#geo writes

[geosie]

Wherefore is this overwhelming, mind shattering, spine crushing, brass weight of null and void

Alas, the Silver in the clouds have long since faded

Can you tell me what's wrong with me

Because I don't know

Curling up

smaller

yet

small

[geojester]

your feet find purchase in shifting sands

Fandom: Hermitcraft/Life Series Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Setting: Destiny AU Relationships: Desert Duo (platonic), Grian & Mumbo Info/Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, 5+1 Things Words: 8.8k Chapters: 6 Complete: Yes!

Summary:

The Watchers bear no understanding of human concepts. Not like the Emissary does. They do not know the meaning of things like fear or regret.

The Emissary knows. Or at least, he thinks he does.

ALTERNATIVELY:

Five times Grian doesn't understand humanity and one time he remembers how

Read on Ao3

[theyrejustboys]

Written for @tma-valentines-exchange

For @voiceless-terror, who requested fluff and pre-canon JonTim. I hope you enjoy it!

Read it on AO3 or under the cut!

Content Warnings: drinking, alcohol

Summary: Tim half expects Jon to be embarrassed, but he just blinks up at him, still apparently in the dazed, barely conscious state of waking. Then he stretches, arms reaching over his head and back arching slightly. He makes an honest to goodness squeak as he does. Exactly like a little cat. Tim wants to kiss him.

Oh. Tim wants to kiss him.

So it hadn’t just been the alcohol last night, then.

The first thing that Tim becomes aware of as he’s pulled unwillingly from slumber is the gentle weight pressing down on his legs. The second is the cold hand resting lightly on the strip of bare skin where his t-shirt has risen up in the night. He stirs reluctantly. When he finally opens his eyes, his bedroom is blurry, and he has to blink a few times to clear his vision and his head as the world forms in pieces around him. There’s a low thrumming in his skull that bears the potential of a fully fledged headache if not dealt with swiftly. Perhaps that’s why it takes him another few moments for the implications of the small body snuggled against him to set in.

He can’t see the face of the person in bed with him, not without turning and risking waking them up, but his memories from last night are pouring in too quickly to leave him with any doubt.

---

“Shame Sasha couldn’t make it,” Tim said, sliding into the booth across from Jon.

Jon nodded as he shrugged out of his corduroy jacket. “She’ll be missed,” he said, and if Tim hadn’t spent so long studying his facial expressions across his desk, he might not have noticed the slight upward quirk of his mouth.

“The first round shall be in her honor,” Tim said with only half Jon’s solemnity, lifting a hand to catch the waiter’s attention.

Jon let him order for the both of them, seemingly content to sit back and glance around the pub while Tim spoke. It was a quiet, if kitschy, little place, and Tim had chosen it strategically for that reason. He might not mind the atmosphere in some of London’s more crowded bars, but it had only taken one outing with Jon to realize how desperately uncomfortable that sort of chaos made him. He seemed appreciative of the location tonight, even gracing Tim with a reserved smile once the waiter had disappeared. Tim wanted to take that smile and store it in a treasure chest with all the other beautiful things Jon had offered him throughout their slow-blooming friendship. He smiled back.

“So, that case you were working on this week. Did you ever get past the hurdle with the widow?”

Jon leaned forward eagerly to explain his findings. Tim settled in to listen.

---

It’s Jon. Jon had come home with him. They’d both been too drunk to deal with the hassle of bundling Jon into a taxi, especially when Tim lived only two blocks behind the warm little pub they’d spent their Friday night in. It was convenient.

And now Tim is in bed with Jonathan Sims. Not just in bed, either - Jon is practically on top of him, with one leg slung over both of his own and the hand not resting against Tim’s hip nestled beneath the pillow Tim is lying on. If Tim is very still, he can feel the soft puff of Jon’s breath against his neck.

He resists the urge to hide the smile tugging at his lips. He’d suspected before last night that Jon was more tactile than he let on, but he hadn’t imagined he’d be this clingy.

He understands, of course, that Jon doesn’t feel safe often, that others have not allowed him the time to be cautious with his affection. It’s no secret in the research office that his snippiness and chronically furrowed brows have won him few friends. It’s taken Tim months of steady, gentle friendliness to break through Jon’s carefully prickly exterior into the softness he’d seen hiding beneath. It feels, in a way, like reaching a new level of a video game - once he’d gotten past the grouchiness, the wariness, and then the bashfulness, he’d unlocked the awkward but horribly endearing kindness. And cuddles, apparently.

It’s worth being patient for, worth earning. Tim’s chest feels tight with the weight of his fondness. He wants to pull Jon into his arms and hold him close like he had in the pub last night.

Before Tim can move, however, there's a mumble near his ear as he feels Jon shift. The leg draped over his own slides down. He hears a soft yawn, and then, before he can process that, Jon is rubbing his face into the back of Tim's shirt like a sleepy little cat. Tim grins and faces him.

"Good morning," he says.

Tim half expects Jon to be embarrassed, but he just blinks up at him, still apparently in the dazed, barely conscious state of waking. Then he stretches, arms reaching over his head and back arching slightly. He makes an honest to goodness squeak as he does. Exactly like a little cat.

Tim wants to kiss him.

Oh. Tim wants to kiss him.

So it hadn’t just been the alcohol last night, then.

Jon peers at him, apparently roused to alertness by whatever expression has taken over Tim’s face. "What?"

"Rest well?" Tim says in lieu of a response, because if he dwells on this development any longer he might do something foolish, like brush a hand through the wild mess of dark curls spread across both the pillow he had offered Jon last night and Tim’s own pillow.

"Yes," Jon says.

Ah, there's a touch of the primness Tim loves. “Glad to hear it,” he says, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll take the bathroom first, if you don’t mind.”

He thinks Jon burrows deeper into the blankets as he leaves the room.

Across the hallway, Tim stares at his reflection in the vanity mirror. His heart is beating a little too quickly. "Keep it cool, Timothy," he warns himself. Then he splashes some water on his face and knocks back a couple of ibuprofen tablets before he brushes his teeth. "All yours," he calls into the bedroom when he finishes. Jon makes an unintelligible noise in response, and Tim huffs out a soft, breathless laugh as he crosses the flat toward his kitchen.

---

“... but my landlord is utterly heartless,” Jon concluded, looking rather dejected as he finished off his third pint. “He wouldn’t budge on the no pets rule, even for the Captain.”

Tim made a quiet, sympathetic noise, handing back Jon’s mobile after having admired the extraordinarily fluffy cat on the shelter’s front page for an appropriate length of time. “I would have,” he vowed. “For the Captain. Anything for him.”

Jon’s eyes shone briefly, and Tim wondered if he was going to cry. He just sniffed with marginally less dignity than usual and accepted the mobile. “Yes, well,” he said after taking a beat to gather himself. “You’re nice. Of course you would.”

“You think I’m nice?” Tim grinned, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hand.

“Yes,” Jon said simply.

“Careful, Jon, if you keep up this sweetness I’ll have no choice but to hug you.” Tim was only half-joking.

Jon ducked his head and mumbled, “Well. You could.”

“What?” For a moment, Tim thought he’d misunderstood.

“I said you could.” Jon didn’t look up at him. “If you wanted. I wouldn’t mind.”

Tim could feel his cheeks begin to ache from the force of his smile. He stood quickly and slid into the opposite side of the booth. Jon didn’t pull away as he moved closer, only sat looking at him expectantly from the corner of his eye. “Bring it in, then,” Tim said, and he draped one arm around Jon’s narrow shoulders.

Jon sat stiff and awkward at first contact, but then he melted against him. He rested his head in the crook beneath Tim’s collarbone, sighing so softly Tim could barely hear it over the quiet clatter of the pub. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Tim asked. His voice came out a bit strangled from the sudden warm pressure in his chest.

“For being a nice person,” Jon said with a trace of his familiar exasperation but none of the spikiness. As if it were obvious, as if Tim could see it if only he paid attention.

Tim had been paying attention for a while now. He thought he understood what Jon meant. “Of course,” he said. He didn’t pull away. Neither did Jon.

---

He’s measuring out flour into a glass bowl when he hears Jon pad into the kitchen, and for one exhilarating second Tim wonders if he’s going to hug him from behind. He doesn’t. Tim lingers over the bowl for a few breaths more, then turns to face him. “I’m making muffins,” he announces.

Jon looks surprised. “You bake?”

Tim is momentarily distracted by the way Jon’s hair is piled on top of his head, wrangled into what might generously be called a bun. There are strands hanging around his cheekbones that Tim desperately wants to tuck behind his ears. He clears his throat and tosses a grin over his shoulder as he faces his mixing bowl again. “Why Jon, did you not notice the stupendous cakes I’ve brought to every office party this year? Of course I bake.”

“Oh,” Jon says. “I don’t usually stick around those long enough to eat anything.”

“You will once you’ve had a taste of my baking skills,” Tim promises. “These are going to be the best muffins you’ve tasted in your life.”

“My expectations are high,” Jon says in his dry voice. Months ago, Tim might have thought he was mocking him, but now he recognizes it for the friendly teasing it is. It makes something warm and lofty expand in his chest. Then, a moment later Jon asks, “Can I help?”

Tim opens his mouth to say no, that he’s a guest and should sit down and relax while Tim takes care of everything. He glances over again as Jon steps closer, fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie. It’s too long, dangling a few centimeters past his fingertips.

It’s Tim’s hoodie, he realizes with a start. His mouth shuts with a click. He wants to stare at Jon. He wants to turn his face away in case his adoration is too obvious. He still wants to kiss him.

Jon just watches him, picking restlessly at the fabric. He almost looks hopeful. Oh.

Tim gestures with his head toward the fruit basket on the countertop. “Dice an apple for me?”

“Sure.” Tim can hear the smile in his voice.

They work quietly for a few minutes, the only noise coming from the soft click of Jon’s knife against the cutting board and the muted sound of Tim’s whisk in the bowl. Once the fruit is mixed in with the batter, Jon watches as Tim carefully measures equal portions into his muffin tin and slides them into his oven. Tim has a sudden urge to turn on some music, to see if Jon might let him wrap his arms around him and spin him beneath the dim kitchen light.

“How much do you remember from last night?” Jon asks before he can.

Tim leans against the countertop. “Everything,” he says. Then he hesitates. “I think,” he adds nervously. “We weren’t that drunk, were we? Why do you ask?” He would have remembered if he’d -

Jon crosses the floor to the little table in Tim’s entryway. He has a habit of dropping his things there when he walks inside each evening, keys, wallet, and whatever else has accumulated in his pockets throughout the day. Jon rummages in the clutter before waving a short, shiny strip of paper triumphantly.

“Oh,” Tim says. No, he hadn’t forgotten that at all. “Right.”

---

Jon was the one who had pointed out the photo booth. Tim knew it was there - he’d spent a couple of tipsy evenings in it before. The last time had been with Danny. Maybe that memory was the reason he hadn’t brought it up to Jon. Maybe it was just that he didn’t think Jon was the sort to relax enough to enjoy something as trivial and objectively silly as a photo booth.

But Jon herded him away from their table and into the little box at the back of the pub with the same determination he directed toward his work, drawing the black curtain closed as Tim fiddled with the buttons. It smelled vaguely of wine inside. Jon didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ve never done this before,” Jon confessed. He’d had enough drinks by now that there was an airy quality to his voice. He suppressed a yawn. “But I’ve always wanted to.”

“Really?”

Jon nodded. “Never had anyone to do it with,” he said, sounding almost ashamed.

Tim decided not to point out that wasn’t the part he’d been surprised about. “You have me,” he said, settling back as the countdown began for the first photo.

Jon stared at the camera, head tilted slightly as he arranged a smile on his face. “Yes,” he said, then jumped at the flash. The countdown began again. Jon moved closer to Tim, brushing their arms together. “I do have you. I’m glad for that.”

Tim faltered, turning from the camera to look at Jon. Jon glanced up at him, and the careful smile on his face faded to something softer, gentler. Tim’s breath hitched. He’d like to kiss Jon like this, he realized, when he’s open and vulnerable and trusting. He leaned down slightly, suddenly breathless as he lifted a hand to cup Jon’s cheek. “Jon -”

The second camera flash made them both flinch hard, and Jon let out a startled noise that was almost a laugh, hiding his face in the collar of Tim’s shirt as if embarrassed. Tim laughed too, though he could barely hear himself over the pounding in his ears. He let his hand slide around the back of Jon’s head, cradling him, as if that was what he’d meant to do all along. He wondered if Jon could feel his heart thudding against his chest.

Before the last flash lit up the booth, Tim closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into Jon’s hair.

---

“I told you, you’re adorable,” Tim crows.

Jon splutters again, looking down at the photos in his hand in disbelief. “I’m an adult,” he says petulantly. “I can’t be adorable.”

Tim gasps, affronted. “Jonathan Sims! Are you putting an age limit on adorableness ? Please tell me you aren’t suggesting that I can’t be adorable.”

“I didn’t say that,” Jon grumbles.

“Good. I didn’t want to fight for my honor before breakfast.” Tim smirks at him and hopes the teasing is enough to distract from the painfully obvious yearning in his eyes on the strip of photo paper. His hand itches to take it from Jon, to cover up what feels practically like a confession, but he forces himself to be reasonable.

His oven timer beeps, drawing him from his nervous thoughts, and he busies himself tending to the muffins. Mercifully, Jon sets the photo strip aside to rummage in Tim’s cabinets for a pair of plates.

They migrate to the couch and eat quietly. Jon admits that Tim’s baking skills are rather spectacular, and Tim preens a normal amount. He wants to hug Jon again, but he resists. Whatever ease with which Jon had touched Tim the night before seems to have faded. His posture seems a bit stiffer, and he keeps his hands tucked closely in his lap, though Tim does catch him casting contemplative glances his way when he thinks he isn’t looking. He wonders how long it’s been since Jon has received affection.

Jon should receive affection always, Tim thinks, and should be held gently at each opportunity. He hopes he’s given another opportunity to hold Jon soon. He doesn’t push for it, though, doesn’t want to make Jon uncomfortable. He’s waited months to earn the trust he’s been allowed so far; he can be patient again.

“Tim,” Jon says after they’ve sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Yes?” Tim gives him an encouraging smile.

“I’ve - I’ve had a lovely time.” Jon doesn’t meet his eyes.

“That’s the Stoker guarantee,” Tim says with a smirk, though his chest twinges uncomfortably. There’s a but in there.

Jon takes a deep breath. “Yes. Well. Thank you. And - that is, I wanted to say…” He pauses. Opens his mouth and shuts it again.

That feeling in Tim’s chest is sinking lower. He waits.

Jon shifts abruptly, turning to fully face him on the couch. “Tim,” he says.

“Jon,” Tim answers quietly.

And then Jon surges forward and presses a chaste kiss into Tim’s jaw.

"Oh," Tim says. His hand flies up to touch his face.

Jon scrambles backward, blushing deeply. “Yes. Well,” he says again. “That’s all. Sorry, I should have -”

“Jon,” Tim says, “can I hug you?”

Jon makes another one of his soft little squeaks and nods wordlessly before tumbling forward into Tim’s arms. After a moment, he curls himself up smaller, wiggling onto Tim’s lap so as to better cling to him. Tim, very carefully, does not move except to tighten his hold on him.

“If you’re amenable,” Jon finally says, voice muffled in Tim’s shirt, “I would like to do this again sometime.”

Tim stifles a laugh. “And by this, you mean…?”

Jon sits up slightly, though he pouts a bit as he does. “Drinks? Dinner? And then cuddles. And I would like you to hug me again as soon as possible.”

“I don’t have to stop hugging you,” Tim points out. “You don’t have to leave. You can stay right here -” He pats his lap for emphasis. “For as long as you like.”

“You don’t mind?” Jon asks, peering up at him.

“Do I need to convince you how much I like hugging you?”

Jon considers. “No. But you could demonstrate anyway.”

Tim does.

[lovee-infected]

twisted wonderland theories : Part (1) : Ramshackle dorm and overblot

Well well , after my last black ink theory I've read plenty of great and strong twst theories. So hundreds of thoughts have been popping up in my mind so I decided to put them all together to make a puzzle out of all these pieces so we can all get to a point

So...they've been plenty of issues discussed lately so it'd be better to review them one by one

The ramshackle dorm has been keeping our minds busy for a while . so you might like to take a look at this 1926 Mickey classic named : Thru the mirror :

Well now that's story behind ramshackle dorm's mysterious design , but why...?

In Thru the mirror , we see Mickey falling asleep after reading "Alice through the looking glass" and then dreaming the rest of the story . As he passes the mirror , he enters an unknown room which is just like the ramshackle dorm . So take these notes :

Mickey and MC both go through the mirror and have a dream .So now we know how MC is always given hints through her dreams after passing the mirror

These said , it also gives us another possibility . Mickey might not be trapped inside the mirror. He might just be a random spirit, a phantom , which is giving us reflections of what has happened in the past . Just the same as old stories

Very well , now take a look at these ghosts from another Disney classic named "Lonesome Ghosts"

Looks familiar , right..? These ghosts are most likely the main reference of our nasty ghosts at ramshackle's . Even their design and general appearance are awfully similar and also , the point of MC's "Ghost hunting challenge with Grim " is just like what we had back at the classic with Mickey and his pals .

We still have no clue what exactly has happened to ramshackle's . Neither how it's deserted nor what has happened to it's students , but whatever the case is , it doesn't really seem to be anything important to the students or anyone else. The only things mentioned about it was "Isn't it haunted by ghosts?" and "Really ? Someone's living in this deserted place?"

So whatever has happened to it , it hasn't yet been any big deal . No one seems to be any concerned or interested on it . Also let's not forget that Crowley wouldn't have let MC stay there if he were hiding something specific . So there is something Crowley didn't know about or at least , was sure that MC wouldn't find it . And also another possibility : Maybe he does know everything and yet pretends to be innocent...?

Well then , enough of ramshackle dorm

Let's talk about the "overblot" :

So...just as mentioned before , there are many hidden facts given to us about this part

from the lyrics of the theme song and the official poster:

to these parts of the opening :

but except these parts , I read about how much overblot is related to Disney's 2009 game , "Epic Mickey"

I hadn't heard about it before so I decided to google it. If you too aren't familiar with the game , you can watch this to know it's general story and of course , some most important hints found:

So let's check it :

1)There was a magical world created based on the forgotten disney characters

2)Mickey crossed the mirror and entered a new world (note that Mickey's room in this one is just the same as "Throu the mirrorand and of course , the ramshackle dorm)

3) 'Mickey accidentally splits the magic ink all over it and the monster called the shadow blot came to life and haunted that world

4) They have to defeat the boss shadow blot in order to rescue the magical world

now compare it to what we have in twst :

1) It's a magical world of characters based having the souls of old stories' villains

2) MC was chosen by the magic mirror and sent to this world. MC will cross the mirror at the ramshackle dorm at nights while they're asleep and will see the original disney stories in which "The great seven" are the main villains.

3) Again ,we had these in the opening...

4) We have to stop characters as they overblot and find a way to stop them from overbloting

Finally ,in the Epic Mickey, Mickey will give away his heart to shadow blot in order to save his friends , Oswald and Gus ; which was the main thing that Blot was after throughout the whole story , because this way he could enter Mickey's main world and haunt it. He caught Mickey's heart and it was turned black (Just as the magic stones turn black in twst while overbloting) .But still , they managed to defeat the blot and Mickey got a new pure heart back

And now let's imagine Crowley being the shadow blot and...you now how the rest would be

This is a school for villains , and he'd surely want the students to overblot . When each of them overblots , they'd be free to express their true identity and feelings . But each time they overblot , we've got to stop them and then , they'll end up being more positive and realistic than before. But if Crowley's main point is for them to overblot , let's stick with a new idea : In the very end , characters will use the power of black ink to give in their bests ...but what if they overblot by their own will....? MC's becoming a friend of each and every one of them and they'd surely care for them in return . If characters' overblot becomes a way for them to protect what they care for , wouldn't it be quite interesting? Or Perhaps, this could be Malleus' real happy ending ,afterall.....?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Credits to : @yandere-romanticaa , @collarjessie , @poisonepel , @darkspellmaster , @maximaxstreasurebox

[dwintu]

writing a spooky scene

something is tapping and scraping against a window behind the blind

do not look out the window

it will go away eventually

listening to a song while writing

song goes quIET

AND THEN KNOCKS??

sat downstairs on my own in the dark with headphones on

nearly died

[georgette-the-frog]

Between Wind and Water

Standing over his father’s body, Lotor realizes just how much trouble he’s in. Someone is going to come looking for him, sooner rather than later. To survive, he’s going to need to get off the grid and find somewhere to lie low until the newly created power vacuum has been filled and the dust has settled. Even then, he might need to just disappear entirely, and leaving the country is sounding more and more appealing.

He doesn’t know many people that won’t sell him to Satan for one corn chip, and he knows even fewer that won’t sell him out for actual money. Which, yeah, there’s going to be money on his head. But there’s one. Maybe. He hasn’t talked to her in almost 14 years, but people don’t change, not really. Right?

Rating: M

Relationships: Allura/Lotor, Allura/Shiro, Allura/Lotor/Shiro (welcome to eventual OT3 hell!!!!)

Additional Tags: AU - Modern Setting, Organized Crime, medical resident Allura, former military Shiro, fuckboi Lotor, Lotor Being an Asshole, Coffee, Guilt, Aftermath of Violence, Blood and Gore, graphic depictions of injuries, Stitches, Alcohol, Competence Kink, Kidnapping, too much netflix not enough chill, Pre-OT3

2/6 chapters are up and can be read here

This story has been hilariously fun to write, and I’m finally moving a bit faster :D

[geosie]

世忘하고 鳥化하니 最高山上은 無神天이다 覺하였다

[geosie]

I looked in the mirror. I imagined the person inside reached out and choked me.

I've been afraid of myself since.