#but i havent written it yet so

[anon-wilford]

TRICK OR TREAT !!!!

omg hi thank u! I wasnt sure what to do as am ccurently already working on two art pieces but not smth I can post to tumblr (I think) but I remembered this writers wip! hermitcraft angst incomming, with Evil X. Pain.

Pain is the only comfort Evil X Has. The little healthy tissue still to succumb to the void cold touch, screaming and begging for warmth, sending waves of agony up his arms. It's ironic that it feels like touching hot oil on a pan. His feet's no better either, but they're holding up better. At least that's what he hopes. He hopes that they're not just too far away from his heart for his body to have given up on them. Nausea forces its way to his stomach by the thought of his feet being black, frozen, and cold, to the point they've gone numb. He tells himself that the slight weird tingling sensation pushing its way up his legs means something else. But he doesn't dare look to confirm that. He gave up screaming a long time ago. The angry insults could have simply lasted an hour, or a day. Or several for all he knows. He's unsure if Time is ticking by agonizingly slow, or going by faster due to the lack of general stimuli, other than watch the few particles of the void rush by him, almost as if he was falling.

Falling...or floating for eternity. He's pretty sure he's falling. Just the way his stomach churns at every movement, like going over the peak of a roller coaster, down. Yet nothing around him would confirm that he was. No wind is whipping past him, screaming in his ears. No hair flailing wildly as the effects of Gravity takes its effect. No resistance of his limbs due to the natural force. Maybe he's not, the metal around his wrists and ankles to keep him from entering servers, worlds or the central hub in general, suggests he's chanied up, but there's not much here to chain him to, he supposes. He cant assume the magic ingrained in the metal would do much if he was falling. But

The feeling of slowly slipping further, and further. Deeper. Just his guts tensing and with a sharp cold energetic pain at every flinch, suggests his assumptions are correct.

His throat feels sore. Every swallow, cough or even breath feels like swallowing shards of glass. His thrasing and screaming had taken it's toll, ripping the inside of his throat open, littered with sores. Every heave his lungs crave, that his throat is forced through, screaming at him to let it rest, the infalmed irritated tissue fighting his very want to stay alive, sending waves of tears prickling and itching to fall. If he had any left to shed, that is. He guesses that he's too dehydrated to cry. Being in the void might pause several of his bodily functions, but it's mercy only extents so far. The tears he shed wont come back. His stomach's still empty. He's still running on fumes. And you can still wither away and die. It's not a time bubble. He's not sure if that's a curse or a blessing. Probably a blessing. It would be agony to be consicous till the end of time. Though still far from generous. Never forgiving the poor souls that's send into it's embrace. Most take forgranted how quick the death would be, in some- if not most- circumstances. Falling off an end island, falling through a glitched hole in the world. The gravity letting you slip, like breaking through water's surface tension, but scaled a hundred-fold, is what harms. The pop of of the void tearing you from the egde of your world, tearing you out from it's force's reach, like two siblings fighting over a toy. Killing you. Tearing you apart and in the end, nobody wins. Both crying over the loss of their precious toy. Though if given to the void. If you're send there intentionally. If someone negotiates with the worlds code, like writing a command, lessening the whiplash... you die from your body not being made to live there.

All he hears is the internal turmoil and the void's singing. The ringing in his ears almost resembling a tune if you listen for long enough. Attempting to soothe you, before the high-pitched ringing stabs your ear's inner organs like a million tiny needles, slowly yet surely digging everything out.

It feels like years have passed since he last saw his brother. Well, clone? Well, he himself is the clone. Xisuma is most likely the original. No matter how simillar he looked, he always stood out. He doesn't mind that, of course. That's what he tells himself at least. It's good to stand out, be different, not blend in with all the normies living their plain boring life, talking about their unitneresting lives. Their words tasts like boring plain bread left out on the counter for too long.

...and look what that got him...

A one way ticket to the void.

Handed to him on a silver platter by someone he once called his brother. Whom he had shared most of his life with, walking along side eachother. He never thought their roads parting ways would have lead him here.

The forgiveness he had once teased his brother for being too generous for giving so easily, is what he has been begging to receive for the past... Few years, most likely. Yet he remembers that spiteful, hurtful, look his brother had given him before the darkness of the void had embraced him.

At first he despised his brother for sending him here. Screaming about how Xisuma himself had talked and thought how unforgiving the void is. How no human being deserve such a slow and torturous death.

But Evil X is just a clone after all. Just another number. A duplicate, a fake. And the worst part is, that he's a terrible duplicate at that. Meant to be so much greater than whatever he had become. Or at least, that's what he felt was assumed of the situation. He rose so high, ignoring the promise of the inevitable fall being even harder than his success, plummeting and dragging it down with him. And oh, how ugly his fall was. Slow and agonizing.

It's ironic, isn't it? That this is how he dies. Falling slowly in the void.

At least he'll die the way he lived, if that means anything. Probably doesn't. He hope they didn't forget him. He hopes that the time that has passed, is time spent warming Xisumas cold shoulder. Yet he's sure they both know deep down that this is what he deserves. He deserves to slowly lose his senses. Slowly have his person, his soul, his very core wither away. He deserves the cold biting away at his body, circling his heart still pumping out the warm blood, like a predator seeking the warm flesh of it's prey. Seeking to suffocate any sign of warmth in its territory. He can feel the last bit of life draining from him, but he's too cold, too tired to fight it. And he knows it's utterly useless. The exhaustion is overwhelming. His eye's are heavy. He can feel his eyelids slip. His muscles loosing the energy to keep themselves together. He can feel the exposed skin on his face crack from the dry cold, blood seeping from his face. He really should have kept his helmet on and not chugged it as hard as he could, never to be seen again. Maybe it would have kept him alive long enough for his pleas of forgiveness to reach Xisuma's heart. The only warmth left in him is the blood seeping through his cracking skin across his corehead, lips and cheeks. He hoped that at the very least he would die in battle, with fellow warriors by his side to comfort him with the promise of vengance and victory; or someplace where he gets to say goodbye to mothernature. Hoping to die blissfully lulled to sleep in her lovingly warm embrace, with the beauty of the flowers, trees and animals she created and allows to live and die in her embrace with a promise of peace.

As his eyes close, he can feel a surge rush through his body.

And everything goes black. Everything disappears. He no longer feels the weight of his armor, the weight of breathing.

[starch1ldz]

Spider!Reid origin goes from

S2 Spence

To boy band Reid and I stand by that

[dailypokemoncrochet]

I think what really is exciting about this for me is that it's much closer to what it would be like if I could share this stuff with people irl. Don't gotta make an account or anything, just go to the site and start clicking. Can see soooooooooo many pictures all at once, and I'm not even caught up on uploading them all. The sheer magnitude of what I've done so far (for this project in general and for the site) is already crazy and I'm *only* 66% of the way to crocheting them all.

[iknowicanbutwhy]

"History, culture, people; we were fools to think we could create it all from scratch."

[seiwas]

hello selly my darling!! im sorry its been so long! 🤍🤍 a little snack 🍓🍓

for the ask game, choso + sleeeepy please :)

emu hello 🥺 no need to apologise!! thank you for the little snack, and for sending in a prompt! 💗

contains: best friend's older brother choso, one-sided pining? maybe? it's a crush

choso + sleepy

weekends with yuuji are pretty standard.

he either goes for a morning hike or run, and you join him sometimes, depending on your mood. after that, you grab breakfast at the small cafe down his street, grabbing something for his (hot) older brother, choso, too, while you're at it. then, the rest of the day varies depending on what's needed for the following week.

it's a routine you've built up throughout uni and has been a major constant in your life thus far. your week never feels complete unless you end it with your best friend and coffee.

this weekend, you skip hiking with yuuji and opt to meet him straight back at his apartment when he's finished, which is also something you've done plenty of times before, except―

when you open the door with the spare key you own, you find choso standing right in the middle of their living room, holding a pillow with nothing but his sweatpants on. he only stares at you, eye half-lidded as his hair fans around his face like a disheveled lion's mane.

you freeze, blinking once then twice before squeaking out a small, "sorry!" and stepping out again.

in all your weekends spent with yuuji, this has never happened before.

choso usually sleeps in, only waking up by the time you and yuuji prepare lunch. he's never usually up and about at 8:52 a.m.

the lock clicks as he moves to open the door to welcome you back in. and when he does, he still looks the same―unbothered and completely unaware that he's standing half-naked in front of you.

it takes extra effort for you to keep your gaze up as he greets you, "yuuji is still out."

"y-yeah," you stutter, "i told him i'd meet him here." you catch a glimpse of the room behind him and notice the messy heap of pillows and blankets on the couch then realize, "unless i can't! then—"

he shakes his head, hair swinging around as he rubs at his eyes, still a little sleepy, "feel free." his arm stretches out to motion to the rest of the space, as if to emphasize, "you practically live here."

you chuckle nervously as you step back inside.

"sorry, it's messy," he gestures at the mess of pillows on the couch, "fell asleep watching a movie last night."

this is not the first time you've ever interacted with choso; you're actually normally comfortable around him, albeit a little stuttery from the kind-of mini crush you've developed on him since sophomore year. but he's also almost never like this―lean muscles and bedhead on full display as he talks to you, voice hoarse with the cutest bit of sleepiness still on his face.

you swear, this is a recipe for your own demise.

he passes you a glass of water as he yawns from across the kitchen island, hand going straight to scratch his stomach.

"thanks," you give him a small smile, drinking it immediately in an attempt to conceal how flustered you feel. "will you be joining us for breakfast?"

the sound of his footsteps dragging across the floor accompanies the slight hum he makes while thinking. his fingers run through his hair, ruffling them as he answers, "i can," then another pause before he continues, looking at you straight in the eyes as he asks, "do you want me to?"

[apollorobin]

happy birthday yuno!!! i love yuno so much waaa <3<3 here's a drawing of her with her sad gay uncle (who i also love so so much) (i couldn't resist adding him too) (kazui and yuno are best friends to me) (aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa)

[marbirds]

journal pages again!

[hedwig221b]

Thinking about my wip

[every-sanji]

[scattered-winter]

i'll take literally any opportunity to paint spacescapes. bonus points if theres gay people

[mosswolf]

prayer circle that the book about gender equality and sustainable cities im reading for uni remains normal about trans people please 🕯️

[flythesail]

I've written 47.5k for the acolyte

[honeydots]

i've been dipping my toes into experimenting with borders, lately 🌿

[thebluestbluewords]

is the worldbuilding in the room with us now?

"My sister is trying to court the little Tremaine." Freddie grumbles,rolling her eyes. And also her other eyes. All of the googly eyes she's got glued to her purse, and the embroidered ones on her coat all roll in sync with each other. The overall effect is very Isle chic. It's almost comforting. 

"If it helps at all, they're being very cute about it," Evie says, carefully maintaining her tone of absolute innocence. She certainly hasn't been encouraging Dizzy's advances, no siree. Freddie doesn't need to know about the cobweb coat that's hanging above Dizzy's table in the workshop right now. Evie's only been helping a little bit with the bedazzling. "I think they're sweet together." 

Freddie's eyes narrow. "Enabler." 

"Me? Fred, come on." 

Freddie swats at the hand that Evie's laid innocently on her chest. "You're enabling them somehow, I know it. Don't put on that act with me."

Evie swallows back her giggle. "No act, I just think they're sweet. They cuddle sometimes." 

Freddie growls, a low rumbling that picks up in her throat and reverberates through Evie's bones. "I'll kill her." 

"Which one?" Evie offers sweetly. "Because if you're looking to defend Celia's virtue, I think you're a little too late. That ship sailed while they were still living under the same roof." 

"You let them--" 

"I did. We were doing it at their age. We're fine." 

"I wouldn't call us--" Freddie sweeps both hands out in a broad gesture that somehow ecompasses both girls, her blinking eyeball purse, and Evie's glistening white kitchen as a whole. "Fine. I mean, look at this shit.  You have fake fruit on your counter." 

Evie snatches the glossed banana out of her friend's un-tender grip. "I have preserved fruit on my counter, actually. And it's there for a reason. Don't break it." 

Freddie relinquishes the banana, but leans back so she can cross her arms in an appropriately disapproving manner. "Why would I break you banana, princess?" 

"Lots of reasons. Maybe you have a grudge against bananas in general. Maybe you hate mine specifically. Maybe you've got a secret anti-fruit vendetta that you're acting upon one poor, unfortunate fruity soul at a time. Maybe," Evie leans in so they're nearly nose to nose. "You just want something from me, and abusing my fruit is the fastest way to get it." 

Freddie scoffs. 

"Hardly. What I want is to know why the hell you keep preserved fruit on your counter when any kid could come along and break a tooth on it." 

"It's a science experiment." 

Freddie's eyebrows crawl up her face. "Explain."

"Gladly. Everything arrives on the Isle already rotten, right?" 

"Right. Like us." 

Evie can be generous. She ignores this breach of manners, and forges ahead undaunted. "So, we deserve better than that. If we fix what arrives on the Isle, it goes a long way towards keeping things inhabitable, or at least bearable for the kids who are still stuck there while Ben works on the legal grounds to get them out safely.  I started a few experiments in food preservation, oh, maybe a few months ago?" 

"So this banana--" 

"Is four months old. Yes." 

Freddie lowers herself to go eye-to-eye with the preserved fruit bowl. "But it's solid." 

"Yes." 

"So if I peel this open..." 

Ah. No. 

"I didn't say that I've mastered the experiments yet," Evie says, sliding the bowl backwards before Freddie can try anything stupid. "I've succeeded in preserving some fruits, but the tradeoff is that they're currently fully preserved." 

"So?" 

"Inedible." Evie explains. "We preserved them too well. They'll just pass through your body fully undigested." 

"Gross." 

"You don't know gross until you're looking at a stool sample full of undigested orange chunks." Evie says grimly. "We almost called in Fairy Godmother for a case of magical poisoning before we realized that it wasn't organ tissue sloughing off on the way out." 

[twinchromatid]

my voltron reboot doc has reached 37 pages. and im still not done moving everything i currently have onto it. what the fuck

[charalol]

Hi tumblr,,,, I'm scared of you. But. We accidentally went mentally ill in the groupchat again.