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daflangstlairde-art · 4 days ago

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"ivory void"

1,084 words; Ink belongs to comyet, Dream belongs to jokublog

Content warnings: Dissociation (incl. derealization, depersonalization, dehumanization), traumatic memories, bad self-worth

—

You can leave the void, but the void will never leave you.

…And that's about where the whole paragraph can end. The whole story. There it is, laid out neatly: the start and end of Ink's life. Well, "life". 'Existence' would be more correct, maybe.

And it doesn't have to be the Void. Just… a generic void. An umbrella term, if you will. It could be an abandoned concept of an AU. It could be a blank canvas. It could be the Save Screen, or it could be the Antivoid. That doesn't matter.

It's all the same in the end. And it just… it never goes away. Ever. It can change shape or context or quantity, but it's always there. To say Ink carries a piece of it with him would also be incorrect, as that would imply it's something separate from him.

It isn't. That's the thing about the void. It just becomes a part of you. It becomes you. You become it. One and the same, intertwined.

Here it is now, for example.

The scene is domestic. Today has been a slow day, really, a nice day. The sun is setting in Underswap, surface; painting the room a bit golden. Blue and Dream are in Blue's kitchen. Making… food. It smells nice. Their voices carry over.

Ink is sitting on the back of the couch. His brush laid on the couch at his feet.

And the void, his dear friend, always with him.

A shadow. In the same way a shadow isn't something separate, it is you outside of you. It is your shape; you where the light is absent.

And Ink is so good with a spotlight. He's so good at directing it, whether at others or just the right parts of himself. Highlighting exactly what he wants seen and nothing else. Chasing the shadows away or stuffing them to the side. Only sometimes the light catches something, there, at the outskirts, but nothing beyond that. He's so good at playing his role — the tech support, the stage hand, the director, the audience, heck, even an actor himself. Paint yourself red for a fight, blue for a tragedy, so on and so forth. The audience see what you want which just so happens to be only what they want, nothing else.

Here is the actor. Here is the stage hand. When the show is over, the 'actor' disappears, because it is a thing you do, really, not who you are. You're an actor when you're acting, heh, pretty obvious.

Hm. Stupid. So deep. So philosophical. He's zoning out again then.

It's like everything is coated in a thin, invisible film of void. Or, maybe, it's Ink who's wrapped up in it like cling-wrap or latex all over. A barrier between him and everything else, every object he could theoretically touch.

Between him and the rest of the living room. Him and the kitchen. The voices in the kitchen, the smell of dinner permeating the house. It's… it's…

…The void will never leave him.

It's part of him. He's part of it. The start and the end and also everything in the middle. You can't march towards obscurity if you're already there. The lines aren't blurry, they're nonexistent.

He's… staring at his hands. Flexing his fingers.

…Dead.

Soulless. Literally. No life streams underneath. He doesn't feel hunger at the smell of cooking meat and whatnot that wafts from the kitchen. It's nice, but it means nothing. Glitter and stuff. Flavor text, haha.

His hands. His fingers. Plastic and wood and marble and stuff. He wonders if Pygmalion can repeat that fun trick. Then casts the thought aside — that would require love in order to work, and, well. If Ink's Creator loved him to begin with…

…Hm. So deep. So philosophical. He's voiding out again.

The hollowness of his ribcage. Of everything inside of him. Absences are only noticeable when you shine the spotlight on them, so Ink tends to keep it away from there.

But light has a tendency to refract, and your eyes adjust, and suddenly he's sitting on the back of Blue's couch and staring at his hands and everything is just numbers and objects. Suddenly he's never been more aware of the hollowness inside, except that's not true, because he's always aware of it, it's him, and it's always there, and it always will be. Dear old friend, heh. He wonders if Galatea was solid marble on the inside, at least. Hm, no, she wasn't marble, he's misremembering.

And the outside, the outside… glitter. At least glitter is pretty under the spotlight, heh, draws the eye and all. Flavor text. Might as well be pleasing to consume, compensate for the lack of nutrition and satiation. The hollowness that remains.

Hm. Ink is… Ink isn't. An exercise in contradiction, but he makes it work. The answer to the question, how can you have an 'antithesis' without a 'thesis'? It's him. He's the antithesis. Unfortunately he's softblocked from synthesis, due to, y'know, lacking that pretty important first step.

"You've heard about one or two philosophers, we get it," he mutters in humor. His own voice is so… it's… hmf. Well. Sound can't really travel in nothing. You can't scream into the abyss, actually, which is funny, because he has.

He did.

A lot.

He screamed and screamed and. Cried. Hurt. Begged. He walked around. Did cartwheels and stuff.

And white, and white, and–

"We're dooneeee~!" Blue declares in a loud sing-songy voice, walking out of the kitchen at last, judging by the sound of his footsteps.

Ink doesn't turn to look at him, not out of any decision for it; he feels like marble, a little, or… ah, no, what was it, ivory? Ivory, he thinks. He can't remember, nothing new.

"Ink?? Are you gonna try it??"

"You don't have to," Dream's voice floats in too. Heh. Maybe they're the crazy ones, talking to the ivory flower on the wall. At least it's pretty. "We know you can't really digest it, but you can still try a bite just to taste,"

He flexes his fingers. They're not real. They're not people.

"I made sure to add a few extra spices in there to make it more flavorful mweheheh!"

"Blue we were following a recipe-!"

…That's okay. Ink isn't real. Ink isn't a person. He can make it work, he thinks. He can leave the void once more. It will always wait for him, and he will always come back. How kind.

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diary-of-a-loser-boy · 1 year ago

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pjo incorrect quotes as things me and people I know have said on crack

Jason: these grapes are funky

Leo: these grapes are fucky

Leo: *drops sandwich, cries*

Nico: I will never forget the fact that Piper and I where sitting together with headphones on and she looked up only to see me playing air guitar and head banging to whats my age again

Solangelo: *kith*

Will: *walking away with a dorky grin*

Will: *almost gets hit by car*

Will: *gets home and screams into pillow for twenty minutes, then picks up diary and writes like five pages about Nico, then texts him for like an hour and a half and afterwards draydreams about him*

Will: hmm I think I might like Nico

Leo: imagine having sex and someone moans like a hentai girl lol

Percy: *moans* KyAAaaaAAHHHhhhhhh

Reyna: bro apologized like Colleen Ballinger

Reyna: like fuck off I hope you die

Percy: tOxiC GosSiP tRaiN

Jason: not a groomer

Leo: *hair flip* just a loser

Piper: Im horny- I mean horngry- I mean- *cries*

Nico: mentally I am a fifty year old man

Will: yeah totally not obvious mister motley crue

Leo: jason

Leo: I have something to tell you

Jason: yeah?

Leo: Im gay

Jason: WHAT

Jason: NO WAY THATS CRAZY

Annabeth: my wrist hurts

Percy: emooooooooooo

Annabeth: I literally sprained it wtf

Hazel: no you cant commit mass genocide Nico

Nico: its pride month this is homophobic

Reyna: okay how about we play the quiet game

Reyna: whoever wins gets my two dollars

Reyna: three, two, one, ghost town

Frank:

Leo:

Percy:

Annabeth:

Jason:

Nico:

Leo: *face red, fists clenched, rocking back and forth*

Everyone: *concerned looks*

Leo: I cant- IM A BITCH IM A BOSS IM A BITCH AND A BOSS AND I SHINE LIKE GLOSS

Piper: your moms hot

Jason: lol what she ugly asf

Will: im concerned with your eating habits, Nico

Nico:

Will: its very serious Im kinda scared

Nico:

Nico: womp womp

Jason: would you suck my dick if-

Percy: yes

Jason:

Jason: if there was poison in it and I would die if you didnt

Leo: ive learnt something interesting

Leo: my arm skin one day may be cut off and turned into a penis

Leo: therefore...

Leo: *bumps arm into Jason*

Leo: JESUS JASON STOP TOUCHING MY PENIS

Jason: WHAT

*talking on tumblr*

Hazel: wyd

Frank: jus on tumblr and talking to you

Hazel: lol nerd imagine

Hazel: *bats eyelashes* what does gyat mean

Frank: uhh It means generous young amazing t-

Leo: GORL YA ASS THEEK

Rachel: Im so single

Will: skill issue? L ratio? no rizz? no game? no bitches?

Percy: I havent taken my meds

Annabeth: oh no good gods

Percy: so that means

Percy: I will either try to kill myself orrrrr

Percy: like violently fuck someone

Jason: I volunteer

Jason: I volunteer as tribute

Nico: hey girl *winks* r u a racoon

Nico: bc Im trash

Nico: *bursts into tears*

Annabeth: *walks into bathroom, sees spider*

Annabeth: *yelps* oh

Annabeth: hello mister spider

Annabeth: youre not so bad

Spider: *moves*

Annabeth: FUCK NAH PERCY WERE MOVING PACK YO BAGS

Jason: *hits knee* oh fuck- my knee-

Leo: okay

Jason: *scared* ur gonna fuck my knee????

Thalia: I am now a tree a tree I am a tree is me

Nico: im actually kinda insecure about my knees weirdly enough

Will: aww bb :(

Will: well I think you uh

Will: ...have beautiful knees???

Nico: *jokingly* I can read your mind

Will: oh no

Will: oh shit

Will: thats not good

Nico: it cant be that bad

Will:

Nico: are these thoughts about me, per chance?

Will: WHAAAAT NOOO *hangs up*

Leo: daddy hands, twig nerd bod

Leo: im confused why can girls call their friends girlfriends but whenever I call Jason my boytoy twink malewife manwhore someone gets pissed

Hazel: yeah, this guys really annoying me

Frank: ugh im gonna fist him

Hazel: ...

Frank: what

Frank: like beat him up?

Hazel:

Percy: my friend thinks youre cute

Annabeth: what? who?

Percy: me

Percy: Im the friend

Percy: I think ur cute

Nico: so weird when someone comforts you

Nico: like why

Nico: just lemme be a moody emo brooding sad angsty depressed boy for a bit

Piper:

Leo:

Piper:

Leo:

Piper:

Leo: *in toad voice* BItCH i SaiD wHaT i sAiD iD rAthEr bE FaMoUs InsTeAd iD LeT aLL Of ThAt GeT To MY heAd I DonT cArE ILL pAinT tHe ToWn ReD

Nico: *crafting with scissors*

Percy: *walks in*

Percy: what are you doing

Nico: ...crafting?

Percy: oh okay I thought you where cutting yourself

Nico:

Nico: IM MAKING A HELLO KITTY ART PIECE

Leo: *glares*

Frank: *glares back*

Frank and Leo: *glaring at eachother*

Leo: omg I just felt sparks

Frank: DUDE STFU WTF

*sees gay porn*

Will: thats it im homophobic

Nico: so I wrote this song

Nico: *adjusts mic, positions guitar*

Nico: *deep breath*

Nico: *strums single chord* my whole family died

Nico: thank you, thank you

Nico: just realized the only physical contact Ive had in like a whole month was Leo dabbing me up

Jason: straights ask why theres no straight pride month but like

Jason: isnt there a toyota month or smth

Jason: id say that works

#funny #lol #meme #pjo #hoo #toa #tsats #nico di angelo #will solace #jason grace #percy jackson #annabeth chase #leo valdez #reyna avila ramirez arellano

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cowgurrrl · 1 year ago

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I Wish I Was

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: yay for creative energy coming back!!

Summary: Murphy’s Law dictates… [3.1k]

Warnings: art talk, discussions of a deceased parent, probably incorrect blueprint talk, a cliff hanger 😈

Temperatures rarely dip below the thirties in Central Texas. It's not impossible, as evidenced by the below-freezing temperatures ravaging much of the South in the final days before returning to school, but it's still rare. Nobody really knows what to do when there's the threat of the roads icing over, so they just decide to shut most things down, including your bar. You feigned disappointment when your manager called to tell you when, in reality, you were digging through your box of acrylic paints to find the one shade that's been calling your name. With the sudden free time, you get to work on your half-finished canvases and listen to the same record repeatedly in the hopes that your brain will zone out enough for you to make something good.

It could be The Mamas and The Papas record spinning or the dark blue winter light shining through your blinds, but you actually like the piece of art unfolding on your canvas. It's undeniably different, a little more vibrant and a little more abstract, but it feels good— sustainable, at the very least. You feel less self-conscious about them and even snap pictures to show them off to Andie. You've finished three other canvases and sent in images of them to a local art collective that takes gallery submissions twice a year, and they've moved you on to the next part of the acceptance process. It's not a definite yes, but it's not an immediate no. You haven't told Joel about the submission or anything, really. You've just holed yourself up in your apartment to paint and sporadically respond to his texts with lots of apologies typed with yellow or purple fingertips.

He knows you're not ignoring him, and you know he's a busy guy. He has better things to do than sit around and wait for you to text him back, but you feel bad about not being as present as you were before. "It's all part of the process, I promise," you said. "Then, when I get my own gallery, you can hear all about it while you fix up my classroom." He reminded you that "pride goeth before the fall" but didn't doubt or pressure you to break your flow. The only thing he consistently texts you about is making sure you're drinking water, stretching your wrists, and, at least, looking at a vegetable during your long sessions. Otherwise, he leaves you alone to work. Everyone else, including the stack of looming emails in your inbox, gets deliberately ignored so you can live in your bubble for just a little longer before school drags you back into session.

That's why you jumped and furrowed your eyebrows at your ringing phone when his contact photo appeared unexpectedly, breaking you out of your concentration. You wipe your hands on your old pair of too-big jeans (universally known as your work pants because they're covered in different colored hand prints) and swipe to answer him before the silly picture of him with one of your scarves on his head can go away. You hear him shuffling around when you put it on speaker and almost hang up, thinking it's a butt dial before you finally hear his voice.

"Hello?" He greets.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Did I leave my jacket there?" He asks. You let out a relieved sigh that it's nothing too dramatic, but the lingering panic his phone call caused sits in the back of your head as you glance down at said jacket. You adjust the palette in your hand, suddenly hyper-aware of the wet paint and thanking whatever God is out there for not getting any on his clothes. You can't imagine things would go over well with the guys if he suddenly showed up to job sites with pink paint on the sleeve of his jacket.

"No..." you say, extending the vowel, and he chuckles.

"Do me a favor. See if there's a ring of keys in the front pocket?" He says. You gently put the palette on your coffee table and wipe your hands again to ensure there's no wet paint on them before digging into both front pockets and feeling the keys in his left pocket. You pull them out and find the set of keys with a baseball keychain and a keychain with a picture of him and the girls on it.

"I've got 'em," you say. "The Astros? Really?"

"D'you mind bringin' 'em to the office? I forgot I needed 'em." He ignores your jab, and you look down at your outfit. Clad in your work pants, a sports bra, Joel's Carhartt jacket, and your unwashed hair in a clip, you are not prepared to leave the house today, let alone go see Joel.

"Um..."

"Somethin' wrong?" He asks, and you wince. What are you gonna say? Sorry, I know you have to do your job and all, but I look and feel like shit, so I can't bring your keys to you? He's already seen you in disarray from the school day, but that was a cuter, more socially acceptable version of disarray. This version gives credence to the messy, mentally ill artist stereotype Freud introduced however many years ago.

"No, nothing's wrong. I just..." you sigh and rub your face. "I wasn't expecting to see you today. I kinda look crazy."

"That's it?" He asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "Baby, I don't care how you look. You could show up in a potato sack, and I wouldn't care."

"Well, lucky for you, I don't own a potato sack, but I'm pretty sure that would look better than this."

"If it makes you feel better, the office is empty."

"Then, why are you in? It's fucking freezing."

"I needed to make sure the pipes didn't freeze over, and I left some blueprints here," he says. "I can grab 'em from you and just come back to the office."

"No, I don't want you driving more than you have to," you say, already stretching out your stiff legs. Your knees creak in protest, and fatigue seeps into your bones. God, how long have you been sitting here? "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

"I think it'll take a lot more than some messy clothes to scare me off, darlin'," he says, and you roll your eyes at his charm. With a quick goodbye, you throw on a clean enough sweater and leggings. You debate running a brush through your hair before remembering what he said about the empty office and decide you don't have the energy. If he really doesn't care what you look like, then you're not going to stress about it.

You're a little worried about driving in the weather, even you aren't immune to Southern weather panic, but the roadways are mostly clear, and things aren't expected to get really bad until later on. Still, you drive slowly and white-knuckle the wheel against strong, frigid winds. By the time you get to Joel's office, the sky is more grey than blue, and radio announcers warn you that there might be flurries within the next forty-eight hours. You doubt they'll stick to the ground and amount to nothing more than some black ice, inconveniencing everyone in the state, but still. You leave the relative warmth of your car and walk as fast as you can into the building, clutching Joel's jacket close to your body and sending a wave of his smell over you.

The office itself is small, with a couple of desks here and there, mostly for meeting with clients and explaining building plans. A coffee pot and water cooler sit in the corner next to the receptionist's desk, which is currently empty. It's eerily quiet in the space except for the sound of the heat rumbling somewhere in the walls, and you almost wonder if Joel left without telling you when you hear grumbling and the tell-tale sound of his boots against the tile. He doesn't notice you at first. Instead, he scowls at a paper like it owes him money and mutters under his breath. Whatever is annoying him is wiped away the second he sees you there.

"Hey, baby," he lights up as he walks over to you and kisses you, abandoning the paper on one of the desks so he can hold you close. He tastes like coffee and the beeswax chapstick Ellie got him for Christmas. You didn't realize how much you missed him until now, and you smile against his lips. "You got my keys?" He asks as he turns to walk into his office, grabbing your hand and bringing you with him. He lets go of you to close the door behind him, and you dig the keys out of your pocket and toss them at him. He catches them in mid-air easily and walks over to the filing cabinet.

"You intentionally leave your keys with me, or is this just a happy accident?" You ask, and he smirks.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you again."

"Sneaky," you say as you walk around his space while he searches for the correct blueprint.

It's a relatively normal office with eggshell walls and bad fluorescent lighting, but once you step behind his desk, you get a good idea of the man who works here. His desk is old and made of some type of wood he probably knows more about than you do. It's filled with little knick-knacks and things that get him through the day: family pictures, a painted gecko from Terlingua, stress balls, and a desk calendar with his all-caps handwriting. There are even some drawings done by Ellie pinned on the corkboard behind his chair, her skill visibly improving as she gets older.

One particular picture on his desk catches your eye. It's older than the rest, and it takes you a minute to recognize Joel's eyes in the greying man. Joel, Tommy, and their dad smile at the camera with identical grins. Tommy can't be older than ten while Joel towers over them both, his broad shoulders taking up lots of space. You pick it up to look at it closer and Joel doesn't stop you. Instead, he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"'S this your dad?" you ask, and he nods. "You guys look a lot alike."

"You think?" He asks like he doesn't see it, and you look at him. You take a second or two to let your eyes trace his features and compare them to his dad's before nodding.

"Yeah. Same eyes," you say as you look back down. "And smile." He hums happily at that. Joel's face hasn't changed much now that he's a grown man. If anything, he looks more like his dad, with the grey at the temples and the beard framing his face. You see bits of their father in Tommy, too, but you assume he probably looks more like their mother. "How old were you in this?"

"Mm, fifteen? Maybe sixteen." Right before his dad died, you think. You wonder if he's thinking the same thing or reliving the day over again. Before the clutches of grief can sink you both, you smile to yourself and hold the picture a little closer.

"I would've been obsessed with you if we'd gone to high school together."

"Really?" He asks incredulously, and you giggle at the thought.

"Oh, for sure. Look at you!" You point to his little broody half-smile as if it's evidence. "Those eyes, that hair, the attitude. I mean, c'mon, Joel!" He laughs at your praise and takes the photo out of your hands.

"Alright, alright, that's enough objectification for teenage Joel."

"I'm not objectifying you! I'm just stating the obvious."

"Mhm," he hums, and you laugh. You continue walking around and looking at his things as he frowns at the blueprint he trekked through the cold to get. "Shit." He mumbles, reaches for a pencil, and scribbles something on the plans.

"What's wrong?" You ask, perching yourself on the edge of his desk and leaning over to look at the intricate design. It looks like a big house with lots of elaborate details written on the margins. It's a big build. No wonder he needed to get this copy.

"This client decided they wanted a bigger kitchen, but I don't know how to do that without eatin' into another room and changin' the whole plan," he sighs. "We're supposed to be back on the site once this storm blows over, and I gotta have an idea of how we're gonna do this by then."

"Can't you just tell them no?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Can’t you just tell your principal no?

"Point taken," you say. "What about pushing it into the backyard a little? Then you could use this area over here to make a sunroom or something," you suggest, gesturing to the weird leftover space that would make the house look wonky. His eyebrows knit together as he thinks.

"Then what should I do here?" He asks. Together, you go back and forth, discussing dimensions, perspectives, and measurements. You never realized how similar these designs are to art. They have to have more of a purpose and fit specific parameters, but other than that, they have the same idea: create something out of nothing. It's cool to see Joel in his own element, doing mental math and estimates that would take you ages to do and writing down his findings as you figure them out together. He's not just good at math, he's good at sketching the new designs.

Almost seamlessly, he flips through the floor plans and layouts, adding a window there or changing the flow of a room with a singular erasure. He adds the perfect depth to see the idea clearly without crowding the space and making it seem too busy, allowing the clients to picture their furniture in the home. When you bring up an idea, he's quick to rotate the plans upside down to imagine how it would look and if it would impact the building process, his brain running through every possible solution and flipping it without even thinking. Ellie does the same thing when she gets stuck on a drawing. You see where she gets her skill from, even if he'll never admit it.

For someone who has always struggled with math, you enjoy the balance between math, engineering, and art in the plans, but you like working with Joel the most. It's nice to feel like you're helping instead of distracting him. You're not sure how long you worked together, reconfiguring things this way and that, before you finally reached a viable solution, but you know that Joel has the biggest smile on his face when he looks away from the blueprints.

"You mighta missed a callin', my dear." He says, and you laugh, shaking your head.

"My college algebra professor might disagree, but I do think this is interesting."

"Well, if you ever want a job..." he trails off as he rolls the blueprints back up and secures it with a rubber band. You smirk and tug at his belt loops to bring him closer to where you're sitting on his desk.

"You just want me to get more tattoos." You accuse, and he chuckles as he tosses the prints somewhere behind you, his hands coming up to frame your face.

"I'm just sayin', Miller Contracting don't have a policy against it like the school district does."

"Mm, what about dating? That might get a little dicey."

"Is sleepin' with your boss better or worse than sleepin' with a student's parent?" He asks, and you laugh.

"They're probably in the same realm of bad."

"Then, we've got nothin' to lose." He says as he leans down to kiss you. You open your legs just enough for him to step in between your knees and get as close as he can. He's trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him, but the stubble still scratches deliciously against your skin, making you sigh. He breaks away enough to tip you back onto his desk, narrowly missing his clutter, and you giggle when he kisses your neck.

"How long have you been plannin' this one?" you ask, your years in Texas showing through in your breathless voice. He smiles as he meets your eyes.

"I dunno what you're talkin' bout."

"Oh, so getting me alone and on top of your desk was just a coincidence?"

"Happy accident." He muses, sliding his hands up your shirt as he gets lower and lower. Your hands play with his hair, occasionally tugging on the strands just to hear the sound he makes. You would've been happy to do that all day if your phone ringing through the suddenly too-warm air of his office didn't interrupt. Joel groans and drops his head to your sternum, his hands pausing their journey up your body as you wiggle your phone out of your back pocket. Your heart drops the second you recognize the phone number.

"Who is it?" Joel asks like he's reading your mind. You sit up slowly, and he takes his hands off you without malice or frustration. You're stuck staring at the number until it disappears off your screen and goes to voicemail.

"Um... someone from work. I should probably call them back." You say, unsure of yourself as the words fall from your mouth. Joel looks confused but doesn't push.

"Oh. Right, yeah. School starts back up on Monday, right?"

"Yeah, she probably just wants to talk about lesson plans or something," you say, standing from your spot on the desk. The air has changed between you, and suddenly, things feel clunky and awkward. This is the worst possible timing. "Can I call you later?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll walk you out." He says sheepishly. You don't say anything as he opens the doors for you and gives you a quick kiss and a reminder to text him when you get home. You just nod and immediately speed walk to your car even though you're not that cold. Joel watches you pull out from your parking spot and leave the strip mall, waving before you can turn out of sight.

You wait until you're five minutes down the road before you dial the number back as if Joel would be able to hear the crackly voice through your speaker if you were any closer. Your heart beats fast in your chest, and your palms are sweaty on the wheel as the phone rings. When the dial tone finally ends, and your call is answered, the anxiety is replaced with frustration.

"What’s up?" You ask through gritted teeth, and you hear her take a breath.

"We need to talk about Ellie’s dad."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01 @acupofhollie

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kieraelieson · 10 months ago

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Self-Inflicted Luminescence - in which each of the sides has secret solutions for a space being too dark

Prompt from @sometimes-love-is-enough

Virgil stumbled through the hallway of the mindscape. It was too dark to see well, even for him. He needed some sort of light source, but nothing too bright.

He looked at his phone, deciding the flashlight would be too much. He didn’t want to blind himself with the sudden light. And then his eyes caught on the text from Roman, waxing poetic again about the date Thomas had gone on recently.

Even Virgil had to agree, it had gone well. Thomas had been very nearly suave, and the man had giggled at all his jokes and even pecked his cheek as a goodbye. Roman of course drew out every delightful moment into a symphony of love, and had been spamming Virgil’s phone with paragraphs and poems hours after they’d gone to bed.

Virgil tore his eyes away from his phone, reminded of his desire for a late snack, and realized that the hallway was much more visible now. He looked around in confusion, seeing the light follow wherever he was facing. He looked down at himself, at the phone that didn’t have the flashlight activated, at the floor and walls around him, finally realizing with a blush that it was coming from his face. Specifically from the light eyeshadow, glimmering gently.

Patton gathered together all his stuffed animals, setting them on each side of him, cuddled close and packed in on the little couch, right before bedtime. All his kiddos. Waiting for him to read a bedtime story.

Patton summoned one of the picture books to his hand from the bookshelf in the corner. He had to read real quiet, in a whisper. If one of the other sides realized he wasn’t asleep, they might come in, and start saying things about Thomas being a ‘grown man’.

Patton knew that. It didn’t change this impulse.

Patton opened the book, squinting at it in the dim illumination of the nightlight. He couldn’t quite- no, he just couldn’t manage to read the smaller words.

“Just a moment, kiddos,” Patton promised. He summoned a bunch of glow-in-the-dark star stickers, sticking them to his hands. Now all he had to do was hold the book, and the small light from the stickers was just enough to light the pages, without being enough to shine under his door.

“A pocket for Corduroy,”

Logan sighed heavily as the automatic lights in the library shut off at 11 pm. He had set the timer himself, as a part of a healthy sleep schedule, but he was still occasionally put out by it. Such as tonight.

Thomas had seen something online about bioluminescence, and Logan was attempting to refresh himself on all the memory books they had on the subject, should he be asked about it.

If he could just finish the book he was currently reading, or even just the chapter, he could be satisfied enough to go to bed. But cut off mid-sentence, there was no way he could just stop on a dime.

Well. Perhaps he could put to use some of the information he had just learned. He just had to hope none of the other sides would enter the library this late at night. He’d never hear the end of it if they saw him.

Slowly, very small mushrooms began growing on his skin, glowing gently. The glow spread into him, until he could see to finish the book.

Thomas had the incorrect conception that absinthe was faintly luminescent. Janus was aware that this misconception was false. But as he poured water over the absinthe spoon, the green liquid beginning to glow, he couldn’t find it in himself to complain.

Now, as he was on his third glass, and his scales were beginning to shimmer with the faint glow, he waved at his door to turn the lock. He may not mind the glow, but if the other sides were to be alerted every time he indulged, it would become a problem very quickly.

He would have to remain in his own room until full sobriety returned, just to be safe.

Still, it made for an enjoyable experience with the lights off, the only light in the room coming from himself and his cup.

The dragon witch had cast an evil shadow spell, hiding the army of enemies within its darkness, and making it difficult for Roman and Remus to continue fighting. They’d hit each other nearly as often as they were hitting an enemy.

“Oh! I’ve got an idea!” Remus exclaimed. He summoned a fistful of glow sticks, shoving them into his mouth and bouncing in place. He began glowing green, easier to see and obviously not one of the dark goons.

Roman also summoned a handful of glow sticks. But, a little more mature than his brother, thank you, he broke them over his head. Rivulets of glowing liquid poured down him, giving him the same advantages as Remus.

Roman grinned at Remus. “Onward!”

#my own work #sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders side fic

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thehumanofjustice · 1 year ago

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my incorrect qoutes post! PT.1

let’s begin

Infitrix : Caffeine no longer keeps me awake while I work, so instead I have Willow periodically send me texts saying ‘we need to talk.’ Infitrix : It gives me the right amount of adrenaline and fear I need to keep going.

Anna: So, I heard you like bad girls… I time travel in Animal Crossing.

Deputy : We can't lose. Because we have this. points to their chest Everyone else: We have souls? Deputy : Souls? No, me. I'm pointing at myself. I'm going to win this for us.

Purple : ‘Technically legal’, the two best words in the the English language, right before ‘cowboy spectacular. Clover: YEEHAW!

Deputy , washing the dishes: Who the fuck used this pan?? Deputy : Wait. I the fuck used this pan… Whisper: It was you the fuck. Deputy : It was I the fuck… Anna: Who cooks rice in a pan? Whisper: They the fuck.

Basil: I just ended a five year relationship. Infitrix : Oh no, are you okay? Basil: It's okay, it wasn't mine.

Deputy: There's beer in the cooler. Purple : What about for the children? Whisper: You can get water from that water fountain and use it to water down the beer. Allie : Why don't we just give the kids water? Deputy, angrily: I suppose you could do that!

Whisper: How many vampires do you think have been hit by a car backing up in a parking lot because the driver couldn’t see their reflection? Deputy : I’ve never considered it but you’re really shining light on what’s probably a very serious issue.

Sorcerer: I give you a cursed amulet! Deputy : Cool! It’ll make me look cute, and the shadow that follows me will make me more active, I’ll get out more!

Basil: What do you do when someone offers you drugs? Infitrix : Take them! Anna: Punch them in the neck! Allie : Say thank you! Whisper: Offer them more drugs to assert dominance! Basil: … Basil: No.

THE LAST ONE tho-

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7ndipity · 1 year ago

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You're absolutely right. Also wtf happened with the Joon bit? I tried to make one (1) word special for emphasis and boom whole text has joined the club. That's how it works. Don't take the shine of that one word. Stay in your lane (I feel kind kf cringe saying that because I think I'm too old to use it. Especially because I don't know if I did it right 😂)

Anyway yeah I was a bit undecided about Yoongi too. Hence why I didn't really include him. He could still go places on his own then. I like your "I didn't go looking for it" statement. I do think he reads fanfics, just not bts fanfics? Like he'll read Harry Potter no problem, he'd even appreciate some of the writings cause he knows how difficult it can be. I just don't think he'd read any bts fics. Mostly because I think he can separate the characters from the real people. This would be a problem for Jin too. So if he were to read a ship or maybe like dom!member x reader he'd just see his hyung/dongsaengs and scoff. "As if they would even think of using pineapple as a code word"

Jin would just be absolutely disgusted at what his fanfic members do 😂😂 if, and this is a big if, he's going to read anything it's only with the G or T rating. Nothing above

No, I loved the Joon bit, your wondering thought totally changed my opinion abt his stance on fics!(and idk if you used it right either, lol, but who cares?)

But yeah, I totally agree abt Yoongi, I could definitely see him being part of the fanfic community, just not within his own fanbase, cause yeah, separation of character and person and all that(that pineapple line is going to come back to bite me somehow, I swear😂)

And poor Jinnie makes a point to stay away for the sake of his own mental well-being, only reading the ocasional crack posts or incorrect quotes type stuff.

#7ndipity speaks #bts headcanons #namjoon headcanons #yoongi headcanons #seokjin headcanons

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morimens-news · 22 days ago

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V2.2.2.3 Online Maintenance Notice

Dear Keeper,

The Mythag University Administration Office will conduct facility repairs on May 30 at 20:30(UTC+8). You will be notified once the update is complete and can re-enter the game. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause and will provide a supply package as compensation. Happy investigating!

【Supply Package】

Maintenance Compensation: Silver*50

【Claim Conditions】

Claim period ends on June 13 2025(UTC+8), at 23:59. Please remember to check your mailbox to claim the supply package.

【Update Content】

[Fragment Exchange Discount]

● The price of "Gnosis Fragment" in "Sedimentation Exchange," "Investigation Exchange," "Lightless Exchange," and "Deep Dive Exchange" is now reduced to half of the original.

● For Keepers who have already redeemed it, we will send the corresponding amount of redemption currency via email within 48 hours after the update.

[Skin Order]

● A countdown timer for the limited-time availability of "Basic Skin Voucher (Phase I)" has been added to the skin order information.

[Bug Fixes]

● Fixed an issue where the "Beyond the Stars" Journey disappeared for players who had not yet received their rewards.

● Fixed an issue where the Wheel of Destiny "Deathless Ascent" did not benefit from the "Aliemus Increase" effect of its holder.

● Fixed an issue where the "Aliemus Increase" effect caused by the Soulforge Aptitude of Awakener "Doll" was not halved by "Aliemus Harmony."

● Fixed an issue where the healing from discarding cards with Awakener "Doll's" skill "Equivalent Exchange" did not benefit from Talent buffs.

[Localization Fixes and Improvements (English Language Setting)]

● Corrected the mistranslation of [Consume Rose Scrip] in the Topic Task, previously shown as [Accumulate Rose Scrip] due to machine translation.

● Fixed formatting issues in 33 skill descriptions where numerical parameters were incorrectly displayed as “Arg:2” or “Arg1.” Similar issues will continue to be identified and corrected.

● Fixed a typo in Corposant’s name within the Archive – Characters interface.

● Optimized the description of Hameln’s card “Ascending Scale.”

● Standardized terminology for Ryker’s Special Relics:

○ Octahedron Dice / Shining Octahedron Dice (previously Folk Remedy Dice / Shining Bias Die).

● Corrected multiple terminology inconsistencies:

○ Awaker → Awakener

○ S-key / S-energy / silver key energy → Keyflare

○ Partial unification of Life terminology to HP; further revisions are ongoing.

● Removed Chinese punctuation marks from English text where incorrectly displayed.

● Fixed inconsistent translation of Wanda’s Special State “Dreamlure.”

● Corrected inconsistent use of the Retain state term in the Orison “Birth” description.

● Fixed a machine translation error affecting the Arithmetica Cost label on cards; wording has been optimized to enhance numerical clarity.

● Improved English wording of the “Black Sigil” event title on the Exploration Map.

● Corrected machine translation issues in Uvhash’s “Dirge of Blood” skill description in Traphase mode.

● Revised the name and description of Horla’s Psalms effect in Traphase to better distinguish the four emotion states, and corrected inconsistent use of her Exalt terminology. Further improvements to Horla’s skill descriptions are underway.

● Fixed a translation error in the debuff “Weakness”, previously described as “Reduces all damage taken”; it now correctly reads “Reduces all damage dealt.”

● Fixed an incorrect skill description for “Annihilated Rebirth”, used by the Wheel of Destiny in certain events.

[New Content – Localization Improvements]

● Skill descriptions for Castor have been updated to reflect the finalized versions. Please refer to in-game text for the most accurate descriptions.

● Terminology in Castor’s Dreamscape story has been revised for consistency with established world-building.

● Standardized naming format for Castor’s event stage names and voiceline titles.

● Optimized main interface text for Castor’s event.

● Improved translation of the new Awakener and Wheel of Destiny introduction texts within the Awakening Interface.

#morimens patch notes

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