#my writing's a bit weird I'm sorry

[arthur-side]

Guitars!!!!!

Heh,

Well, doesn't Ben find it ironic. He's being forced to play an electric guitar, by Taylor.

He doesn't know how to play the electric guitar, not even a normal one at that!

Why is she so set on making him strum some strings?

"Can you try doing that, uh, 'riff', again, Ben?" Taylor asks, eyes sparkling as Ben struggles to even find the right form to play the electric guitar. Who even has the sanity to leave an electric guitar with a fully-charged speaker attached to it in the middle of the sidewalk anyway? This is going to attract a ton of zombies!

Ben tries doing the riff again, failing as both their eardrums explode from the awful sound it made, Taylor-

"Okay, not working, uh-" Taylor casually hits a zombie behind her using a crowbar. Ben blinks.

Then, Taylor laughs.

"This is absurd." She wheezed out, "Damn it, why are we even doing this?"

Why are we even doing this, Taylor? Huh?

"This is so stupid." Taylor covered her mouth as she looked at Ben, who was still holding onto the electric guitar with a sheepish expression. Her smile softened.

Gosh, she looks beautiful.

"Alright, alright, I think that's enough goofing around for today-"

"[Let's do this again.]"

Both teens went silent, Ben held on his phone on one hand as he stared at Taylor.

"[...Okay, weird, why did you laugh?]"

Taylor then smiles again.

"Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?" She tilted her head at him as he blushed.

What is this afternoon all about.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[thefallenangel2008]

I'm sorry, but the fact that Stan could have become just like his father but he still ended up being supporting and encouraging towards Mabel, Dipper, Soos and Wendy despite everything... I'm- I'm sorry but I love that man so much YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND.

[somegrumpynerd]

Do you guys wanna see a thing I tried writing? It's pretty unfinished and I don't think I will finish it but it was fun to play with and it might be okay as a lil snippet! I also have like no energy for drawing right now but I wanna post something lol

(The context is Cross and Killer are alone on a mission in some unspecified au when Killer goes stage 3)

“Killer?”

Cross looked over when he got no response, half expecting Killer to have wandered off in some direction as he did on these longer jobs. His loyalty to Nightmare was often at war with his attention span in the field, and you could expect a job to take longer if it was anywhere a cat was liable to appear.

What he didn’t expect was to catch sight of Killer’s wildly fluctuating soul glinting in the reflection of the knife that was coming right for him.

Cross managed to lunge back just in time for the knife to arc downwards into the snow in his place. Its wielder slowly turned his head, tracking the path to where Cross was now. His empty eye sockets gushed with more ooze than usual, stare somehow colder than the ice he was now shaking from his blade.

“Killer…” Cross began, trying to keep his tone steady and authoritative like a warning. He was ever hopeful that this was some stupid game Killer was playing out of boredom, but that hope died as he watched some of the black goop begin to drip out of the corner of the other’s mouth.

That only happened when he went stage 3.

Shit.

Cross felt his soul drop. He’d never dealt with Killer like this alone, usually they handled him as a team if Nightmare wasn’t there to take over. In the time it would take him to look down at his phone to call for help there would probably be a knife in his head.

This was fine. He could handle it. He always had more training and stamina than Killer anyway, he just had to play keepaway with his life long enough to go home with it.

Killer teleported in front of him, something that caught Cross off guard. In his right mind, Killer almost never seemed to use his magic in fights unless he wanted to fuck around with the other. 

[Put the fight part here idk pretend there was a really cool fight, it was so cool, you loved it]

Cross felt his soul drop again, but this time the rest of his body followed. Killer was using his gravity magic to hold him to the ground, and was shambling towards him ready to finish things. Cross struggled for a moment to see if he could fight his way out of the magic’s hold, but to no avail. He was pinned as his assailant now stood threateningly over him, knife raised. In a flash of desperation, he reached out both hands and grabbed Killer’s ankles, quickly moving his head to one side as a bone attack pierced up out of the snow and struck the other in the jaw.

It wasn’t his strongest attack, but it was enough to knock Killer backwards and stun him. As Cross felt his soul being released from the other’s magic, he quickly scrambled forward and sat on Killer’s chest as he lay sprawled out in the snow, pinning his arms down on either side of his head as he began to come back around. His face was leaking so much determination from every crevice that at that point it was hard to make out an expression under it all, but Cross could tell he was frustrated as he felt the rumble of bone attacks beginning to rise up out of the snow around them.

He followed suit, carefully forming a line of his own bone attacks closely around them to act as a barrier. He could feel Killer’s attacks bouncing off of his, each hit more desperate and frantic than the last like an animal clawing at the sides of its cage. He felt some magic encircling his soul again, but this time trying to raise him up rather than push him down. It was weaker than before, whether because Killer’s attention was split with still launching bone attacks or because he was beginning to tire out, but Cross managed to fight against it and stay put.

“Killer!” he barked, leaning over the other’s face. “That’s enough. You’re not going anywhere until you pull yourself together!”

The gravity magic seemed to cease at his shout, so Cross continued in the fervent hope that he was getting through to him.

“We’ll stay here all night if that’s what it takes, but I’m reporting back to Nightmare when this is over and I’m not leaving without you! Do you hear me?! I don’t care if I have to bring you back hogtied over my shoulder, I’m not gonna hurt you and I’m not gonna let you kill me!”

He didn’t realise he’d been shouting until the clinking and scraping of bone attacks had slowed and stopped altogether, and it was just the sound of his promise echoing off the bones and snow surrounding them.

And the strange gurgling sound coming from below him.

He opened his eyes again in confusion and stared down at the skeleton weakly fighting against his grasp, determination pooling and soaking into the snow from every gap in his skull. It took a second longer than he’d like to admit for Cross to realise that sound was Killer choking on it.

His bone attacks shrunk back into the ground and he shot backwards, landing ungracefully on his backside with a little curse. He hurried to pull Killer up and help him lean forward, swatting his back as he retched and spat the toxic goop up onto the ground where they’d just fought.

It was never an elegant dismount from these things, they’d found there was just no dignified way to get out a ribcage worth of black ooze. After a minute of heaving and gasping, Killer finally got a hold of himself and started glancing frantically around.

“Where’s Dust??” he managed to choke out with the urgency of a parent who’d lost their child. It always seemed to be the first thing on his mind when he came to from one of these episodes, Cross was never really sure why since any other time it seemed like they hated each other.

“He’s at home,” Cross assured, pressing one hand to Killer’s spine for support. “It’s just us, we were on a mission.”

He could see now that Killer’s soul had calmed down from the pulsating mass of spikes it was a few minutes ago and become somewhat soul shaped, still twitching nervously but a far calmer sight than before. That was a good sign that the attack was over. He wondered how much control Killer had over it, since he’d definitely seen it turn that way without having to go through a fight to the death first, but it was rare.

Cross flinched as he felt Killer grab him again, though this time instead of kicking him in the ribs he simply held on for dear life. That was another clear sign, after he was done puking up whatever goop had built up he usually cried for a while.

It was odd, especially the first few times, to see someone who always seemed so disconnected and unphased have a sobbing breakdown after trying to kill you.

“Hey,” Cross said, voice hushed as he wrapped his arms around the skeleton trembling in his lap. “It’s okay… you’re okay…”

Cross had never been the best at comforting words, but he knew Killer just needed someone to cling to while he got a hold of himself, and he was content to be that for a little while. Especially after being thrown around so much, his aching bones were more than happy for an excuse to sit in the snow for a bit. He could feel Killer’s soul being pressed against his chest as he wept silently into Cross’s shoulder, the fear and regret seemed to be radiating from it like smoke from a smothered flame.

He wondered idly if this was what Nightmare could feel all the time.

...

He also wondered just how hard it was going to be to get these black stains out of his jacket again once he pried Killer's face off of it.

[necrotic-nephilim]

I’m gonna be honest I didn’t realize the new 52 messed with Kon that much till I read your post and now I can’t get over the potential. I’m a Tim/Kon girly at heart so I would devour anything you write exploring the 52 vs typical Kon. Also Time being in a clone sandwich is 👌.

the new-52 messed Kon up SO bad it's ridiculous. like, to the point i would personally argue he's a completely unrelated character to pre-Flashpoint/Rebirth Kon. his personality, his suit, his origin, all different. the only real similarities are the name and powerset. and even New-52!Kon's powers are slightly different from pre-Flashpoint!Kon. New-52!Kon is a clone of a future version of Jon Lane Kent, cloned by N.O.W.H.E.R.E. to provide genetic material to Jon Lane Kent, whose body was not handling being half human/half Kryptonian well, it was a whole thing. New-52!Kon is also where we get the infamous "Kon-El means 'abomination of the house of El' and Kara basically named him a slur in Kryptonian culture" tidbit, because that is the only time that's canon. (originally Kon-El was a name gifted by Clark to accept Kon as his family way back in the 90s) he also never went by Conner Kent. New-52!Kon just straight up didn't have any real human identity or connections, outside of being very close to Tim and some Titans.

the very TLDR of Kon's history is: during post-Crisis/pre-Flashpoint, a clone called Superboy is created by CADMUS. at first, he's considered to be a clone of a dude named Paul Westfield and is not Kryptonian whatsoever, he was simply made to look like Superman and only has Tactile Telekinesis as a power. then, it was made canon that actually he was a clone of Lex Luthor and Clark Kent, but Lex hid this fact and slowly, Kon developed more Kryptonian powers. he's given the name Kon-El by Clark, and is taken in by the Kents, getting the name Conner Kent. then Flashpoint happens, we get the New-52, and we're given the above version of Kon-El, who is a clone of Jon Lane Kent, created by N.O.W.H.E.R.E. who has mostly very strong telekinesis powers and some Kryptonian powers. he's with the Titans for a bit, then at the end of the New-52, he kills some aliens and feels bad about it so he decides to fuck off and is never seen again, it's presumed he's dead but never confirmed. then Rebirth happens and DC makes Jon Kent the current Superboy, we get Supersons and all that, and it's assumed that no version of Kon-El exists. just at all. he's not around whatsoever, Jon is our only Superboy. *but* in 2019, we get a new Young Justice run and the pre-Flashpoint Kon-El is back, and we're given the explanation of: Kon got accidentally teleported to this alternate realm called Gemworld and then Flashpoint happened, and since that was a Crisis Event that changed the timeline, the poor lad got *erased* from the timeline, causing most people to *not fucking remember him* and for him to remember a timeline that no longer exists. some of the Young Justice team vaguely remember him, Ma and Pa Kent remember him, but notably, Clark *does not remember him*. it's not an issue of "Clark ignored Kon in favor of Jon" it's an issue of "Kon was erased from the timeline and didn't exist for years bc he was stuck in Gemworld and Clark just doesn't remember Kon or Kon's timeline" which to me, is far more tragic but i digress. since then, Kon has been back and is present in most significant Superfamily runs, with his own recent mini-series, Superboy: Man of Tomorrow. (which was very good btw)

so basically: the New-52 fucked Kon up so bad they wrote him out of comics for years and then brought back the pre-Flashpoint version, but never *explicitly* killed the New-52 version off. so hypothetically, it's possible that there are currently two characters existing in the DC universe named Kon-El who have been Superboy. and like i said above, one of New-52!Kon's only real significant relationships was with Tim, it was the only thing the New-52 managed to get right about Superboy, his closeness to Tim. they have a *lot* of moments that read incredibly queer. and ofc, it's just outright confirmed in Dark Crisis: Young Justice that Tim had a crush on pre-Flashpoint!Kon at some point. so while comics are intent on pretending New-52!Kon doesn't exist, i am intent on putting Tim in a clone sandwich.

because i do think it's fun to play with Tim having genuine feelings and potentially a relationship with both of them. and the fucked up nature of him not fully *remembering* his relationship with pre-Flashpoint!Kon (which is a canon thing, in YJ(2019) Tim has vague memories of Kon he's struggling to piece together and understand why he cares about this guy he doesn't recognize so much) and how frustrating that is for Tim. he knows he loves Kon, but it's all foggy besides that. and so it's even *more* fucked up if Tim dated New-52!Kon before he got emo and ran off into the unknown. obviously in canon no one has told current Kon about New-52!Kon bc comics are doing the good ol' tried and true of "sweep that shit under the rug" but for fanfic, i think it's fun to ask the question of: would anyone *tell* Kon? especially Tim? who now remembers dating both versions of them? would he admit to Kon that briefly, he had another Kon? how would Tim cope with that and move on? personality wise, they could not be more different. they dress and act and look different. they're not the same person, but there's certainly a questionable factor of Tim's dating history including two Kon-Els.

the idea i've had for a while is Tim slowly starting to date pre-Flashpoint!Kon again. it feels familiar and like home. and Tim has grieved and accepted that wherever New-52!Kon is, he doesn't want to come home, he didn't love TIm enough to stay and try. so Tim takes the Kon he has, and genuinely has a happy relationship. like for once, life is good and things almost make sense for Tim. but then, of course, New-52!Kon comes back. he decides he wants to try again and he finds Tim. only to find well. he's been replaced. and technically, he's been replaced with the *original* that he didn't even know *existed*. and if being a clone is bad enough, that just makes it a hundred times worse. because imagine knowing you're actually the second Kon-El your boyfriend who you never *technically* broke up with fell in love with. that's gotta give you some kind of complex.

so i think it's fun if both Kons try to step back and let the other Kon date Tim. both of them have reasons to feel like the "replacement" or "fake" Kon, and it makes them incredibly awkward with each other. do they count as the same person? bc they definitely don't *feel* like the same person to each other, but with weird timeline stuff, who can really say. them settling on an awkward throuple that's really meant to be Tim just dating them both but somehow they end up dating each other too is so fun for me. they both feel like imposters to the Superboy name but are so deeply in love with Tim Drake, it's the one thing truly connecting them. and then of course, Tim feels bad in that somehow, he's betraying both of them for having feelings for the other. but they make it work, with a lot of awkward angst and miscommunication. i just think it'd be fun. very difficult to write to get all the weird timeline nuances down in a way that's understandable in a fanfic (bc you can't just. infodump like i did on this post) but doable. also difficult to tag, because even though i argue these are two different characters, i'm pretty sure Ao3 groups them under the same character tag. so it'd be difficult to convey it's not *really* as selfcest-y as it would imply. comics, man. DC will never acknowledge New-52!Kon again, and he's admittedly a terrible adaptation of Kon-El, but. i think he was sort of neat in his own right and i'd *love* for DC to just inexplicably bring him back and make the current Kon deal with the consequences of all that. and them make Tim kiss them both. obviously.

[cassmouse]

To this day I don't understand how Ghostbusters Frozen Empire had the budget to hire all of these absolutely incredible actors, a surprisingly excellent cinematographer, a SFX team that's second to none, AND a phenomenal composer (HE WROTE THE 2005 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE SOUNDTRACK FOR FUCK'S SAKE)- and yet STILL couldn't manage to hire even semi-decent writers (this also applies to Ghostbusters Afterlife actually)

(whoever came up with the Phoebe/Melody plot goated tho)

[koterkot]

i'm probably a system but i have a job so idrc about that rn

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 3

Fingerprints

“You’re going to make the perfect secret weapon for me. Why shouldn’t I?”

“For you, what the hell?!” He pulled back from the detective, heart pounding in his throat. “We’re doing this together. That’s what we agreed from the start.”

“Yes, of course, but we agreed on different roles. You knew this would require sacrifice. You aren’t backing out on me now, are you?”

Of course carrying out the crimes would be more difficult, even with the detective planning them all. He eyed the bottle of acid: entirely out of place in his friend’s tidy kitchen.

“No, I just- I’ll wear gloves. That’s an option we established as well.”

“In summer? What happened to being inconspicuous, hm?”

“Nobody’s going to see me-”

“Oh, I didn’t know we agreed to kill witnesses now.” A bitter laugh slipped out from behind sneering lips. “Listen to me. We’re too close. If they suspect the secretary, the detective he clings to loses all credibility. And god forbid you get arrested… I’ll bail you out and beat you senseless myself.”

Their partner snapped to attention at that last sentence, lips parting to say something, but no words came to mind except…

“You’re scary when you get like this,” he breathed and, to his relief, the detective deflated a bit.

“I just can’t risk you leaving behind proof. Even if we tucked your hair away, a strand could fall out. It’s safer not to have any. Same with fingerprints. We should only have to maintain it every month or so, alright? You can do that for me.”

He faltered but nodded, still trembling as the other slid on a pair of thick rubber gloves and carefully poured the acid into the dish. Then they stood up.

“Your hand.” It extended, palm up, allowing them to lean over his shoulder and turn it over. The secretary held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut as a harsh grip forced his hand down.

“Fuck! Fuck, oh my god!!!” The burn started as a tingling before slamming against him, tearing a violent scream from his lungs. “Stop, stop, stop-!” He pulled and turned to beg his friend, but his tears were met only with a sick grin that made him freeze. His hand was released after a few seconds more, but he couldn’t move.

“For good measure,” they said, grabbing a towel to wipe dripping acid from swollen fingertips.

“Owwww! Don’t touch those!” Further pain snapped him out of it, but his hand was still forced up to be examined, soft squeezes forcing out hisses and whimpers.

“Looks good. Come on, let’s get the next over with.”

He was still heaving for breath to respond with when the detective tried to grasp his other wrist, but he finally wrenched it away.

“What’s gotten into you?!” The secretary stood to face the other, still cradling his throbbing hand. “Do you enjoy this? Because I sure as hell don’t.” 

“And if I did?” A brow challenged him and, in the moment of stunned silence, they lunged for his forearm. They twirled him and twisted the arm up against his back, still pushing forward.

“Fuck off, let me go- ghh!” The impact with the table forced the breath from his lungs and power he’d never felt folded him over the surface, landing dangerously close to the acid. A drop spilled onto the tablecloth and melted a hole right through.

“I wouldn’t have to hold you if you’d stop struggling,” they called down darkly, already with his other hand in theirs. “Now if you don’t spread out your fingers I’ll dip them anyway, you understand?”

His clenched fist quickly relaxed. And then the acid washed over him all over again, taking away every thought until he was curled up on the ground, screaming, sobbing, staring at his inflamed hands.

When the detective stepped closer, he scrambled away.

“Shhhh, hey. I was just kidding with you, you know.” They held out a hand, thought better of it, and lifted him by the shoulders instead. “Learn to take a joke.” 

He was unsteady on his feet, but he could stand. They rubbed his head and took him gently by the elbow.

“Come on. Let’s get those washed off and bandaged up. You’ve got a few days off to look forward to.”

[buttercup-art]

hey

[kaye-go-moo]

Shapes and Strange Ciphers AU: From States Away

SaSC by me

Shapes and Pines by @/void-dude

Next Part

Tad and Bill

Two exhausting days of what Bill could only describe as hell had left him on the brink of collapse. He had made little progress in dismantling the portal, a bottomless pit of hopelessness dragged him into back to the idea of blowing up everything. He had all the materials—just a bit of assembling followed by a quick and painless—

Knock knock

Bill froze, his thoughts spiraled. Ford! Is he back in another corpse? Did he make a new deal? Bills mind raised with panic before he was hit with a confused realization. Why is he knocking?

Cautiously, Bill approached the door, busted torch in one hand, metal pipe in the other. He strained to peered through the frosted glass, nearly dropping the pipe when he saw who it was—Tad.

Bill wanted to throw open the door and hug him, but fear held him back. What if Ford had possessed him? He couldn't risk it. Gingerly, he cracked open the door and tossed out the torch before slamming it shut. “Stand close to the glass,” he shouted, and “and shine the light in your eye!”

-

Tad stared at the door, then down at the torch in confusion. Slowly, he picked it up and did as told, leaning close to the glass. Through the frosted pane, he could see Bill’s blurry figure, shifting slowly as he inspected Tad. After muffled sound of approval, Bill fully opened the door.

Tad’s excitement shifted into horror as he registered Bill’s state. His face was gaunt, his eyes sunken, and his hair a long, tangled mess. He wore a black hoodie that did little to hide his frail body. Tad hesitated before walking in, eyeing the metal pipe Bill had clutched in his shaking hands.

“Bill? What happened?” Tad stammered out, rattled by Bills appearance, “Bill—” Tad was cut off, startled by Bill launching into a frantic summary of the past decade. His words tumbled out disjointedly, shifting from one thought to another. It was an unsorted mess of word vomit that left Tad reeling and his head spinning. But what had left Tad truely unnerved were Bill’s fearful glances to an empty space—glaring at some invisible monster.

Tad tried interjecting, attempting to get Bill to calm down, but Bill kept talking over him. When Bill mentioned how things were for the past week, being locked in a closet, barely eating or sleeping, Tad spoke over him.

"Woah, Bill—slow down. What do you mean you were locked in a closet?"

Bill opened his mouth to speak but faltered. Tad stepped closer, extending a gentle hand, “Bill?”

Bill ignored the outstretched hand, taking the torch from Tad and handing him the pipe, before turning to walk away. “It’ll be better if I show you.”

Tad wavered by the open door, staring down at the pipe in his hand, his thoughts a mix of worry and confusion. He took a breath, shrugging off his growing anxiety, before shutting the door, setting down the pipe, and following Bill.

Leading the way with the busted torch, Bill led Tad through the broken wall, past the busted closet door, and into the portal room. He showed Tad the portal, recounting his actions from the past three days with a nervous urgency. “This is why I wrote to you. Tad, I need you’re help to dismantle it.” 

Tad stood in stunned silence, glancing between Bill and the portal before letting out a shaky breath “I—” his voice caught in his throat, his mouth felt dry. He coughed, then continued , “I think we should go upstairs and sleep. Just for now. I mean, if were gonna take this thing apart, we should be well-rested, right?”

Bill was taken aback, “What? No. Tad, This can’t wait. It needs to be dismantled now. Don’t you understand that?” He continued, trying to explain everything again but slowly trailed off, "Tad… you believe me. Right?“

Tad quickly nodded, “Yes. Yes, of course I believe you, Bill. I’m just—” He hesitated, “I’m worried. Bill, you… you look awful, it—its all just… alot.” He heaved a sigh and and placed his hand on Bill's shoulder, “Bill, please, lets go upstairs. God knows the both of us could use the sleep.” He let out rueful laugh.

Bill stared back blankly, briefly looking behind Tad before his expression twisted in frustration. He shrugged off Tad's hand and backed away. "I thought you’d understand. I thought I could trust you."

“I do understand, Bill. Honestly, I do.” Tad reached out again, “And you can trust me. I promise, you can—” Bill jerked away, a look of betrayal plastered on his face, his eyes darting between Tad and the empty space. 

“Bill. Come on, I—”

"You think I'm crazy, don't you!" Bills barked, causing Tad to flinch back before he tried speaking again, “What, no! I don’t think that, Bill. I would never—”

“Go!” Bill barked, turning away, ”Just leave.” He whispering angrily through gritted teeth, trying to control himself.

“No, Bill I—I didn’t mean to—I don’t want to—” Tad reached out to grab Bill’s shoulder, gently pulling him back before—

Tad cried out in pain as he fell into a tangle of loose wires. He pressed his hand against his stinging face. A thick liquid trickling down his cheek and the smell of copper filled his nose. He pulled back his hand, reeling away at the sight of blood.

Tad jerked his head towards Bill who stared back in horror. He… he hit me. Tad looked to Bills hands, the busted torch held tightly in his grip. Bill hit me.

Bill approached, saying something Tad was too stunned to make out. He tried backing away but the wire kept him trapped. Bill stepped closer, reaching to grab Tad. Tad reared his legs back and kicked Bill away.

Bill stumbled back and fell onto the portal switch, crumpling to the ground. He looked up in a daze and was horrified to see the portal roaring to life. He scrambled to his feet but his legs gave out and he fell back to his knees. He tried standing again, but his body was caught and pulled by a new gravity.

Tad fought to free himself from the wire but his attention was pulled away by the sound of Bills screams. He looked up and saw Bill’s floating, his silhouette illuminated by the blue light of the portal.

"Help me! Tad! Please!" Bill kicked at the air, clawing desperatly towards Tad.

Tads movements became more frantic as he ripped away the wires, "Bill! I'm trying! Bill! I—"

Bill's body disappeared, engulfed by the spinning light. With a blast and flash of light, Tad was knocked back into the wire. He scrambled to free himself, “Bill! Oh god, Bill!” he raced towards the portal, searching for Bill. But he was gone.

-----

Lore Comments

[yujeong]

"Have you ever met a patient who could see the future?"

Tyme lifted his gaze to notice Den looking at him, a peculiar expression plastered on his face. One that suggested what Tyme just asked sounded absurd.

Only, both of them knew it didn't. They were aware of the kind of patients that frequented this hospital.

Den straightened his back, completely abandoning the paper he had been working on prior to Tyme's arrival. He smirked; Tyme embraced himself for a tasteless joke that never came.

"This is about the new guy, isn't it?"

Tyme snorted. "I'm that obvious, huh?"

"Well, yes, I'd say so," Den said, shrugging his shoulders. He fell back into his chair, folding his arms. "You barely come into my office unless it's about something that's deeply bothering you."

His smirk widened, making Tyme want to deny all of it, but it'd be in vain. Den was right.

"Fine, fine," he said, waving his hand at his colleague. "So, have you?"

Instead of answering, Den asked a different question. "What are his symptoms?"

"He sees time distorted and..."

Tyme thought back to the few moments Great and him had spent together, the things he had told him, his abnormal reactions and fears. He felt the muscles on his face move on their own, forming a frown.

"....events that don't exist."

He was staring at Den as he finished the sentence, searching for any hint of recognition on his bland expression.

He noticed the tension immediately. It spread from his eyes to his parted lips to his hands slightly trembling on his torso, hidden behind the fabric of his robe.

"Den?"

Den blinked rapidly and cleared his throat. "Eh?"

"Well? Do the symptoms remind you of anything?"

"Ah.. no," Den was quick to answer. He fixed the position of his glasses, pushing them upwards; he always did that when he was scared or anxious.

In this case, it could be both.

"Why don't you ask Khun Korn about it? Maybe he knows. He's the one who owns the place after all."

Tyme pretended he took what Den said into consideration. He left with hurried steps, leaving Den to continue his work without any further explanation.

[pc-specs]

crawls out from the grave to post this only to return to said grave

thy name is zephirune btw... thou belongs to another original species from my bestie slick

[pokimoko]

5, 10, 20, and 25 for fic in review ask thing!!!

5. What ships captured your heart?

I am a gen writer through and through, so it's a very rare thing to see me writing a ship-focused fic. That said, I really enjoyed the pairing of Karlach and Astarion this year, though I wouldn't say I shipped them necessarily in a romantic sense. The fic I wrote that had them together had their relationship tagged '(it's fairly ambigious; is it romantic? queerplatonic? platonic? yes), (the love and devotion is there regardless)' which I think basically sums up how I view them (and also how aromantic I am about shipping 😅).

I also liked Billford, but in a strictly 'oh yeah they're super divorced, they are never getting back together' kind of way. Not sure if that counts as shipping, but hey, it's definitely counts as something.

10. What fic was the most satisfying to write?

I would have to say either 'The Poetics of Space' (Gravity Falls) or 'On Waxen Wings We Soar, In Spite of Inevitable Ends' (Baldur's Gate 3). They were the two fics I was the most happiest with this year, not only regarding the quality of the writing itself and the themes they explored (the constance of change not only in the world but also ourselves, and finding joy in and making peace with the time you have left), but also how they tied everything together in their conclusions. Both of them equally made me feel a 'wow..I did that' feeling of accomplishment when I finished them, so yeah, they both were absolutely the most satisfying to write.

20. Share your funniest line.

Being more of angst-based writer kinda limits my collection of comedic lines (even my more comedic story this year was extremely angsty), but there was one line I wrote this year that got a couple comments about it making the reader laugh, so I'll go with that one (because if two people found it funny, surely it must be, right):

“You try fixing an interdimensional portal for thirty years without learning physics," (Stanley) said. "I know what quarks are now. Do you know how much I hate knowing what quarks are.”

25. How did you recharge between fics?

Usually I'd spend the first few days after finishing a fic trying to figure out the what the heck to do with the spare time I had previously allocated to writing said fic, and then once I figured that out (and had yet to be overcome with the urge to write something else), I'd probably watch a TV show, read a book, play video games, and do some art. I'm boring like that.

Send me a number!

[icewindandboringhorror]

recent things

[sophiethewitch1]

🫶 thanks for responding back! i appreciate all the hard work you’ve planned out for us 🎉 i can’t wait to see more of the darker themes fleshed out at the end of the first part, i will be waiting patiently LOL 👍 in terms of yandere, how bad do you think it will be? what do you have planned in that department?

also i hope you get better soon 😅 please take breaks and certainly take your time!

well ive said that its very mild on the yandere side even later on in the slowburn. its barely yandere more, like... obsession??... at least for the first while. the yandere part is more just there as a warning because I don't want to shock people with the small bit of dark content there will be. i really don't like yanderes that hurt reader (they just don't make sense to me. yandere to me is about having too much love, and you wouldn't hurt someone you loved??) and like,,,, spoiler cut here but like, these are all things that are in the tags/warnings/just information around

i need happy endings. i cant handle even the slightest bit bitter ending it hurts me physically. i am writing a happy ending. it will take grovelling, compromise, and probably fixing the universe but idc. i will uncritically romanticise toxic relationships. i can fix him he can fix me we will fix ourselves for each other. THATS ROMANCE BABEY!!! ITS BEING YOUR BEST SELF BECAUSE YOU LOVE SOMEONE!!! AND YANDERE IS ABOUT LOVE. ITS ABOUT LOVE!!!! ALWAYS LVOE!!!!

[hum--hallelujah]

built this life and now it's mine - Fab Four fluff + jetpoison* (platonic or romantic, up to interpretation) (for @caffeineecold)

-

Kobra got the jukebox in the corner working two days ago and Jet's just returned from a run that nearly killed him but also scored them a crate of real booze — not the shitty moonshine brewed in the Zones that everyone pretends they like even though it tastes like the inside of the boot that gave bootlegging its name, real stuff.

Party's already sloppy drunk, sitting at the counter, and Jet doesn't usually let himself get this tipsy. Kobra and Ghoul sit in the corner next to the jukebox, picking out tunes and passing back and forth a bottle of champagne, of all things. For being a sandpup, Ghoul has expensive tastes.

Something bass-heavy is playing when Party slips from the stool and nearly topples over. Jet's reflexes are sluggish, but he manages to slide from his own seat and catch Poison. Party's pissed at him for nearly dying, again, and Jet expects a shove and dark look, but that's not what he gets. Instead, Poison leans into him, fitting them so naturally together that it's almost frightening.

"Y'okay?" Jet asks quietly into Party's hair.

"Dance with me, Star?"

Jet blinks, shocked. This is the last thing he expected. But he's just drunk enough, inhibitions just low enough, and he always crumbles when Pois calls him Star. Nobody else really ever does. "Sure," he finds himself saying, and Pois curls even more against him, their hands finding their places without even looking. It's too easy to sway back and forth together, in some facsimile of dance that's really just more an excuse for the comfort of touch that they both need, to the lilting gravelly guitars playing through the jukebox speakers.

The track skips and Kobra thumps the side of the box to get it playing again, a rising guitar interlude without words. Poison's head is nested against Jet's jaw, red hair filling his entire field of vision. On an impulse he doesn't resist for once, probably due to how tipsy he is, he presses his lips to Poison's temple.

"I'm sorry, sunshine," he whispers. "Fuck, Poison, I love you. Not the way... you want me to, probably, but I do. I love you so much." His eye is wide and staring, a little bit desperate. There's no other way he can say it.

"Don't leave me," mumbles Poison softly into the skin of his neck. The song is different now, something softer. "My Star..."

Jet closes his eye. "I'm not trying to," he says.

Poison sniffs, still swaying to the new tempo of this song. "Try harder."

Pois probably won't remember this in the morning. Kobra and Ghoul will give them weird looks, like they've completely lost it, and Jet will know why. Heck, they're giving them weird looks now, over the top of a champagne bottle and between smirking giggling asides to each otherm But Party is too drunk to retain much. They won't ever talk about it, except maybe when it comes up in an argument they force everyone to hear. You said you wouldn't leave me, you said you love me. I don't care how it is I just want you to love me whatever way you can.

The future is unfolding in front of them in so many ways. But right now it's just two friends, irresponsibly drunk and folded into each other.