#idk if i wrote this the right way

[hawtriwitness]

LMAOO AND THEY USED SCENES OF ELI BEING SAD BECAUSE OF HIS ARGUMENT WITH DEMETRI ???!?!??!??

[starkspi]

"why, I had no part in that. you've always been this way!"

just a little something from @morningstarwrites fanfiction "of saints and sinners" which i'm obsessed with

[raiiny-bay]

the kids released a new album

[jerreeeeeee]

i don’t know if i’m ever gonna write the fic but i’ve been thinking abt like. the eternal stockade. the implications. lup, a lich who was trapped in a dark featureless cell for a decade completely isolated with nothing to keep her sanity but her own mind. she has to put people in the eternal stockade. how many liches does she see herself in. how many liches started out just like her. how many liches are truly too far gone. and the only liches we ever see other than her and barry are edward and lydia. they’re certainly evil, but mad? they seem pretty sane. they’re not, like, tattered echoes of souls, they’re definitely still people. even as much of a grudge as lup surely has against them, wouldn’t they remind her incredibly strongly of herself? do they deserve to be trapped just like she was? for eternity? isn’t eternity what turned john to existential despair in the first place?

[steve-brules-rules]

I’ve been talking a lot already but I’m just in an HC mood as I sit here painting more pfps tonight hehe :-)

I want there to be a window of time during Lemuria where Dasein tags along with the wizard offworld. He’s just so curious about everything the spiral has to offer and he’s so excited because he’s finally locked in with this whole physical body thing for longer periods of time. Life is way more thrilling than being Nothing, and Dasein wants to experience it all.

So as they travel together, he spends a lot of time learning simple things like “it’s definitely time to stop and eat because my stomach has a weird pain and I can’t concentrate.” And “oh, when I have no energy and I start getting kind of dizzy and my eyelids are heavy, but there’s no stomach feeling, it’s time for this sleep thing again.”

And Dasein is so fascinated by sleep.

It’s not death. The wizard was quick to correct him about that. And it’s obviously not consciousness. It’s sort of like what he was before he extruded himself into reality, because when you’re asleep, you’re not experiencing the world around you. But you haven’t stopped being, either. You might dream, which is this weird thing the wizard talks about where you see things that aren’t actually there, and those things aren’t real, but they’re also shadows of reality. It’s all really confusing.

Sleeping is kind of scary to Dasein at first. He’s napped here and there when the opportunity came along, but he hasn’t experienced real sleep yet. The kind where you lie down with a comfortable blanket and don’t do anything for about eight hours, give or take. And Dasein’s not sure yet if he wants to try it. He has a ton of questions and not many answers. Will he lose his physical form and have to start all over again forcing himself into reality? Will he lose this particular body? What if he loses contact with the wizard? What if he comes back but even the wizard can’t see him? So he fights it as long as he can.

At some point while he’s trying to stay awake, he’s sitting stiffly on a couch in the wizard’s quarters in the arcanum, and he’s focusing on the black hole out there in space, his head swirling with enough thoughts and questions to distract himself from his exhaustion. The wizard is already tired from a full day of kicking koolakamba lemur ass, and they crumple onto the couch beside him to look out at space too.

There’s another conversation about stuff in life that confuses Dasein. Eventually, the wizard’s responses come slower and groggier until they stop alltogether after Dasein asks about the mechanics of blinking, and he gets concerned. He’d been so focused on staying awake and talking, that he hadn’t noticed until now how the wizard is slumped against him, snoring a little. From underneath The Old One’s tentacles, his mouth starts doing that weird thing again where it curves upward. He’s still not sure what to think of it, but the wizard does it all the time when they see their friends or eat their favorite food, so Dasein isn’t too worried about it.

He wonders if the wizard is doing that dreaming thing right now. He wonders what wizards even dream of. The wizard feels warm against his arm. Really warm. He wonders if everyone is like that, or if it’s another symptom of being a creature who’s practically ascended to divinity at this point. He listens alot to the wizard complain about all the little things other beings don’t experience, like their hair not cooperating after casting too many of those spells that soak everything in tidal seawater, or the voice of Grandmother Raven constantly coming to them when they were just a teenager (note to self: ask the wizard more about that whole “getting older” thing).

Dasein carefully frees his arm when it starts to tingle. The wizard is eased against his side now. It looks uncomfortable, but the wizard doesn’t seem to mind. They now have the same upward curve on their own mouth as they sigh into deeper sleep.

He’s in awe of the wizard. Not because they’ve defeated thousands of enemies, freed entire civilizations, redirected the course of history, or earned enough gold to have at least a dozen castles and some pets that are probably illegal to own. No, Dasein is in awe of the wizard for living. Against every odd in the spiral and beyond, the wizard is alive. Life is so confusing and dangerous and unpredictable, but the wizard persists. And now, because of them, so does he.

Slowly and shakily, Dasein raises the hand of his recently liberated arm and lets it rest on the wizard’s shoulder. For a second, it looks like the wizard might wake up. But they don’t. Their mastery of sleep must be unparalleled, Dasein thinks.

The Old One’s hat starts to slide off, and Dasein barely catches it before it has the chance to fall onto the wizard and disturb them. Apparently, his head is now dipping as he loses the fight against sleep. He can’t help letting his mouth curve up again as he thinks how silly it must look for two gods to be heaped on a couch like this. He’s still a bit afraid, but he takes one more look at the wizard and promises himself that he’ll trust them on this one. And with that thought, Dasein’s eyes slide closed, and he finally understands another piece of life.

[triglycercule]

Hi, are there any mtt interpretations/headcanons you don't like? -evil doppelganger

i am FAR too deep into the murder time rabbit hole to be asked this question dearest evil doppelganger because i like majority of trio interpretations and headcanons,,,,,, likeeeee people have SO MANY amazing ideas and even if i don't fully ADORE their interpretation of the trio i can still appreciate it and find things that i like about it!!! openmindedness and allat even if it's not my own personal cup of tea :3 that's what you need when youre in fandom i suppose,,,,, keeping your mind open to the contrary and cringe ‼️

but that doesn't mean i LOVE every single trio interpretation. first thing that comes to head are like overly bara FAR TOO masculine MUSCLE hot sexy trio. and then also the inverse of like babyfied TOO feminine weak and cutesy murder time trio. maybe it's just because i think that majority (with the exception of ones where gender plays a big role in their character) of sans aus would just be like,,,, gender neutral non binary. like even sans undertale doesn't read as male to me he's just a fellow!!! he's just a guy!!!! and that's cool and since theyre continuations (OMG CONTINUATION GROUP!!! 継続組‼️‼️‼️) of sans undertale that might get carried on. ITS NOT EVEN THAT ITS A DETERRENT TO THE TRIO because if theyre well depicted then i can choke down the really masc or fem designs. but usually these types of designs come at the cost of.... (gulp) DECENT characterization (shivers in my boots)

anyways NUMBER 2 i suppose would be like. BASIC mischaracterizations of the 3. like assuming killer joined his chara just for shits and giggles when ITS LITERALLY IN THE FANON WIKI!!! you dont even have to read the something new comics to know that he had his code altered,,,,, you dont even have to delve into the intricacies of that detail to at least KNOW ABOUT IT. i would bring up the misinterpretation that horror is a cannibal here but i actually kinda like the idea i just dont like that people think its CANON canon. like i find it funny when he talks about eating humans to others and they get weirded out (not because i think that he eats humans like the hc states but because i think he'd totally say freaky shit like that to creep people out!!) and like,,,, dust and when people think that phantom paps is a GHOST and not a hallucination. i mean i blame the fangame for this by adding a section where phantom papyrus ATTACKS for some reason??? but still. just like reaaaally basic surface level knowledge that should be known with literally the first search (but i get that some people are just that lazy (REAL) and im not THAT offended when people say that. maybe if they expanded more on these ideas it would be cool......?????? even if its not CANON)

(on a side note of basic murder time trio characterization this guy created a video explaining the trio! it's not THAT bad i guess,,, idk maybe i'm just greatful that someone made a video explaining them but i dont know why when choosing the "canon" version of the trio to explain he DID bring up touken-kamui's mtt but then also brought up the,,,, VILLIAN SANS SQUAD mtt??? hello??? why not just the original rahafwabas (and probably joku too but i cant be bothered) comics about the trio since you're including the bad sanses version of the mtt's canon!!! i had a whole rant about this to my friend because why did he do this???? it's also a bit funny because he goes on about goku in the middle of the video 💀 ALSO WHY IS THERE A RANDOM PHOTO OF MAMI TOMOE IN THE VIDEO???)

ANYWAYS THIRD GRIPE!!! i guess like,,, this is more of a bad sanses thing but me when people keep dust and horror glued to each other's asses ALL THE DAMN TIME!!!???? and then killer's SUPERGLUED to nightmare's most insignificant tentacle bro (or cross?? idk i dont consider him a bad sans but a LOT of people do) it just like. why make a duo out of a group of people? it's an unrealted metaphor but it just reminds me of project sekai when people always seperate the 4 people groups up into duos! like why!!! theres 4 people in there!!! even in like a basic friend group everyone interacts with eachother AND THESE GUYS LIVE TOGETHER!!! IN BAD SANS POLY THEYRE SUPPOSED TO LOVE EACHOTHER??????

and i guess that's it,,,, i don't know tbh right now these are all the ones i can think of. theres other stuff that bothers me too but it doesnt BOTHER me its just mildly displeasing yet not enough to warrant me trashing it! anyways its not like i have anything personal against these things anyways aside from like. the weird characterization and separation??? ik people actually do simp for these guys (could NEVER) and that some people just dont care for canon!! and thats ok!!! i love ALL versions of my murder time trio no matter what..... unless someone brutally ruins them to do terrible crimes that not even i can defend but if so i do not blame my trio i blame THEM

thank you- WAIT??? EVIL DOPPELGANGER??? I THOUGHT I GOT RID OF YOU BACK IN THE SQUABBLE OF 89? how are you.... how are you BACK? i swear if you do any of your evil doppelganger tricks again i wont hesitate to use my totally tubular special attack (running away) (THANK YOU FOR THE ASK :3! IT WAS REALLY FUN ANSWERING THIS WHOEVER YOU ARE!!!)

[imekitty]

Today I worked on:

Disillusioned: 303 words

Last sentence written:

Yes, that was right, down on the floor like a good—

[susielesbianism]

… anyway

[ID: A cropped screenshot of Deltarune’s battle UI, showing Susie’s MAGIC menu. The options shown are S-Action and Rude Buster, the latter of which has been edited to be underlined in deep blue. End ID]

[ID: A cropped screenshot of Deltarune showing only a textbox. In it, Susie’s dialogue portrait appears excited as she says, “Blood Crushers 3? Hell Busters? Invasion of the Cat Petters?” “Hell Busters” is underlined in deep blue. End ID]

[ID: A cropped screenshot of the final Asriel battle in Undertale, showing only the flavor text. It reads: “Asriel readies ‘CHAOS BUSTER.’” “CHAOS BUSTER” is underlined in deep blue. End ID]

yeah

[storywestistrash]

i am actually so tired of the way westerners treat eastern europeans

[hum--hallelujah]

like a sledgehammer to a disco ball - 3.9k words, Fun Ghoul angst and protective Kobra Kid

Kobra jerks awake at the first creak of the floor. The only person who has any right to be in his room at night knows better than to step where the floor creaks. Instinct takes over and he's holding his blaster at body height by the time his brain and eyes are awake enough to see through the dark.

"It's me, it's me, it's me," Ghoul stammers, holding his hands defensively in the air. Only, it sounds more like "'smee," because of the way Ghoul is slurring. And he's bleeding.

Kobra drops the blaster as soon as he realizes that the dark smear across Ghoul's face is blood. "What the hell, man," he hisses, groping in the dark for a light with one hand and trying to pat Ghoul down to make sure he's not like, actively dying, with the other. He could be blackout drunk or he could have gone out alone like he does sometimes and any number of things could have happened. The cold metal of an old flashlight meets his fingers and he flicks it on, shining the dim light over Ghoul.

"I did something stupid," Ghoul says. Only, it comes out as "Uh did su'hn stooid," wavering slightly, because the entire right side of Ghoul's face, from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone, is sliced open. There's a horrific flap of flesh hanging loose that's supposed to be connected to the rest of his face. That's where the blood staining his face and clothes and hands is coming from, and why when he speaks, it sounds wrong.

"Holy shit," Kobra whispers, feeling cold Zone night air sting his eyes because they're open so wide. "Okay. Okay, what happened?" He holds Ghoul carefully by one arm, feels the way he's shaking. He's always shaking, except when he's got his hands in a bomb. This is worse than normal though. This is so much worse than anything Kobra's ever seen.

Ghoul shrugs, waves his hands vaguely and wildly. Kobra hisses a sharp breath through his teeth, frantically runs a hand through his hair. "Okay," He says again. "I'm gonna get-" He needs Jet, de facto medic, he needs Party, needs his brother-

"No," Ghoul says sharply, and that at least is completely clear. His eyes are wild from what Kobra can see in the dark. If human eyes could glow, his would. He grips Kobra's arms. "Please don't," he mumbles around the gruesome injury. His voice is high and frantic, and it has to hurt to talk. "Just you."

Kobra freezes. There's a slowly building feeling of dread, growing stronger by the moment. He pulls Ghoul off him, holds him by the wrists. "Okay. Just me," he promises, and feels sick about it. "Just me."

Ghoul noticeably relaxes, though he's still trembling head to toe, and lets Kobra drag him across the diner in near-silence aside from the occasional seemingly involuntary whimper on Ghoul's part, into the single-stall bathroom with a barely working lightbulb. Somehow, they make it past the front room where Party sleeps without waking him, much as Kobra wants to let his brother take care of this. He's practically trembling at how badly he wants Pois right now.

There's a medical kit in the cabinet that Kobra pulls out immediately. He knows how to handle this, physically speaking. It's whatever else, the shit he doesn't know and is scared to find out, like how this freaking happened, that makes him nervous. Ghoul stands in the flickering light like he doesn't know what to do.

"Sit the fuck down," Kobra snaps nervously, gesturing to the toilet lid. Ghoul does. Kobra pulls a dubiously clean rag from the cabinet and eyes it. It scares him to see Ghoul like this. Usually if he's scared, he fights. He hisses and spits and claws at whoever comes near him. More often than not, that's Kobra. But this, the wide-eyed jittering, is a whole other animal.

"This whole thing is gonna suck," he says stiffly. Ghoul nods. With a little more light, Kobra can see the thick, shiny blood streaming from the wound through his cheek. It isn't enough that Kobra's afraid Ghoul will bleed out, but the cut is so long and clear through and absolutely grotesque. He crouches down in front of where Ghoul is sitting, sideways on the toilet, and he can't tell if Ghoul is looking at him or through him, almost as if he's the ghost.

In a quick motion that startles both of them, probably, Kobra grabs the back of Ghoul's head with one hand and presses the rag to the seeping wound with the other. Ghoul's eyes go even wider and even greener, and what starts out as a shout of pain from him turns into a choked keening sound. Hearing it feels like being stabbed.

"What happened?" Asks Kobra again, when he's convinced that the bleeding has slowed enough to try and actually deal with this thing. He twists the handle on the faucet on and off, on and off, enough times that the ancient water pump starts up and clean water gurgles into the sink. He cleans the rag that way, then wets it and wrings it out before shutting the water off.

Ghoul's shoulders rise and fall in short, panicky breaths. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry. I'm- I didn't think, it was stupid, I'm sorry," he continues babbling like that before going silent again aside from the sharp sounds of his breathing.

In a testament to Kobra's selfishness, his biggest worry is that Ghoul took his motorbike out for a spin and crashed it. He can't think of what could have caused something like this. He has visions of his bike sliding out on a turn, crumbled metal and Ghoul's body flying through the air. But if that had happened he'd be hurt other than this. If that had happened he might be dead.

"Yo," he says quietly. "Chill. Just tell me what happened." He presses the now-damp rag to Ghoul's face, trying to ignore just how grotesque the wound really is. Maybe because it's fresh, maybe because of the fear, but somehow it's worse than the space where Jet's other eye used to be. Kobra never wanted to see an injury of that level on another person again in his life, let alone someone he cares about.

Ghoul flinches away, but Kobra shoots him a look and it must process somehow, because he stills and lets Kobra clean the already drying blood away from the edges of the wound with barely a whine. "It was stupid," he repeats, his voice shaking as much as it's slurring. "I don't know why I did it, Kid."

Something about the way he says that, voice small and wavering, sends a chill down Kobra's throat. Sudden understanding dawns on him. The blood on Ghoul's hands. He's not injured anywhere else. "You did that to yourself?" Kobra asks hoarsely.

Ghoul's eyes snap onto his and the rest of the color drains from his face. Kobra thinks he's going to pass out for a second, but he doesn't. He pulls as far away as he can, scrabbling awkwardly against the cold tiles and porcelain of the bathroom. "I don't know what I though, I was stupid, I don't- Kobra," he whines, with enough animalistic despair that Kobra wants suddenly to burst into tears, if he weren't so utterly stunned.

"Ghoul, calm down, I've gotta stitch it still," he says on autopilot. "Cool your engine, man."

Maybe it's the practicality of the thing that makes Ghoul momentarily stop panicking. "I'm sorry," he says again, tears welling in his eyes that he then blinks away half-frantically. Kobra's never heard him apologize for anything before tonight. He never wants to hear it again.

"It's okay, man. I've got you." He replies. If his own voice is shaking now, too, no the hell it isn't. "Come on, you have to let me..." he trails off, eyes wide. "Ghoul, why..." Then he shakes his head. He can't think about that now. He needs to disinfect the wound and stitch it up. And it's going to hurt Ghoul really, really badly.

He reaches behind him, grabs at the bottle of alcohol. This stuff is rare out in the Zones. They try to use it as little as possible. Only in emergencies. This is enough of an emergency, though. This is a fucking crisis.

He pours the bare minimum of the alcohol onto another piece of cloth, feels the cold soak in. Ghoul watches every move with jerking, stilted intensity. Kobra looks up at him from where he's now kneeling on the cold tile. He puts a hand behind Ghoul's head again. "This is going to hurt," he warns. They've nearly gouged each other's eyes out before, yet suddenly Kobra feels like he's going to be sick at the thought of causing Ghoul any more pain. Ghoul shuts his eyes in preparation.

Ghoul still nearly screams when Kobra dabs the alcohol over his wound. Kobra can see it in the way he holds his breath, the spring-tight tension in Ghoul's entire body. The only noise he makes is a quiet, drawn out whine, though. When a tear streaks down his cheekbone, Kobra catches it before a drop of salt can enter the wound.

"'Kay," he says in a ragged whisper. "That's done. Now I have to-" he gestures like he's sewing. Ghoul's eyes pop open to see what he's saying and he visibly forces himself to breathe again.

"'Kay," Ghoul says back in an equally torn up voice.

It only takes Kobra three tries to thread a needle. Medical supplies of any type are hard to come by, a whole new kind of commodity, but this stash has been here for as long as he can remember, just in case. Blaster burns, the most common injuries amongst 'Joys, come pre-cauterized. He's rarely had to sew sutures before.

Ghoul flinches back when the tip of the needle first touches the edge of his torn skin, and Kobra pauses. "Hold still," he grumbles, more out of familiar sniping than any real frustration at this point. He keeps his hand in Ghoul's hair the entire time he sews.

The feeling of a needle piercing flesh is horrible. The fact that it's his friend, someone he'd give his life for before seeing them hurt, is even worse. Kobra wants to fucking throatpunch whoever did this to Ghoul, or better, do the same thing to them, before he remembers with a sinking feeling in his stomach that Ghoul did this to himself.

He ties off the suture just barely keeping his hands from shaking. He doesn't know how Ghoul does this with bombs. Ghoul flinches again, violently, when Kobra cuts the excess line, and Kobra has to jerk back to keep from catching a flailing, uncoordinated fist in the face.

"Hey," he snaps. "Ghoul!"

Ghoul slips off the toilet lid and onto the floor almost as if he intended it but halfway as an accident and immediately curls in on himself. He pulls his knees to his chest and curls his arms around his head and Kobra can hear him hyperventilating. Kobra fucking freezes. He's used to fighting and wrestling and knee-jerk reactions that wind up with someone sporting a black eye. He is terrified right now. And there's still Ghoul's blood on his hands, too.

"Ghoul..." He cautiously reaches out, puts a hand on Ghoul's leg. Ghoul twitches, lets out a hiccupy sound that takes a moment to register in Kobra's mind as a sob. Ghoul, chaos loving, cackling Ghoul, is crying. And not just a single tear, now, his whole body is shuddering with the force of how hard he's crying. Kobra's heart is pounding with how hard he does not know what's happening, but he grips Ghoul's arm and lightly shakes him. "Hey, I'm still here, man."

Ghoul makes that keening whine again and Kobra thinks at first that he's going to pull away at best, or throw a real punch at worst. They fight enough, for any and no reason at all, that he expects it now. That's their normal. This isn't.

Ghoul scrambles to his knees, his hands finding the front of Kobra's shirt. This restroom is small, they're already in close quarters. But maybe unintentionally, maybe just scrabbling for a little purchase on anything, Ghoul winds up grabbing onto Kobra. And Kobra has always had a hard time letting anything go.

Ghoul's forehead crashes into his shoulder and Kobra instinctively puts his hands up, grabs back onto Ghoul in return. Ghoul's usual shaking is familiar to him, but the repressed wracking sobs aren't. Kobra clutches desperately around Ghoul's back, like he could hold together what he's just sewn up, like if he keeps Ghoul close enough he can't shake into pieces. No one should be able to break Ghoul. Not even Ghoul himself.

The edges of the cabinet dig into Kobra's back, but he ignores it. Ghoul is folding in on himself, making himself as small as he can against Kobra, and Kobra doesn't fucking know what to do. He's never seen Ghoul cry like this. He's never seen anyone cry like this.

"It hurts," cries Ghoul suddenly.

"I know," Kobra says, before he realizes that crying like this is probably making everything worse, that he'd worried about salt in the wound a minute before for this exact reason. He can't imagine the pain Ghoul is probably in.

"It didn't hurt at first," Ghoul mumbles, then chokes on a sob. "It didn't hurt when I started. And then it did."

Kobra wants to ask again, why? But he won't get anything intelligible. There's a part of him that doesn't want to know. He's terrified of knowing the truth. Instead, he threads his fingers through Ghoul's hair again and just repeats, "I know. I know."

A few minutes pass in speedy, spiraling silence. The only sound between them is their shared too-fast breathing.

"I can't," stammers Ghoul finally, after his cries have tapered out into raspy gasps. "I can't turn it on or off."

"Huh?" Is all Kobra can think to say. "Ghoul, you're not making sense, nothing about this makes sense," he snips, too quick and too tense. He's so beyond his depth. He wants Jet or Party to come help but he can't have it his way because he promised. He promised Ghoul. He wants to hit something. A wall, just to feel the impact. To imagine he's hitting whatever it is that hurt his friend so badly he hurt himself.

Ghoul sniffs. All Kobra can see of him is the top of his head and the cheek with the stitches. The wound is swollen and red and is going to leave a horrific scar. Kobra clenches his fist tighter behind Ghoul's back. "When I'm having fun or not," Ghoul says. "I can't. I am or I'm not. But."

"But what?" For fuck's sake, Kobra just wants to understand. He can read Ghoul like a book from cover to cover most times, and it scares him that he's so lost right now.

"It isn't good enough," he mumbles. "It's... It's in my fuckin' name, Kid, if I can't live up to that what am I?"

Kobra stares, wide-eyed, at the wall across from him. Something clicks. The clean cut through Ghoul's face, clearly from a recently sharpened knife, clearly intentional, reached from the corner of his lips almost to his ear. "Oh fuck no," he whispers. "Hell no. What the fuck. You're not-" He feels himself shaking suddenly, with restrained searing hot anger. Ghoul cut his head open, mutilated himself, to make himself permanently grin. "You're not fucking beholden to your fucking name," Kobra says. He never swears this much, only in his own mind. He's running out of words. "Fuck," he says, with feeling.

Ghoul shudders again. "I'm fuckin insane, aren't I?" He asks with sudden clarity.

It's exactly what Kobra had been thinking, for once completely unable to figure out Ghoul's mind, but he can't just say that. He can't just say that he's terrified because nothing makes sense and he's never going to freaking leave Ghoul alone again because this is all completely unhinged on so many levels that he can't even begin to sort through it. He can't say anything. He hopes Ghoul is sane enough to understand that, at least.

He just holds his friend tighter. He wants his brother more than anything right now, wants Party to come and take this weight out of his hands, but a part of him knows that even if he did, he wouldn't be able to let go of Ghoul. Why didn't Ghoul want anyone else but him? Why, after pretty much imprinting on Party like a feral kitten when they'd first met, to the point that sometimes Kobra thinks bitterly than Ghoul might know Party better than his own brother does, did he come to him? Why did he do any of this?

If a few tears of his own drip down Kobra's nose and land in Ghoul's tangled hair, no the hell they don't. He's never seen anyone go to pieces like this and he's struck dumb at the fact that it's literal. Very, very literally, Ghoul has gone to pieces. Taken a knife, that's probably still lying on the floor of his abandoned-office bedroom, and cut a line through his own cheek just so others might see a smile there.

There's crazy in his veins. Acid, maybe. And Kobra's always known that even if Party recognized it first. Watching your whole family die, failing to save your baby sibling, doesn't leave a person without any scars. Only, now, the scar is far too visible. Kobra's always known that Ghoul is more wild than any of them. Feral, unpredictable. He was raised by a pair of Killjoys who named themselves Hoot and Holler, and the thing is, a ghoul is just a ghost, and ghosts wail too. He should have known.

"I should've known," he says out loud, the first words in a while. He knows Ghoul so well. Better than he knows himself. He should have known something was wrong. He should never have left him alone. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He can't even blink. He stares hard at the opposite wall and tries not to scream.

Ghoul shakes his head against Kobra's shoulder and winces. "Nuh-uh," he mumbles. "I'm crazy, man. I'm insane." The fuzzy way it sounds around the stitches and the swelling just seems like proof. Just last night Ghoul's cheek was smooth and soft as he grinned across a table in triumph after winning a card game. How is it that that was just a few hours ago? He shudders again. "I'm scared," he says more quietly.

"Me too," Kobra says. As soon as the sun comes up he thinks he's going to storm out into the desert and find something, anything to beat up. Even a freakin cactus would do at this point. He doesn't know how he's going to explain this to Pois or Jet but he knows that much. He's gonna shake so hard he blows up, like a can of soda, unless he hits something. "I fucking hate you," he snaps suddenly.

Ghoul starts to flinch away, but Kobra doesn't let him. In fact, he curls tighter around him without even knowing why. "What the hell," Ghoul rasps.

Kobra hisses through his teeth. Speaking of living up to names. He fucking hates anyone who hurts his friends. But he can't say it. Hard as he tries, in the one moment of clarity about his own mind that he has, he can't speak.

"I fucking hate me, too," Ghoul says finally. The single dusty lightbulb above them flickers. If it goes out, they'll be in total darkness. Kobra thinks one or both of them might have a wicked eyeshine by now. The desert makes you wild. For some people, they're born that way.

"I think you're my best friend," Kobra finally manages to whisper. It isn't exactly what he was going for. It's not something he would ever say if he had thought of it before it popped out of his mouth. But Ghoul gets the point. Of course he does. Ghoul always gets his sharp edges, snakebite teeth and misspoken definitions and all.

"I think you're mine," Ghoul says back. "I'm-"

Kobra smacks the back of his head, like this is in any way normal, like they aren't collapsed on a dim bathroom floor in the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning and like one of them isn't mutilated for life by his own hand. Like this isn't the worst thing they've ever gone through together. "If you say you're sorry again, I'll cut you myself."

It's rough, and it's torn up and pained and choked, but Ghoul laughs. Just a short bark of laughter, hardly like the dry, rasping cackle that Kobra knows so well. It sounds like agony but it also sounds like the sun coming up. Kobra makes a noise in the back of his throat, more whine than laugh, but he's so close to blowing up that it's as good as it gets. He wants to freaking die if that would keep Ghoul in one piece.

Ghoul shifts in Kobra's arms and pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye. He clumsily wipes at the tears and snot all over his face and Kobra has to snap a hand out to catch his wrist before he unthinkingly swipes at the fresh wound and stitches. "Kobra," Ghoul says, shivering in the dark. The sun won't take long to come up once it starts but until it does, the Zones are freezing. "Kobra."

"Yeah, man, I'm still right here." Kobra forces himself to look Ghoul in the eyes and not the stitches. The wound takes up so much of his face. It's all Kobra can see when he looks at Ghoul, his best friend's mutilated mouth, sliced open by his own hand. Kobra flinches just imagining it. He focuses instead on Ghoul's green eyes, boring holes into his head with the desperate pleading in them. "I'm still right here," Kobra repeats, quieter. Reminding himself, too.

Ghoul doesn't blink. Kobra doesn't blink. Their eyes reflect the dim light back at each other. This is what wild animals must feel for each other. Terror. Uncertainty. Just themselves, each other, and whatever comes. Ghoul licks his lips, tongue flicking briefly, visibly, to the corner of his mouth that he cut open. "Don't let me-" Ghoul starts and then falters. "You gotta make sure," he says. "Don't let me- do stupid shit like this, don't let me go crazy again, Kobra, please."

Kobra stares back at him, matching Ghoul's trembling desperation. He's known Ghoul since the day their crew found him, shell shocked between the shelves of an empty gas station with the bodies of his parents and previous crew around him. Perpetually shaking hands and feral bared teeth, animal eyeshine. No one can match Ghoul for determination, and no one knows Kobra as well as he does. Even if Ghoul does know his brother better than him, the same is true in reverse.

Kobra Kid has a hard fucking time ever letting go of anything once he's got it. Fun Ghoul holds on too loosely. They're both terrified. What a pair they make. But when Kobra Kid makes a promise, he means it. He grabs the ends of Ghoul's hair and pulls, not too hard, but hard enough. That's their normal. Play fighting and hair pulling, and they both know it's a kind of language for when they can't speak. "Okay," he says, and because it's a promise, he repeats it. "Okay."

[smolmakerel]

"You can't leave me! I won't let you!"

"Christina, lo juro por Dios [I swear to God], get the fuck out of my way or -"

"Or what? You'll hit me? Hit me then! Give me a reason to call the cops!"

"Mamá?!"

"You're fucking crazy! Just like that bastard's father!"

"Don't talk about him like that!"

Tara curled up under the kitchen table, one of her favorite hide-and-seek spots because of the table cloth. She couldn't understand what her parents were screaming about, Sammy piping in every once in a while, but she knew she didn't like it.

It sounded scary.

With caution, Tara lifted the cream table cloth and peaked up.

Mamá was beating her fists against Papi's chest, face creased in rage. Sammy was fighting to place herself between the two, but neither of the two noticed.

Tara flinched when Sammy was shoved out of the way by their papá. She scrambled out from beneath the table and stood, unsure, behind her mamá.

"¿Mamá? ¿Papá?" Tara uttered. Both of her padres² stopped arguing and turned to her, and she shifted awkwardly. "¿Esta todo bien?" [Mom? Dad? Is everything ok?]

Papi's eyes softened while his shoulders sagged. "Sí, no te preocupes. Me quedaré con mis padres por el momento si quieres venir conmigo." [Yes, don't worry. I'm going to stay with my parents for the time being if you want to come with me.]

Tara blinked in confusion. Why was her papi leaving? Why did it sound like he didn't want to take Mamá or Sammy with them?

Before Tara could ask, Mamá was screaming again. She slammed her palms over her ears with a whimper. She never did like whenever they fought.

"Stop fighting!" Sammy cried out. "Can't you see that Tara's scared?!"

Papi narrowed his eyes. "Shut your bastard mouth!"

Sammy took a wounded step backwards.

Papi's eyes then went wide. He looked between Mamá and Sammy, then he turned his eyes to Tara.

"Is she even mine?"

"Listen -"

"Tell me the fucking truth for once in your miserable fucking life, ¡puta!" Papi roared out, and it shook the house into silence.

Mamá looked away. "Of course she is."

"... I don't believe you."

Tara stumbled out of the way when Papi shoved her out of the way. She followed behind the small group and gasped when she saw Papi's business suitcase full of clothes sitting on his leather recliner.

"¡Papi!" Tara began to cry, finally realizing what was happening. "¡Por favor no te vayas!" [Please don't go!]

Papi continued to pack up despite Mamás furious threats of calling the police, Sam's panic at the escalating situation, and Tara's full-blown meltdown.

Tara was close to hyperventilating as she threw her body at her papá and clung to his leg. He tried to shake her off, but she held tightly to his gray slacks.

She was the last person he was with when they both heard yelling coming from the master bedroom. Papi had begged her to clean her room and get ready for bed, going as far as to bribe her with a homemade caramel flan. But then he abruptly left.

The yelling only increased in volume, and, after an hour, Tara crept downstairs to hide out.

Was this her fault somehow?

"P-Papi, por favor -" she wheezed, chest constricting. She could barely breathe, let alone get her words out properly.

Hands roughly shoved her away, and Tara stared up at her Papi in horror. He stared back with an equally distraught expression.

"Tara," he gasped. "Lo lamento -" [I'm sorry -]

Mamá burst into a fit of rage.

Tara sat on the floor for the rest of the night. She blocked out the rest of her parents' argument and sat there. She sat there while her Papi left them.

He slammed the door. He never slammed the door.

Sammy tried to help her. Tara took the inhaler but remained on the floor by the stairs, watching the door for when Papi would come back.

He never did.

[pardonmydelays]

Tyler slutty tank top or THE COAT? 😆

where the fuck is that video of tyler taking off the coat very slowly during midwest indigo intro because i very much need it right now hdhdbdbbrbrjr

[muldersfingers]

I'm so excited, I've hit 30k on my fic 😌

I've shared a very small amount of it on here already, but! Here's the deets!

It's an AU based on a YA book trilogy called Delirium. It's a dystopian romance based in a time in the future when love is viewed as a disease and when kids turn 18 they are "cured" with a minor brain procedure.

Mulder & Scully are in their late 30s annnnd the rest is currently between me and the Google doc ☺️

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

13/15 is fun right bc he needs to be touched so so so bad bc she basically touch starved herself to death and she neeeeeeeeeeeds his body she Needs his body but no way in a million years do they have the framework to interpret that need as what it is so they assume it's sexual, right? it's gotta be. i need to be inside you bc i need to be touched bc im my own type bc the trust issues are Dire so just fuck me until ive forgotten im a person or remembered how to be one. right?

until one day like weeks months way longer than it should be into this self-destructive self-actualisation self-care routine theyre lying on the floor of the console room catching their breath and she goes "do you think.....do you think pythia's curse is still in effect or is this gonna be a problem"

and hes like "fuck! susan"

[starzwithapen]

Dawn Dory is that one lesbian homo-erotic relationship you have with your best friend that ends terribly because you got too attached and she has commitment issues and "doesn't like you that way" despite treating you like a girlfriend the past 3 years and she dips out on you except they're both like . Grown ass women

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i know that when carlo suddenly decided that he needs to marry guy made a whole list in his head n like had a deadlines n shit. like it was some kind of a task he needed to do