#no one should write time travel

[magpie-trove]

Actually I don’t think you are actually fr an adult author if you can’t write something without a s*x scene in it

[larissa-the-scribe]

Tell Me About This Time Loop, Again?

And so it begins... @inklings-challenge

Day 12

In Zo's mind, it never felt like the day was properly begun until Lyn woke up, looked around at the room they'd been staying in, frowned, and said—

Day 13

"Where are we? And why does it feel so... familiar?"

"Well you see," Zo replied, as he always did, peeking at the underside of the egg he was frying, "we're stuck in a time loop."

Day 14

"A time loop?" Lyn swung her feet over the side of the bed, seeming to realize for the first time that she was in one.

"Don't worry, it's clean." After confirming they were, indeed, in a time loop, one of the first things he had suggested was finding a comfortable place to set up camp. Somehow it had worked, and they had ended up there every time things reset. "And there doesn't seem to be anyone around, so I don't think we're stealing or trespassing." 

Lyn raised an eyebrow. 

Day 15

"Well, we might be, but no one minds. It's a ghost town. Everyone seems to have disappeared." And since it was a time loop, they never ran out of cooking gas. Or food supplies. That, at least, was convenient. 

"Disappeared?" Lyn stood up, adjusting her shirt from how it had gotten scrunched up in the night. Despite her attempts to look bright-eyed and alert, he could see the sleepiness that still hung from her eyes. 

Day 16

"Our best guess so far is that it's connected to the time loop." Zo flipped the eggs. If this all persisted, he could open up a fried-egg restaurant once they got out; he was getting an absurd amount of practice flipping eggs.

"That makes sense." Lyn padded over to the window, still barefoot, and pushed the shutters open. "Do we have any evidence, or is that just, well, a guess?" 

Her gaze swept the view, which he knew without looking was nothing more than the empty lines of blocky, one-story buildings and the too-smooth black-top of the streets. The neighborhood was pressed together as if sheltering from the plains beyond the town, with such a veneer of newness covering it all that each house might have been churned out of a factory yesterday. They hadn't been, though, considering the subtle signs of wear and tear inside the houses. 

"Eh, a bit of both. Something weird is clearly going on with the area, and we know time is affected, too, so it's a logical guess that the two are connected. Whether that means some psycho wiped the town out before setting up their experiment, or just that their timey-wimey dealybob messed up physics in general is still up for debate. Do you want toast?"

"Yes, please."

Day 17

"Good. We have to finish the bread before it goes stale." Zo left the 'in case we get to the next day' implicit.

"I'm surprised we still have butter. I thought it would have gone bad in your pack."

"It smells a bit odd, but so far we haven't been affected by it."

Day 18

"Okay, but how do you know we're in a time loop?" Lyn asked, setting the table. 

They were in a ground-level studio apartment, so the dining room, kitchen, and bed were all in the same space. No couch, which Zo took to mean that the owner was either poor or a cheapskate. Either way, it was disappointing. Still, the carpet wasn't bad. He'd slept on worse.

"Because you've asked me that so many times I've lost track of the number," Zo said, "and you seem thoughtful every time, like you're not as surprised as you thought you'd be." 

She nodded and set a fork down carefully, wearing the expression she always did just then, brows squeezing down over far-away eyes.

"In all fairness, though," Zo clarified, "I mostly lost track because I wasn't really counting, and then it seemed pointless to start. It's been over two weeks, though, I'm fairly certain."

Day 19

She smiled, and the tension in her brows eased a bit. "This all does feels familiar. Like, I don't remember the other days, but all of this feels like I should, somehow, know what happens next. But I don't."

"I do know," Zo replied, "and it's getting a bit tiresome."

"Fair."

Zo nodded, slotting toast into the toaster. "Very. Whoever owned this place pretty much only had eggs in their fridge. I'm not sure how many more days in a row I can eat those without losing my mind."

Lyn looked up sharply.

Day 20

"Relax," he said, waving his spatula, "they respawn every day, so I don't think it's even technically stealing. If it is, we can pay them back later. There's a fully-stocked but unmanned convenience store down the road, one which we have very nobly not taken anything from, every single day."

"Good," Lyn sighed. "After all, if we get out today, we wouldn't want to be rewarded by jail for petty theft." She tacked on a fierce look at the end of the sentence.

Zo shrugged, and let Lyn interpret the gesture as she would. "Eggs are almost done."

Day 21

"Good. I'm weirdly hungry. Also, thank you for breakfast."

"Don't mention it," Zo smiled. "It's nothing I haven't done many times before."

[phoenixcatch7]

Reading loz/lu fics and it's just so interesting how wide the spectrum is of their personalities.

Sometimes it's got an in universe reason (different past (usually gender or species change), recent or ongoing traumatic events, a spectacularly bad first meeting), but sometimes (often) the characters are just... Weirdly angsty or peppy, there's no in between!

And I'm beginning to think less people have played more than one game than I thought XD.

Not that it's anyone's fault! One game is more than enough to be part of it all, and loz is exclusive to Nintendo consoles - and all the older stuff is frustratingly hard to get hold of. Heck, I'm still looking for wind waker, and that was really popular! And then you have to play it! They're not small games!!

But could people writing wild please ease off just a tiiiiiny bit so he can be a semi functional member of society pretty please XD? He's just as much a polite boy as any other member of the chain! He won't even run in shops! He can't attack npcs! He talks to every single person he's ever seen and remembers every single name. Yes, he's three quarters woodland creature with a hefty amount of trauma but he's also a fashionista who managed to avoid accidentally taking sides in a mayoral election and that's not easy!

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Honors From the King: A Short Story

The sword felt strange in Mia's hand. It fit perfectly in her grasp, but it still seemed impossible that it was hers. A few days ago it had made her into a hero, but in the confusion of the battle, she barely remembered making the lucky blow that felled the giant who had terrorized the Southern Forest for ten years.

Now she, an ordinary eleven-year-old from Iowa, was the hero of a fantastical realm, waiting to receive honors from the king himself.

Elbera bustled around Mia in the antechamber-turned-dressing room of the village hall. The elf woman—barely taller than Mia—had served almost as a mother to her since the strange wind had left her in the elfin village. "Now, my dear, as you're being honored for valor in battle, it's right for you to carry the sword, but you must never put the point toward the king. If you're nervous about it, you'd best sheathe it."

Mia sheathed the sword before Elbera finished the sentence.

Elbera continued, "Since you've slain a well-known terror, it's customary for the king to offer a boon. If he offers up to half his kingdom, don't take it—it's only a polite phrase. Best to ask for something useful—perhaps a sum of gold to rebuild the bridge outside the village."

From what Mia had heard of the king, he'd do that anyway. No, if Mia was to get a boon, she would ask for only one thing.

She wanted to go home.

For nine long months, she'd been stuck in Athelor. The cheerful, dainty elves had been kind to her—sheltering, feeding and teaching her without complaint—but they weren't her family. Her parents had to be frantic about her. And her six siblings—what had they done when that strange summer wind took her away from them? An entire school year would be gone by now. If she stayed away much longer, she'd be so far behind, and it would be harder and harder to fit back into ordinary life.

The elves had been unable to provide any suggestions about how to get back home; they only told Mia to wait for the wind. But the elves had sung praises of King Edonniel's library, spoke with awe of his scholarly works about Athelor's history. If anyone knew how to get her home, the king would.

The door to the chamber opened, and a palace guard escorted Mia into sunlit wooden expanse of the main hall.

At the room's far end, the king stood among his guard. Though over fifty, he was tall and fit, with a reddish-gold beard and a noble bearing, resplendent in royal armor. He was like the good king in every fairy tale Mia had ever read, like her father, and she forgot to be afraid of him. The king was a great man—warrior, poet, scholar, diplomat—but Mia knew in an instant that he was kind enough to help a lost girl.

The assembled crowd—all the elves and talking beasts from the village—cheered as Mia approached the king. Mia tried to ignore them, instead focusing on the king’s kind face.

The king stared at her. He stood frozen for several moments, then stepped toward her. “Mia?”

Mia stumbled to a stop. "Yes?" This seemed an informal greeting from a great king.

In a blink, Mia found herself in the king's arms, crushed in a warm embrace.

"I can't believe it." The king's deep voice sounded right next to her ear. "I thought I'd never see any of you again, not here."

Mia tried to push him away. King or not, this was too weird to put up with. "Any of who? What are you doing?"

The king pulled away and looked into her face, drinking her in. "I'm sorry. Of course you don't know me. Mia, I’m Danny. Your brother."

*

In the privacy of Elbera’s good parlor, Mia sat alone with the king. Her brother. Her ten-year-old brother. Who she never in a million years would have connected with the great scholar, warrior, and king the elves, in their musical accents, called Edonniel.

She couldn’t doubt that he was Danny. He remembered their parents, their farm, all their family, even the dinosaur village she and he had created two summers ago. With only a year and a day between their ages, they had often been mistaken for twins, but Mia had always reveled in her superior age. Until now.

Danny seemed so dignified; he made Elbera’s soft chair look like a throne. His eyes had wrinkles around them. His red-gold beard hung down to his chest. He sat so steady, so still, gazing at her like she was his long-lost child—instead of the sister whose hair he pulled when she beat him at Mario Kart.

As Mia sat across from him on Elbera's other chair, the only thing she could think to say was, “You’re older than me.”

The king guffawed. “I’m older than Dad. But you—you don’t look a day older than when I last saw you. How long have you been here?”

“Nine months.”

“It’s been forty-eight years for me.”

Mia’s head spun at the idea. “How?”

“The wind that carried us into a different world carried us into different times. I landed on the shores of the Beryl Sea forty-eight years ago. Ever since I became king, I’ve made a study of Athelorian history, trying to find the rest of us.”

“Us?” Mia had been with her siblings when the wind had taken her, but she’d assumed they were back home in Iowa. “How many of us are in Athelor?”

“All of us,” Danny said with surprise. “Didn’t you know?”

Mia shook her head. “I couldn’t see much.”

“And when you landed here alone, you had no reason to guess that we weren’t all safely at home,” he said, understanding.

“Is anyone else here?” Mia asked, half-hoping another brother or sister would pop out from behind the furniture.

“I crossed paths with Thomas not long after I arrived, but you’re the only one I’ve met in person since. Everyone else, I’ve had to track down in history and legend.”

“You met Thomas?”

“He landed among the trolls of the northern mountains,” Danny explained. “Became a master smith—the greatest in Athelorian history. He forged that sword you carry. I have no idea how it got into the elves’ hands; I’ll bet there’s a story there.”

Danny never could stick to the point of a story. “Where is he?” Mia asked in frustration.

“He was a very old man when I met him,” Danny said. “A hundred and twenty-seven, by some counts. Some say his life was extended by working with the stones from the heart of the world.”

Was? Her little brother had been only six years old when she’d last seen him. He couldn’t be—

Mia sank back into her chair, stricken.

Danny, caught up in his story, didn’t seem to notice. “Jane lived among the centaurs and elves of the Skyveil Plains seven-hundred years ago. Became a legendary warrior and explorer, defender of the weak. Beloved by all the beasts. First to step foot on the Daybreak Isles and meet the talking mice.”

Seven-hundred years?

“Now Ben,” Danny said with a laugh, “has popped up all through history. Rarely seen for more than a day or two, but he always has some dramatic effect. Some scholars speculate he’s extraordinarily long-lived, but my theory is that time is playing with him in a different way than the rest of us.”

He said it all so calmly!

“Nora?” Mia dared to ask about their oldest sister.

Danny’s gaze turned dreamy, his voice hushed and reverent. “The legendary Queen Eleanor, present at the waking of the world.”

Danny was talking about Nora—bossy Nora!—like he was in awe of her.

Her sister—all her siblings—had become legends. They weren’t waiting for her at home. They were long dead, had been dead ever since she’d arrived, which meant they were gone forever, and there was no way home—

Mia burst into tears.

Danny reacted about like how she’d have expected him to react. He sprang up from his seat and hovered awkwardly over her chair. “Mia? What’s wrong?”

Through tears, despair, and frustration, Mia blubbered something that included the words, “They’re all dead!”

“Dead?” Danny asked. “Who said they were dead?”

Mia wiped her tears on her sleeve and glared up at him. “You did! You said Thomas was ancient, and Jane lived seven-hundred years ago, and Nora’s as old as the entire world!”

“That doesn’t mean they’re dead.”

“I’m not stupid! No one can live that long, not even here!”

Danny crouched down next to her chair. He placed both hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “Mia, look at me. I’m telling you: they’re not dead.”

Before his fatherly gaze—even with the beard, he looked a lot like Dad—Mia’s sobs became mere sniffles. “Then where are they?”

“They’re home. Safe. I promise. The same wind that brought us here brought them back home after their adventures were over.”

Just like the elves had said. But when Mia had thought she’d have to wait to go home, she’d thought it would be a few years at most, not—

“You said Thomas was more than a hundred years old.”

Danny said, “I’ve done a lot of reading about people like us. We’re not the only people who’ve come here from Earth—or gone home. The stories all say the same thing. No matter how long we spend here, the wind takes us back home to a time only minutes after we left, and we’ll be just the same age we were then. Reunited from across history, as young we ever were. A foretaste of heaven.”

His voice had gone dreamy again. The elves had said he was a poet.

Mia dried her face and sat up straight. “We’ll all be together? At our normal ages? Like we never left?”

“Exactly.”

“You and me and Thomas and Ben and Nora and—“ Mia realized something. “You never said where Claire was.”

“She’s the only one I haven’t found in history yet. That means her story’s probably still in the future. Maybe we’ll run into her someday.”

That did sound exciting, but Mia didn’t like the idea of waiting decades like Daniel had.

“How long do you think it will be? Before we go home?”

Danny stood and walked toward his chair. “I can’t say. Whenever the wind blow lately, I get the strangest feeling that I won’t be here long—maybe five years.”

Five years—half her life—not long?

“For you,” Danny continued as he sat down, “I can’t say. But I have a feeling that your adventures are just beginning.”

“I don’t want more adventures,” Mia said, as another tear dripped. “I want to go home.”

“I know,” Danny said, his voice husky with sympathy. “The first year is the hardest, and you’re so young.”

The idea of Danny—Danny!—treating her like a little kid! “I’m older than you!” Looking into his very-much-not-a-kid face, she amended, “Well, I should be.”

“You will be again, one day. But until then...“ Danny leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and suddenly sounded more like an American kid than he had all day. “This sounds so weird, but if you like, I can adopt you. You can live in the palace under my protection, and I can show you everything about Athelor. Maybe name you my heir if you like the whole royalty thing.”

He was planning a whole life for her. Plotting out a future. Here. Even without the weirdness of Danny acting like her dad, it was too much.

Danny noticed her hesitation. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I know we’re all called here for different purposes, and I don’t want to keep you from your intended mission.”

“I thought the giant was my mission.” Mia had constructed such a tidy tale—and now it was unraveling. “I came here, I slayed the giant. The story should be over. I should get to go home.”

“It will always be waiting for you. Until then, you have Athelor.”

“Athelor isn’t home!”

“It can be,” Danny said. “It’s been a good home to me. It can be a better one, now that you’re here.”

Mia suddenly realized how old her little brother was. How long he’d been waiting, searching for his family through books. And now she was here, after all this time.

Maybe that was her mission. To help this great king while he was here caring for the people of Athelor.

“I guess I can try,” Mia said. Even if she had to stay a long time—well, Danny had managed to do some amazing things, and she couldn’t let her little brother outshine her. “When we do get back home, I don’t want you to have a better story than me.”

Danny grinned—and for just a second, he looked a little like the kid she remembered. “Mia,” he said, “I think you’re going to be fit for legend.”

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

The West Passage

medieval fantasy set in a giant crumbling palace of traditions with forgotten origin, ruled by giant eldritch Ladies

when winter weather comes in the middle of summer, and a beast below the palace begins to rise, two teens from Grey who have suddenly gained a lot of responsibilities set out on separate journeys to the other towers to find a way to stop it, and meet all sorts of strange people and creatures along the way

world where pronouns/names are based on people’s roles

tons of cool medieval-style chapter illustrations by the author

[alexjcrowley]

The Hobbit or Bilbo Baggins's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad, Not At All Fun Steppe Vacation

[simgerale]

me after attempting to get back into sims and realizing i had a lot more to do than play the game

[elliscousland]

twirling my hair thinking abt the threads tht i have in my drafts tht have taken months to get to

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

A rummage sale

Opens Friday, October 6th at 2pm, Closes Friday, October 13th at 11:59pm

CLOSED

How humorous it is to say that I, a traveler like me who can never stay in one place for long, would be holding such an event. It is an event that is typically reserved for those who stay put and collect, to then find themselves overcrowded with bobbles and trinkets to find the need to regift them - for a price of course.

But it appears that my little shop has been around for a year now, and I suppose that due to that homely nature I find with keeping it, I too have turned into those creatures that make it a habit to sell their old belonging.

After all, a year's worth of clutter must be dealt with, even for a peddler such as myself. And I have always found that it is better to give things no longer needed away than to sell them; generosity is in my nature after all.

So please, dear traveler, have a look around at all the trinkets, charms, and books you see upon my shelves and see if one catches your eye or even heart.

After all, trash can become a treasure in the right hands

Please Choose What Calls to You

Personal Reading of Your Palm:

If you are a little weary of venturing into all that is unique around you, perhaps I can be your guide. Allow me to look upon your palam and direct you where your heart is asking to go and the fate that will befall you should you listen. (matchup + how you meet)

Enchanted and Alluring Charm:

It caught your eye didn't it, from the moment you walked in you could not take your eyes off of it. I am more than willing to allow you the chance to claim it as your own, if you so wish to treasure it (moodboard and/or matching outfits)

Intriguing Book of Old:

I see you have found a bit of my collection of literature, one that has taken many years over many landscapes to curate. Though I do find it rather sad to part with such old friends, I can see they would be far more beloved by a traveler like yourself. So please sit, and stay a moment longer, after all, I would want you to love the story you are about to be bonded to (fairytale matchup with drabble) (none left)

I so hope you will find a treasure amongst my things, traveler

[trensu]

I wish there was more steddie time travel fics. Where steddie travels back all the way to season one. Maybe both or one of them. Actually both because the comedic potential. Like Steve and Eddie trying to change things and save the day. And anyone who sees them sneaking around thinks they are in a secret gay relationship. Nancy has this whole theory that her boyfriend is gay and sneaking off with Eddie Munson. Reason why he's being distant and hiding things. And on one hand she's not wrong, because steddie has so much unresolved sexual tension that one is oblivious to and the other is to afriad to admit to. But on the other hand is she way way off.

okay tbh, as great as that would be, i don't think everyone would immediately jump to the gay thing. if this is during steve's kingly days, he's got enough sway and popularity that people would bend over backwards to prove he's a Normal Straight American Boy.

what i think would be more likely, considering he throws those parties and is a good athlete, people would assume he's either developing an addiction on something OR taking steroids. nancy would be SO worried about it because omg steve, do you know what drugs do to your brain? how are you going to get into college if you keep doing that stuff??

meanwhile, steve is touched by her concern and also like...just going along with it? What is he supposed to do? That explanation makes WAY more sense than the whole Upside Down nonsense that they're trying to prevent. So now you've got Steve--who can do a mean kegstand but has literally never even considered doing anything harder than that because DUH the hard stuff would fuck up his body and he's an ATHLETE--trying to pretend he's got to get his Drugs so he has to cancel his plans with Nancy and go see Eddie RIGHT NOW. Because of Drugs. No other reason.

But we all know Nancy is a stubborn bastard (affectionate), so she'd definitely use her investigative skills to find out more. She'd track down this Eddie Munson guy and give him a piece of her mind. Now, this Nancy is still pretty mild and is lacking guns because the UD stuff hasn't hit her yet, but Eddie remembers with crystal clarity his Nancy and her weapons proficiency and reacts to past Nancy accordingly. As in, he immediately apologizes for anything and everything and promises not to do it again, please don't hurt him.

Now Nancy is confused as to why this big bad leather and chain wearing drug dealer is practically cowering before her. She starts to suspect other stuff is going on because the pieces aren't adding up. Eventually she figures out what's happening and joins Steve and Eddie because while they're both creative and skilled in their own ways, they're not really that great at the actual investigating bit of the plan-making process.

It's only then, when she's spending more time with the two of them together, does she start to catch on to the way Eddie looks at Steve. She remembers the rumors that go around about Eddie, so she's not too surprised because Steve is stupid hot and really good in bed, like, so good, the things that boy could do with his tongue will stay with her always. What does catch her off guard is the way Steve reacts whenever Eddie does something that edges around flirty (but still has plausible deniability). He doesn't get disgusted, he gets confused and ruminates over it. It's curious (though if nancy were honest to herself, she'd admit that she's never really understood all the romance stuff and it's never particularly appealed to her). If there were more time, she'd probably study them more.

But there are more important things happening, so she's going to leave them to deal with that mess on their own.

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #30: Preparation

Masterlist

content: no warnings :)

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

It was a lot like planning for a vacation, but more stressful. For Heather, at least. Her packing had the frantic, frenzied pace of a burrowing shrew. She came up with a list of things to bring: clothes, food, money, a weapon—better safe than sorry, she told him—coats, water, more food? Toothbrushes, soap, sedatives—she wouldn’t offer an explanation for this one—buy gas, gloves, boots, and so on.

Jackie certainly wasn’t taking this any more seriously than a vacation. He hadn’t gone outside in a while, and besides that, he hadn’t left the vicinity of Heather's house for several months now. He found himself curious as to what it’d be like. Had the world changed at all while he was gone? No longer was he privy to the knowledge free men took for granted. News never reached his secluded life. He wouldn't know if there was high water coming or if the Swedes landed on the sun.

Like Heather, he also packed a few things. Nothing impressive. A new book from Heather’s shelf—something by Oscar Wilde about a portrait—alongside his clothes, a pencil and paper, the dollar bill he'd taken from Matthew, and one of Heather’s old backpacks to carry it all. 

On the second day, she also handed him a heavy, black wool coat. It went a few inches below his hips, and was studded by brass buttons all along the front. 

“I think it looks good,” she offered.

It did look very intimidating in the mirror. He pulled the coat off and shrugged. Petty things like vanity no longer appealed to him. There was no time for such luxuries. He could remember being invested in his appearance, long ago. He missed being able to care about stupid things. He missed buying his own clothes. Heather’s fashion sense was okay, but it wasn’t the same.

There was also the matter of the cop, with his warning of returning in two weeks or so. Evidence was key, and they needed it gone. With a gallon of gasoline and an old firepit in the yard, Heather burned the tapes, the cassette recorder, the polaroids of Jackie’s open chest and exposed organs, hell, even the ropes. It all went up in flames, went black and curled around the edges, until there was only a pile of ash and char. She cleaned the blood off her tools and gutted the house of stains from the inside-out. 

The third day arrived with a flurry of snow outside. The intensity of the sun was wholly unfamiliar to Jackie, and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust. They shoved their luggage into the back of the car. Jackie was happy to learn that he could sit in the front.

“What?” she said when he let out a sigh of relief. “Did you think I’d keep you in the trunk?”

He laughed at this, but it was an uneasy smile he wore. It was hard to tell with her. What sorts of things she found ridiculous, and what lines she wasn’t opposed to crossing. 

Still, things were generally okay. He was safe. He was out of the silence, out of the isolation, and he felt okay. He felt happy. Before this, his happiness was brief and based on whatever small luxury could distract him. Maybe a painkiller, maybe a break from the tests. But his happiness now was more of a pervading contentment. It was a constant, heavy high in his heart, felt in the far edges of his soul.

Although he had found it redundant, Heather had an idea with strings of thread. Before they left, she taped up a string near the front door, and also to the hallway’s entrance. This, she informed him, would reveal if anybody had come in and searched the house. The thread would snap easily when someone walked through it. It wasn’t clear what the benefit of this knowledge was, if she would go to jail either way, but it seemed to calm Heather down a bit.

The wind scratched at Jackie’s face when he stuck his head out the window. The flecks of falling snow pierced his skin. The cold stung his eyes, making them water. He didn’t care. The feeling of movement and freedom was exhilarating. Heather started the car with a jerk of the gear shift. And off they went, out of the house, into whatever lay behind the highways and empty roads.

He rolled the window up after a while, then turned to her. “How long are we leaving for?”

“Three weeks.” Her grip on the steering wheel was tight enough to nearly bruise. “Longer, if we need to.”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. Stop asking me questions, I’m going to be sick.”

Indeed, her expression had not shifted from dull panic. There were dark circles under her eyes. Something played on the radio, but the melody was too quiet to recognize. She turned it off with a small, barely noticeable frown. 

Jackie left the subject alone and leaned his face against the window. This was the best day of his life, he thought. 

The sky was starting to turn black. They left the house late, to draw as little suspicion as possible. Streetlights shone like cat’s eyes on the sides of the road, streaky and long with motion. He thought he saw a few people, passing by, their faces blurry and indistinct. There were trees, pines with bristling needles, bare birches, old oaks. Snow stained the sidewalks in shades of dirty white. There were one or two other cars, but not many. Maybe it was a holiday. Maybe it was Christmas.

“What’s the date?” he asked.

“I told you, stop asking—” The tension eased from her shoulders, but only slightly. “Sorry. I’m tired. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Well, he could wait. He was good at waiting. Jackie wondered how long he had been waiting, locked down there—it could have been weeks or years, and he would never know. But that was behind him, now. That was in the past. He could file it away with all his other bad memories. There was no point in dwelling on it. He had lived, and he would continue to live, and that was all. It was nothing to worry about.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl

@lthrboy

@whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation

@creppersfunpalooza

[somanyfuckedupiftruebooks]

@jonmartinweek Day 6: Time Travel

Out of Time

Jon refuses to focus on the push of the knife into his chest. The pain is almost unremarkable compared to the overwhelming pulling sensation as all the Fears begin to draw away. He knows Annabelle’s web is pulling him away too – the slick-smooth edges of the tape wrap around him and cut in everywhere as they snap taut and try to pull him backwards. But none of it matters. He doesn’t want to be aware of any of it. He wants to see nothing, know nothing, but Martin’s face pressed close to his; their foreheads touching, their mingled tears falling onto Jon’s cheeks, Martin’s bright blue eyes shining with a searing combination of terror and love and–

Everything stops.

There is a knock at the door.

Jon sits bolt upright, gasping for breath in the wake of the sudden shock to his system that is the abrupt absence of all pain. Before he can take in anything about his surroundings, he is already reaching, trying to find Martin. His hands come up empty, grabbing at nothing but blankets and bedsheets. Jon is in a bed, in a bedroom that looks distantly familiar, and Martin is not with him.

What happened? Where is he? Jon tries to Know, but there is nothing. Reaching for the Eye feels like the mental equivalent of miscounting the steps in a staircase and overbalancing as your foot falls through the empty space with unnecessary weight and purpose. He can’t feel the Eye at all. The door in his mind isn't closed, it's gone.

'Jon, are you awake yet?' a voice calls from somewhere outside of the room. There is someone at the door, knocking.

Read the rest on Ao3!

[bookshelf-in-progress]

I want to make "Shadowstruck" an Inklings Challenge story so bad, and there's no way I'll be able to finish even part of it in time.

[moldy-flowers]

Naruto time travel fics are so popular even the Boruto animators wanted in on that crap

[triluvial]

I have a vision of like pre-S1 Steve Harrington with a glass bottle he broke as an improvised weapon but instead of cheap beer it's like,, fancy, imported sparkling water.

[flowerakatsuka]

one of these days i need to sit down and write out the lore i've thought up for kuroba's youkai au bc i went a lil wild with it.