowning in the lyrics, drowning in the beat, drowning in the utter joy that resonated through nothing but a few musical notes placed in an orderly fashion.

But then, just like that, it ended.

And you were left alone with the weather once more.

Why were you here again?

That's the only thing that came to mind as you adjusted the blanket on your shoulders. Hoping that you didn't look like that homeless person on the corner near the grocery store. A hesitating hand drew itself up to the doors scuffed surface, knocking timidly once, twice, three times before falling limply to your side.

Some shuffling came from the other side of the door. It was hard to tell, but you thought you heard a couple people laughing—one of the people's laughter being louder than the rest, if you could even call it that. Sounded more worthy of the title of a shout. Or perhaps even a wheeze.

The fact was, your head was simply too filled with thoughts. All of them whirling around in a tight blend of anxiety and fear to completely notice the sounds of joy. Why had you left your apartment? For a song you had thought was nice? You didn't even know these people and vice versa. So why in the absolute hell were you practically standing on their doorstep just to hear more of that music.

Your posture automatically straightened as the door cracked open. Light spilled from it, more noise accompanying the action. To say you were a little grateful for the change in atmosphere, from a dingy communal hallway to a slightly less dingy communal hallways, would be an understatement.

"Hey! What d' ya need mate?"

The boy (or man, it was hard to tell. He had a very childlike quality to him) currently standing in front of you was the epitome of everything you weren't.

He had on a turquoise jumper with simple black trousers. A design of stick people decorated with muted colors had been printed loosely on the front. Tousled and wrinkled to the moon and back, it looked like he'd had quite the night. Overall, the guys' clothes looked well worn and loved.

His face was set with a gentle and caring look, a wide smile pulling it all together. He was staring straight at you, his piercing baby blue eyes making it seem like he was looking right through you and into your soul. A light dusting of rosy pink complemented his cheeks, blonde hair tucked behind his ears and falling into his eyes with a slight tickle. If you had any money to bet with at that moment you would have placed it all on the notion that this was the person with the loud laugh you'd heard moments before. Certantly seemed cherry enough for it.

"Yeah, hey." You tried your best for a smile. Something that seemed a bit easier than a few moments ago. "I'm the person who lives a door down, and I couldn't help but hearing the music. Because for some reason I'm still awake tonight. At one in the morning." The last part was a bit quieter, more of a mummble to yourself than him.

Immediately, your words seemed to embarass him, his ears flaming up something ferice as he nervously laughed.

"Oh! Oh yeah, so so sorry about that. We were just having a laugh and playing around, didn't mean to disturb you at all really. I can tell then to quiet down or something if that's what you nee—"

"No!" Your hands froze in mid air as you cut him off. "No, please. I actually came to ask if you lot could keep it up? I have trouble desling with storms, and my walls are really thin, but the musics good and it's a nice distraction."

Blue eyes cautiously tracked your movement as you folded in on yourself a bit, inwardly cringing at oversharing with a total stranger. Your self loathing only increased as he held up a single finger to you as if to say 'hold on', before poking his head back through the door behind him, yelling a few inaudible things back and fourth with someone before returning back to you.

"Uh, hey, what's your name?" He asked you, voice as soft as before. You hesitated for a moment, eyes sunken and lips dry, before answering.

"It's (Y/n)."

"Mines Tommy." The person now known as Tommy smiled. You attempted once more to mirror the look, but it felt less like mirroring and more genuine. As if just sharing a moment with an old friend. He brightened up at that, still maintaining a carefree posture.

"Why don't you come in?" Tommy glanced behind you as if looking for more people but stepped back with the same warm smile to open the door. "You look like death, and I'd rather not have Wil's nice neighbor fall dead at his doorstep. Bad for clout."

"Gee. Thanks." You chose to retort instead of asking who Wil was, following after his laughing figure into the new environment. You had been right about earlier. He was the one with the loud laugh—looking like he was about to double over with the way he practically lost control of himself. Something about that made you chuckle yourself.

Walking through a much brighter lit halfway, you followed Tommy until the thin room opened up into a much larger one. What you assumed would be the living room, although right now it looked more like a music studio. Inside were more people, all of them situated in a sloppy semi circle.

There were about four of them, each sitting by different instruments and laughing. All were men and had a scruffy look to them. Like they were scuffed around the edges, but if you pried hard enough, you could find their soft center.

Tommy looked over at you while you were still taking in the sight. He watched as your pupils adjusted to the new setting, glancing back at him as if silently asking what you were supposed to do now.

"These guys are my friends, it's okay." He leaned over to whisper at you in a tone that was a tad bit to loud to be a wisper. You got the feeling he wasn't that good at being quiet.

"Stay here for a moment. I'm going to go talk to them." He told you before walking off.

Tommy walked up and started talking, something that you couldn't hear from where you were standing. He was using wild hand gestures, and every once in a while the people he was talking to would glance behind him at you. When they noticed you staring right back, each would just offer a wave or smile before looking back at Tommy with a more serious expression.

After what seemed like forever, Tommy turned back around to start walking to you. But this time the four other people trailed after him like ducklings, all of them looking at you with eyes that crinkled together at the edges. Almost as if happy to see you.

"Okay (Y/n)," Tommy clapped his hands together, and noticing how you jumped at the suprise, lowered them back down while mouthing an apology. One of the guys socked him on his arm playfully, causing Tommy to glare at them before looking back at you.

"These are my mates. They wanted to meet you, the praiser and five star reveiwer of my music that happens to be Wil's neighboor." One of them hit him in the arm again with a laugh as they explained to Tommy in a playfully condescending way—like a teacher explaining something to a child—that it wasn't his music. They just received a raspberry from Tommy before he began to introduce them one by one.

The first was Ash. He had on a red beanie that went together quite well with his chunky glasses. Along with his scruffy mustache—that you thought was rather impressive—and chill nature, he could have easily been mistaken as someones laid back roommate from university. A vibe you much appreciated. He offered you a polite tip of his hat and a greeting while balancing a sleek guitar on his hip.

The next to be introduced was a fellow named Joe. He had a large smile and waved at you swiftly. His sandy blonde hair and beard made him look older than he actually was, but giving off a homey vibe all the same. He was the shortest of the group, which was like saying he was the dumbest scientist to work at nasa. They were all giants compared to you.

Then was the next man. His name was Mark and he looked quite similar to Joe. Both had sandy blonde hair and a beard, yet Mark's face was a bit rounder. He also happened to be a few inches taller than the previous member. He didn't say much when Tommy gestured in his direction, just stuffing his hands in his pockets and awkwardly smiling.

"—and that's Wilbur. Wil. Soot. Soot man. Sooty boy." Tommy finally finished speaking, pointing at a brunet with a baseball cap on while dragging out different versons of his name. He just got an eyeroll in response, much different from the soft smile that was tossed your way by Wilbur.

Looking back at you with wide eyes and an expective grin, Tommy spoke directly to you this time.

"Whatcha think?" He boasted with his hands on his hips. "Are we cool or what?" A small smattering of laughter from the boys behind Tommy followed the blonds words as they tried to deny it, doing a very poor job considering you did somewhat agree with Tommy. I mean, you had shown up on their doorstep and all.

You paused.

"You're all too fucking tall." You finally relented with a head tilt, bouncing you eyes from one person to another till they had circled back to Tommy with a glint he couldn't decipher. But something told him it wasn't anything bad. Not like the state he had just seen you in a few moments ago.

He felt his heart swell in the slightest bit for no reason at your words. That was evident enough with the way he bounded over to you to wrap an arm around your shoulders. Wilbur chided him slightly for the sudden action, telling him to give people space like they had talked about, but you just laughed. Feeling like this would become a regular occurrence.

You had a feeling you were going to be spending a lot of time with this new group. That's one thing for certain.

[juggalomary]

did yall miss me. i hope you did bc im returning with a bang. anyways here’s this. warnings: mcd, child abuse. up on ao3 within a few days

A new day, a new disaster, that’s what soap would say. He was always an optimist. Never heard saying anything about how they were likely going to die on suicide missions. Even though it was so valiantly obvious. He has to be watching from his overwatch position right now.

Ghost was glad to have him on his 6. They’d been switching places more often, soap on overwatch and sniping the people trying to end his life. He never called out to him about these people. Sometimes they’d just end up dead.

He always knows it was soap though, who else could do that so accurately. Soap was the best of the best. He’s not going to let ghost die. He’s not that selfish, never was.

Soap was the best of the best, most morally sound. He held his religion above many temptations. Infil was filled with chatter most of the time, except for soap, running his thumb over rosaries and whispering to a power long forgotten by the other men.

Exfil, a shell shocked soap would sit silently, or wail for not his mother, or ghost, but for someone, god maybe, to end his suffering. He was already going to hell, that’s what a priest told him at 15. He confessed and was told his punishment.

Never repeating that confession to anyone else, in fear of rejection. At 16 he carried his older cousin's casket in between the pews of that same church. He got home and told to man up. He turned 17 and enlisted.

That led to right now, soap covering his 6 and ghost shouting for help. A bullet lodged into his spine, blood gushing from the wound. His screams would’ve revealed his position if he cared anymore. There was no way he would get out of this. He just needed to get to a position he could radio to exfil from.

The enemy must’ve heard his screaming for Johnny, there was no response from soaps end. He must’ve been comprised.

The thundering footsteps we’re getting louder needed to move.

He pulled his hands above his head, chin resting on the ground. Looking up from under his eyebrows he saw about 20 meters until cover.

Pushing his arm to unbend he grabbed for purchase on the grass. He needed to pull himself forward to get to cover. His legs proving useless he grabbed a handful of grass and pulls. It rips.

He keeps trying to pull himself forward, but with every futile grasp comes a handfull of dirt and roots. The footsteps grow louder. He can’t die like this.

He screams in pain and frustration. Johnny is comprised, he’s comprised. It’s a solo mission, he needs to call exfil there’s no price here to scoop his useless self off the floor. He could cry. He won’t cry.

He grabbed a rock and pulled himself forward a foot. That’s okay, he’ll to cover soon. He’ll stay awake, he’ll stay strong. He will not cry.

Another idea comes to mind. He pulls 2 knives from his kit and stabs one into the dirt to use as a sort of handle.

One foot at a time he drags himself to the tree line. Sitting up to access his radio he leans on a tree.

He calls laswell. He needs exfil. He needs to leave. He’s losing blood, but he can’t feel it, he’ll pull through.

His eggs were twisted in horrible ways, he didn’t feel that pain, but he also couldn’t move them. He’ll be okay, he can just rest his eyes for a few minutes. His eyes were far to tired.

Nothing from soap. Nothing from laswell, there’s no point in staying awake, he’ll wake up to the radio transmission.

His eyes fall open again.

“-nom, SIMON! COME IN!” A young woman was on the other side of his radio.

“Mom? Mom I’m scared, I don’t want you to leave me here with him again.” It seemed he was crying.

“Simon who’s there, I’m coming, we need to know where you are.”

“Mommy I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’m in the woods mom. Please don’t let him find me. He had a bat mom.” Drearily weeping through the radio was not something that elete SAS lieutenants do. But his mom was back, he missed her so much.

She tried her damn best, especially since he was stuck with his bummy ass father. She tended to his wounds whenever she was sober. She took beatings for him when he was too young to know he’s a man and he should be taking it. She wiped his tears whenever he came crying. Somehow it wasn’t enough.

He still had his tooth knocked out, he still was given drugs before he realized what they were. He still had to see that sex worker die. He still has to kiss that snake.

Haven forgotten about that snake until right now the hissing in his ear was not of any relief. It should’ve, it would mean his radio was working. His hands were too heavy to really hit the button to turn it on though.

Tears were not allowed though. The snake was in his ear, not biting his lip, his mom was talking to him. And Johnny would be back soon.

“Ghost, Simon, do you copy.”

“Mom I’m not alone anymore”

Crunching could he heard, a dark figure approaching him. He had a pistol. He shot the gun, but the bullet shot right next to his ear. He let himself relax, foolishly.

The man in front of him was his father, but his face was skewed. One part of it was his father, and the other half was of price. The side with price reached out and told him to calm down and stay awake. Then price was gone and it was just his father.

He was screaming, not Simon, Simon would recognize who was screaming and it wasn’t himself. A blow landed on his head, he saw it but didn’t feel it. His father was standing there, his mouth was moving but he wasn’t saying anything. Then he hissed like a snake. Mouth open he saw the snake that bit him all those years ago, he started screaming for real this time.

The snaked closed is mouth and then said something in Spainish. This man was none other than a cackling manual roba. Scalpel in one hand he laughed. The scar on his ribs flared up as he was called every insult under the sun. He was told to not fear as, it would feel so nice soon.

Turning his head out of the grasp roba has on his face he was met with Vernon’s rotting skeletal face. There was dirt in his eyes, ears, mouth, nose. He was buried.

“GHOST!”

“Mom? Save me.”

“Ghost who’s with you right now.”

He opens his eyes, praying he can see at the end of this all. Scratched corneas would end his career, and his career is all that he had left.

In front of him, soap was sitting, thumbing his rosaries and mumbling a prayer. Without greeting he looks up. “Simon, I’ve missed you.”

“Ghost. I repeat, who is with you?”

“Johnny. Bye mommy, I’ll see you soon.”

With his final goodbye to the only person to truly love him, he can rest.

“Simon, I loved you too.” A Scottish lilt was the last thing he heard before the world went silent. He laid his head on the tree and closed his eyes. He hoped that Johnny was in the next 7 minutes. And price and Gaz. Maybe he can finally see them again too. Laswell will join them at some point. Then they can meet her wife. Maybe she’ll have kids after retirement.

He hoped he was happy.

-

Ghost was found 2 days later. Soaps rosary in his pocket and tear tracks running down his face wiping off the eye black.

Task force 141 was together, earthly and in spirit. Buried in the national cemetery one next to the other.

[lyman-garfiel]

new gameshow where you show people fanart of dan howell, light yagami and michael afton and the contestant has to guess who's who. they can win a handfull of dirt OR a chuck e. cheese themed jeep

[twofacecreations]

I've had a recent MHA idea in my head that I'd love to see as either a short story or a comic. If I have time I may end up drawing some skits.

Basically Izuku would have a moss quirk. This would basically make him a living mass of moss, fungi, and other plant matter with a soil core. He would look entirely human unless injured or eating. Although his skin would feel like soft beds of moss, when under stress it can cause rashes similar to poison Ivy.

He's capable of photosynthesis thanks to his green hair, but is incapable of ingesting normal food. Due to water and nutrients needing to be obtained through soil, he is capable of storing soil inside his body. Rather than having any type of organs , he uses the soil in a similar way to a digestive track. His mouth acts as a direct entrance and exit to his soil, and pouring water into his mouth allows him to water said soil. The same works for food.

As he is a moving plant rather than a stationary one, he would need to photosynthesize in peak conditions constantly to keep up with his body's demands. Due to this, he would not be able to 'digest' anything that would take a long time to decompose, as that is the only way for him to draw nutrients from his body soil. To combat this, he can either reject the nutrient deficient soil and replace it with fresh compost, or ingest decomposing mater. Constantly dispelling and ingesting bacteria rich soil; aswell as feasting continuously on decomposing animals, coffee grounds, rotting fruit, etc, would allow for him to remain active, provided there is enough sunlight. A high powered glow light is very sufficient at ensuring his high light requirements are met.

Personality wise, I think this quirk would affect him a lot. Not a lot of energy would be stored for processing, and would rather go into ensuring he has the correct conditions to live. Due to this he would likely remain slow moving and slow processing despite his intelligence, only moving quickly in the case of imminent danger or fresh food. This would make talking low on the priority scale and considered a waist of precious energy.

His social life would be near zero, no one wanting to hang around the kid that regularly feasts on road kill. But this would also lead to physical bullying being avoided out of pure disgust, even Bakugo flinching away from possible contact.

I'm just imagining him becoming one with the forest floor, shoving handfulls of dirt in his mouth, and getting reprimanded for feasting on roadkill Infront of scared pedestrians lol

[shrunkupthejams]

hey! it's been a hot minute and my writeblr intro could use some refreshing, so here we are!!

my name is achilles! im 18, and im a hobby writer. im in university right now, but i still try to make time to write when inspiration strikes! just here to share my stories, have fun and goof around! my target audience is always, first and foremost, myself.

my favourite things to write are high fantasy and world building!! mostly, my stories all take place in the same universe, an archipelago on a planet named dirt. in my works, i like exploring trauma, sappy fluff, and unconventional relationships.

when it comes to storytelling formats, i'm most often just holding handfulls of writing snippets and hoping for the best while i piece them together. i tend towards short stories, or short story collections, though most of my works will probably become novels or novel series. (im just a bit allergic to structure.) (though, i think i might just hate chapters.)

i also dabble, just a little and very self-indulgently, in fanfiction! inspiration for fanfiction tends to strike me very randomly (in frequency and in content), though i do have a few small finished fanfics! fanfiction is actually what got me into writing, way back in middle achool. it's all very much an exercise in cringe and heartfelt silliness for me.

with my wips, i tend to bounce rapidly all over the place and not get much done for it, but here's what i've been working on! some old (since middle school!!), some new!! (for my sanity and the sake of the length of this post, none of my fanfic wips will be included in this list.) (however, i refuse to exclude any of my original wips, so buckle up!! there are a LOT.)

working title: camilla marie & co.

the gist: what starts as a sort of chosen-one magic school shenanigans becomes a wild goose chase around the archipelago of dirt when camilla is taken by the knights of the capita. a high-fantasy coming of age story about chosen family, fate, and figuring out who you are in the face of adversity and others' expectations.

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working title: double a batteries

the gist: an accident that leads to kesh discovering they have superpowers turns their life upside down. a sci-fi/fantasy story that explores morality and familial obligations.

related aus: the adventures of jet astriak, jaiw au

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working title: isr: afters

the gist: two childhood friends, moriah and charo, reunite years later after becoming affiliated with the same magical gang. explores parental issues, with a healthy helping of childhood friends to lovers, organized crime, and vague religious trauma.

related aus: moriah & the greasters, cutiepete future au

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working title: shielda x dlade

the gist: follows the relationship between shielda, a reluctant chosen one, and her friend sabine as her newfound status moves her up through the ranks of iroma's military. explores intimacy and the line between right and wrong.

related aus: théqet & ardain, apartment neighbours modern au

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working title: seeing ghosts

the gist: when rea moves to calderine city to finish her practicum, she isn't really looking to make any friends or connections, not even with her very sweet new roommate, madden. but when she begins to be physically haunted by ghosts of her past, she is forced to learn to trust and rely on the people in her life, madden included. a fun little exploration in being haunted by your past (physically), self-sufficiency borne of trauma, and intrusive thoughts, maybe.

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working title: nnsei

the gist: existing on the fringes of the teenage academy population in their own ways, victoire, félix and aeliane all have their own problems in addition to clawing their way through their last year of school. victoire won't stop exploring the catacoumbs below the academy, even at the risk of his own health and safety; aeliane is still grappling with the trauma of her mother drinking herself to death; and félix, well, félix won't ever tell his friends what's going on behind that ever-present smile, but rumour has it his sister was offered up as a blood sacrifice in a solar cleansing ritual a few years ago. and in addition to all that, there might just be something sinister going on behind the closed doors of the academy, especially if the monsters stirring in the catacoumbs are anything to go by.

related aus: the sacrifice of brinelle somer

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working title: of sea jewels and great lords

the gist: after being tasked to find a group of missing villagers, geo finds themself responsible for imprisoning chad, a lackluster, troublemaking magician beneath a mountain. the trouble is a) finding such an uninhabited mountain, and b) travelling with said troublemaking magician. the trouble is also a third secret thing: the choice between duty and love once geo finds themself falling for chad against all odds.

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working title: as cherry wine

the gist: rosy is killed the night before she is due to return from her bride's pilgrimage to marry leisel. she awakes as a vampire and is forced to reconcile with her new identity and eventually, to reconcile her relationship with her former fiancée, who still believes her dead.

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working title: waldosia

the gist: after seven years at sea, wallie fischer, the last person shia wants to see ever again, returns to their hometown and all the things he left behind with a warning for shia of an imminent threat to their smuggling outfit and loved ones. shia is forced to work with wallie against the threat, but they can't seem to let the past rest, especially given they had been wallie's fiancé before his abrupt departure seven years before.

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working title: bentley

the gist: how bentley met her wife, and how her loss led bentley's descent into madness and misfortune. (could probably be considered an au off of waldosia)

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working title: giselle & darius

the gist: not long after her marriage to darius, the vampire king, giselle decides she must get her hands on the crown, through any means necessary. *any* means. (could be considered au of [REDACTED] <- literally the only thing i will ever fuss abt spoilers for lol)

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working title: timekeeper kiddos

the gist: the life and times of oaken and her friends, beginning with their discovery of a door between worlds that takes of the appearance of pvp battle arena, where they take on the roles of otherworldly deities called 'timekeepers'. when the lines between reality and the arena begin to blur and people begin to get hurt, they're forced to figure out how to send the timekeepers back to their own reality. beyond that, the web that connects these six friends, and chaz, flows them through adulthood, as they go their separate ways.

related aus: jungho at psu au

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working title: jmg

the gist: when enki and akira fight to help sora and his siblings escape their abusive and negligent father, they're surprised to learn sora has been dead the entire time.

[☆ intro post]

working title: cymothoa exigua/modern au

the gist: a tragedy about socio-economic and individual power, gender roles, and self-censorship; leaving behind the rigid expectations of a conditional parental love, only to leave yourself behind in the pursuit of romantic love. despite getting out of the negligent household of his childhood with several of his siblings in tow, zenith fails to escape the patterns of his parents, repeating his mother's sacrifice of individuality for love.

[☆ intro post] (none yet!)

☆

[spooxbeatz]

1! 29! and 58!

Ooo you picked some good ones 😁

1) Top 10 favorite songs of all time

[ IN NO ORDER ]

Movements - Dailily

Movements - Fever Dream

Emmure - We Were Just Kids

Emmure - E

Metallica - Orion

Metallica - One

Metallica - Seek & Destroy

LXST - Last Time

Notorious BIG - Who Shot Ya

Couldnt pick the last one but any song by A Tribe Called Quest…im super big on old school hip hop / funk / soul but also enjoy switching to metalcore, punk, hyperpop, midwest emo, grunge, and even EDM.

29) A song that reminds me of a loved one

Puño de Tierra by Ariel Camacho, reminds me of being back home in Mexico, in my ( biological dad’s ) grandpa’s party store. He was the closest thing i ever had to a father figure growing up, matter of fact he’s the reason i’m even here in the States. I fucking cried my little heart out when i learned he died. Miss you everyday gramps..one of the bars in the song goes “ the day i die, i cant take anything with me, so enjoy life, because it can change in an instant, whatever happened in this world only memories remain, when i die all i’m taking with me is a handfull of dirt ” brings a tear to my eyes everytime..

58) Do I judge people based on their music preferences?

NO. I dont judge people regardless. I DJ and make music so in order for me to get bookings i have to have an open music catalog, and i think honestly thats the best way to be, just be open minded. You never know you could come across ALOT of underrated and underappreciated talent out there, but if you limit yourself to one type of music style, you’ll limit yourself to what you can find.

[makes-her-sick]

I like throwing handfulls of dirt at kids its my passion

[bewwy]

I'll post a fic Wip here

Sumarry: Phil is haunted by a ghost long dead.

It was a warm sunny day, the kids were rough housenig in the flowers, Tallulah throwing a handfull of dirt at Chayanne, and he jumping on her as revenge.

It was a good day.

The wind ruffling the leaves, and mixing with the laughter of his kids, Phil closed his eyes to enjoy the sun.

But doing so, brought back the memories of the previous morning. It wouldn't leave his mind, the purple crystals shinning in the darkness of the main room, guiding him trough his home. In to the aquarium waters.

It sends a shiver trough his spine, and Philza shakes himself off, rising from the ground and walking to his children, black spots dancing across his vision and the chill holding steady against the sun.

The kids notice him aproach, and Phil tries to smile away the unconfortable feeling, their squeels of laughter and joy acting as a sword, cuting away the memories.

"You little shits enjoying yourselfs?" Both

covered head to toe with mud smile proudly. "I'll need to make you new clothes! Cuse those rags are gonna be sprouting weeds at this point."

"Stop with the drama papa" Tallulah rolls her eyes after the sign.

"We reuse resycle and Rihanna in this house" Signed Chayanne

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Phil weezes out a laugh. "Alright, bath time you too! Go home and get washed, I'll meet you there with some new clothes."

The kids pick themselves up, with Tallulah trowing herself in to his pants, leaving a stain shapped tallulah in it.

"Tallulah! Oh my god. Now I'll need a new pair as well! Uhg.." Philza complains lightly. "Come on both of you! Get going!"

And the kids do, Tallulah warps first, and Chayanne gives a wide grin as he teleports away trough the purple particles.

Fuck...

Fuck him.

It's actually pathetic, the simple color of the particles, brings back all the bad fellings with it. Really, it's quite impressive.

Philza closes his eyes again, trying to take a deep breth and center himself, he sees his kids, just a warp away, and hears laughter. It's not - it's not his kids laughter though.

It's mocking, amused even, as if finding the actions of a stranger perplexing, but comedic. It's so close too, it sounds like it's inside of his ears, and yet so far away, muffled by a indiscribable distance.

He opens his eyes. It's coming closer.

Phil looks across the field and sees nothing, only the overturned dirt and scattered flowers, some unfortuned crushed petals in the ground by his feet, it's pink, but the edges are burnt due to the direct sunlight.

As he looks at the crushed flowers, purple particles appears at the cornner of his eye.

How long has Phil been standing there? Is it Chayanne? Wondering why he hasn't come back yet? But he did say he was gonna do something first, didn't he?

He turns around.

There is no one there, but the laughter seems closer, less muffled.

He needs to go, Phil will let them borrow one of his shirts, but he needs his kids back. Now.

He grabs his warp stone, holds tightly in his hand, and thinks of home. Phil & Missa. Phil & Missa. Phil & Missa. Phil & Missa.

Why isn't he porting?

[lazyloanshark]

Magic Item: Ground of Lyft

Eating this handfull of dirt doubles your carrying capacity for 1 hour

Cursed variant: Halves your carrying capacity for 1 hour after

[funkysocksandboots]

« There is no ethical consumption under capitalism »

Oh yeah? How about I shove a handfull of dirt in my mouth

No capitalism there my boy

[kaleidoscopr]

List of tasty snacks for girls

o Dirt

o ✨Asbestos✨

o human heart

o Ibuprofen 🌈🌈

o Rocks and Lava

o handfull of Table Salt

o Eb Major Scale

o The Wild Wild West

[rozugold]

im tryna catch up with the protégé tommy au but its alot to swallow, could u give a rlly quick summary (like a handfull of sentences if possible) of where it takes place/what happens? /nf of course!!! i can always look myself if thas too much to ask :))

Aaaa imma try-

Painted illusions starts at the end of exile, Dream comes back just in time to see Tommy on the dirt tower. He brings him down and takes him to the big finale mountain to set up base. Tommy emotionally shuts down after his attempt and Dream uses this to get him to join his side under the guise that Dream will help Tommy get back to his normal self. From then on he assists Dream in his evil endeavors, he builds the underground bunker, steals the axe of peace, and sets off the tnt machines during Doomsday. Dream then gives Tommy the biggest task yet, to kill Tubbo and rid of his last attachment.

Spoilers for if you’re not done with the disc confrontation comics!

Currently we’re in the healing arc/season 3. Tommy now lives with Tubbo in Snowchester for the time being and is trying to learn how to be his own person again. He’s also trying to figure out how to deal with the guilt he feels over helping with the destruction of L’Manburg, and how to deal with the burden of having the revival book knowledge that Dream made him memorize.

Also! The green tinted comics are during Dream’s rule while the red tinted comics are after Dream’s death (so Tommy’s rule)