#he just fits so well with the prompt

[andromeda-nova-writing]

idk who this can be paired with but i would love to see your spin to “really nice guy who hates you”! hehe :3 tq — @milkstore

He was the first person I thought of. It helps that he really is just a nice guy.

“You should come with me to see Ayaka one of these days,” Yoimiya suggested as the two of you moved boxes of fireworks packing them up for a delivery to the Yashiro commission.

“I've met her before… and that bodyguard she has.” her voice dropped.

“You okay? Did something happen when you met Thoma?” She peaked her head out from behind a box.

“I've been running over what happened in my mind that day but it doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh?”

Y/N placed the box on the ground in the front. “I didn't do anything out of the ordinary. I was just as polite and kind as I am to anyone. I even offered to pay for a drink for them while taking care of my parent’s stall.”

“You do that for almost everyone nice enough to you. You did it for me probably too many times.”

“Cause you keep giving my family free fireworks! What am I supposed to do?”

Yoimiya laughed.

“Anyway. I made the drinks right in front of them. Ayaka was the sweetest. Thoma… are you sure he's a nice guy?”

“Yeah! He's like suuuper helpful! He came to read to some of the children around with me last week. Even gave them all piggyback rides.” Yoimiya seemed to genuinely like the guy.

“He just stared at the drink as if I poured him a glass of mud that I spat in. His eyes were so cold. Like his eyes stared into my very soul looking at me for any past sin I could have committed all with the smile of a devil.”

Yoimiya put her box down. “Are you sure you were talking to Thoma? That sounds nothing Like him.” With the box no longer covering her view she could see who was coming for the firework pickup. “That's Thoma coming this way actually. Hii!” She yelled out with a big wave.

“Don't call him over. He might bite my head off.”

“Yoimiya! Y/N.” He greeted back upon getting closer to the two. His voice was cheerful greeting Yoimiya but when he said her name it felt like he had to force it out through his teeth. It looked as if Yoimiya didn't even notice.

“Let me go inside and finish packing up the last box. It won't take too long.” She explained leaving the two of them alone despite What Y/N explained. Betrayal.

The least she could do was try and make an effort. Maybe Yoimiya was right and he truly was a nice guy. Maybe she just caught him on a bad day and that was clouding her thoughts. “So how's Ayaka doing? Well, I hope.”

“None of your concern but she's fine.” Yikes. And people describe him as a puppy? His arms were crossing making him look even more closed off.

“I'm glad. Especially with the festival drawing near. By any chance could I get an update on if my parent’s drink stall request to be at the festival went through? I know it's a bit informal asking now but-”

“Denied.”

“Like the request was denied or that this isn't a good time to ask if-”

“Denied.” He sighed. People could have two bad days in a row, right?

“Oh okay.” She held her head down not wanting To make eye contact with him any further. “It just seems like Ayaka enjoyed it so much.”

“Miss Kamisato.” He corrected. “Your parents are the ones who put the application in. It would have been best if we saw their skills. Even then since your name wasn't on the application I really shouldn't be disclosing any information to you.”

Y/N frowned looking up at him. “Did I do something? We've barely known each other and all you done is look at me like I'm something you wiped off your shoe. Maybe a life of luxury afforded to you by the Kamisato's has gone to your head!”

She didn't even notice the door open. Yoimiya's eyes widen upon hearing The last sentence. “I'm so sorry! She's usually nicer than this.” She elbowed Y/N as she handed Thoma the box.

“Ah, don't worry about it.” His whole personality seemed to flip. “Nothing I hadn't heard before. Probably best I leave. I’ll be out your hair quick Yoimiya.”

“Take your time. Everything should be out here. We will just be inside if you need anything.” She waved goodbye before pulling her friend inside and closing the door behind them. And with a whispered yell she asked, “What was that about?”

“He started it. I was being polite. I'm just telling you. I think he despises me.”

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #52

Danny had been missing for 3 years now. He was scared after the accident at 7 years old left him with freaky ghost powers. His parents didn’t like ghosts so he had to run, and run he did. His powers made him bad, ghosts were bad so if he used them he was bad. He winds up under the care of the League of assassins and was trained the last 2 years as a bodyguard to the demon heads heir. Then Ras dies and he and Damian are sent to live with Bruce Wayne, who takes in Danny as he had no where else. A couple more years go by and Danny starts to get a bit curious about his powers. He’s a bit older now and thinks if the pits weren’t bad then maybe ghosts aren’t as bad as his parents thought.

Maybe he should bring this up to Bruce? But maybe he hates ghosts like his parents did, so he starts with Damian.

[keekeenuggets]

RadioStatic Week, Day 2: Vintage / Modern

We were writing this for other reasons, but then realized it happens to fit the prompt for today, so... figured we'd post it. We probably don't have the energy to participate in a lot of the days for this week, but we're excited to see more of what other people create, regardless!

Summary: A year into Alastor's disappearance, Vox makes one last attempt to reach out to the demon -- he hosts a radio broadcast.

Title: Old-Timey

Day three hundred and sixty-five since the last time Vox had heard from Alastor. Not that he'd been keeping track. He only had the date memorized, of course, and he just happened to look at the calendar and notice how many days had passed. Just like he did every day. It was part of his daily routine, not that he would ever admit it. It just so happened that he had a calendar posted on his door, which he looked at every day before exiting his room. Of course he'd look, because how would he not look at before leaving his room? It only made sense.

But as much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd started actually growing concerned for the old prick. An extermination had passed, not too long ago, and Vox wanted some kind of confirmation that Alastor was still alive. Even more, he wanted to know that his old friend cared, but he knew that was asking too much.

Still, he had an idea. He had the right equipment for it. Though radio broadcasts weren't his thing, what if...? It was a long shot, but if anything would catch the Radio Demon's attention enough to get a response, it would be Vox, the modern television overlord, going live on the air an old-timey piece of junk.

He wouldn't abandon his TV equipment, of course. He'd simply both avenues at once. Talk about the Radio Demon's mysterious disappearance, perhaps. It was as interesting as any news segment that bitch Katie Killjoy could come up with. Most of her shit consisted of boring, desperate grabs for views. At least Voxtek could come up with things that garnered actual interest. The hypnotism didn't hurt, either.

"... And three. Two. One. Going live!"

Travis, the studio director who bounced back and forth between shooting for Vox's segments and Val's pornography happened to be in charge of cameras, that day. He was mediocre at the radio tech, but they managed. And with the push of a few buttons, he saw the green light that let him know he was live not only on the television, but also on the more traditional radio waves. The perfect venue for grabbing the attention of all citizens of hell. Not only the most up-to-date ones.

"Annnnd good day, fine sinners!" Vox grinned into the camera, his hands folded in front of him. "Today's broadcast is brought to you by Voxtek. Trust *us* with your news." His eye sent out waves of persuasion, for only a moment. Today, he was all about the audio. And no one, not even -- or especially not -- Alastor, would be able to hear the hypnotic frequencies. He had to rely on his charm and showmanship, today. But that was not a problem.

He cleared his throat. "I come live to you in a rather unique format. Yes, this time, I'm broadcasting over the radio, too. A little bit of traditional medium for old time's sake, right? It doesn't hurt, every once in a while." He laughed, to himself. Then he continued. "Now, we've got a special topic this morning, and it's the reason I've decided on this dual transmission. As some of you may be aware, the Radio Demon hasn't been around in quite some time." Speaking the words gave them a truth he didn't want to think about, but Vox kept the grin plastered on his face like his life depended on it. He refused to slip up. "In fact, it's been an entire year since his last reported sighting!" Not that he had checked every social media platform in case of any mention of the Radio Demon.

Except that was exactly what he'd done. And as the overlord of technology, he'd been able to keep an eye on cameras and through screens all throughout the Pentagram. Sure enough, Alastor was nowhere to be seen. That is, nowhere that modern technology had any reach, at the very least. He still didn't want to believe him to be dead, but the fact Alastor would work so hard to avoid any detection or communication with Vox was also infuriating. As if had never meant anything to the other overlord. Maybe he hadn't. But he didn't need to think about that.

"Now, there has been some speculation on where he's been. Having a nice vacay off-the-grid, entrapped by another, more powerful, overlord..." The last one didn't seem likely -- or at least had been a possibility Vox feared the thought of. The Radio Demon was already quite powerful to begin with. "Some even speculate that the demon might not be among us any longer at all!" That would be much worse, of course.

"But hey, maybe there are some upsides to this change of pace, am I right?" He said this only because he knew that if anything would get a response from Alastor, it would be demeaning his choice form of expression. "I mean, radio is so outdated. It's about time we give Hell a more modern entertainment makeover. And sure, as I said, radio can be fun every once in a while, but who wants to rely on only barely audible sources of pleasure? With no visuals?" He laughed. "Please. That's so old school. And we've got much better means of enjoyment, nowadays."

He paused. Half-expecting the Radio Demon to interrupt his broadcast. Such a thing certainly wasn't unheard of before. Alastor enjoyed displacing mediocre radio hosts. And though Vox was confident in his ability to entertain, he knew that his old thought of himself as superior. Maybe he was right; maybe he was wrong. Regardless, it was his opinion that made the difference, and yet, Vox's program remained uninterrupted. It was almost disappointing.

So Vox continued, sharing some of the theories and speculation he'd found online about Alastor's disappearance. All found while searching for any signs of him being spotted anywhere. Stories were all kept anonymous, and there were a few ideas he made up himself. But no one needed to know that. The viewers, the listeners, they were just there for the entertainment and fun. Most of them didn't care about what was genuine or not, so long as it was enthralling, and technically, Vox wasn't lying about anything -- only pretending that the speculator of some of the rumors wasn't himself.

The segment Vox had planned out was only about an hour long, and as the top of the hour began rapidly approaching, he started to feel more restless and agitated. It became clear that Alastor really wasn't listening. Or at least, wasn't planning on showing it. Responding at all. What an ass. A year of absolutely no contact after an argument-induced battle, no way of even knowing how he could possibly contact his old friend, and all after Vox had dared ask Alastor to join him in expanding the medium he worked with? As if it was such a major offense. At least Valentino and Velvette supported him, even though they didn't seem to understand, either. They didn't understand the joy of broadcasting, not in the same way Alastor had. They'd had that in common, and he still had been too stubborn to stray from radio, even a little bit.

"Well, that about wraps it up for this broadcast," Vox chimed as happily as he could muster. The viewers, he knew, didn't care whether the grin was genuine or forced, and most didn't know it was the latter anyway. "We'll be back later for some more daily news. In the meantime, I leave you with this ad from our sponsor. And don't forget: You can always trust us, Voxtek, with your entertainment."

As soon as the cameras shut off, Vox's smile faltered, but he plastered it right back on when Travis came up to him.

"We're done here, right?" He asked. "'Cause Val's expecting me down at his studio for a shoot. The rest of the camera crew can handle the afternoon broadcast for you."

"Yeah, yeah," Vox waved him off. "Go help Val. He won't let me hear the end of it, if I keep you." It was good news, though, if Valentino was going to be busy with a shoot. He knew Velvette had her work, too. And he just wanted to be alone.

He retreated to his room and sat surrounded by his screens, all connected to cameras and tech across town. City-wide surveillance. Vox flipped through different feeds absent-mindedly. As always, in the back of his mind, he was searching for one specific person. But he should have known, by now, it was pointless.

What if something really had happened to him? Vox shook his head, sighing at the thought. No. Alastor was too tough for that. He was the Radio Demon. No, it seemed more plausible that he was simply avoiding Vox. Avoiding all detection. How, Vox wasn't sure. Strange that he could disappear so effectively. But, of course, if anyone could do such a thing, it would be Alastor. For whatever his reasons, Alastor knew how to remove himself from the public view if he needed to. That was their thing, of course, media and coverage of different sorts. Vox figured he, too, could avoid being detected, if he'd wished.

Vox sighed. It was time to just admit what he didn't want to before. Whatever he had with Alastor before, if he ever had anything at all -- it was over. Truly. By this point? Any hope of having it back was futile.

The aching became rage, like a protective shield. Rage, bitterness, was easier to handle. It meant he wasn't being hurt, but that he was the one in control. He was the one that would do the hurting, if it ever came down to it. If he ever saw Alastor again. That had been one thing he'd learned from the Radio Demon. Always find a way to keep the upper hand.

With his control over technology, now, he would. And someday, Alastor would see what he left behind.

[sysig]

You don’t get to pick your own nickname, Spamton, that’s like the whole point (Patreon)

[kyouka-supremacy]

Thinking about pre getting together sskk where Atsushi can sense Akutagawa is significantly more relaxed and affable with him when they're alone yet cold and mean every time there's other people around and he's deeply hurt by the change and them fighting over it and them telling each other “So you're mad I'm kind at you? What do you want Jinko” “I want you to hate me when we're alone too” because. yeah

[wintertimestoryteller]

Linked Universe x Reader Fairy Tale Collection

A gift for @luimagines , thank you for listening to my rambles and for writing the original prompt and all your work in the fandom so far, it's just the opening chapter in a full fic, and I'm not fully satisfied with it nor all that good of a writer an English is not my first language, but I did my best XD.

Once again, thank you.

-Just an Anon on a Stroll 🐚/WintertimeStoryteller.

Opening Act, Scene I

It was a cool, beautiful summer night, the fields of Hyrule beautiful under the moon's light, the stars shone, and the fire crackled merrily away. to the side there was the sounds of lighthearted chatter as everyone finished settling in for the night as Wild took over cooking duties, it's been a while since you've started traveling with the Chain and peaceful as it was, traveling on the road for so long and never knowing when you'd all be spirited away again by a portal to face the shadow and it's tricks could leave anyone on edge and homesick.

Hence, with a night as lovely as this, it was the perfect time for stories to get the group to relax, and today was your turn, everyone likes tales of many kinds, and you had many from your world to tell, as many as you remembered anyway, and it was always a treat to see the heroes of Hyrule look forward to you telling them and a balm to your soul and theirs. A simple and nice distraction.

"-And so the doorknob was placed onto the door, everyone in the family and village held their breath, a beat later. And the house was engulfed by a warm, golden light, one of the hinges moving on it's own as if to welcome them all back inside as their gifts returned, causing celebration to spread through the hidden village. Now finally reunited, they could step forward to a brighter tomorrow as one no matter what they'll face, the end." You finished, pausing to take a big breath and a sip of water to soothe your parched throat, trying to condense an entire one hour movie into a a different format can take a lot of time. At least you didn't add in the songs.

Flushing slightly as you try to ignore the eyes of your enraptured audience, had anyone told you a few months before that you'd be stuck in Hyrule with arguably some of the strongest men in it's history in what's basically an almost textbook definition of the Hero's Journey, you'd have probably laughed in their face. Now here you are, telling stories from your world around a campfire, with two long since dozed off Heroes by your side.

Honestly, even if without finding out just how you were going to set up your bedroll with Sky and Wind both pinning your legs down wasn't a minor issue, you probably wouldn't have it any other way.

"That was probably one of the more sweet stories you've told yet." Came from Twilight, ruffling your hair with a smile, Hyrule nodding from his side and chiming in with a head tilt, "It's fairly open ended though, isn't it? It's not like the problem was really solved. What if the house starts cracking again?"

"He's right, it can't have been that simple as just 'hugging and talking it out.'" came the scoff from Legend, derisive as he aided Four in sharpening the Chain's weapons for another day on the road. The smith lightly elbowing him on the side, making you chuckle.

Humming while shifting just enough so your leg won't fall asleep, you answer, "Well, clearly it isn't, problems like the ones told in this story aren't just solved in a day and all. It's difficult to break a bad habit, or to try not to strive for perfection or notice you're wrong. But it's a step in the right direction no? So it's worth something."

"I see, so basically like scars."

"Precisely!" Came your nod to Hyrule as you smiled warmly at him. His ears twitched, how cute, "Can't exactly swing a sword at a wound and hope it goes away after all, it will heal in time, even if the marks remain."

"Have any other good ones for today, o' lauded storyteller? Be a nice thing to fall asleep to, a beautiful voice telling us even more lovely stories." Came a faint nudge from Warriors as he winks, you lightly push him back with a small smack to the shoulder, playful in nature even as he leaned back, mock wounded, it brings a smile to your face, "Flattery will get you nowhere, I did say I'd rotate them didn't I? I won't go back to your favorite just yet."

"Worth a try anyway."

"Oh! Could we maybe have that one about the girl in the tower? It's been a while since you've told that one." Asked Wild eagerly as he handed you a bowl of soup, which you gratefully accepted, it smelled divine and honestly? It is a fantastic motivator in getting you to agree. Besides you can't really go wrong with Rapunzel, it's one of the classics for a reason.

"Or you could surprise us, no pressure." Chimed in Four from his side of camp, "You honestly seem to know a lot of them, why not tell us one you really like instead? To make it fair." He smirks a bit, "Although if one about a certain little brave mice is your favorite..."

"Don't think I don't see your angle mister." You make a small 'I have my eyes on you' gesture towards him, making the Hero of Minish raise his hands in surrender, you both giggle, "Well, I wouldn't say I know that many...", You chuckle sheepishly behind your soup, "I just heard many back home in many ways and my memory is decent enough, is all. Hm... Do you think it's getting too late for one more, Time? I'll retell the one from today later on when it's my turn again, it's only fair everyone gets to hear it rather than miss out since Wind and Sky fell asleep midway too."

The leader of the group, who had just returned from his shift with the Hero of Calamity and The First Hero and was just in the process of putting most of his armor down turned to you, voice steady as he inclines his head, "We'll need to move on early, but there's not too much rush so one more should be fine. Thank you, (Reader)."

"Oh? Find anything interesting?" Asked Warriors, helping Legend and Four organize and put away the weapons (and failing in snagging the fire rod, from what you can see).

"We discovered a village up further ahead, if we all wake up bright and early tomorrow it won't be that much of a walk. It's close by, but it's best if we rest here for today." He nods to you, smiling slightly, it really wasn't much, but it warmed you how eager they all could get for a story, "So by all means, the floor is yours. Let's see what you can come up with."

"No pressure at all with that, I'm totally not nervous." You playfully rolled your eyes.

"Not at all, you have always done a brilliant job without asking for anything back in and out of the battlefield. We have no reason to believe it will be different now when you've been an incredible storyteller as well." Reassured First, coming by to sit by the fire, from the corner of your eye. You see Calamity nodding along, subtly sitting close and leaning against your other side, Wild giving him an amused look at his anticipation but wisely not calling him out on it as he all but threw himself onto Twilight's side, burrowing and getting comfortable underneath his cloak as the Ordonian yelped, almost dropping his soup. Swallowing the last of your soup (and your nerves) along with it and coughing into your fist to hide a blush, regretfully catching sight and ear of affirmations and nods around the camp as the boys rounded up against the hearth as the last of today's chores was done, you wrack your head for words and for which story to tell next.

Staying composed while having the unwavering support and attention of most of the heroes of Hyrule is quite nerve wracking and flattering in equal measure, can anyone blame you for being flustered?

You had already gone through most of the fairy tales from the West, from Snow White to Beauty and the Beast and Rapunzel and now Encanto, there's their original versions, the one's that weren't made into movies that is, but it would likely just put everyone on edge so we'll save those for another day, it's such a lovely night. You'd loathe to make it sour even if most of those had a good ending, but maybe... Something Eastern? To mix it up, a lightbulb goes off in your head as you grin, giggling, you have it! "Alright then, one more, since you all are so eager." You wink, "Usually the audience knows best. Now, let us start." Taking a deep breath, your voice takes on a lighter, soft tone, the heroes get comfortable, all of you miss the glare of crimson eyes deep in the darkness of the woods. Brief as it was, none would look too closely at a dark colored owl after all, "Once upon a time, there was a brave, noble prince, one day. A maddened, dying god attacked his people and he was cursed defending them, fated to die young..."

----------------------------------------------------------

"If you keep glaring like that, your face will get stuck in that ugly expression." Came a lilting, amused tune, poking the owl between the eyes, laughing as it attempted to bite them through the mask, "Although maybe it would be an improvement to that horrible, nasty mug. For a shape shifter you sure don't make good use of your abilities, are you sure you're up to the task? Having an awful looking performer not playing a wretched character is bad for business."

"Silence." Hissed the owl, flying out of their shoulder and, in a twisting, distinctively wrong surge of shadows. A form like a man's stand in front of the masked figure, unnaturally sharp teeth bared into a too wide smile, "You have your job, I have my own. The question is whether you'll deliver or not. Are you ready?"

The voice hummed, smirking as they pat the Shadow's shoulder, lightly pushing him away, "Don't worry your pretty, wretched head about it. You gave me all I need, play nice once they get here. And I'll give you your rupees worth, I'm not know to disappoint." They look up at the moon as the wraith snarls, but vanishes, laughing as they open a leather bound book, "What a lovely night indeed... Now, let's set the stage, and have some fun, shall we?"

Opening Act, End Scene I.

[lovelesslittleloser]

Oh god… I just saw a haso post calling humans the ‘symbols of hope’… ugh… danganronpa humans are space orcs fic…

@pup-themlin I’m dragging this into the forefront of you mind whether you like it or not

[salemoleander]

It adds a lot more to both the fear + emotional turmoil of Boogey kills or partnering with Boogeymen if you assume the people who haven't gotten it yet are (especially by this point) dubious it's real.

Cleo, Skizz, Tango, anyone who has never gotten it... at some point it has to seem like maybe it's just an excuse.

[megalomari]

Pegoryu Week - Day 3: Sports AU

AKA Kuroko no basket AU! Freshman Akira and Ryuji from Shujin Academy made the promise to be the best basketball team in Japan!

[navree]

It feels strange, having nowhere to hide, nowhere to use as protection. Just one story buildings and bright sunlight and flat land as far as the eye can see, just the vast and unbroken sky. It makes him feel as if there's eyes on him, somehow, that he's being watched and can't even try to figure out by whom, and that there's no way to get away from it except to find the tallest point and know that he's the one seeing the most, watching rather than being watched. Day Three - Batman in Smallville.

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics) Pairing(s): Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Words: 8,130 Chapters: 1/1

( for @brucewayneweek )

[soft-serve-soymilk]

Adventures in writing my English SAC, also known as 550 words of Theon being an angsty bitch,,

[doctorbrown]

DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 31 / 31 * FINALE | HEART 」

March 8, 1929

Whenever Erhardt was at the courthouse, if Emmett wasn't in his room, pouring over works that would make his father red-faced and angry, he could be found with a pillow propped up against the grandfather clock in the living room, leaning back and reading whatever caught his eye this time.

It had become a pattern over the years, one Sarah had learned quite quickly after the first two times wondering where her son had run off to when he wasn't anywhere to be found in his room. Emmett was at his most comfortable when his father wasn't at home—and she couldn't blame him for that, despite how she'd tried to soften the tension between her husband and her child—and he didn't hesitate to take full advantage of the house when it was open to him.

Sarah quirks a brow upon seeing the book clutched in Emmett's hands. ❝Are you reading one of my science-fiction novels again?❞

❝Father isn't home to yell at me for wasting my time reading this worthless trash.❞ He puts on his best impression of his father as he can, mimicking the gruffness of his voice and the accent he'd yet to lose even after nearly twenty years here. ❝He wouldn't even listen to me when I told them they were educational, because they were about science.❞

Sometimes, his parents seem like fire and ice compared to each other, opposites in every way eternally fated to clash, especially where their interests are concerned; there are days he simply can't understand how they get along.

❝I found this hidden in your library.❞ He holds up the copy of A Voyage to Arcturus he'd swiped, knowing he won't be reproached for his choice in reading material. Finally, he looks away from the book, and Emmett purses his lips, studying his mother's done-up hair and full state of dress, coming to the conclusion she must be going out again for some of the day's chores.

He wonders if this time, he'll be forced to go along.

❝You know your father usually gets home around five,❞ she says, prompting Emmett to lift his head as high as he can to see the hands of the grandfather clock above him, ❝so be cautious how long you spend out here, dear.❞ The time currently reads 11:00 exactly and he frowns.

❝Is Father ever going to get our grandfather clock repaired? It has been broken for weeks and I really liked the hourly chimes.❞

❝He said he sent out for a repairman, but that was two weeks ago and I've heard nothing since. At this rate, I don't know when it'll be repaired. I'll bring it up to him tonight at dinner. Speaking of—Emmett, I'm going out to pick up some groceries. I trust you'll behave for a few hours while I'm out?❞

Emmett nods and with a quick goodbye, Sarah closes the door behind her, leaving him alone.

The book in his hands no longer holds his interest. Now that they've brought it up, all he can think about is the broken clock, whose mechanical songs have been sorely missed over the past few weeks. The clock had always been a constant, a comfort, a staple in the house as far back as he can remember, and he'd found himself on more than one occasion peering into the glass, watching the pendulum swing and the weights dance with their precise, rhythmic grace.

It was as close to watching time live and breathe as he could get and it had captivated him, as did the smaller clocks set up in the house.

Just a few months ago, he'd disassembled the small bedside clock in his room to see how it worked and had managed to put it back together without either of his parents figuring out.

If he could do that, surely he could fix this one, his favourite clock in the entire house.

His father clearly didn't see the importance of having it operational again—that, or he simply didn't care—and he could already imagine how the conversation at dinner would go. Poorly. And the clock would remain broken for another several weeks.

If he didn't, nobody else would.

Emmett checks to make sure his mother really has left before he hurries to the storage room to dig out the toolbox he'd seen his father use several times.

It's heavier than he remembers, but his mind is made up and nothing is going to get in the way of his goal, even if he has to drag the box the rest of the way towards the house.

As he peers inside the glass, he starts to take stock of all the pieces within, studying each of them carefully as if the answer will suddenly leap out at him. There could be any number of things that silenced the clock and as far as he's concerned, the best solution is to start carefully removing pieces until he can pinpoint the culprit.

For a moment, the task feels gargantuan, what with all the sprawling, delicate clockwork, but he's got his wits, his determination, and his trusty toolbox, so as he stands on his toes, reminding himself to be slow and cautious, it starts to feel more doable.

I should start from the top down.

The side door only takes a little wiggling to get loose and Emmett marvels at the first real look he's ever gotten at the movement, glittering gold in its wooden case. His eyes widen at the mechanical marvel twisting before him and he finds it even more appealing than the ornate carvings inlaid into the dark cabinet.

The front door swings open easily and Emmett's touch is almost featherlight as he pulls the hands off the movement. The clock face looks unsettling without the hands there, almost like it's naked, and he frowns as he sticks the hands in his pockets for safekeeping.

Everything has to come out in order for him to properly inspect it, but the question now becomes how. How does he remove the movement without further damaging what he's trying to repair?

Emmett sticks his head through the open side panel again and lets out an excited aha! when he spots the latches holding the face of the clock in place. A firm push knocks it free and sends the face clattering to the ground. He winces at the sound, but a quick inspection reveals no new damage—nothing has snapped off or bent or broken, so he must still be okay.

The relief he feels at that is short-lived when he realises he has no idea what to do next.

He presses his lips together in thought and reaches back through time to try and feel around the different pieces of the machine. This is all just another puzzle, one created by someone who may understand time better than him, but he has science on his side, and if he follows the cables and pulleys back to their origin point, where they connect must be the problem.

A broken gear, perhaps, or a bent hammer, or something has gotten knocked out of place.

When he tries to pull at the movement again, it remains stubbornly locked in place, and so he drops his focus down to the weights dangling lifelessly at the end of their golden ropes.

Those, too, clatter to the ground in perfect synchronisation with the loud yelp of surprise he lets out.

The rest of the pieces follow unceremoniously after, one-by-one until he's left cradling the silent heart of the clock in his hands.

Emmett turns it over in his hands, scrutinising it from corner-to-corner to try and spot anything that screams this, this is the problem!

❝Emmett Lathrop Brown!❞ That cold, booming voice strikes fear straight into his chest and Emmett immediately freezes, clutching the clock's heart to his chest like a shield. He's sitting in the centre of the half-circle of dismembered clock parts and no amount of trying to talk his way out of this one is going to make him look any less guilty than he is.

His father's anger could level the house. He can feel it, a thousand white-hot blades digging into his skin, even from across the room.

He tries to look up at the clock above him, but instead of helping him, it screams accusations.

❝Y-Yes, Father?❞

[kandibatz]

was thinkin of a shitpost and then just started unironically making hcs about these mfs playing minecraft

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Okay actually following what I said earlier I see that anyone who writes about this man is performing a service to the community

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[ghastbutlikegay]

btw i love queer people and being queer