#key word yet

[mentallyderangedrats]

I want to rip out my uterus

[walmartbrandwhatever]

yall I'm BEGGING give me hcs‼️ hell if i gotta start the trend I WILL because they are SOOOO interesting like please🙏🙏

i need people to start making more soc headcanons and not just like bob/paul/marcia/cherry im talkin brill im talkin chet (my fav) im talkin trip and beverly like GIVE IT TO ME RACHELLLLL

Like do Bev and Brill stay together ??? Does Trip stay with Marcia?? Do Cherry and Chet get together (personally yes but break up quickly). What’s their home life like ?? Are any of them secretly G A Y ??? Would any of them end up breaking the stereotype or are they destined to keep the soc/greaser balance the same. Do they stay in tulsa, or leave ?? Like , i need it ALLLLL

[castillon02]

“Make them clean their own guns,” Nguyen said, leaning her considerable bulk over Q’s desk. She was just starting her shift. “Or at least wear gloves.” 

Q kept plunging a bore brush soaked with cleaning fluid into the barrel of 007’s Walther PPK. His eyes burned with fatigue. “I’ll take it under advisement.” 

When he finished, he left with gun oil on his fingers, fingers that had traced over the gun’s every crevice, every curve and angle, every metal and electric anatomical fold. 

—

“Why not tell us to clean our own guns?” 006 asked. 

“I'm a control freak,” Q said. “Which is also why I know that yours is in the middle of the Atlantic and not in need of cleaning at all.” 

This was a lie. 006 had reported the gun lost at sea but had actually smuggled it back into his own flat, where it was currently residing in what Q suspected was his bedroom and knew for certain was the room that also had a backup earwig that Q had personally assembled, a Ka-Bar that Q had archaically sharpened on a whetstone, and one of the decoy keychains and keys (Alaska) that Q kept on his desk so that agents had something harmless to swipe. Probably there were other things that 006 also had in his nest, but they would be things that Q hadn’t touched and could only theorize about. 

Q was bad at lying. 

006 visibly recognized this, realized that Q was lying in his favor, and couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. “Right,” he said. 

Q smiled. Fixed him with a specific knowing look. You don’t ask, I don’t ask. “If it hadn’t sunk into the fathoms below, I would recommend a new hammer spring. Sometimes these things get a bit fussy when you use a gun as a bludgeon. That’s part of why I do in-person maintenance.” 

Part of the reason; not the whole reason. 

006 muttered a Russian curse. “Thank you, Q.” 

“Happy to help.” 

---

001 brought his guns back clean, but with a new part in them each time; a replacement firing pin, hammer, ejector rod, bullets. 

Q always asked about the replacement. He did it before disassembling the gun, like a magic trick.

001 always grinned like a mischievous schoolboy. “I’ll get you next time,” he would say, wagging a finger at him. Perhaps you’re more fallible than you believe. 

“It’s good that you’re optimistic,” Q would reply loftily. No mistakes. I see your gun. I see your tricks. I see you. 

—

004 never cleaned her gun and always brought it back. Hers was a semi-automatic of Theseus, parts replaced naturally when there was wear and tear. 

“Same as always?” she asked when she picked up her kit. 

“Same as always,” Q confirmed. 

—

When Q was a child, he asked, “Mum, why do you always shout about your car keys in the morning? And why does Peter never know where his pencils are?” 

She frowned into the mirror and finished applying her lipstick. “Sometimes people lose things, dear.” 

“How?” Q asked, boggled. 

She looked at him with squinched eyes; that meant she was thinking hard. “Well,” she said slowly, “we forget where we put them, or someone puts them somewhere we don’t expect.” 

Q squinched his own eyes too. What could she be thinking so hard about?  

Mum smiled. “Tell you what, we’ll see if I can give you a demonstration after school, all right?”  

Mum didn’t turn on the telly right away after dinner like she usually did. Instead, she sat down next to him on the sofa. “Sweetheart, you know how you asked about when I lose my keys? Does that ever happen to you?” She was trying to be casual about it, but if it were really unimportant then she would have asked during a commercial. 

“One time I pretended it did,” he told her, “because I was curious to see what it was like. So one day while you were doing the shopping I put one of my books on top of the telly and stomped around in the other room going ‘Where the hell is my story book?’ in a loud voice like you do with your keys. It was a little fun, but not much.” 

“It’s not fun to lose things. Do you know,” she asked, “where your story book is now?” 

“Yes, of course,” he said. His story book was immense and well-thumbed, so heavy that it made him grunt whenever he had to lift it, but he had already read through all of it at least four times. It had hard edges and corners that were beginning to bend; chocolate fingerprints littered the pages at the beginning because his hands had still been sticky from birthday cake when he first opened it—he can put his fingers on them now and see how much he’s grown. There’s a stain of pomegranate juice at the beginning of the Persephone story from the pomegranate that his mother had bought before they read it together; a special treat, expensive, but “you have to know what a pomegranate is before you read it,” she’d said, “otherwise you’ll wonder why they’re eating the seeds.”    

“And where is it?” his mum asked. She had to know that Q knew, because why wouldn’t he know? 

He answered anyway. She ‘humored’ Q a lot, she sometimes told him, so he could humor her this time. “In the vegetable drawer,” he said. “You came home for lunch and moved it there. But that’s a silly place for things that aren’t vegetables, isn’t it?” 

His mum closed her eyes and sighed, long and deep the way she did every so often when Q asked too many questions that she couldn’t answer. “You’re right,” she said after a moment. “I’m lucky to have a son who knows that. But most people can’t keep track of their things as well as you can, so let’s not talk about it too much and make them envious, all right?” 

That was something he knew how to do. He had already had a few talks about not stirring the other kids up with how smart he was. Plus he could tell from the tightness in her voice, like when she talked to her boss’s boss or Q’s headmaster, that she was nervous. “Sure, Mum,” he said. “I won’t.”   

So he never mentioned it again. 

He also never lost his keys, or his rucksack, or his socks, or anything else he touched and touched often. He might as well try to lose his own foot.     

—

“You know, we can clean our own guns,” 002 said, dropping her pistol onto Q’s desk. “In fact, you’ll find I did.” 

Q smiled. “That will make it much quicker when I do it, then.” 

002 pursed her lips and blew a pink bubble with her gum, which Q Branch had also issued her. “And where do you want this?” She took the sticky wad out of her mouth and held it out to him. “Gonna chew it for me?” 

Q held out a petri dish. “We have better chemical analyzers than my tongue, I’m happy to say. We do want to see about the wear and tear on the product.” He met her eyes. “Reliability is important in our field.”  

002’s performatively petulant glare softened. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and next time you’ll make it into plastique instead of a tracker.” One corner of her mouth quirked up.

The sticks of gum were actually one of Q’s least favorite gadgets; like most gum, it was sensitive to heat, so he couldn’t hold it for long without destroying its structural integrity. Couldn’t sense what he usually sensed. But if it put a smile on 002’s face as well as being useful to her, he’d keep issuing it.   

—

“A gun and a radio,” Q said. He waved his hand at the corner of his desk where he’d perched the usual equipment case. “Earwig will be distributed at your landing site. Unless things go terribly wrong, the local team should be able to support you for this one.” 

Bond took the case. “Anything else?”     

Q looked up; he’d been double-checking Bond’s mission brief and wondering how much structural damage the Managua team could make excuses for. “Cufflinks.” He pulled a small box out of his desk drawer and opened it. Inside lay a pair of cufflinks, copies of ones that Bond already owned and wore frequently. “They have little folding knives in them.” He demonstrated how the outside half could be pulled apart to reach the blade in the middle. 

The corners of Bond’s eyes were all happy wrinkles. “Am I expected to need tiny knives?” 

“No,” Q admitted. “But you brought the Walther back last time and I thought you could use some positive reinforcement. May I?” He removed the old cufflinks and put the new ones on, his fingertips brushing against the warm skin of 007’s wrists as he did. “Good luck in the field, 007,” he said after he closed the last French cuff. “As always, try to bring the equipment back in one piece.”   

“As always,” Bond echoed, his eyes meeting Q’s before he left. 

The cufflinks weren’t just positive reinforcement, of course. They were a connection; this meant that it was even odds that Bond would destroy them. (Paradoxically, Bond had the best equipment survival rate when that equipment self-destructed; he wore the latest exploding watch for three months and four missions before he had to use it.) 

Q didn’t touch the other 00s, who stayed near their equipment, more or less, and who deserved their privacy, deserved not to have their footsteps tracked through the crevices of Q’s brain. In fact, he didn't touch anyone. Not if he could help it.

With Bond, Q made excuses for the tiniest bit of extra assurance, the mental tip-toe of 00 feet sneaking across the globe. 

—

“Make Hutchinson do it,” Nguyen said, back again. “He loves guns; he’d be thrilled to do maintenance on company time.” 

Q met her eyes. “I take personal responsibility for the equipment of our most senior agents. They deserve that level of consistency.” He changed out the cleaning swatch he was using. 

“How consistent will you be if you burn out because you never leave this place? Guns, radios, earpieces--you can delegate. Our work is important, but...” 

“I’m almost done,” Q said, implacable. 

Nguyen sighed. “Sleep well, Quartermaster.” She showed herself out.             

Q dried, oiled, and reassembled the gun. He would make sure to catch up with Doctor Who and a few blockbusters so he could convince Nguyen that he sometimes made an effort to think about things that weren’t work or work-related. They could collaborate on blueprints for a sonic screwdriver. It would be fine. 

He would even give the same advice if he were in her position. She couldn’t know that Hutchinson doing as simple a thing as cleaning a Double-Oh’s gun until it shone would be detrimental to the delicate safety net that Q had been building since he had arrived at Six.  

Q touched everything his agents went out with, enough that he could still sense 007's old Walther in Macau, 001's discarded ejector rod in Tunis, 004's stack of worn-out gun parts secreted in a tea tin hidden behind a book on his shelf because he liked the thrum of them all together like that, and there was always the risk, at work, that they'd be disposed of.

He never lost things that were truly his. Guns, radios, earwigs, cufflinks.

He hadn’t lost an agent yet either.

[pirateprincessjess]

I wrote a Sonic the Hedgehog TTRPG system.

I’m calling it Rodents and Robots until a can think of a better name.

It’s a Powered by the Apocalypse system (heavy inspiration from Masks, Root, Avatar RPG, Simple World, and Thirsty Sword Lesbians)

It has some basic gameplay rules, a character creation guide, and 10 playbooks (classes). The game is in a (very rough) playable state.

Would anyone be willing to look it over and give feedback? (Especially spelling and grammar. I’m dyslexic and struggle with proof reading)

I’m mostly just doing this for fun, and anyone is welcome to use it modify the system however they see fit. Any and all feedback is appreciated

[emry-stars-art]

Are you still working on your aftg royal au because I'm so obsessed, and I think I might die without a full fic.

Yes and sort of!! I have absolutely not abandoned it if that's what you're asking!

It WILL be a fic on AO3 eventually 🫡 however I am not actively immediately working on it and it's unfortunately taking a long time, mostly for personal reasons lol. My mental bandwidth has not been high for a few months and I'm about on a shoestring with what personal projects I can work on atm 😅 hopefully that will change very soon tho! I'm still finishing chapters here and there but yeah it's just a slower pace.

That being said! Six chapters are sitting in the beta revision/almost-final draft as we speak, and.. if you're real curious... you can find six mid-draft chapters as well as a few other secret scenes/snippets scattered across my patreon for 5usd 👀 plenty of words for u there

But if you don't wanna spend that you can also have this exchange from the beta revision 😌

Find the royal au masterpost here 💕 (as of posting it is 100% up to date finally so pls enjoy!)

[undertale-fic-librarby]

U have any Errormare (Errorx Nightmare) fanfics that arent Nsfw? Thanks in advance!

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Destructive Glitches - Echoes Of The Night by Laughing_Zombie (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Nightmare and Error have fallen into the Void. The Gloom and Doom Boys have returned to their old homes since then. Error is greatly weakened by this event and needs magically aid, Nightmare lost his hold on the Multiverse and wants nothing more than to get revenge on his brother. The two friends vowed to be by each other' side no matter what. Together the ERROR and the Nightmare shall raise again.

The Forgotten Creator by 09Shell_sea09 (General Audiences, Incomplete)

Error always knew some things where off. He knew how to create things he had no memory of learning how to. He always felt off. It hadn't started off with a bang, in fact they had started with the whisper, and it had come over time. Over observation. Until he finally realized, exactly what had been done to him, and the full extent and reason of Fate's hate towards him.  Balanceverse - My new AU created with @gdesertsand, our new baby Inspired by Harrish6, Healing what has been broken.

The Betrayer {Card Edition} by Laughing_Zombie (Teen And Up, Complete)

Once upon a time, the four kingdoms were ruled by the Royals; the King, the Queen and the Jack. Loosely based on Cardverse. full summary and author's note inside (ch1)

Anomaly by Star_Struuk (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

The day Paperjam met their creators, it was decided that they stay with Ink. Three years later, Blue realizes that might not have been the best idea and situates them to stay with Error in Nightmare’s castle. Paperjam is reluctant. They had been fine how they were, all holed up at Ink’s. Really. (A.k.a. me not seeing enough non-shippy PJ fics and taking matters into my own hands.)

Runaway by WeirdLookingWolf (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Nightmare gets chased out of the village leading him to end up in a new and much different village that seems much better. While he misses his brother, he just can't bring himself to go back so maybe he could make a new home here? (Runaway!Nightmare AU for the soul) (Slow updates)

[gilmores-glorious-blog]

well this doesn’t bode well for the final episode

[vaguely-concerned]

returnal did not cure my depression but it did give me a strangely healing new perspective that makes it all a bit easier to bear. that perspective being 'I may be having a rough time right now, but at least I'm not inside the head of returnal protagonist selene vassos'

[thievinghippo]

Whelp. There go my plans to romance Millie. Guess I'm going for Rafael. He notices Thorn. Ahhhh!

(also, if you want to block any of my coral island posts, the tag is 'hippo's coral island tag')

[silent-and-deadly]

Boss makes a dollar while I make a dime so I keep watch for my arch nemesis on company time.

[spleen-having-ceo]

ME AND CONNER ARNT DATING?!?!?!?!

Tim and Steph are the MLM and WLW friendship after having dated representation that the TV show that is my life DESPERATELY needed

Thank you for your sacrifice of having dated Tim, Steph. It wont be forgotten ❤️

[astralhope]

Rank 52: The final duel!!

[theoldworldsrunnerup]

Was incredibly bored at a social event and there were crayons and paper so I tried drawing with them lol

[rithiathemoth]

they have their winter coat now!

[bengaly]

3d things

edited an old 3d meao head model i had to show the difference between xatpan meaos (flat faced) and ixuí meaos (long faced)

looks a bit funny from above hehe

this is done in sculptris so i cant really move those around freely... when im a lil better at blender i'll be making some poseable meaos for sure.

A lil headworld lore bit: Xatpan meao live in colder areas than ixuí meao and call themselves irqi! This affects how other tribes call meao too... in their region meaos would be known as irqi ixuí and irqi xatpan.

Also my current blender situation: I'm trying to use what I learnt and remember of all those isometric bedroom blender tutorials to make a lil guy... this what i came up with!

i thought it might be nice to give it a mouth... truly a learning experience lol

heres it with some smoothening on.

its neat because earlier this year i couldnt even move a cube in blender, and althrough i havent practised 3d as much as i wish i did, i've been making progress and i can make some things without following a tutorial now! its neat, learning new things is cool :)

[pastafossa]

*heavy breathing* I decided to try to find a workaround for the long covid brain fog tonight.

Aka a new pot pot strain a friend recced to see if it would help me out with this.

It worked.

Do you know how well?

I just came up from a fucking five hour writing spree.

I'd planned to edit TRT's new chapter. And I did for a bit. But it wasn't enough. I had that itch, one that had been rattling around under my skin for months.

I needed to CREATE.

I NEEDED TO WRITE.

So I turned my eyes to the Raven fic's final chapter, where I'd been slowly working on adding the new scenes I wanted and redoing a few to match the new ones.

I didn't just enter the writing zone. I blew that fucking door off its hinges. I saw the scenes in my mind's eye, and I typed the words that came, and even when the words didn't show up, I waved it off, slapped in a placeholder, and blew past it. My hyperfocus latched on like a gator and did fifty thousand death rolls.

I wrote FOUR. POINT. EIGHT. THOUSAND. WORDS.

IN FIVE HOURS.

I may have forgotten to drink or eat anything so that's familiar too

This proves it. Getting TRT's new chapter written, if not edited, proved the words were still there in my head. And THIS proves I can still enter that miracle zone that makes everything worth it oh god i missed the zone. As best I can tell looking over it, this didn't fix my 'what word did I want here???' problem that I continue to struggle with. I still have a lot of placeholder words. But what it did do was remove my frustration, my anxiety, and my long pauses when I couldn't find a word I wanted. It was far easier to just continue on. It also gave me, for just a few hours, the ability to focus, enough that even as it slowly wore off I'd built enough momentum to keep going for a while.

Now I just gotta find a way to get there more regularly like I used to, without the herby nudge. Tomorrow I'll try the same thing though, only with editing instead, now that my itch has been thoroughly scratched.

And if anyone hears triumphant howling tomorrow evening, just know that it is I, Pasta, summoning the words again.