#trying to crosspost more

[ozmodai]

detectives be like "he's my partner" ummmmm ok gay

(📿jishen: @kimquatz)

[ciphox]

alisaie alphinaud shb headcanons. i guess

[die-lian-hua]

girl breakfast (it’s 1:45pm)

[ginsays]

something something the party don't start 'til i walk in

[jjohhuii]

to the me in the depths of despair

[ultopias]

just another day at the hospital...

the ask before this made me remember i haven't posted this one here...! an example why i want them to already have started dating at this point xD so i can draw this kinda stuffs HAHAHAHA

[serenescribe]

glaciers melting in the dead of night Fantasy High | 194k (and counting!) | 7/? chapters done Summary: In another universe a step to the left, Adaine Abernant and Oisin Hakinvar are paired together for a project in the first week of freshman year. This doesn’t change everything — but it changes just enough. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55871113/chapters/141867796 (Contains spoilers for FHJY)

hi. do you like tragedy and inkblade? maybe both together? please read my horrible child (glaciers) that has rapidly spiralled out of hand (will break 100k with the next chapter). it's just your standard canon divergence! our two dear wizards (adaine and oisin) knowing each other two years before junior year. having being friends all that time... there's a lot of changes that come with that — good, bad, and very bad :)

anyways. i'm finally giving glaciers the crosspost it deserves here! for however much it is killing me writing it, i do love working on this so much. if anyone reads it ily ♡

[baaad-omens]

The reason I was looking into Mechanisms-esque makeup, btw

My area hosted a queer prom (and by 'my area,' I mean it was mostly my lovely and incredibly talented boyfriend who planned it - holy FUCK he's impressive) and, well, the theme was time travel, but. I don't really own any time travel-ey clothing, and this outfit isn't very good on it's own. Easy solution: throw on the makeup of the immortal time travelling space pirates.

We did speed friending, and everyone except three specific people complimented it lol. Those three people had better watch out /j

[ironicsoap]

Every time an acquaintance or friend sees me irl they're like holy shit you look just like your fursona. So I think I've achieved the perfect design for her

[deevotee]

when finny learns that flowers in ciels room could mess with his asthma, he starts begging tanaka to teach him origami and paper crafts who cant say no to him

ciel comes into both his study and bedroom filled with paper flowers decorated all over

not all of them are very good, but there are lots of his favorite flowers and it pulls on his heart strings a little

he complains about the lack of skill, but declines sebastians suggestion to take them down, instead ordering him to help finny with his art skills

he even takes one of the best looking ones on a morning where he's not going out so he can pin it to his lapel

finny just about faints when he sees his master wearing one of HIS flowers he made for him, and he rides that high for a good two weeks

[sentfromwolves]

✦ NANOWRIMO (x) 1LINEWED ; HIS BODY A BROKEN LAW—

“So it is true,” the demon murmured. “That mythical power of the True Witch. You can see all of it, can’t you? Everything.”  Everything. What a small word for what it was. The way Nemesis could touch a rock in Greece and witness the rise and fall of an empire. The way he could cup the blood of a sacrificial lamb in his palms and feel the knife cut its throat. Yes, when Nemesis whispered to the world, the world whispered back. But the world could demand things of him too.

HBABL taglist: @pinespittinink @fearofahumanplanet @afoolandathief @kaiusvnoir @andromedatalksaboutstuff @marrowwife @blind-the-winds @cream-and-tea @bebewrites @audrenyahh @tananaphone @turnips-creates @runeseaks (please ask to be added or removed!)

[morgana-120]

Basado en una dinamica de Twitter jus jas

[marblebagcollective]

guys now that twt is less weird about ppl dsmpposting do NOT let me start posting less on here

[marshmallowgoop]

one last call

Part of the DCMK Fanworks Server April Fools Exchange! For koscheib.

————

It's the first of April when Mary Sera receives a phone call that's every bit an unfunny joke before she even picks up. She lets it ring once, two times, three, the sound a fake, generic replication of the past, reminiscent of spinning fingers through numbers, twirling twisted cords. The bustle of the cafe is almost enough to drown it out—forks hitting porcelain, boring, unobjectionable music played quietly on speakers surrounding white-clothed tables, gasps of chatter from other patrons. It's not like Mary ever keeps the ringer volume loud.

But it feels loud, that afternoon, in the early spring sun, the wind carrying with it the reek of freshly cut grass and fertilizer. It feels like her oldest crying in the night, only days old. Like a gunshot that doesn't belong.

She shouldn't pick up.

It rings a fourth time, and she does.

“What?” she asks. There's a screech of her metal chair against concrete as she leans back. Her hat should shield her from the heat, but it still feels too warm. “You need money? Your husband run out on you? Kid leave home and tell you that they're joining the circus?”

The voice that answers is brimming with a weariness that should make Mary pause.

(She does not.)

“Nee-chan,” it sighs, exhaustion lined with melancholy. “It's nothing like that.”

“Someone's dead, then?”

“No.” Another sigh. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Mary could laugh. She doesn't. “You didn't want to talk when my second son was born. Or after Tsutomu got so sick that he couldn't stand. But you want to talk now?”

“Yes.”

Mary waits a moment, two, three. But there are no apologies this time, no excuses melting under the weight of too many tears. There's only an ordinary phrase, something said to casual acquaintances when you unexpectedly cross paths at a grocery store. There's only a sharp intake of breath, a pause, a, I hope you've been doing well.

For a moment (two, three), Mary says nothing. She looks to the clock situated by one of the many speakers (still softly blaring the blandest, most unobtrusive music that feels suddenly mocking now in its syrupy inoffensiveness). The structure strikes her as falsely old-fashioned as her ringtone—curled golden numbers and a just-audible click as the seconds tick by. It's six and a half minutes past the time when he was supposed to be here.

She should hang up. Say that she has company now—the kind who doesn't call her once in a blue moon and act as though no time has passed.

There's nothing stopping her. Nothing, except a tired voice that continues, “It's been too long since we last talked.”

It's said like she's on the brink of tears. Like they're children again, attending school in Japan, and classmates had called her scary, monstrous, mocked her golden hair.

But Elena would never admit to it. Not her own pain. Even now, Elena will never admit to it.

Mary despises the memory.

“But something happened today, in Japan,” her sister continues. “I work with such... serious individuals, but today there was a case on the news, and—oh, you might have heard of it all the way over there in England, actually, because he first appeared in France, but today, it was a whole event, a big spectacle right here in Japan. He put out this notice—this thief, I mean, there's this thief in a flashy white costume that they're calling Phantom Thief 1412, or Kaitou Kid—there's an author who coined that name, I think—but anyway, he said he was going to steal this jewel today, and I think maybe my coworkers actually cracked a smile about it.”

“It sounds like you did, too.”

“Maybe,” answers Elena quickly, as though afraid that Mary would hang up. (She should hang up.) “It reminded me of a school play we did. Do you remember? Memoirs of Itaro, the Detective, it was called, I think. It focused on a similar character, the Edo Kid.” Something like laughter rings in Mary's ear. “Kaitou Kid's gimmick is magic, though, not acrobatics. But there's that same charisma, cocky attitude...”

Elena trails off, and for a moment, there's nothing. Only the repetitive music, the ticking of the clock, the heat of the afternoon beating down on Mary's skin.

Classmates used to always find Elena frightening. She spoke so little that people wondered if she even understood Japanese. Mary always found it a ridiculous notion. Once you got Elena talking, she would never stop.

It was just a matter of getting her to start.

Mary shouldn't have picked up.

“The detective's name was in the title of the play,” Elena says now, and there's still that hint of laughter to her tone, the kind that says she's crying-laughing, but the tears aren't ones of mirth. “So you're supposed to think he's the good guy, right? But...”

Elena can't compose herself. She erupts into giggles, guffaws, big, loud howls that drown out her words. There are several moments of wheezing, struggling for air, and Mary removes the phone from her ear, finger hovering over the end call button, only for Elena to regain herself and say, “But when you played the role, you were so scary that everyone was rooting for the thief! No one even felt bad when you made the wrong deduction.”

The laughter dies away, and Elena's voice takes on a note of seriousness as she adds, “Good thing they got me to play the Edo Kid when my class did the play a few years later. Everyone thought the detective was so cool then. Who played the role...? I can't remember anymore, but—“

“I know you didn't call me to talk about a stupid school play from over two decades ago.” Mary crosses her legs, thinks better on it and uncrosses them, leans forward and leans back. No one approaches her table, not even a server pitying the empty seat. The seconds tick on and on.

Elena falters. "N-no," she says. "I guess not, but..."

But what? Mary wants to say. She almost does. It's on the tip of her tongue—impassioned, angry monologues about how Elena has no right to call her now, after everything, but she hesitates, and looks to the white umbrella that may as well be absent for how little shade it casts on her, and Elena takes advantage of the silence, continuing, very quietly, "It just... reminded me of simpler times, you know? That Kaitou Kid. A criminal who doesn't seem dangerous, who steals but gives people smiles, or... I don't know."

There's a rustling from the other side. Mary imagines her sister brushing her hair out of her face, wiping cheeks still stained with wet tears.

"Real life isn't like some primary school play," Mary tells her, commanding, matter-of-fact, like she always is, like she has to be. "I haven't concerned myself with this phantom thief of yours, but a criminal is a criminal, no matter how 'fun' they might seem."

She keeps herself from adding, And that was exactly the purpose of Itaro's story. Loathe as she might be to admit it, she too had never forgotten the tale.

"You're right," says Elena. "You're right. But the way the exact same lines can be read so differently depending on how they're said... how a thief can seem to be a hero..." She trails off again, and Mary imagines her shaking her head as she makes out a familiar figure in the crowd.

"Look," Mary starts to say, eyes fixated on the man coming ever closer, "I have to—“

"I know you're busy," Elena interrupts. "And-and-and I don't want to take any more of your time, but..."

"Then don't," answers Mary.

She hangs up. She stands. She doesn't smile at Tsutomu, and he doesn't smile back.

[pocopopart]

babe wake up new kindra design just dropped!

[esbielle]

"More Than a Dream," a TGCF filk written and sung by me to the rhythm of the Kings Of Convenience song "Cayman Islands." Check it out on AO3.

Created for Filk Broken Telephone as a party favor of @pod-together