You are a scientist. You like testing theories, making hypothesis. Working with dangerous materials that get you scolded. You are a scientist, and you are also a writer! You’ve swung at a few things before: sappy poems, work papers, crab, you’ve even attempted a horror short at Mirabelle’s inquiry. You’re favorite thing to write, though, are just basic letters.
You like to write letters. It's easier, to you, to write your thoughts on a piece of paper and hide it somewhere the recipient can find than to tell them what you think face-first. You’ve done it for years, long before you even came to the House to learn about the Change religion. A childhood habit that’s rolled over through your life like a wave on the sea.
So, of course, when time begins to loop, you write. Many, many letters. They all get lost to time when it twists back, and now, many loops in, that leaves a hole in your heart and a spot in your brain you can’t itch, for the words of each letter are mostly forgotten before you fight the King. It’s… fine, you guess? You can word things as many ways as you need to. Anything described can be described some more, after all.
For the first handful of loops, you wrote the same letters. Rather sappy, lovey things, your specialty. The furthest depths of your heart smeared onto a page for eternity, for you love and love and love, and you want those around you to know it.
Though as time trudges on, the same twenty four hours over and over in a nice single circuit built for it to run through, built by wishes and stars and twisted leaf-baring branches, so do your thoughts; therefore your letters move so, too, to adapt. More theoretical things. Questions. Ifs, ands ors buts and whys. Sadder ones after the bad loops, wailing and endlessly upset and mourning those who froze and those who were killed for standing in the King's way.
They get angrier as time goes on. More enraged. Wrath melts into the corners, edges fold and tear and warp under the weight. You stop delivering them, because you're here in this time loop hell to protect the ones you love, and you'd just make it worse if you gave them a letter like that.
You write a scathing letter, once. You write it after an absolutely abysmal loop, ending with blood and tears and probably the loudest you've ever screamed. It flows onto the page easily, and you leave it out on your desk, because you were hungry and hadn't eaten that loop with how beside yourself stressed you were.
Mirabelle finds it. Asks you, quite worried, if you're okay. You must've said something, and it had to be bad, because she flinched away from you like you'd tried to light her ablaze.
You panicked. Time looped.
Never again.
You hide them, after that. Shoved in your pillowcases or in piles of books, stacks of other papers. In the barrels. When you write only one or two you shove them in a bottle and push them to the back of your potions.
You're a shedding snake, a leopard changing its spots. Time is your prisoner and you are it's, and that melts into you as a human being until you are flesh and blood and twenty four hours that shouldn't continue.
Words spill from you, your mind, onto the page. You don't read them anymore. Just write and write and write, and tuck them away and pray no one finds them. You long for the days you could sit and write sappy love letters-- and sometimes, you still do them, but they're tinged with something, regret or rage or the absolute despair you feel, they're wrong, so they're tucked away as well. Letters just wrong, noticeably so. You’d be asked what’s wrong. Cornered. You can hear it now, “What’s wrong? What does this mean?” And all you can think of is the horrors you’ve seen.
One of these loops, whenever you get out, you expect to have a pile of ramblings with time-burnt letters and tear-stained edges. Whenever you get out, if there are any, you'll burn them. As a rite of passage, or something. A Change. Because time changed you, and the less people have to know about it the better. You can't get rid of your rotten voice or the tiredness in your bones or the way your brain has twisted to think, but you CAN get rid of letters.
You like to write. The horrors you write, of twisted time and dying and what being frozen in time is like— it can go. No one needs to know. No one WILL know. It’ll all fall on you, like every other crabbing thing in the time loops. And that’s okay, it’s enough.
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small leisurely moments like these mean more than expected
ok hi triglycergang. it's AUGUST?!?!?! ugh,,,, anyways here's my like once a month art piece because i am a slow ass artist. the mtt are supposed to be chatting at a park during sunset!!! also new au just dropped
you wonder why killer dust and horror are wearing those DISGUSTING outfits??? you wonder where killer's soul is??? well it's all gone in this au which is called uhhh.
jk fashion au... wooooo!!
first things first to know: this au is NOT my idea. it was originally someone on twitter's idea to dress sans aus up in nanchatte seifuku but i think their account got deleted/banned. and i cant find the account because it was a japanese account and probably has some random username. so just remember that this isn't my idea but i guess my own twist on it. i really wish i could find the og creator,,,,
second thing to know: what the fuck nanchatte seifuku/jk (just kidding) fashion even is. here's the link to read for yourself: https://aesthetics.fandom.com/wiki/Nanchatte_Seifuku. yeah that's jk fashion. i really loved this au when i found it originally because i myself dress up in jk and also i just really love soft fluffy things like this. this au isn't gonna be angsty or particularly elaborate or anything i just wanted cute things and women in my murder time trio. also this isn't gyaru btw
third thing: uhh my inspirations for this??? well my main one that i really wanna focus on is that feeling of happy sentimental melancholy. you know like after you finish a really fun day hanging out with your friends and youre on the drive home and look back at how fun the day was? that's what i wanna encapsulate :3 also i think that the day to day school life is really cute and sweet and i wanna make more designs for the other aus so my trio can have more people to hang out with
well uhhh i think that's it?? mayhaps i shall begin drafting up other designs for the other aus. i wanna make little mini comics for this too like 4koma because i love those short yet sweet comics!!! should i tag this? i think i should tag this perchance. also extra mtt notes/full designs below became i love these three they're my daughters
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How Does it Feel to Read Classic Sci-Fi?
Orson Scott Card: Two of the most interesting books you’ll ever read if you’re willing to look past a handful of things. And then you find the planet of Chinese people who worship having debilitating OCD. And the Mormonism. And the fact that the author is wildly homophobic and ought to read his own books.
Robert Heinlein (or at least the Wikipedia Summaries): I guess that’s a neat concept—oh, it’s a sex thing. Um. Gotcha.
Ray Bradbury: Man, I gotta read this thing for class huh. Well here’s hoping it’s good! *three hours later* oh. that’s why he’s famous. this will stick with me forever and I will never look at the phrase ‘soft rain’ the same again. christ. And then repeat 3x.
Isaac Asimov: Wow, this is such an interesting concept! I wonder how the exploration of it will influence the plot! Wait, hey, are you going to add any characters? Any of em? No like, with character traits other than ‘robot psychologist’ and ‘autistic’ and ‘woman’? None of em? No, ‘detective’ isn’t a character trait. Those are all just facts. Aaaand now I’m bored.
Ursula K. Le Guin: Hah, get a load of this guy! He’s never heard of nonbinary people before. Lol, what a riot; how dumb do you have to be to comprehend that these people aren’t men *or* women actually? Oh, wait, what’s happening. Oh shit, it was about society and love and learning to understand each other? And now I’m crying? And perhaps a better human being for it??
Andy Weir: Alright, this guy’s a really good writer. Funny, creative, knows so much engineering stuff…ooh, a new book! …I guess he can’t write women. Well, he wouldn’t be the first sci-fi writer…ooh another new book! And it’s more engineering problem solving and—wow. It’s not just women he can’t write. Please stop letting your characters talk to each other.
Lois Lowry: Oh, I remember this being fun when I was a kid! Wouldn’t it be fucked up to not see color? …upon reread, it would be fucked up to have your humanity stripped away, replaced with a tepid, beige ‘happiness’ for all time. Yeah.
Tamsyn Muir (let me have this ok): Haha, “lesbian necromancers in space” sounds fun. Lemme read this. Oh wow, yeah, this is right up my alley. OH GOD WHAT. NO. FUCK. OH SHIT WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING AND WHY IS IT REFERENCING THE BOOK OF RUTH AND HOMESTUCK BACK TO BACK!!! AHHHHHHHHH!! Now give me more please.
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Maybe I'm missing something but it seems kinda fucked that James Potter is viewed as some huge bully. Snape tells the story of James in the same way I'm sure Draco would tell the story of Harry. Dumbledore even literally compares Harry and Draco to James and Snape. That is literally a canon comparison in the very first book.
Harry turns invisible and throws snowballs at Draco who has no way of defending himself. He laughs when Draco gets turned into a ferret and embarrassed in front of the school. Ron straight up considers leaving Draco in a room of fire, and everyone loves Ron. Harry almost kills Draco himself with the septumsempra curse. Nobody accuses Harry of being some huge bully. He routinely fights Draco, and Draco fights him back. They each give as good as they get.
Just like James and Snape.
Not to mention that James hated Snape for almost one to one reasons that Harry hated Draco.
Both Draco and Snape eventually became death eaters and showed signs that they agreed with death eater ideals long before they actually joined. Both of them called someone that James/Harry cared for 'mudblood'. Like.
Unless you're willing to say Harry is a bully then there's no reason to say James is.
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❦ a reintroduction to shape and color
closed starter | @thomasicism
—
Perhaps Dolasach should’ve known better when she agreed to be play bodyguard for a rather… eccentric personality.
She wasn’t a stranger to world-renowned artist Rafayel’s odd quirks, or to his occasional apathy towards coming off as unreasonable. Whispers of those facets of his personality made rounds among her circles in university and never failed to be mentioned in his interviews—artists are stereotyped as strange and anti-social for a reason. Even in her brief encounters with him prior to the arrangement, she could already tell that he wasn’t an exception to the trope.
So why then, she asked herself, did I agree to be his bodyguard?
The answer echoed in her mind in the form of a coral stone and a dark blue envelope. She sighed and kept walking along the city sidewalk, paying little mind to the passing cars or passersby.
Almost as if in mockery, today’s weather brought a slight drizzle, too. The soft pitter-patter of the rain making contact with Dolasach’s umbrella did little to soothe her mood.
Nearing her destination, Flux Arts, she pulled out her phone and reviewed her conversation with her employer from last night.
Noisy Oarfish: im still saddened by the fact that my own bodyguard cant identify my work at a glance. if word gets out and youre called “incompetent,” ill be devastated
Noisy Oarfish: you need to improve your artistic sensitivity
Noisy Oarfish: tell you what. ill leave those forgeries at flux with the original and you need to tell me which one is the real one
Noisy Oarfish: but not only do you have to pick the correct painting, i need you to analyze. no point in this if you just get it right by guessing or asking thomas
Noisy Oarfish: think you can get it done by friday?
Me: Fine.
Something about the whole situation sparked such a deep annoyance in Dolasach that had her determined to get the assignment done as soon as possible. Rereading the messages rekindled that flame, and she felt all the more eager to get started as soon as she entered Flux Arts.
Thomas better be here.
The sudden shift from noisy city sidewalk to quiet white cube gallery made her feel a little too aware of how upset she was. After taking a moment to try and collect herself, she approached the receptionist.
“Excuse me.” Her tone was calm and even. “Is Thomas around? I’m here to run an errand for Rafayel.”
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For the au ask game!
OKAY I wanted specifically to get to the pokemon au from the ask you sent, it's been cooking a bit so it's time to see what comes out of the oven, so... @azol-otl ty for the ask!
Crossover au's are all about the fused worldbuilding for me and speculating on how characters from universe A would fit into universe B heehee hoohoo - and for Batfam especially it's fun to think about the equivalent of their roles as vigilantes! What kind of people have the same level of celebrity, the same sideways seeking of justice?
Naturally this leads you to the gym leaders because a) it's the most fun and b) they are like. Quasi-law enforcement/educators/professional athletes depending on how you try to translate the innate child's perspective on the pokemon universe into something that makes sense as an adult lol ilu pokemon. [insert 'compels me though' gif here]
SO with this in mind, here's 5 fun facts (that are mostly backstory lmao) from a jaytim pokemon au I would write
I'm deeply ill about pokemon so this one goes under the cut lol:
Jason Todd used to be the Champion. He won the role after Dick Grayson quit a year or two before (Dick had been getting older and chafing under the League rules - meaning he'd been chafing under how Bruce ran the League) and was a fierce competitor who didn't believe in going easy on anyone.
His Houndoom was a force to be reckoned with, and despite running a mostly Dark-type team, his Honchkrow cleaned up anyone thinking their Fighting-types could sweep. He looked after the League and Gotham with a cocky, self-assured attitude and the win record to back it up.
.
Jason disappeared suddenly at the age of 15. Many assumed him dead, after a Rocket (Or whatever Gotham themed gang name we want to go with lol could be Team Joker) bombing in the area he'd last been seen, but he's officially declared missing.
Bruce Wayne took back the duties of interim Champion as he once did for Dick Grayson, but he's not quite the mentor he once was. It's obvious he's grieving, and that he doesn't want to mentor any more twelve year olds. Dick signed up to be a Gym Leader shortly after this, returning from his trip about a year early to help out in the chaos following Jason's disappearance.
.
Enter Tim Drake. Tim's gym challenge wasn't all that interesting in the circuit at first; he had a rocky start and had to retake a few gym challenges. He wasn't exactly sweeping on his first try every time like Jason had done.
He didn't have the meteoric rise that caught the Champion's attention early, didn't get one-on-one mentorship or face-to-face meetings, cautionary advice and congratulations all rolled into one from Bruce Wayne himself - but Tim had patience and grit, and he paid attention. He was gunning for the Championship, and it wasn't just so he could prove himself. Team Rocket/Joker was still out there, and Bruce needed all the help he could get. He was always better for Gotham when he had a Robin.
.
Dick had been nicknamed Robin for his all-Flying-type team and especially his Natu-then-Xatu; Jason followed up with his Murkrow-then-Honchkrow; Tim's Rookidee was one among many (Robin-esque pokemon were popularized by Dick and the trend remains through Tim's day) so he wasn't considered a possible Robin successor until it was a Corvisquire and he was about to face Dick Grayson himself, a badge away from Victory Road.
By then, Tim and his team were a well-oiled machine (he runs mostly Steel-types lol but also Normal-types for the unexpected adaptability and the 'underestimate my rattata i dare you it's in the top peRCENTAGE--' of it all. FEAR.), and his loss-record had all but frozen while his win-record ticked higher and higher.
.
Shit finally goes down about three years after Tim has become Champion and all but bullied Bruce into mentoring him (he basically said 'if you don't watch me, i'll go find Team Rocket/Joker on my own' and triggers all of Bruce's child endangerment traumas simultaneously) and the mysterious Rocket/Joker leader Red Hood shows up, bringing the gang out of the shadows in pursuit of a hidden agenda.
Identity shenanigans and "wait is that a Houndoom? But he's only been using Ghost-types, it CAN'T be..." and heel-face turns abound.
.
(BONUS FACT: Something something, Jason went into deep cover with Looker or whoever he is, that Interpol guy from X & Y (WAIT. LOOKER MIGHT ACTUALLY BE TALIA AL GHUL IN THIS AU HOHOHO), infiltrating the Rocket/Joker gang and going public as Red Hood is the first step in the last phase of the sting.
Cue a million tense Jaytim interactions in which Tim is legitimately trying to take Red Hood down and Jason desperately tries to shake him so that he doesn't do anything that forces Jason to blow his cover. There is at least one 'tugged into a tight space to hide them both from the actual bad guys, "wait, did you just HELP me...?" "Think whatever you want, babybird"' interaction because I am a slut for the first sprinkles of a redemption arc that is rife with UST fufufu)
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