#pre-clock

[bamboozled-distress]

why is sasuke uchihas hair the lovechild of narumitsu oh my GOD LOOK AT THIS SHIT ITS LIKE HES GOT BITH THEIR HAIRSTYLES EHWT THE HELL like he’s got the spiky hair in the back just like pheonix and the yaoi anime bangs in front like edgeworth

this is making me so mad

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Headcanon that at some point in freshman year (probably sometime after the Daybreak battle when they were like chilling for a couple of months if I’m remembering correctly) Fabian pretended to throw a party at his place to have an excuse for the Bad Kids to hang out at his house without having to admit he actually cared for them and liked hanging out with them

[moodr1ng]

ive gotta say ive gotten rly rly tired of the genre of post by trans men that goes "someone directed virulent transmisogyny at me today under the belief that i was a trans woman! but lol im a trans man! accidental ally!" like i dont actually think its funny that someone insisted you were a man in a way meant to be demeaning and threatening because they mistook you for a trans woman. im not sure why youre laughing.

[brbuttons]

me, checking Tumblr wondering where all the LumiCogs went... only to realise its ship name changed in the decade we were off our bullshit.

Back on it now though so have a win for the gays.

[mellotronmkll]

They Might Be Giants ringing in the brand new year of 1990 with a rendition of Auld Lang Syne at a NYE show at Quiet Life (John Linnell's basement) in Brooklyn, NY

[unicafavorita]

Of course Minho is the strongest glader out there (aside from Thomas obvs) but THAT'S BECAUSE HE'S BEEN EXPERIMENTED ON WITH GRIEVERS MORE THAN THE OTHERS EVEN BEFORE HE WENT IN THE MAZE

[icyfox17]

I saw 9-1-1 and then I saw psych and then I blacked out an followed you - jkjk that snippet looks AMAZING Buck and Shawn would synergize on a level unheard of it's such a big brained concept!!!

HAHHAHA YESS OMGGG i am always happy to find more ppl who are into 911!! and psych too LETS GOOO

THANK YOUUU THATS SO SWEET ILL CRY EUEUUE <333

i wrote that snippet so long ago and then got distracted but ive been getting back into psych and now i cant stop thinking about them aaaaaaa

BUT YES OMG shawn and buck have so many parallels it actually makes me go bonkers (gonna ramble under the cut)

they are just both goofy goobers

both are bisexual disasters

they both have a scene where they're angstily riding their motorcycle before crashing

both would hookup constantly before they found a job to give them a sense of purpose

GOD THEY BOTH. THEY BOTH HAVE FUCKED UP CHILDHOODS BUT IN LIKE OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS ARHGHRGH

both are attention seekers (in very different ways)

they both have ppl think theyre much dumber than they actually are (smart buck u are so special to me)

both are a fan of old rock (Shawn with Tears for Fears, Buck with Bruce Springsteen) CAN YOU IMAGINE A KARAOKE SCENE JKFDSKJ

there are more but omggkgkjgkj honestly i feel like. a big difference between them is just that Shawn had Gus growing up and Buck had Maddie

[svtskneecaps]

ok i do need to ask, do we like KNOW know that some egg admins have been playing as other silly npcs during this downtime or are we speculating. like i've seen people identifying admins with varying strength of basis since the eggs first existed but like. for a while there anytime an npc spoke portuguese everyone thought it was richas and then occasionally it would be agent 18 lmao so. . . are we doing that now or do we like Know lmfao

oh and to be clear i do mean varying strength; people were apparently spotting a leo admin's speech patterns earlier and since leo has such a distinct pattern (tho i'm not fluent in spanish LMAO) i'm inclined to believe that. but yea for a while people seemed to think portuguese=richas and to be fair there weren't many non-english npcs for a WHILE and really no portuguese besides richas (that we knew of) but it does mean i'm a bit more skeptical now when the audience starts trying to clock npc admins lmfao

[peppymintdreams]

Toxic Criminal III

Elias x Barista

The safe house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the rhythmic tapping of Barista’s fingers against their mug. They sat at the kitchen table, lost in a haze of second thoughts.

Their parents’ warnings echoed in their mind: He’s dangerous. You deserve better.But those words felt distant, drowned out by the weight of Elias’ presence in their life.

He appeared in the doorway, shirt rumpled and hair tousled as if he’d just woken up. His sharp eyes softened when they met Barista’s.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, padding over to sit across from them.

Barista shook their head, keeping their gaze down. “Just thinking.”

Elias chuckled, leaning his elbows on the table. “That’s your first mistake. Thinking too much’ll drive you crazy in this life.” He reached across, tilting their chin up with a gentle finger so they had no choice but to look at him. “You’re safe with me. You know that, right?”

They nodded automatically, the words slipping out before they could stop them. “Of course.”

“Good.” Elias smiled, the kind of smile that made their chest tighten. It wasn’t fair how easily he could disarm them. “Because I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you here.”

Barista’s breath hitched. Does he mean that? Or is this just another line? But when Elias’ hand brushed over theirs, all doubt seemed to evaporate.

“You keep me grounded,” he continued, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. “Most people don’t get it—what it’s like to carry all this weight, to have everyone expecting something from you. But you… you’re different. You see the real me.”

Barista’s heart twisted. They wanted to believe him so badly. Despite everything—despite the warnings, the chaos surrounding him—they couldn’t bring themselves to let go.

“I just want to help you,” they said, their voice trembling.

Elias leaned closer, his gaze locking onto theirs. “And you do. More than you know.” He cupped their hand in both of his, his touch warm and steady. “I don’t think I’d make it through all this without you. I mean that.”

The sincerity in his tone broke something inside them, the last remnants of their doubt crumbling. He needs me. I can’t leave him.

Elias stood, his fingers lingering for a moment before letting go. “You’re everything I need, Barista,” he said with a quiet conviction, as if the very thought of losing them was unbearable. “Don’t ever forget that.”

Barista nodded, their chest tight with emotion. They watched as Elias walked away, his presence leaving a void behind that only he could fill.

In the dim light of the kitchen, they clung to his words, unaware of how carefully they’d been woven—designed to keep them right where Elias wanted them.

Barista sat at the table, staring at the manila folder Elias had carelessly thrown at them hours earlier, asking them if the could work on it. It was supposed to be “background on Morgan,” the Penance leader, but the details inside were far more unsettling than they expected.

One note, in particular, stood out:

Morgan Enzetar—Possible missing child. No confirmed connection to Penance activity.

The words clung to Barista’s mind like a hook. A leader like Morgan had no room for weakness, no margin for something as vulnerable as a missing child. But the thought of it wouldn’t let go. Did Morgan even know?

A sharp voice broke the silence. “You’re either brave or foolish to dig through that.”

Barista’s head snapped up to see Warden standing in the doorway. His cold, calculating stare pinned them to the chair. His presence filled the room like a shadow, heavy and suffocating.

“I…” Barista faltered, scrambling to gather the loose pages. “Elias gave it to me. I was just—”

“Elias doesn’t think things through.” Warden stepped into the room, his boots tapping against the floor like the ticking of a clock. “But you—you're different, aren’t you? Smarter. More… cautious.”

Barista hesitated, unsure if it was a compliment or a threat. “I thought it might help. The more we know about Morgan—”

“The less I trust you,” Warden cut in smoothly, lowering himself into the chair across from them. His eyes never left theirs, sharp and unyielding. “You’re not part of this world, yet you’re here. That makes you dangerous.”

Barista bristled. “I didn’t ask to be here.”

“No, but you stayed.” Warden leaned back, his expression cold and unreadable. “That tells me two things: you’re either loyal to my son or you’re loyal to yourself. And between the two, I’m not sure which one is worse.”

Barista’s hands tightened around the folder, but they said nothing. Loyal to Elias? Or myself? They weren’t even sure anymore.

Warden’s gaze flicked to the folder. “What did you find?”

Barista hesitated, then slid the page about Morgan’s missing child toward him. “It says he might have a missing child. Do you think he knows?”

Warden’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Morgan is a man who doesn’t lose things—not money, not power, and certainly not a child. If they're missing, it’s because he wanted her to be.”

Barista’s stomach turned. “You think he abandoned her?”

“I think he’s a man who cuts his losses,” Warden said flatly. “And you’d do well to remember that. The people who survive in this world are the ones who know when to walk away.”

Barista’s jaw tightened. “So what, you think I should walk away from Elias?���

Warden’s eyes narrowed. “I think you’ll stay exactly where you are. My son has a way of keeping people on a leash without them even realizing it. You’re no exception.”

Barista’s chest tightened at the words, a mix of anger and unease bubbling beneath the surface. “You don’t know me.”

“No,” Warden said, his tone icy. “But I know Elias. And I know what happens when someone becomes his weakness.”

Barista’s breath caught. Weakness. Was that what they were to Elias? A liability?

“You think he cares about you,” Warden continued, his voice low and deliberate. “And maybe he does, in his way. But when it comes down to it, Elias will always choose survival. The question is, will you?”

Barista stared down at the file, the words about Morgan’s missing child swimming in their vision. They thought of their own family, of the parents who warned them about Elias, who begged them to come home.

“I’m not like him,” Barista said quietly, almost to themselves.

Warden’s expression didn’t change. “No. You’re not. But that doesn’t mean he won’t pull you down with him.”

He stood, his chair scraping against the floor. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at Barista with an expression that was more calculation than concern.

“If you want to survive, remember this: loyalty doesn’t mean safety. And love doesn’t mean trust.”

The room felt colder after he left. Barista’s eyes drifted back to the page about Morgan’s heir.

What kind of man loses a child?

The question twisted in their mind, dragging up memories of their own family—their father’s angry voice, their mother’s disappointed silence. What kind of person loses the people who matter most?

And what kind of person chooses to stay?

…

Warden’s office was silent except for the faint rustle of papers as he sifted through Barista’s file. He had been at this for hours, poring over every shred of evidence, every lead on Morgan Enzetar’s rumored missing child. Barista’s name had come up in passing—a faint thread at first, but now? Now it was a glaring connection.

The date of their birth, their mother’s maiden name, even the distinct features that matched a long-forgotten photo of Morgan’s ex-wife. It was undeniable.

Barista wasn’t just a bystander or collateral damage. They were Morgan’s blood.

Warden sat back in his chair, his face unreadable as he processed the revelation. If Morgan ever learned that Barista was alive, that they had unknowingly slipped into Warden’s hands, the fallout would be catastrophic.

“This changes things,” he murmured, the coldness in his voice seeping into the room.

Without hesitation, he reached for his phone.

“James,” he said when the call connected. “We have a problem. Barista isn’t just some lovesick tagalong—they’re Morgan’s missing heir.”

James swore under his breath. “That complicates things. If Morgan finds out—”

“He won’t,” Warden interrupted, his tone sharp. “Barista’s a liability, and liabilities don’t get to stick around. Make the arrangements.”

“You’re sure about this?” James asked, his hesitation palpable.

Warden’s gaze hardened. “If you hesitate, I’ll handle it myself.”

The call ended, and Warden leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. Elias won’t like this, but he doesn’t have to. I’ve protected this family for decades, and I won’t let some starry-eyed fool unravel everything.

The first attempt came days later—a shadow in an alley, a knife flashing too close to Barista’s ribs. They barely escaped, breathless and shaken, clutching a shallow wound. The second attempt was more calculated: a hit-and-run that they narrowly avoided by darting into an empty storefront.

Barista’s mind raced. This wasn’t random. Someone wanted them dead.

When they stumbled into Elias’s apartment that evening, they were trembling.

“Elias,” they gasped, clutching his shirt. “Someone’s trying to kill me.”

Elias’s brow furrowed in concern, his hands steady as he pulled them closer. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

But the warmth in his voice felt hollow, practiced. Barista didn’t notice the way his eyes flicked past them, a faint smirk curling at the edges of his lips when they couldn’t see.

“Maybe it’s just some random gang stuff,” Elias said soothingly, brushing a strand of hair from their face. “You’ve been hanging around the Wraiths a lot—it’s probably nothing personal.”

Barista looked at him, desperate for reassurance. “What if it’s more than that? What if… what if your father—”

Elias chuckled softly, cutting them off. “Come on, Warden? He’s cold, yeah, but he doesn’t have a reason to go after you. You’re overthinking it, sweetheart.”

The nickname made their stomach twist. It felt wrong now, almost condescending.

“I’ll protect you,” Elias added, pressing a kiss to their forehead. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Barista nodded slowly, the weight of his gaze trapping them like a snare.

A few days later, Elias suggested they get out of the city for a while. “I know a safe place,” he said, his voice dripping with warmth. “No one will find us there. We can finally breathe.”

Barista wanted to believe him. Despite everything—the unease, the lingering doubts—they followed him, blind with the kind of love that made them overlook the cracks in the facade.

The safehouse was in the middle of nowhere, a crumbling warehouse on the outskirts of Stockton. As soon as Barista stepped inside, alarms went off in their head. The place reeked of abandonment and danger, but before they could say anything, they felt a sharp jab in their neck.

Their vision blurred as Elias’s face hovered over them.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, his tone almost playful. “It’s not personal. Just business.”

The last thing they saw before the world went black was Elias’s faint smirk and the sound of footsteps retreating.

Barista woke in a dark, damp room, their head pounding. It didn’t take long to piece things together.

Elias had led them here.

The truth hit them like a freight train, the weight of it crushing. Every moment, every kiss, every word of reassurance—it had all been a lie.

Elias wasn’t their savior. He wasn’t their protector. He was their executioner, dressed in charm and false promises.

And they had been stupid enough to fall for it.

Barista’s mind raced as they pieced it all together. The Wraiths, the killings, the corruption—they had ignored it all, blinded by their loyalty to Elias. They had thought their love could transcend the darkness, that Elias was different.

But now, shackled in the depths of some forgotten hideout, they saw the truth.

Elias was a monster. A criminal. A toxic criminal who had twisted their devotion into a weapon against them.

And Barista had handed him the blade.

Tears burned at their eyes, but they refused to let them fall. “You’re not winning,” they whispered to the empty room, their voice trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak.

“Not this time.”

[wejustvibing]

carlos' ptsd was like well hold on now 💀

[spitblaze]

If I had a nickel for every incarnation of princess zelda I think is transmasc. I'd have two nickels

[necrotic-nephilim]

I’m here to bother you again!!!

You don’t have to if you don’t want to but maybe dark ship bingo with timjay or brudick????

hELLO i love being bothered by you this is delightful omg thank you, i would love to

Here is JayTim, I can't believe I only got one bingo for them. Ironically I genuinely don't view Jason and Tim as family, even when I'm not shipping them, I think they're tentative allies at best and you can only brother-ify them if you're doing very generously OOC fluff, a la WFA-style. They're absolutely toxic and codependent on each other's existence, Tim wouldn't exist without Jason and Jason is Undeniably Weird about Tim, but not brothers so I can't check off the familial squares. Also, I have no idea if I've been blocked by 10+ people, but it'd be funny if I am. And funnily enough, I don't think Tim or Jason are vanilla in any capacity even when they're not fucking. Especially not Tim, that boy is Certified Weird.

and ofc BruDick I nearly blacked out the whole board because they absolutely are weird and unwell. Some of these only apply to certain AUs of BruDick (like an idea I have rattling in my skull rn with Talon!Dick) but most of it applies to them all the time. I really need to write some fucked up BruDick, it's tragic I haven't yet. Right now the two fics I'm working on are a weird JayDick and a more fluffy DamiDick, but I have Plans™ for BruDick too. They are the OG and deserve their flowers for being the most toxic mess you've ever seen.

[writesinsthenwelltalk]

This movie filled the hole A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out left in my heart holy shit

Aesthetically it is everything I love about early panic and it’s actually a good movie?? Like I was genuinely extremely invested

P!ATD mutuals go watch jack and the cuckoo clock heart right now

[rklf001]

this applies to me and me only tbh

[chaptertwo-thepacnw]

street of chance |1930|

[appropriatelystupid]

absolutely baffling decision by sword/monica to just. leave agatha in westview under wanda's spell