#man i don't know

[whentommymetalfie]

when you receive a comment on a fic you're already feeling insecure about, just asking if you'll continue asking on another fic... and nothing else :/

I know it can feel frustrating when you're waiting on an update and the author is working on different stuff, but please don't do this

[eiirishi]

im thinking about cindy again

i need to replay the game but in my mind i remember her as a creature pushed into a corner, hiding her pain and love behind a mask of indifference, nihilism and smug disdain

i liked her well enough then, but then she painted the square in that blood red motor oil

UN JOUR JE SERAI DE RETOUR PRÈS DE TOI

and it almost made me cry, it felt like a hope that is kept alive even in the darkest of times, even with the veneer of nihilism she actually still cares and wants things to be good

this hits so very different after reading A Sacred and Terrible Air

[geaibleu89]

also I was going through my older art folders and found this in the folder of art that I have for the Mormon boy wonder

[real-nature-facts]

this came to me in a vision at like 11pm

is this anything

[a-side-character]

Instagram is an interesting place

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #7: Tape III (Hypochlorite)

Masterlist

content: lab whump, captivity, defiant whumpee, very brief nudity (non-sexual), mentions of religion

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This is a good time to mention that any of the characters' religious views do not necessarily reflect mine. That's all, enjoy the chapter <3

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Jackie was aware enough to be embarrassed. That was a good sign. His mind was intact. He had curled up in a corner, arms splayed to block off as much as possible. His eyes traced the ceilings, the floor, anywhere but Heather. She, on the other hand, resolved to not show any sign of discomfort about the whole thing. Keeping her gaze on the floor, she dropped the pile of clothes next to him and turned away until he was done. 

“Are you finished?” she called, crossing her arms.

“Just a moment—” He pulled something on. “Okay, you can look now.”

Heather swiveled around. “What was that?”

Jackie glanced down at himself. “I wore a shirt?”

“Not that, idiot. Wait.” She turned the recorder on. “What are you?”

“Who can say?” He crossed his arms as well, a mocking mirror of her own pose. “I didn’t know you were a fan of Nirvana.”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead listening to Nirvana. The shirt was a gift.”

“From who?” It appeared to be a genuine question, not sarcastic, but Heather didn’t trust him. There was something a little too curious in his tone.

“A distant relative.” She walked over the the briefcase. “Now, can we—”

“Speaking of relatives, don't you have any siblings? Do you live alone?”

There it was. “Yes, Jackie, we’re alone. Nobody is coming to help you. Now, can we just—”

“What—”

She spun around to face him. “Quiet.”

He clammed up in an instant, although the curious glimmer didn’t fade from his eyes. Distractedly, he touched the palm of his hand, where it had burned. There were no scars replacing those layers of char. Not even any discoloration or distortion of the skin. Even stranger was the fact that he’d somehow regained a full head of hair. He looked exactly as he did before the fire, right down to the shape of his eyebrows and the exact tone of his skin. It might as well have never happened.

Heather forced herself to speak calmly. “How much of it were you awake for?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Enough.”

“I need specifics. A numerical amount. Guess, if you have to, give me a general range.”

“Five, ten minutes?”

“Did it hurt?”

He nodded.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Well, that’s not my problem.” 

He tilted his head to the side, watching as she retrieved another bottle from the briefcase. After she handed it to him, she nodded at the cap, gesturing to open it.

“This is literally bleach,” was his only response.

“Thank you for the observation. How astute.” Heather held up the tape recorder. “Subject has been able to withstand external injury, but what about internal? For the purposes of this experiment, the injury will be inflicted via a normally toxic substance, sodium hypochlorite. It is fatal in high enough quantities.”

“Heather.” He pushed the bottle back into her hands. “How am I going to drink an entire bottle of bleach without throwing it up?”

She scowled. “I don’t know. Figure it out yourself.”

“Figure it out?“ He was smiling, as if this was funny, as if this was all a joke. “Did you not think this through? All bleach does is make you sick, trust me. Feels terrible going down and coming up. I thought you were a chemist. You should know this. Bill Nye would not approve.”

“Bill Nye is a coward.” She tossed the bottle into a corner. “What do you propose we should do, then? What’s your brilliant idea? Go on, spit it out.”

He held his hands up, placatingly. “Hey, I’m just pointing out the obvious. Nothing personal. I’m tired. You’re tired. It’s getting late, I think. What time is it?”

“None of your business. Don’t try to distract me.” Heather grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “We’re doing the experiments now.”

“If you want, I guess.” Jackie stifled a yawn, or pretended to. “Hurry up with it, though. I’m already half asleep.”

“You’re tired because you didn’t eat. That isn’t my fault. Now.” She let go of his shirt. “Stay there.”

Heather had never witnessed an exorcism before, and the priest had been too busy with the details of his payment to explain anything. She decided that skin-to-water contact was all that was needed. A few Bible verses for good measure, sure. That would do it.

Jackie seemed unimpressed as the water dripped down his face. He gazed at the cross with only mild contempt. He certainly was not disappearing in a puff of smoke, or sizzling away, or spitting out curses in unholy tongues. 

Heather waved the cross at him. “Jesus!” That was about all she remembered from the Bible. Sunday school hadn’t proven to be of much use.

“I’m not a demon.” His gaze flicked up to her. “And, if I was, why would you assume I was a Christian demon?”

She let the cross fall to her side. “I think these sorts of things are universal. It was worth a try.” She tossed the cross in the same corner as the bleach. “We’re done, then.”

“Really?” His face lit up. 

“Yes.” She walked over to the freezer. “Just one more thing.”

That spark of joy was immediately doused. “No.”

“Yes, actually. Get in.” She cracked the freezer open. She had plugged it in and stuffed it with ice while she waited for him to wake up. It was cold enough to kill a man, she gathered. More importantly, there was a high chance of asphyxiation. Two birds with one stone. 

“Into the freezer?” He made no move to step into it. “Why?”

“That’s irrelevant. Get in and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night. You can go to sleep in there, I don’t care.”

“But I’ll be cold!”

“Yes, genius. You’ve figured it all out. Great job.”

He scowled, but relented, and walked forward. “You don’t have to be so rude about it.”

“Oh, but I do.”

Jackie clambered into the freezer. It was deep enough that he fit in, but short enough that he needed to curl up. He glared up at her, though his attempts at scorn were interrupted by bouts of shivering. He crossed his arms in a half-hearted effort to preserve warmth.

Heather frowned, though it was small enough to go unnoticed. Jackie continued to glare.

Whatever. To hell with it. She retrieved the thin cotton blanket that used to line her briefcase, not warm enough to impede her results but enough to make him stop looking so sad and pathetic in there. It was a cheerful article of fabric compared to the dull shades of the basement. The cotton was dyed cherry red, hatched through with yellow fibers within its weave.

He took the blanket with a reluctant hand. “What’s this do? Suffocate me? Is it coated with poison? Will it… explode?”

“Yes, all of the above. Good night. I'll be here again tomorrow.” She shut the freezer before he could respond. Then, she placed the considerably heavy briefcase over the top. That would hold the lid down, prevent him from leaving and ruining her experiment. 

“Okay,” came his muffled reply. “Good night.”

[cold--carnage]

hey Seb what the fuck man

[zealouslycantankerous]

i wrote a book

i don't even know what to say frankly; i've spent my entire life trying to be humble because my parents and sibling have called me an annoying know-it-all; but i promise, it's decent; there are some grammar errors that i'm trying to work on fixing because i published through amazon kdp, so it takes a lot of money to rectify that stuff, but please; rating would be super appreciated !!!

[wizardsculpture]

lighting is so haard!

[maranull]

current background music for writing: K & J-Pop

listen, if I can't understand it and it's a bop, it's good enough for background music

[askchaoticgame]

Did anyone scan the giant combiner gigantrooper as a creature when it was still alive

“I feel like someone HAS to, right?”

“I’m not sure. Skeletal Steeds are plenty aware, but they still scan as Gear.”

“Of course they’d scan as a Creature! Remember, BattleGear doesn’t work at Iron Pillar. That was the whole plan!”

“Hmm...”

“But with how big that whole mess was, I feel like we’d had to have seen them being used by now.”

“Ah! Maybe it’s cuz they’re like Warbeasts?”

“Like Warbeasts? What does that mean, Peyton?”

“Not in the ‘Code Themselves’ way! I mean, they’re totally out of control! Think about it, you said they spent the whole time looking for metal, they nearly took out Iron Pillar. So if you used one in a match...”

“It would be too hard to resist? You’d just get distracted the whole time looking for metal?”

“Exactly! Sure, you’d be super powerful, but I’m prettyyy sure the average Chaotic player would struggle to do anything.”

“If that’s true. The only way to know is if a Scan does pop up.”

“Why don’t we try asking around and try trading for one, then?”

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[medli20]

Garfield Meshi

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

Physically? I am sitting in my bedroom. Mentally? Spiritually? I AM DEAD ON THE FLOOR!!!!! THESE TWO HAVE KILLED ME!!!!

(Another drawing! This was originally attempt #1 at drawing stan, and then fiddleford just showed up. Kinda feels like them five minutes after the above acting like nothing happened though, so it works sdjkgkjfshj)

[krysmcscience]

I have some questions about karaoke night, Alex Hirsch. Very Important Questions. Which I will happily scream at a poor hapless baby triangle who can have no answers for me, and possibly also does not have object permanence yet.

Follow-up that is I guess suggestive, but let's be real here, Bill's a fucking triangle:

Dude slipped right into his birthday suit, lmao

this is so stupid :D

Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, this brilliant individual knows what's up - Bill is absolutely way more of a monsterfucker than Ford could or ever will be, full stop.

[leupagus]

It's really fucked up when you treat characters like people and people like characters.