#Who was on the other side of the phone?

[d3vils-in-th3-d3tails]

Not telling why not ask'em yourself? oh wait the poor thing can't even remember his own name

...

[leglessstreetlights]

fleshing out my Relativity Au some more, i fujking love these guys, they're so-

part 1/ part 2

[lazycranberrydoodles]

COME ON GUYS DON'T LET DIANXIA DOWN

[mouthstatickinard]

bonking you all with a cardboard tube. stop dooming over the clip. go do something nice for yourself rn and stop getting sad before we even know what happens next. this is mandatory btw, sorry i don’t make the rules

[quietwingsinthesky]

journey’s end au where the doctor tries to kick everyone off the TARDIS and they just go, ‘???? no?’ and won’t leave. can’t be stupid and think everyone will leave you when they won’t get out of your house.

[merakiui]

thinking about a concept in which you clean houses of the rich and famous. you've yet to meet the homeowner. often, a servant or housekeeper greets you in place of the owner themselves. or no one's home and your payment is simply left in an envelope on a countertop, along with a list of instructions. it's a job that pays well and has little to no social interaction. it's perfect and peaceful.

but then, while cleaning one particular house, you find a door locked tight. every space is accessible to you; it must be in order for you to clean it. so the fact that this one is sealed up, protected with a strange assortment of locks, has you raising an eyebrow. you explain it away with a shrug, assuming that it's probably protecting something valuable. besides, this is the home of someone wealthy, and if the expensive abstract art and sculptures littering the place isn't telling enough then this door certainly takes the cake for "eccentric and opulent." it's normal for someone rich to possess all manner of odd excess, or so you tell yourself as you ignore the door and continue cleaning.

you try not to let curiosity consume you, but a month later you're contacted by the same owner. you return to clean and the door is as you remember it. there are cameras poised in the corners of every room and hall, mostly for the homeowner's safety and so that they'll know if you steal anything. you can't linger near the door for too long; they could be watching. still, each time you pass the door it becomes less of a cute curiosity and more of a foreboding omen. what's hidden behind that door that would warrant such extreme protective measures? the morbid side of your brain says it's a corpse, but then if that was the case you'd smell the rot and decay.

if not a corpse, what else could it be?

you knock on the door, expecting a response. nothing happens. so you continue onwards, leaving the door and what lies behind it in peace. you want to ask about it, but then it's none of your business. you're only here to clean the house. nothing more, nothing less.

a few months pass and you're called back to clean. you pass the door again and, like before, you knock thrice. oddly enough, something sounds back. it's muffled, so you can't make out what it was. you knock again. no response. you knock again before remembering the camera and you hurry along. you miss the muffled whimper of someone crying on the other side.

within that same week, you're asked to return. you think nothing of it until you see the state of the bathroom. it's more than a mess; it's a crime scene...or something like it. organized chaos is what you might call it if you were delusional to the strange crimson stains on the tile, not expertly scrubbed out of the grout, or the medicine cabinet in complete disarray, cracks spider-webbing through the mirror. you question it while you clean, not oblivious to the faint streaks leading out of the bathroom. as if something heavy and possibly bloody was dragged from the room.

but you're not paid to scrutinize or theorize. you're paid to clean.

somehow you find yourself drawn to the door after cleaning the bathroom, the only space in the house that required cleaning. there's a bucket of water in your hands, and as you near the door you, rather clumsily, trip and drop it. water sloshes out of the pail and, for the sake of the camera, you curse and groan loudly, storming off to retrieve a towel.

your phone is wrapped in the towel when you return, and you bend down with your back turned to the camera. hurriedly, you fumble to unravel the towel, your shoulders hunched, and you unlock your phone, hastily swiping to the camera. you click record and slide your phone under the crack in door, hoping to capture something that might explain the locked door, the weird state of the bathroom, and that phantom noise you thought you heard all that time ago.

maybe it's nothing and you're making yourself paranoid. maybe you're the suspicious one for jumping to such grotesque conclusions. you let your phone record while you clean the spill, and just before you stand up you quickly pocket your phone. you pray it looked natural to the camera's red, invasive eye.

after collecting your payment and retreating to your car, you sit in silence. two and a half minutes were recorded. it felt much longer than that, but you were rushing to finish. for a moment, you consider deleting the video. if it's nothing, you won't see it. if it's something, you won't see it either. ignorance is bliss, right?

despite this, you watch the recording. the first minute is taken in shadowed silence, so eerily quiet it's nearly static. but then a light flicks on. it's so quiet you have to strain to hear it, and with your volume turned all the way up you begin to hear tiny clicks being made at specific intervals. with each click, the light flicks on and off. and in the near corner, you catch sight of what looks to be photos plastered to the wall and ceiling, illuminated only slightly by the light. you can't quite decipher the contents of these photos, but there are so many that they're almost like a second wallpaper.

and then the video ends when you yank your phone out from under the crack between door and floor to stop the recording.

puzzled, you sit there in deafening silence, wondering what in the world you just watched. mindlessly, you view the video again and again to dissect every piece of information in those two minutes and thirty-something seconds.

the light flicked on a total of nine times in sets of three. the first three were fast, the next three were slow, and the final three were fast. cold, raw horror descends upon you as you watch the video for the nth time to prove a terrifying theory.

the flickering light is a signal, specifically an SOS signal.

someone's on the other side of that door, likely helpless and trapped, and they want out. and aside from the captive and their kidnapper, you're the only other person who knows of their existence.

[nyan-bynary]

Slightly obssessed with the fact that EVERYONE has an opinion on how gojo treats ijichi (he treats him like his favoritest chew toy, lovingly, probably some freaky free use shit going on there too. nanami's caught them more than once I firmly believe this)

[moeblob]

OCs today because I really missed them. Since I wanted details still but with less effort (aka no shading) I opted for their DND AU versions.

Not pictured: Paul (a Pauladin if you will) messing up and probably nearly dying for the fifth time.

[dykevanny]

had a really funny idea for an ask blog ft. Vanny and another plex employee oc,,

[snazum]

Little ster edit I made… Cause there needs to be more in the world :>

special thanks to like the 5-10 people on this website who upload ster clips. This is dedicated to y’all <3

Audio: noir.audioss on tiktok

Song: Like Me - Chase Icon

[finniestoncrane]

Finnie!!! Finnie!!!! I just finished my first week officially working a big bug job and my train station git a bomb scare while I was at work!!!! This adult stuff is scary!!!

(I'm fine, I was at work when the news came out about it and I was able to safely get home but it sure was something!)

AH SQUIRMY WORMY i'm so proud of you and your job but also freaking terrified??? that's so scary ;-; i'm glad you're ok!! but like!? i'll just add "worrying about terri" to my daily list now lmao

BUT YAY FOR YOUR JOB!! i hope it's relaxing and fulfilling and everything you want/need it to be ;-; proud of you omg 💚💚💚

[alittleemo]

the lord is going to need to send me four different blessings to balance out the way this week is going 😍 like one is not enough brother

[jinikaris]

I'M ALIVE.... barely.............. god what......... a concert

I can't believe me and stray kids existed in the same room THEY ARE ACTUALLY REAL

[boypussydilf]

ngl i actually dont think golb is prismo (and scarab and etc)s boss. feels… incongruous. i dont feel like a chaos god that sits in silence making senseless insane shit happen around it is… the kind of thing that would be making all this bureaucratic shit with… jobs and rules and order and waiting rooms.

[maraschinotopped]

felt myself going insane in real time so to counteract it i decided to doodle reclusa from the oneshot(?) i said i was writing. on a chromebook instead of using the very functional tablet i have lying right next to me.

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

For years, severe insomnia had me writing at night. I'm not a night owl, not by any stretch. For the last several nights, I've tried writing this extremely smutty scene, but to no avail. My brain begins preparing for closing at around 8PM, knocking me into a stage of stupid by 10PM as it demands I go to bed. I take my edible (I cannot use Rx sleep aids, but the edible I use works magic) and fight bedtime like a damn child. By 11PM, it's kicked in fully, and I'm walking around with just one eye open and constantly touching my face and hair. No point in fighting sleep, so off to bed.

My natural wake-up time is six hours after crashing. Doesn't matter when I go to bed. Damn near exactly six hours of sleep, and then I cannot sleep anymore. This morning, I was up at 7:18AM, and decided to stop being stupid and try writing now instead of the evening.

Wow, look at that. 1400 words in the span of an hour, and I'm not even halfway done. Gosh, it can't possibly have anything to do with me following my body's natural cycle, can it?

I'll have this delicious filthy chapter posted by the end of the day.