#cw arch

[debian-official]

Transbian (person who transitioned from arch to debian)

[sideblogtointeract]

Theseus' Guide to Ruining a Perfectly Good Ship in a Bottle

A list made on the loosest association of words, with an even looser tie to this fanfiction

Stan

Give him an Amati model kit and he is happy as a clam. He's moded several already and resold them as "ghost ships" in bottles and "wreckage of a ghost ship" in a bottle for the ones Soos or Mabel drop.

Mabel

Lego model of ship in a bottle. After its built she'll change out vingettes/scenery. Soos, Wendy, and Stan are deeply invested in the unfolding soap opera Mabel crafts with it.

Dipper

Is really excited to make his first ship in a bottle, and he'll make one! Just as soon as he finishes reading a book on how to do it, and reads the other three he asked for his birthday. Maybe he'll go to the library to checkout the books the books he got used in the citation. He's going to build the ship, believe you me, he really isn't going to move onto something else in t minus 4 months. This ship? Getting built.

Ford

"Oh you meant as in an actual ship? Hah!" Ford has been maintaining an excellent example of Darwin's "Beagle in a Bottle" experiment for years now NOT a replica of the HMS Beagle in a bottle you silly.

Bill

It's the 1940s, your run is just beginning but already you feel like your life is over because prom is in two weeks and you just know Arch is going to ask Beronica not you to go with him. Can you blame him? You're just good ol’ dependable Vetty, girl next door Arch's on again off again no-on again “let's not put labels on this” girlfriend. Beronica is everything you're not she wears short skirts which you also wear but it's different. She's cheer captain and you're… also cheer captain — sometimes your co-captain it depends on the issue. Anyways she's rich, and beautiful, and perfect, and wonderful, and if it wasn't for the fact she was a brunette you'd have nothing on her.

“Oh Pops! What am I going to do?” You whine to the man working the bar at the soda shop.

“Well it's as I always tell you crazy kids, answers aren't found at the bottom of an Egg Cream.”

“But they sure are delicious!” Your longtime friend Bottlehead — wearer of cool hats and, more recently, cooler shades —  stops eating table napkins long enough to quip.

“And how!” All three of you laugh before Bottlehead goes back to slurping down  plastic straws like they're spaghetti. 

“If you want Arch to take you to the dance, just ask him yourself.” Pops suggests, like an out of touch square.

“This is the prom, Pops, not Sadie Hawkins!” You complain, pushing your half finished Egg Cream away. 

“Besides, I tried. I think he’s avoiding me.” You add, sinking into your seat.

“Say! Why don't you go ask that cursed fortune telling machine at the abandoned fairgrounds?” Bottlehead suggests, reaching for your abandoned drink.

“Golly that's a great idea! Bottlehead, if your mouth wasn't full of glass I could kiss you!!!” Bottlehead suffers a hug from you instead as he continues to consume your discarded order. cup and all.

You sock hop out of the establishment and cross the street to the abandoned fairgrounds.

Hopping over the rusted turnstile and side stepping some police tape you make your way to the culturally insensitive but period accurate fortune telling machine. Feeding it one of your hard earned and always valuable pennies the automata jolts to life. 

The words are garbled over the loud clacking of the doll's mouth, out of sync with the tinny audio. Which is fine, the opening number is an offensive milieu of ethnic stereotyping. The real magic is when you press the button with your wish in mind and the machine prints out the most accurate supernatural reading it can.

You know it's accurate because, unlike biological fortune tellers, machines don't care about sparing your feelings from the celestial forces that rule over you. Just the facts. 

“Please tell me how to get Arch to ask me to the dance.” You whisper your wish before slapping your hand onto the golden glowing button and watch as your destiny is printed onto gold backed ticketape.

For a brief second you hear a faint whimsical giggle as you rip off your printed fortune.  Looking around you see no one in the abandoned fairgrounds.  It’s just you, the chalk outline you're standing on, the automaton with its outstretched hand to shake, and the police tape surrounding you.

“That’s odd,” you muse. “When did you move?” You ask but the better question is how did it move?  Because aside from the rudimentary motions reserved for nutcrackers the machine’s body was a plaster mold that had no joints to move.

Yet here it is, hand out in greeting.  No. Not greeting, a deal and if you keep over-analysing I am going to take it back.

“What?” You ask as the internal narrative becomes as structurally unsound as the White House during this time period — look it up.

You turn to go to the Daleriver Library — now certified communist book free — to do just that, then are reminded by the text that you still need to read your fortune for our readers!

“If you want to be with your one true… loves?” You pause to puzzle at this but not for any longer than it takes to read this sentence.  “... forever. Then shake my hand.” You Continue.

“Your friend, Bill?” You don’t know who that is but you bet he is really keen and neato to have a name like that. You feel really embarrassed that you don’t remember having a friend like that. It would be really rude to leave a pal hanging, especially when they went through all this trouble for you.

So you shake the cold hand of the automaton before you. You don’t register that the glass pane wasn’t there, that the hard resin arm moves like flesh— no, all your focus is on the bright gold cat eyes looking back at you and the return of a giggle that grows into an outright cackle.  

Wind whips around you, police tape flying like ribbons caught in a tornado, and you stand still in the eye of it.

“Hiya Vetty,” The automaton greets, jaw held open like a snake— or like a smile, let’s not be rude.  “long time fan first time crossover. You and I have got a lot in common.” The machine continues but the tin from its voice box layers with the voice in the wind that has stopped laughing and now talks in sync with it. 

You don’t try to speak, you want to, but I don’t need to write around your wants anymore.

“Both of our fandoms question our interest in men and we share the same banana yellow pantone. Me for my body, you for your hair and… eyes?” The voice coming from all around, you guess correctly that this is Bill — smarty that you are, that earns you a free can of brown meat! — finishes. You don’t know what he looks like exactly but from the description he sounds like a real dream boat.

“My eyes aren't —” You hold that thought and pop a squat in front of the fortune telling machine. You jimmy open the front and reach inside it.

“Bet you weren’t expecting so much organ meat?” You ask yourself but you're not the one talking.

You pull your red stained arm out of the warm pulsing mass before you to free a pristine glass bottle. In its reflection you see your mouth split into a painfully wide grin scrunching your now golden eyes, a mirror image to the automaton leering over you; below that you see a tiny version of Arch banging his fist against his transparent prison. 

“Ever Dream of Jeannie kid?” Asks your new best friend, still borrowing your body and voice.

“Of course you don't! That's not for another 20 years!” Your hands uncork the top of the bottle.

The soft “tink” of glass tapping concrete reverberates in the abandoned fairground.  A moment passes in silence. 

Then you see shoes.

“Two down,” Bottlehead says, bending down to grab you. If he hears you and Arch’s pleas he doesn’t care as he gently returns your bottle prison back into its warm nest of organs. Gold eyes look over slick sunglasses and give you a wink. “... one to go.”

[skeletonlesbian]

local cairn maiden devotee hard at work

[thatonecrookedsmile]

History doomed to repeat itself.

"Man with Vision - Crooked Past"

"One Without Purpose - Unstable Present"

"Mechanical Threat - Doomed Future"

Bonus Version - "Shamed and Disgraced"

-----

My last big art for the end of the year. An idea I had one day, and instead of putting it in a mental drawer with a note to "do later", I decided to take it and do it now. Happy to have made this decision.

Something a little different from what I'm used to doing, and a little different from the things I've done this year. A good test for me, and a great result I would say.

Thank you very much to everyone for the support during 2024. The only thing I hope for 2025 in terms of art is to continue to improve. And maybe try to free myself from the chains of the ink demon so I can draw other things besides aside from the little devil (but I can't promise anything, lol)

May you all have a happy new year, and may 2025 be a better one, for everything and everyone.

Stay well, and take care. ⭐

[venusandsaturnsrings]

boothill is many things. a gunslinging outlaw, a ninety percent metal man, someone who’s attitude definitely reflects in his appearance, but most importantly; a nuisance. a thorn in your side. an ear grating bother. he knows this and he takes advantage of it, especially when your hands are tied up with plenty other business. unfortunately, things took a more literal sense.

you had been sipping a glass of something at a table in a small saloon, celebrating a coworkers birthday who you couldn’t even remember the name of but it was an excuse to get out and, besides, they said they’d pay for the first round of drinks so who were you to decline? people had been dancing in front of you and perhaps your chosen activity of observing had gotten too meticulous as you hadn’t noticed the slinking shadow drift past, nimble fingers dropping a pill of god knows what into your drink. the sweet and citrus flavour of the cocktail masking whatever taste could’ve been left as you continued drinking with your head in your hand. as you got to the bottom of the glass, your eyelids felt heavy and thus did you take the cue to get going home. after bidding a couple farewells and good wishes to the birthday person who’s face was a blur, you stepped out into the cold breeze feeling sluggish; as if you’d had ten drinks and not just one. squinting, you steadied your breath before walking, neglecting to notice that same figure sauntering up behind you. it was the smell of gunpowder and musk that alerted you, spinning around faster than you should have and nearly hitting the ground if he hadn’t caught you in time with a half-hearted chuckle. bubbles clouding your vision, you could only internally groan at the smatter of white, black, and red before you were out cold.

coming to, the first thing you noticed were the tight bindings keeping your body uncomfortably still. thick rope wrapped around your torso and wrists, forbidding you from moving even and inch. wherever he had taken you, it was dark and damp with only the sound of your breathing to keep you company up until the telltale ‘click’ of his shoes and the concurrent ‘ting’ of his spurs. a cold metal finger slid across your chin and only then did you notice how blazingly hot you felt all over. you sucked in a breath, waiting for him, boothill, to say something but he uttered no more than a low hum as his fingers drew icy patterns down your neck and chest. a shudder wracked your body and he moved in front of you, his eyes holding some sort of emotion you weren’t quite familiar with on his face; somewhere between his ‘hand it over’ greed and ‘nice shot’ dry praise. he settled between your now untied, when did he do that you wondered, legs with his metal frame pressed firm into you. never before had you considered the intricacies of his body but with him so close and a different kind of pressure against your crotch, you figured he had some sort of… attachment. fear whipping through your chest, it was then you realized what exactly this evenings plans were for him and they were punctuated with his usual tacky speech.

“c’mon, darlin’, let’s play a bit. this cowboys gotta bullet special for ya’.”

[kacievvbbbb]

You know what? the best supernatural spin off would have nothing to do with the Winchesters and instead would be about Samuel motherfucking Colt because dude absolutely had something going on. And was tripping absolute balls all the fucking time

Dude not only builds a literal kills almost all gun (that no one knows how it works exactly), he also built a fucking devil’s gate and the series of railroad tracks that formed a giant devils trap in the middle of fucking nowhere Wyoming that was somehow also a great fucking hotspot to talk with Lucifer in the cage. Why the fuck would he build a devil’s gate and then the devil trap protecting it? Why could this dude not be normal? Not to mention He also fought a Phoenix!!! A Phoenix! The only Phoenix that has ever been reported to exist and whose ashes are the only thing that can kill the literal mother of all monsters. Which he somehow mails to Sam and Dean in the future using a phone from several years in the future that he literally just got earlier that afternoon.

Dude was on some serious shit. Man was definitely receiving the most violently random prophetic visions from god. Dude literally went, it came to me in a dream and built a weapon that’s literally still confounding people generations later and would function as a key to a fucking devils gate that would literally be the first step in so much shit going down in so little time generations later . Wouldn’t have even surprised me if they also said he was responsible for Ruby’s knife.

He also, most importantly, is from the wild wild fucking west!!! How cool would a show about that be? A fucking genius inventor hunts monsters in the Wild West while some being he knows nothing about but deeply suspects is giving him blueprints for big, wild things and weapons for how to stop them, or at least slow them down.

[illwilledomen]

My ugly little gremlin son Archibald.

[gomzdrawfr]

GOMZGOMZGOMZGOMZMZMZOZMZOZMOZOM YOUR TWITTERRRRRRRR IS THAT RAVEN!!

omg hi yes hello it is me Gomz and yeah it's Raven :3

cw: suggestive, nakey chest hair~

[debian-official]

Enemies to lovers 32k words slow burn

[lowpolybread]

“Annabeth craned her neck to see the Gateway Arch, which looked to me like a huge shopping bag handle stuck on the city.” The Lightning Thief page 202

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS 1x04 + 1x05: A Typical Day in St. Louis

“The highway also cut off many residents—mainly poor and black—from the development around the arch, aggravating racial tensions still fresh from when construction unions barred African-Americans from working on the site. The displacement came to epitomize 20th-century ‘urban renewal’—a euphemism, James Baldwin quipped, for Negro removal.’” Fred Kaplan for The Smithsonian Magazine, The Twisted History of the Gateway Arch

[reindeerswillsavethisworld]

Corpse au case fic where the trio decided to try cracking a murder mystery, except instead of angst it's a comedy of errors where they make everything worse.

Like. Danny comes out of a portal dead and translucent and glowing, and there's charred remains of a human body on the floor. So now all three of them are freaking out, and instead of asking for help, or finding an adult, or telling literally ANYONE, they decide to just. Get rid of the body. As one does.

So that's what they do: they break out Tucker's nice shovels (because god forbid Sam's family owned something as pheasant as a shovel, and Danny's too afraid of touching their family's Patented Fenton ShovelsTM for... reasons), they find a nice desolate clearing in the woods, and then they bury Danny's body like one would a very unfortunate hamster who met their demise too soon under very suspicious circumstances. They even stay at the new "grave" in silence for a minute or five in respect and DEFINITELY nothing else, you know. And so, they bury the body, and then they (try to) forget the experience as some horrific nightmare.

And then, a year later, there's an uproar: the Amity Park's police department found the child's remains in the woods! And you see, Amity Park is not THAT big of a town, and the police estimated that the body belonged to a 14-15 year old child, and, look, there's only so many schools in a small town, alright. Obviously, the rumours start very soon in Casper High: about how the kid could've gone to their school, about how they could've died, about whether or not anybody was missing them, about their identity, and some definitely-truthworthy-would-I-lie-to-you-bro-come-on sources insist that the kid was murdered around a year ago, around the time ghosts started showing up. And these rumours obviously reach the ears of Sam, Danny and Tucker.

Now, you would've thought that their first thought would be something like "oh no, they found Danny's body", or "oh no, they know", or even simply "we're sooo fucked". Except. You see, the night they buried the body? It was really cloudy. And dark. And, y'know, it's very easy to get lost in a forest. And they were too high-strung, you see, they completely forgot to leave some sort of a marker or anything. And also like, it was so long ago, you know? A lot have happened, they were sooo busy and the likes, you can't really blame them for forgetting some things.

And here's lies the problem: all three of them just fucking forgot that there was a body left to bury at all.

And then it gets out that the police can't even conduct any sort of DNA test because it became corrupted to the point of being absolutely unrecognisable due to exposure to a large amount of ecto-energy.

It's now looks like a bad set up for a joke: an identifiable body of a child, cause of death unknown; the probable involvement of ghosts or at the very least a very large quantity of ecto-energy; a probable murderer on the loose, which naturally breeds suspicion and speculation; a town full of all kinds of rumours; and a trio of absolute dumbasses, who after hearing that ghosts were involved immediately went to stick their noses where they don't belong.

Rejoice, Amity Park! Sam, Danny and Tucker are now on the case! Except they are all teenagers, and nobody in their right mind will allow teenagers to solve a murder case. Plus, them poking around would be highly suspicious, but Phantom, on the other hand?

(people seeing Phantom helping solve this case and coming to the conclusion that the ghosts were definitely involved was not on their bingo card, but oh well)

They don't go to the cops, obviously: Danny at least in part because he's worried they will call GIW on his ass or try to arrest him, and Sam and Tucker simply because fuck the cops (one because the police is involved in a militaristic, capitalistic corrupted system that breeds injustice and furthers the divide between average people and the wealthy, and the other because cops suck and will probably call GIW on his friend's ass). They also can't go to any other authorities: cops are out of the question, as is the mayor; laboratory personnel will most likely just throw them out; and there're no witnesses or known relatives, so they're stuck.

Therefore they decide that desperate times need desperate measures, and so they enlist all of their ghost allies on a quest, hoping to find the ghost of the kid. Considering the amount of ecto-energy they were subjected to, they MUST have formed a ghost, they only need to find them.

Except. The Ghost Zone is a big place, and they only have so many allies, even if some of them are a queen and a god. So Danny bites the bullet and does the most stupid (debatable) thing he has ever done: he goes to his enemies for help. They're surprisingly understanding and willing to help, even if some of their reasons are a little... strange (Skulker and Johnny entered some sort of competition on who finds the ghost first, Box Ghost starts to seek out coffins (??) and Youngblood is not above to start torturing people to finally have a friend that is not either an adult or a complete stick in the mud). And even then they still can't find the ghost.

In the end Danny goes to Clockwork in a desperate hope that he will be able to glimpse at least a little of what had transpired on the night of the murder, and to Danny's annoyance Clockwork laughs so hard he almost pops a ghost equivalent of a blood vessel.

A few weeks down the line Sam hesitantly brings up Danny's buried corpse ("MY WHAT" "Your corpse which we buried in the woods, Danny, don't you remember?" "Yeah, bro, I think you dissociated the whole time we were digging the hole and carrying your dead body" "WE DID WHAT-"), reasonably saying that, you know, they ALSO technically buried a body in the woods. On that Tucker just shrugs because obviously it was not Danny's body, the place of the burial was way off, he remembers that there was a really big stone to the left of the grave (he doesn't and there wasn't), so they are in the clear. During that exchange Danny's sitting on the floor and having a panic attack, because he really did dissociate the whole time and afterwards legitimately forgot that there was a body to bury at all.

After that conversation all three of them leave with a certainty that Danny's body is still there where they left it, whenever it was. And so the shenanigans continue.

[sleepanonymous]

No mic stand can stand between me and II's live drum solo 😤 (even if i gave up filming the end after Ves wiped out)

[syra-mfs]

Ink Demonth 2024: Day 3- Hoax

TW: Knife silhouette!!!

When I read Hoax, it had so many meanings depending on the context you use. In my cause I decided to use Hoax by (lie), so here's my idea! Wilson leading Audrey to the hoax (stabbing on her back).

[chill-vibes-but-rainbow-panic]

Headcanon that during the first week or two of living in the village, Archie used to hoard bits of food he found in secret. And once they found out Salah saw it as evidence that he was trying to steal from them, meanwhile Yumi realises that Archie (and Illagers in general) has ✨issues✨

[tallymali]

yuki is scared of hairbrushes:(

[skelecest]

John Smith and the Doctor