#i might finish this later

[buttercup-the-cat]

merry Christmas everyone!! Kinda late. i wasn’t able to finish it on time. Have a good holiday everyone :D

[hey-imma-fangirl]

Y’all really thought I was just gonna let this exist and not do a post about it

[2charmides2furious]

fucking devious trent reznor i just drew with the help of a neo-lucida...

V reference below V

[fangbangerghoul]

Current WIP of the Space Cowboy in flannel. Based off of game shot taken by @bearlytolerant cause they take some of best game shots!

I know it's been about a week, but I am almost done with my 5th chapter of Stages of Me. I am really enjoying the Crimson Fleet story line and am hoping to have it out by Thursday!

I am also working on a Halloween influenced story and you can read a sneak peek of that here. That will be done either the day before Halloween or on Halloween!

[typheus]

shitty sketch time!

[thatnerduknow98]

Being a newspaper editor in the pandemic is hard.

It’s all working from home because the office isn’t safe, and I had to lay off two of my three reporters because our subscriptions and ad sales just plummeted, and we can’t afford to keep them.

This means that on top of pasting the paper together, I have to write a good chunk of the news content for our daily. Luckily, there’s no sports right now so I don’t have to do sports. I’m not good at sports.

But it is overwhelming to try to fill pages A1-3 with local content when you’re supposed to be doing other pages on top of it and you have less reporters. And you’re a daily. And you’re on a strict deadline because if you goof then the paper is late and your remaining dwindling subscribers don’t get their paper on time.

So when I discovered that time stops in my garage closet, naturally I abused it.

To put it distinctly, I am anal. I have been forever. Everything has to be perfect the first time around because I don’t have time to fix it. This results in a culmination of panic episodes and zoning out until I’m essentially asleep with my eyes open. Both are a waste of time.

I found the closet trick by accident. I went out to the garage for a garage fridge beer and dropped a can, which exploded all over my car. So I went to the closet to get the car wash stuff and slipped on the empty can on the way in, smacking my face on the wall and knocking myself out. Somehow, probably from the broom I kicked over, the door shut.

I woke up what I presumed to be hours later, but when I walked out of the closet and went back to my computer, it was still the same time it had been when I left to get a beer.

I was perplexed to say the least. I didn’t have time to exploit time now, but I would investigate when I finish tomorrow’s paper, I thought.

The paper was pasted as normal and I was done with work around 5 p.m. I grabbed my watch and my phone and went back out to the garage.

I started the timer on my phone when the second hand on my watch struck twelve. This was just to ensure both my watch and timer work perfectly. A control, so to speak.

After I determined everything was working, and time passes normally in the garage, I entered the garage closet. My watch’s second hand immediately stopped ticking. My phone read 5:12 p.m.

I started the timer on my phone and it counted up. When it got to one minute, neither my watch nor the digital clock on my phone had changed. I waited for the timer to get up to two minutes. Then three. Then five. Then ten. Then fifteen. Nothing changed.

I stepped out of the closet. Nothing changed. Time stopped in the closet.

The universe had answered my prayers for a break, I thought. A helpful break, which I could take at any time of day and not delay or run behind or miss deadlines. I wondered if everyone stopped around me outside the closet, or if just the units of measurement for time paused. I had no roommates so I had no way to know.

At least, until one day. One overwhelming, terrifying day.

The publisher emailed me telling me we had to knock my remaining reporter down to part time. I lost my only full time reporter. When I told him this, he quit.

So now I was the editor of a daily newspaper with no reporters. Fuck me.

I emailed my alma mater to see if I could get an unpaid intern. But the advisor replied they were not requiring internship credit for graduation during the pandemic.

I had three spaces to fill on the front with headlines. I didn’t want to fill them with newswire, which isn’t local, so I called every source I could think of and their mother to find story ledes. I filled two.

It was deadline in five minutes and I lacked the third I needed. And the opinion page wasn’t done. And the “Dear Abby” weekly column we ran wasn’t submitted yet. I was going to cry.

So I went to the closet. This isn’t the first time I’ve been in this situation after all. I needed time to cry, time to calm down and time to come up with a solution.

When I opened the door, a college freshman was standing in it.

“Who are you and why are you in my closet?!” I shouted.

He flinched. “Umm, I’m Tom, and this is gonna sound weird, but I discovered that time stopped in my college dorm closet so I’ve been hiding in it when I procrastinate on assignments. I’m not sure what went wrong this time but I seem to have transported to this closet. Which appears to be yours. If you don’t mind, I’ll just get out and get back in and perhaps I’ll go back to where I came from.”

He said this with humor in his tone so I laughed. “I believe you. Time stops in this closet too so I’ve been hiding in here when I feel I’m going to miss a deadline. I work in news.”

“Ah,” Tom stepped out of the closet and closed the door. “Where are we exactly?”

“Indianapolis.”

His eyes got wide. “I’m from Phoenix.”

“Arizona?”

Tom nodded.

“Whoa,” I said. “Well, I hope you’re right about the closet transporting you back because I don’t have a way to get your across the US for free in a pandemic.”

Tom opened the door and stepped in. He closed it.

I opened it five minutes later - completely forgetting about my deadline - and he was gone.

I stepped in, checking my watch and starting a timer again just to see if it still worked properly. Things appeared to be smooth until I stepped out.

I was in Tom’s college dorm room.

There’s a room in your house that exists outside of normal time. No one can bother you because no time passes between you going in and coming out no matter how long you’re there. Until one day someone is already there.

[linkcharacter]

another one passes.

[rabbitwife]

a little something to get back into the rabbit-loving mindset

based off this

[nikoadmeliora]

It’s lilac blossom season

[alicenpai]

a dance with you lasting for all eternity 🐇🖤🤍 inprnt

[choccy-milky]

herbology class 🌹🌿 (from chap 2 of my fic!)

[xandrikart]

Happy belated Father's Day to Chetney Pock O'Pea! The father of Orym? Scanlan?? Fjord??? He is someone's father for sure.

[delicourse]

end of spring🌸🧶🌱🧵

[prints]

[samsimisauser]

Plagg should be able to interfere I think!

He's destruction. The end of all things. The absence of non-avian dinosaurs and the slayer of Dragon. The Doom of Atlantis.

It starts slowly, as these things always do. Slowly, destruction is not in any hurry. In the end it's going to win anyway, so might as well sample the cheese on the way there. They Transform the Kwami and his boy into a single entity, and everytime Cataclysm is used just a bit of that unstoppable entropic force seeps into the rings.

Wedding rings like these are, for obvious reasons, made out of Nobel metals, these particular ones are silver metallic, and also quite ancient they have been around for long time. None of the noble metals are particularly reactive with oxygen. Plagg is not the kwami of oxidation. They can not withstand, and so one day Gabriel look down on his hand, on his Ring and there's a little speck on it. Strange, he thinks and washes it off.

Must have gotten some gunk on it.

It keeps happening. He's getting worried. So he shows it to Nathalie, she doesn't now what's going on, why would she she's a relic hunter turned personal assistant. She recommends showing it to a jeweler.

The jeweler takes a look at the ring, and raises and eyebrow.

Have you been lightly misting you wedding ring with acid?

Gabriel is so insulted by this accusation he leaves.

One night he wakes up in a Cold sweat. He runs into his basement.

The discoloration is on her Ring as well.

Now that, is a different problem. It might be important for him, being his wedding ring and all, but it's his Son's life.

When Plagg meets Adrien, he can smell Duusu on him. Plagg knows exactly what that means - and it's not hard to figure out where the feather must be.

In this version of events, instead of trying to tell Adrien to disobey his father, Plagg tells him what the loopholes in Gabriel's orders are.

"He said you couldn't leave the press conference until it was over, but he never said you couldn't be the one to end it."

"He said you had to put on that outfit, but he didn't say you couldn't take it off again immediately after."

"He said he didn't want to hear the name Marinette, but you can still talk about Baker Girl." Et cetera

With Plagg's guidance, Gabriel's magical control over Adrien becomes essentially negligible, for the most part. Of course, still being Adrien's father, he still holds some sway in the boy's heart, but at least now Adrien is choosing whether to take Plagg up on those loopholes.

[tea-cat-arts]

More doodles (ft Xianle Trio mostly Feng Xin)

[mayordea]

legacy of lunatic freakin kingdom