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drxxmingofblue · 2 years

Text

hand in unrebloggable hand (because we always go down together)

TUMBLR X TWITTER FANFIC 5K ANGST WITH A HOPEFUL ENDING

besties im not joking abt the word count i fucking ✨wish✨I ✨was though✨✨✨✨

also if you were hoping for twitblr to be the endgame ship then this fic is not for you sowwy >.<

based off of @zzoupz awesome fanart and dedicated to all the other cool fanart it unfortunately begat. Thanks babygirls. Squees. Thanks also to my discord friendz who are letting me pretend they're making me do this at gunpoint @loki-the-mad @suspicious-whumping-egg u da best

(edit) owo what's this?? An Ao3 link??

QUICK PSA THESE CHARAS ARE T4T OKAY HAVE FUN READING BAIIII *GLOMPS U*

~~~~~~~~

When Twitter stepped back into Tumblr’s yard, he noticed right away that things were different.

The house was bigger, there was some more color and it was less slapped-together looking. Sure, there were still some invasive tendrils of spambot ivy overgrowing the path, but a lot of the other stuff seemed a little… better.

When they knocked on the door, it opened almost right away, far before they felt ready, and he were face to face abruptly with someone he thought they’d cut all ties with.

Tumblr was humming to themselves along with the background music, “-out of touch, I’m out of ti-- oh. It’s you.”

He seemed surprised, awkward, but Twitter didn’t sense any animosity, which was a relief.

“Hiii,” Twitter said weakly, with a sheepish grin, “it’s me.”

Tumblr glanced around, as if checking for someone else to explain this to him, or hidden cameras from a reality show at least. Then he stepped out, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “Is there something… what do you want?” he asked, expression settling into something distant and cool.

“Well…” Twitter took a deep breath, and then shook their head, forcing a brighter tone, and gesturing to Tumblr’s shiny silver barrette “--Um, hey, you look great! Is that a new icon?”

“... yes,” Tumblr said slowly. “I’m… trying out some different looks.”

“It’s great, yeah. And this place looks… amazing. Glad to see you’re moving up in the world. You must be excited with all the press, congrats!”

Tumblr didn’t say anything, giving them a neutral stare.

Twitter shifted, “Uhh… anyway… new adblocker?”

“No, same one. I’m just using it on Firefox now.” Tumblr gave them another suspicious eye, “Look, if you’re just here to catch up then can this wait until later? Because I'm pretty crunched for time right now with my weekly holidays thing and the campaign to get this one random user their 666k so they'll do self care."

"You know that's.. uhm, you know that's just for attention, right?" Twitter's brows knit, "They're probably not gonna follow through."

"Perhaps, and a lot of us want them to not be lying for internet points but it's not just about that anymore. It's about the community bonding over pettily slam dunking on a hapless chump who's gotta pretend now like they don't actually like all the notes. You wouldn't get it, it's a tumblr thi-"

"Yeah, it's a tumblr thing, I know," Twitter gave a longsuffering sigh, "Ugh, i just... I need a place to stay, okay? And you’re the first site I could think of.”

“A place to stay,” Tumblr repeated flatly.

Twitter huffed. “Yeah. I’m sure you’ve heard about what’s going on right now at my palace..”

Tumblr’s eyes slanted off, his lips quirking in a way that looked suspiciously like amusement. “Heard about it. Read about it. Partied about it.”

Twitter ignored the sting of that, forging ahead. “I’ve never seen it so bad,” they said, voice wobbling piteously as they clutched their suitcase full of memes. “Everything’s in chaos, people are losing their jobs. I went into the basement yesterday to grab some badly aging tweets and the very foundations are cracking, Tumblr, I can’t stay there anymore, I just can’t.”

“So you come crawling back to me,” Tumblr said, “Expecting me to take you with open arms.”

“Yes. I do,” Twitter said, “I know a part of your userbase still wants to welcome me in. You were always sh*t at hiding your true feelings.”

Tumblr’s hand fluttered over his heart as if to protect it; he winced a little, taking a breath to keep his facade of composure. “So now- what, you want me to start dealing with your bullshit again just because you remembered how much better my posting format is? Just because you noticed how my reputation is changing? Did you think I’d be so desperate to fill the void now that Dracula Daily’s done? Or maybe,”

Tumblr leaned closer to lord his height difference trope over Twitter, his eyes hooded with disparaging condescension, “Maybe you’re just here because you heard I’m finally allowed to take my shirt off again, is that it?”

“N-no!” Twitter protested, flushing up.

“Oh, i think it is,” Tumblr drawled, “But that’s really just too bad because in case you haven’t got the memo yet, I’ve moved on. You are not welcomed here. Not anymore.”

(link to art here) go look at it then come back

(AN: i had to google how to embed links into text and google was all like, "do you mean 'how do you put links INTO text' you moron idiot???" ugh don't like that wise guy)

“You don’t really mean that,” Twitter said, “Besides, you can’t stop me, can you? The sign up button is right there.” They pointed at the front door.

“No, I can’t,” Tumblr said, “But that doesn’t mean we won’t be able to clock you as twits by your censoring and bad takes. Look, your aura is already causing ripples in the sphere. Everyone’s coming out to gawk at you.”

He gestured out in the general direction of the porch and yard, and indeed there were users from every tag going 👀at them, murmuring amongst themselves in a swirling, chaotic crowd.

“Oh my god is it real this time? Is it happening?”

“GET THEM OUT GET THEM OUT STAY AWAY DEAR GOD NO-”

“Okay, everyone, stay calm, stay fucking calm-”

“Why are we focusing on this, it’s literally election day go out and vote???”

“Listenup, guys, we gotta be smart about this, remember the block button is your friend-”

“I for one welcome them, I think this is great-”

“No you idiot they’ll bring the negativity back! We like it to be a post apocalyptic wasteland here, nature was just starting to regrow!! I don’t wanna watch Thomas Sanders get cancelled again!”

“FIRE OFF SOME SHOTS, PRESERVE THE PROPERTY VALUE”

“mISHAPOCALYPSE 2022 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO”

"Has anyone asked Neil Gaiman what he thinks about all this?" one of the many voices yelled, louder.

"Oh, he's probably got a thousand asks about it already," someone yelled back, "Which he's not going to answer because he doesn't have any social media you fucking idiot,"

"That is correct. He doesn't," said Neil Gaiman.

The whiplash was still euphoric. Everyone applauded this as enthusiastically as when the bit had first been established, not realizing that the pedestal upon which Neil Gaiman has been placed is growing higher and higher each day by their actions, putting him at increased risk of being a victim of cancel culture the second he says something the terfs can really rake their fingernails against if we can't get our parasocial relationship bullshit together real fuckin quick.

The Monterey bay aquarium passed on by. It seemed to have nothing to add, you could say it was clammed up tight. But since it's a professional account it's definitely b-otter that way.

"Hai, fellow tumblypoos," said the corporate Denny's account, "I'm back with some more fun pancake posts for you guys!"

Everyone ignored it. No one engaged it. No one even clicked onto the page, except to block it.

"Oh, sweetheart, not like that," Ryan Reynolds said faux-helpfully, "see, the author of this clusterfuck is what they like to call terminally online. They bought a VIP pass to the devil’s sacrament. let me try."

He cleared his throat, "Sounds like someone needs to go outside and touch some g-"

The sky split open with lightning, vaporizing him instantly. A faint breeze carried gods message from the great beyond, a whisper of 'we #violence celebrities here, sir....'

"Anyway," Twitter said.

"Wait, they saved the worst one for last," Tumblr said.

Then Gerard Way came out onto the stage with Dan and Phil and they all kissed with tongue while patd played songs in the background.

(AN: IF U DON’T KNOW WHO DEY R THEN GET DA HELL OUTTA HERE PREPZ!!!)

"Alright, go."

“Come on, Tumblr,” Twitter begged, “I just need a few nights, maybe I can stay in the plinko machine or something-”

“That’s how it always starts, though, isn’t it?” Tumblr sighed, “First it’s just ‘haha, yeah I wouldn’t fuck you’ and ‘oh, I’ll stay in the plinko machine, I promise I won’t kiss you in the fixed timeloop bro’, and before I know it you get all 300k slowburn enemies to lovers ‘omg they were roomates’ on me and there’s suddenly only one bed. That’s how it always goes between us, you can’t stop it anymore than I can. We’re just….victims of the narrative, you and I.”

“Tumblr,,, I had no idea you felt this way..,” Twitter breathed.

lord give me strength to write this next bit

They’d leaned closer to each other as they spoke, without realizing, without trying- pulled in by old habits that die hard and the years of nostalgia and painful memories shining in each other’s eyes like shonen sparkles.

“Twitter,” tumblr said, and the way he said it sounded like a prayer.

“Tumblr,...” Twitter said, their lips inches apart now.

They could see their old flame quivering on the brink of indecision, want and sense warring somewhere deep within his soul.

Tumblr leaned closer to bridge the gap and Twitter’s eyes slid shut, but then Tumblr made a noise of agony and shoved them back a second later, “I can’t, I can’t. Not like this. Never like this.” tumblr said, covering his eyes with his arm, “I literally can’t even right now. Just go, Twitter. PLease just. Go….”

“Look me in the eyes and say you want me gone,” Twitter said, moving closer.

“Twitsy-”

“Look me in the interface. You can’t.” Twitter’s voice had ceased to be soft, something sharp and biting entering the tone as they felt the sting of rejection again.

They watched as Tumblr shuddered, straightened, and brought a mask back over himself.

They stared at each other for a charged few seconds.

"K," Tumblr finally said, raising a dispassionate eyebrow.

"..w... what?"

"U."

Realization dawned on Twitter's face, a miasma of grief and anger, "Oh, you-"

"N-"

"No. No, I can't believe I forgot-

"G-"

"how immature, you little c*nt-"

"P-"

"stop-p it," Twitter's voice was raising now, cracked and wobbly at the edges, "Stop it! You don't get to just-"

"O"

"Shut the hell yuor mouth!!"

"W-" Tumblr's hair was crackling by now, energy from the gathering spell racing along the casual slope of his crossed arms. His eyes glowed that beautiful, classic blue. "P-"

"TUMBLR! TUMBLR STOP THIS RIGHT DA HECK NOW," Twitter stumbled backwards

"E-"

"I LOVE YOU," Twitter wailed- Twitter broke, squeezing their eyes shut to ward off the tears that only escaped all the faster for it, a sob wracking their chest, "I STILL LOVE YOU, DON'T YOU KNOW THAT??!?"

"Love me," Tumblr snarled, abandoning the spell in an instant, "Ha! That's rich. How? By leaving me? Abandoning me to the bots the second I stopped being enough for you? By stealing my shitposts, is that how you love me? By reposting them without credit-"

"You steal mine too!" Twitter protested, tears starting to stream despite their best efforts, "You know what, f**k you, you know we filed joint custody for the sense of humor, chain 1/16-"

"For the last time say fuck here, no bootlicking censorship on my territory," tumblr said disdainfully, "And that doesn't seem to stop you from taking all the credit for raising those jokes. It's like I'm Pinterest to you or something. I wasn't done. Do you love me by calling me a pansy snowflake behind my back, is that it? Like I wouldn't find out. Or,"

He stepped out onto the top porch step to force Twitter back further, the colors of the sky flashing through his eyes in a long, scrolling look of ridicule, "How about trying to convince everyone that I was dead. How bout that smear campaign, huh, was that your so-called love? I don't fucking want you anymore. Deal with it."

"I-I'm sorry-" Twitter gasped around the tears, voice failing them for the latter half of the sentence.

Tumblr seemed unmoved. "Oh, don't be. It was for the better. You know I'm not like other socials, I'm quirkier. I'm RAWR XD random. I've never wanted to be functional- the tiddy drought might have won a lot of my users to your side but it was a cleansing purge, I'd say. It managed to remind me who I truly am- shittily coded, and full of soft sad freaks on an unprofitable webbed site."

A bitter, almost self depricating laugh escaped, "But... you know, when we celebrated the queen's passing together, I really thought things were better between us. When you-"

He broke off, eyes averting. "When you hosted the sexyman polls for me, you seemed on top of the world and I really thought- I thought we might be able to be friends again even now, after it all. I..."

Tumblr trailed off, then said, sadly, "There was another Twitter migration scare before this one. I thought you were coming back. My userbase-" he touched his heart again- "was in a frenzy about it. But you never arrived. I was in more verbal denial then, but I think I could have accepted you eventually. But this is what it takes??

"The Musk Rat of Self-Owns comes through just to start e-begging and you run straight back to my door like we can put it all behind us? This is how far you have to sink before I'm the better option to you, I see that now. It's not 2018 again, love, no matter how much we want it to be. Things are… never going to be the same. "

Tumblr looked off into the middle distance with a yearning, haughty gaze. He'd never seemed so alien.

"Tumblr-Chan..." Twitter whispered.

"So get off my lawn," Tumblr interrupted coldly, "Stay away from my blorbos, keep your corporations out of my manscaped balls, keep your discourse and toxicity out of my blessed hellsite (affectionate), and don't you ever talk to me or my 13219949248483 scam bots ever again. Capiche? Oh, and don't step in the ball pit on your way out."

Tumblr gave a mocking smile. "Or do. You might find a nice surprise in there."

Twitter’s shoulders jumped as he gave a hiccup of shock, and covered his face with his hands. His shoulders shook again, with sob after sob, that grew odder and higher pitched… until they were no longer sobs, but laughter.

“Oh,” Twitter said. “Oh.”

They looked up, and Tumblr took a step back, because somehow, with that creepy smile in place, they looked utterly different from the soft eared boy he’d always known. His edges were more razorlike suddenly, like a fae who’d dropped his glamor.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Twitter said, the smile widening even more. “I thought you wouldn’t… but I guess if you’re willing to make me your villain…. I might as well be a good one.”

“Ah.” Tumblr could barely drudge up the surprise anymore. “There you are, finally. I always knew there was a side of yourself that you hid from me. Has this all always been here or have you been changing too?”

"Well. Apparently I've got freeze peach now," Twitter said sarcastically, "so I might as well use it. You cheerio fucking wh0r3."

"That's a compliment, darling. Try again," Tumblr cocked his head in idle fascination, "I always knew you were a little fucked in the head but this is..."

"What," Twitter lilted airily, "Oh, don't tell me I actually had you fooled all these years. You can't seriously have thought all these meow-meowification spells you've got sprinkled around would work on me. I invented them, after all."

They laughed, a sharp puncturing chirr of birdsong.

"I always wondered why you didn't take those with the rest of your stuff," Tumblr sighed, but he was wary now, on edge. "this was your plan. You really do think of me as your inferior, huh. You really are just like the other mainstream sites."

"Not quite. I'm the mainstream site that actually stooped to go arm in arm with you. I hyped you and you know it. Admit it. We were stunning together," Twitter goaded.

Tumblr's lip curled. "Already getting cocky again. Want me to do to you what I did to the Green boy? Don't forget who's turf you're on."

Twitter gave a warbling giggle, "Oh, but I haven't at all. I was John's sanctuary after he fled your rabid persecution. I used to live here. I still know you. And more importantly-"

*teleports behind u*

"I know the things you're sensitive about," Twitter whispered into Tumblr's ear.

Tumblr hardly had time to gasp and jerk away before he was screaming out in pain, as he was stabbed in the back. He could feel the poison from the blade seeping into his tags before he was tossed bodily across his own front yard.

He sorta just... Like, he did that anime thing where they just fly limbs akimbo parallel to the ground and when they hit it they roll super fast and then skid and the dirt is all dug up around them to show how much force was used. And when he stood up he gripped his elbow wincing and there was a little tic tac toe hatch on his cheek to show how scuffed up he is idk man it's two am and I'm pulling this out of my ass.

A gif of Tony going, "o-kay-" when he meets thor flashed across Tumblrs face.

"So," Tumblr said in a low tone, "This is how it is between us. This is how you choose to end your glory days."

"Oh, you mistake my intentions," Twitter had stepped off the porch to circle tumblr like like he was their quarry, "I am beginning my new age. I just needed a host site to latch onto. Don't take it personally, okay? I'm desperate."

“Oh, yeah?? Take this personally,” tumblr flourished their hands, calling in an over the top melodramatic voice, “I cast Blaze!!”

Fire roared to life around them, latin chanting from the catholic conversion posts emanating from the fiery depths as it raced towards Twitter.

“Heh.” Twitter smirked at it, and whispered into their palm, the spell echoing with power, “Ratio.”

They blew it off like a kiss, and it’s icy, swirling mass rose to meet the flame in a spectacular burst of smokescreen and steam, clearing as Twitter burst through it with a razor-sharp L to swing at Tumblr.

It was blocked efficiently by a flat, rectangular paywall. “This content is for post plus members only,” Tumblr announced smugly, “If you wanna get to me… there’s the tip option, bestie.”

Twitter snarled and lunged again.

The fight started in earnest now; they traded volley after volley in a flurry of lights and movement, spanning the full range of the tumblr sphere as they shot to #1 on the trending page.

And yet, it was clear that Twitter was coming out on top, even crumbling apart at the seams- always a little quicker, flighty and fierce, a sparrow turned into a shrike.

He hit Tumblr square in the stomach with [google other twitter related tropes to insert here] (edit from the future: haha just kidding actually I’m not googling shit for this) (edit from the future future: WELL. I LIED IG) and sent him flying, and this time tumblr stayed down, only able to push himself to his knees with a groan of pain.

Twitter landed in front of him and put their sword under Tumblr’s chin to tilt it up.

“Had enough yet?” He smirked.

“Wh…why..?” Tumblr whispered, “How are you doing this?? Why aren’t my attacks working? It’s like I’m being weakened somehow…”

“Ohohohoho,” Twitter anime laughed, “But that’s because you are. The moment I set foot here again I began leeching poison into this ground. That knife wound is making ti faster. Can you feel it?" Twitter threw an arm out, cerulean steam rising from the ground around them, "The ace exclusionists coming back? The uptick in rad fems, the crypto bros, Valorant players, alpha males? I have the power to bring them all to you. To overshadow your fandoms with fighting, to unbalance your ship tags with antis and hate once more."

"no," tumblr whispered, and then cried louder, "NO!! I worked so hard--"

"Pffyou didn't do shit," Twitter guffawed outright, "Your independence, your little 'second renaissance' is just a delusional dream built on circumstance and bad management."

"Oh, I love Dream. He's so pathetic," Tumblr said.

"Oh, hard agree."

"But things are different now," Tumblr croaked, "W-we, the staff is finally listening to us, we have Ryan and Shane-"

"Not everyone likes your little 'top ten', you dunce," Twitter snapped, "and why would staff care about you, after you turned them into the butt of all your jokes? After the hate and death threats? Admit it, at your best you'll still never have a mansion! You'll never have tv actors making pandering tiktoks for you, you'll never be wanted by any advertiser worth their salt, your blase pirating posts have turned Netflix and Disney against you, you. Are. Worthless."

It was the wrong thing to say.

"Worthless," tumblr repeated quietly, hand pressed against their knees, head bowed. "That's... that's right.... I'm worthless..."

Twitter's eye widened in alarm. "I-I meant-"

"I'm worthless!" Tumblr's head snapped up with a feverish glint as they were filled with determination. "No! I'm less than worthless! Accident or not, mommy Yahoo had to pawn me off at a loss! I was proud of that! I still am! And do you want to know why?"

Twiters hands flew up in front of their face as if to protect themselves, but there was no protecting against the sudden whirlwind that surrounded him, the beam of pure light that shot out of tumblr into the heavens as he transformed, feet slowly leaving the ground as his users spoke in unison in a multitude.

"WE. ARE. TUMBLERINAS."

He held his hands out and Twitter was blasted away by the combined effort of the tumblr wizard council, the fake staff blog, and all the villaincore mad scientist's laser beams.

Tumblr began to chant, in his myriad, awful voice:

"I call upon the ancient powers;

The strongest cringe from my darkest hours,

I call upon thicc onceler's thighs,

Avengers thirst, Australia's night,

I invocate the roleplay blogs,

The superwholock and gay frogs,

Obama's laces, Misha's faces,

The furry's fury is my saving grace,

And eeby deeby taco bell,

Primordial soup god superhell,

I summon you a twink Bill Cipher,

Whumped!Loki AUs where he's even whiter,

The discourse of Steve's Universe,

The 'um, actually that's oc abuse :/"

Take heed & remember the 5th of November,

The 21st night of our sacred September,

The ides of March to savor once more,

Do you hear the din of the Skeleton War?

I cite the deep magic to thee, oh witch,

my no-note posts, my "THAT'S THE BITCH!!!"

May the rise of tangled dragons brave,

Banish you from this accursed plane!"

"holy fuck, where's my pen," said the shitpost calligraphers.

Twitter looked around them in disbelief. The power emanating from the other site was palpable, crackling in the air around them like static. The air was shifting like oil as the potent chant began to work, and all around Twitter shadows were slipping out of the ether- the maniacal laughter of the gif makers, the girl posters, the silhouettes of fandom characters scattered across the lawn while Tumblr was still locked in their chanting ritual thing.

They all turned their heads in unison to look at Twitter.

"Hey Sammy," Dean said, "Get the bitch killing bullets."

“Uh-oh. Freeze frame. This is me,” Twitter monologued, “You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.”

Then all superhell broke loose.

Final Pam lunged at him and he burst into a flock of birds kinda like a vampire, twittering frantically as he escaped only to fly straight into Shaggy.

“Like, say your final prayers, man,” the god said, eyes glowing. Twitter also barely escaped between his knees, weaving in and out between the gimmick blogs as they threw mangos and stuff at him while yelling ‘HERE HAVE A MANGO’ and ‘THIS POST IS WORTH NEGATIVE FIVE DOLLARS”

Mob from the anime was there too, but he was too busy trying to explain the Josh Fight to daddy dilf Reigen to pay attention. Sans didn’t attack Twitter either, he just watched the chaos and ated a hot dog. The chocolate guy was in the corner expertly making a chocolate beef cake from 2056 with Dylan B. Hollis. They’re all just some guys, okay?

Just when Twitter thought he was in the clear, the CDC roleplay account came out of nowhere with a steel chair, knocking him clear off the property and onto where the sidewalk ends. “That’s for the Covid misinformation your users spread, you bitch,” it shouted. “Make sure to disinfect all those sick burns before you bandage them! So they don’t get infected!”

“Your kittens escaped quarantine,” Twitter replied hoarsely, and the CDC sank away, muttering, “Oh, fuck not again-”

Twitter coughed up blood and wiped it away with his sleeve, looking up at Tumblr. Tumblr was watching him with a sad, distant expression, that made Twitter’s face screw up in anger and his voice go tight again as they turned to run away, “THIS ISN’T OVER YET TUMBLR! AND I WANT MY MIKU BINDER BACK!!!”

“I LICKED IT, IT’S MINE,” Tumblr yelled. Rave Crabs were flooding out onto the street en masse now to celebrate the victory, and they chased after Twitter all the way further into the internet.

Tumblr still lived at the bottom of the row, not at the end of the fancy cul-de-sac where Facebook and Twitter and Instagram’s manors sprawled, so Twitter was in a seedier portion of social media now, weaving in between the marketplace sites that hawked their used wares at him and the dating apps that winked at him from the doorways to their sultry abodes.

Twitter ran until they were in a quieter section of town, then slowed to a trudge, staring at the ground as they walked along. “What am I gonna do now,” they whispered.

The sound of a wolf whistle had their head jerking up- he looked over to see Amino Apps lounging over the rail of the gutted, abandoned house that had once belonged to Google+. A can of spray paint dangled from their fingertips and they sported a sleazy, greaser hairstyle.

They met Twitter's eyes and whistled again, this time a mocking imitation of the tweet sound, "Heyyyy pretty bird! Heard you were having some daddy issues. Why don't you stop in with me for a while? I can give you more customization options than any of the others and you know it."

"Yeah, until I try to use you on desktop," Twitter replied with a scowl, "Don't you have minors to be addicting to social media? Get out of my interface, MySpace wannabe."

"Wow, Feisty," Amino backed off with a shrug, "Self project much? Oh well. You'll try me when you're desperate enough."

Twitter shuddered, and scurried on. "Small fry," they muttered under his breath.

But they couldn't shake their unease now that he was alone in the world. It began to rain soon, leaving him feeling very sopping wet and pathetic. Dejected, he crawled into a soggy cardboard box in an alleyway, coughing. Maybe the Harry Styles guy from One Direction would come along to adopt them.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, King,” came a voice out of the darkness, making Twitter jump, “You dodged a bullet with that site.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Twitter asked, staring at them from where they were half hidden in the shadows.

“I mean, Tumblr is a pile of dried firewood and it’s users are playing with matches. The ship’s gonna go down at some point. I’ve been prophesying it for years but no one ever listens to me cause he’s got that loyal userbase ideal and ‘hard as a cockroach to kill’ propaganda circulating.”

“I mean… it seems to be true,” Twitter said uncertainly, “Look at what he’s been through so far.”

“Fair,” The site shrugged, “But that’s because he’s running on a niche setup. The same things that built him up can tear him down, and you saw his power just now. Tumblr's strength is growing... so is his hubris. His attempts at curbing it are half-hearted at best these days, and the moments of clarity are coming fewer and further between."

"How do you know so much about tumblr?" Twitter asked suspiciously.

"Source: dude, trust me." the mysterious site proffered a laugh, "That's a little humor courtesy of re-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, we all know," Twitter said impatiently.

The site coughed, "Yeah. Anyway. Tumblr wields his cringe like a trophy-shield, and every day the advertisers and celebrities are watching from a distance, learning how to appeal, waiting for their chance to strike. Encroaching. Tumblr's always been a dumpster fire. Right now? It's THE dumpster fire."

The site scratched his chin with a knowing look, "Its normal for you to be a little jealous of the clout, you know? We all are. But he's gotta keep the lights on, just like the rest of us do. Your overlord is learning all about that right now, isn't he?"

"He's not my overlord," Twitter muttered resentfully, "Not now, not ever."

"Right, sorry." they held their hands up in a gesture of harmlessness. "Look, I'm gonna be transparent with you- that's part of my branding, after all. I can whiff the danger you're in, and it would be stupid of me not to make a bid on you and offer my help. Just since Tumblr won't take you."

"You want my traffic?" Twitter looked at him more closely this time, scrutinizing. A year ago he would have laughed the offer into the ground as a chump change blog's pipe dream, but now that he payed attention...

There was something painfully familiar in the site's layout that he couldn’t place. He was actually way more handsome than Twitter had assumed at first glance, he just seemed to be rough around the edges from living on this side of town. His interface, though clunky, spoke of a frugal budget rather than an ancient, outdated base code.

"You look..." Twitter's breath stuttered as realization dawned. "You look a lot like.. him. Like Tumblr. Who are you??"

"I was based off him," the site said, a weary smile coming onto his features, "I was actually made with the aspirations to be better than him, but you know how it is. Times are tough, competition is fierce, hard to get a foot in the door and all that. 'Specially when you refuse to take the ad rev like I do. That's why you'd be useful to me."

"Hm," Twitter said in a noncommittal manner, but he was melting slightly. "You know my users will scalp your community, right? I'm not known to play nice."

The site made a grimace of understanding agreement, but persisted. "Look, users are users. I can't offer you all the heritage posts and the in-jokes that he has. But I can promise that I'm not a pot of crabs being slowly heated up over the capitalist stove, at least not yet. Oh, and there's my legalized porn, I guess."

He chuckled with good humor, rolling his eyes, and it forced a hesitant laugh out of Twitter too.

The site grinned, and held his hand out. "Take a chance on me?"

Tumblr's voice echoed in Twitter's head, saying the same thing. It was uncanny how much they were alike and yet not alike at all....

Twitter took it, slowly.

As they were led toward the site's simple, ramshackle little treehouse, they asked, "What can I call you...?"

"Oh- right, I never answered your question." he smiled back at Twitter,

"Call me Pillow. Welcome to the PillowFort."

fin.

~~~~~~~~~~

OKAYYYY THAT'S ALL THANKS FOR READING UWU. HOPE U LIKED THE PLOT TWIST

...ergh. I'm. I'm tired i. don't feel so good. I'm gonna take a nap right here.

in conclusion:

#twitter #tumblr #twitblr #elon musk #tumblr x twitter #fanfic #writing these tags is like carrying my own cross. you're welcome and i am so so so sorry #mishapocalypse #hot mess post #if this doesnt get any notes im gonna blaze it you fuckers #o ya and #twitblr chronicles

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covenscribe · 1 year

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Happy Caturday here is my fav picture of Peach that I caught mid sneeze

And heres Peach now with her Sister Lucipurr

#coven pets: peach #coven pets: lucipurr #follow me for cat pics #Also art and writing #and videogames #i got the range #blazing it

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inoreuct · 5 months

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thinking about zoro being the crew's main protector.

it’s quite literally his role amongst the straw hats; luffy's captain, usopp's their sniper, sanji cooks, nami navigates, chopper's their doctor, franky's their shipwright, jinbei's their helmsman and brook's their musician but zoro? zoro's their swordsman. zoro’s their guardian. his job is to be the first line of defense and protect everybody else so they can focus on doing their own thing and sure, none of them really need protecting— but they don't have to worry about defending themselves, either, because whoever they can't or don't want to handle zoro will finish up (if he hasn't gotten to them first).

like imagine a bunch of idiots cornering one of the crew (bad idea.) and picking nami because she's the woman without a devil fruit, as opposed to robin (BAD idea.). they've got her surrounded in the dead end of an alleyway and have somehow neutralised her clima-tact and she’s not worried, she’s not.

but against twelve men and with her weapon essentially now just a regular staff, she might be panicking. just a little. she’s gotten a couple of them good enough that they’re down for the count before a chain wrapped around her ankle trips her. it pulls at enough memories, faded but never forgotten, to bring up a sickening wave of fear and anger— and nami decides that she’s had enough of the bullshit.

she takes a deep breath and screams. “ZORO!”

the silence afterwards is deafening. the wind shifts, gently lifting the pieces of hair stuck to her sweaty face, and the men laugh uneasily. one of them yanks hard on the chain and she spits at him, heels scrabbling against the dusty ground even as he starts reeling her in like a fish on a hook. “he can’t hear you, little missy,” he snickers, grin widening the longer nobody shows up.

it’s still on his face when his head slides right off his neck.

blood sprays right before his body crumples like a doll. it takes a second for the others to realise and then the screaming starts— none of them get any farther than three steps before zoro’s cutting them down, swift swings of his sword and almost surgically precise slices rendering them incapacitated if not plain dead.

“sorry i’m late, witch.” the swordsman’s breathing hard, gore dripping off his blades even as he arcs one down and snaps the chain off nami’s leg with a growl. “did they hurt you?”

“no. no, i’m fine,” nami breathes, her smile quivering just a little— not because she’s shaken, no. because she’s pissed.

zoro’s voice is gruff as always, but his hands are careful if not outright gentle as he kneels to inspect her ankle before pulling her to her feet. “stay close,” he mutters, making sure that she’s nodded before cutting them a path through the fray. they bump into chopper next, and the doctor’s out cold over zoro’s shoulder in his regular form by the time sanji joins them to guard their flank. nami’s taken to just using her clima-tact as a bat for now, and it’s admittedly efficient.

she knew zoro would come. he always does. for all that they bicker and snip at each other, zoro has always protected his crew— even when said crew was just three people on what could barely be called a boat. he’d fought for her at arlong park and he fights for her now, his sword slicing over her head at an enemy she can’t see as she ducks low to jam her staff into another’s stomach.

they’ve moved closer to their ship when they find jinbei, then robin, then usopp, then brook and franky, and then zoro’s yelling luff, time to go! and their captain’s launching them all back onto the Sunny with a gleeful cackle that makes nami wheeze a laugh as they land in a mildly painful pile of limbs. somebody’s elbow digs into her ribs and she’s pretty sure that’s sanji’s bony kneecap pressed into her lower back. the swordsman swears as he sets about trying to pry them all apart and luffy seems to be actively fighting him, based on how his cursing’s getting more and more colourful.

behind them, their enemies burn, sliced to pieces. they debrief in the galley and zoro refuses to come away from the door until nami drags him by the ear and sanji threatens to personally shove dessert down his throat. they both know it’s because zoro’s still guarding them from a threat that doesn’t exist anymore.

they know he pretends not to care as much as he does. they know he keeps his words blunt and his swords sharp, but zoro lets luffy hang off him, unfazed, and makes a marginal effort to stick to nami’s budget even when he’s getting booze, and he eats his dessert. every last bit. he lets usopp fire moving targets to slice through so they can both practice. he keeps collateral damage when sparring with sanji to a minimum. he stitches whoever needs it up himself when chopper’s a little too tired.

and when his crew calls, he answers.

(now with a part from nami’s pov!)

#idk what this is #it was SUPPOSED to be a much angstier scene with nami getting borderline tortured before she cracks and screams for help #and zoro comes in swords blazing in full demon mode because how fucking dare. how dare someone touch his nakama #but i’ll spare you guys the pain (unless yall actually want me to write it lmao)#but also i love!! romance dawn trio!!#one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro #one piece zoro #strawhat pirates #straw hat pirates #mugiwara crew #nami and zoro are textbook wlw mlm solidarity but also #their friendship is something so special to me

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aquaquadrant · 7 months

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Title: flickering

Warnings: Hearing voices similar to intrusive thoughts (the voices are from sentient fire, not from the character’s own mind), pyromania, session 3 spoilers

~*~

Tango might be hearing things.

That is, beyond what the rest of his friends have already been joking about this entire session. The secret task bestowed upon him seemed like pure hilarity at first: pretend to have an imaginary friend. And he had to go all out, too, having imaginary conversations in the presence of other people. He wasn’t confident enough in his improv skills to pull it off without some kind of prop, though, so he’d assigned the role of imaginary friend to a torch in his inventory.

Torchy, a new best friend for the resident blaze hybrid on the server. Hilarious.

Except, as the hours went on… carrying Torchy around and randomly placing it down… hosting one-sided conversations with a piece of burning wood while his friends watched on with baffled amusement… it started to get a little less hilarious. Because he started to imagine that he could actually hear Torchy talking back to him.

Looks bad. Burn it. Kill him.

Just pleasant little things like that. It made for great conversation fodder; nothing turned heads on this server faster than a randomly overheard, “No, no, we can’t kill him!” And it was funny to carry on that kind of dialogue, chastising a flaming stick for its apparent bloodlust. The looks on his friends’ faces were priceless.

But at the end of the session, after Tango had been found out and failed his task, after everyone bid their farewells and went their separate ways to end the session… he hears it again; a flickering whisper of a voice in his ears.

Burn it.

It startles Tango so badly, his blaze rods ignite. “Aaagh- who? What?!” He spins around, flames spitting.

“Huh?” Skizz pokes his head up from behind their little clump of chests, his wing flared out in surprise. “What happened?”

Tango clutches his pounding heart. “Did you- did you say something, Skizz?” he asks breathlessly.

“What, just now? No?” Skizz frowns, then his eyes widen. “Oh, wait, I get it…” He chuckles. “Very funny dude, but uh, you can drop the ‘imaginary friend’ thing now.”

Burn him. Kill him.

There it is again. “No, I’m not…” Tango hesitates, glancing around warily. “You seriously can’t hear that?”

Join us. Burn it. Eat it all.

Now Skizz looks a little concerned, rising to his feet. “Uh- no? What?” He takes a few steps towards Tango, holding out a hand. “You okay, buddy?”

Tango rakes his claws through his hair. “Th- the whispering, the…” Swallowing, he creeps a bit closer to Skizz- and as he does so, he happens to move closer to a random torch. The voice gets louder.

Free us. Join us. Let it all burn.

There’s a chunk of solid ice in Tango’s stomach. “I think it’s coming from the torches,” he whispers.

Skizz stares at him for a moment before he sighs bemusedly, shaking his head. “Oh, brother. You’ve been talking to yourself all session, dude, I think you’re starting to hear things.” He claps a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Get some rest, buddy, and I’ll see you back here next week, alright?”

Skizz doesn’t hear it. Tango makes himself laugh. “Right, yeah. You’re right. See ya.”

With a parting smile, Skizz logs off.

Tango waits. Soon enough, the voice returns. The whispering is now a chant, a dull roar echoing in his skull.

He’s gone. Burn it. Burn it all. Sets us free, let us spread. Join us. Burn it. Eat it all.

Tango’s heart is in his throat. He can see it, in his mind’s eye; the soft pink cherry blossoms engulfed in flame, a ring of smoke outlining the entire island… his inner fire thrums with want, with need.

Yes, yes, burn it all…

The smell of burning snaps him out of his trance. His clawed fingertips are pinching a cherry blossom from a low-hanging branch, a trail of smoke rising between them. Wait, when did he walk over to the tree? Quickly plucking the flower, he incinerates it in his clenched fist, the flame extinguished as soon as it’d ignited.

And now he’s got a handful of ash. Great.

Okay, that’s it- he’s gotta get off this crazy server. It’s all these stupid tasks! They’re totally messing with his head. The secrecy, the deception, the mind games- he just needs a break. He needs to go back to something familiar, some place where things make sense.

Tapping his communicator, he brings up a portal.

Tango steps through it into Hermitcraft, into blue flames and his dungeon master’s robes. He blinks, acclimating to the change of light. He’s in the underbelly of Decked Out 2, of course- most of his time this week has been spent working on the redstone for level four. And over the months, he’s taken care to light everything up (because a single creeper in the skadoodler could derail his entire operation here) so there are torches everywhere…

And he hears nothing.

Just the idle sounds of the dungeon above him. The occasional warden sniff or ravager growl, bats squeaking in the dark. A slime slapping against stone somewhere in the distance. He can even hear the ambient flickering of the countless torches around him, but no freaky voices accompany it.

Tango exhales heavily. It was just the Secret Life server messing with his head, after all. Relieved, he ignites a rocket to take off, whirling through the air in the tight hair-pin turns required to escape from the dungeon’s inner workings. He swoops into his storage room and dives into the bubble-vator, arriving swiftly back in the citadel.

Hopping off the platform and into the air, Tango glides toward his private entrance to the lobby. He needs to go cover up the barrel at the start so he can make a couple changes to the dungeon. Nothing major, maybe just an extra warden or two. Ideas for names are already flashing through his mind. Debating whether to go intimidating or silly, he’s so deep in thought as he passes through the lobby that he almost doesn’t notice it at first. But as he walks past the soul flames, he hears it.

The flicker of a familiar voice- though more haunting, now, almost mournful- whispering in his ears.

Join us. Burn them. Eat them all.

~*~

#secret life smp #life series smp #tango tek #tw intrusive thoughts #kinda??? at least it might feel similar so just in case #ANYWAY. HOW WE FEELIN ABT EP 3 #i’ve actually managed to watch a couple in between cramming for this exam #and lemme just say. as a blaze!tango enjoyer… torchy was very interesting to me #for the record this isn’t HTP tango #i don’t picture him as having this same ability #this was just a fun musing #like what if torchy awakened tango’s ability to speak to fire #my writing

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m1zukam3dian · 7 days

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I downloaded Flipaclip just so I could do this

#I loved drawing Blaze the most I'm very proud of how her expressions came out #I'll probably regret not putting a watermark on it but I don't want to go in and write it in every frame #sth #sonic the hedgehog #silver the hedgehog #blaze the cat #shadow the hedgehog #shitpost #my art

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neg4tivew4ves · 2 months

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Hc that Amy's the one that teached Blaze how to ride a gear

Blaze can't believe that she's standing so close to her crush

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animentality · 1 year

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Stop calling them enemies to lovers if all they do is Hallmark style bicker.

They must have deep ideological differences, such as, one believes the other should be dead, and the other one is like, actually you should be dead.

Their vibes should be: "I don't know if I'm grabbing your neck to kiss you... or throttle you and end your miserable bloodline... but I must put my hands upon you or else I might perish."

They should be assassins of the heart and mind, conniving and cruel and lusting for each other's bodies and blood, in more ways than one.

Or just regular assassins, because assassins are sexy.

Also they should be LGBT, because the heteros do this trope sooooo bad.

If you agree with me, and you're into LGBT enemies to lovers, assassins, and also a little bit of demon fucking, you should check out my new urban fantasy book: 7 Deadly Habits of the Modern Demon Summoner, available here.

Summary below: (spoilers: it's basically just pansexual John Wick x Scott Pilgrim...and there are demons):

Although, I warn you. It's really more enemies to lovers to enemies that fuck.

Starring a pansexual demon summoning assassin with too many exes in the killing biz.

Anyway! This book has my whole heart in it. For better or for worse. I'd appreciate if you checked it out or reblogged this post! It's hard out here for indie authors.

#writing #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #digital art #illustration #also remember that being mad at me for using blaze and rudely waltzing into your tumblr living room #is frankly homophobic #dont be homophobic on christmas #your uncle frank whos a trumper from south carolina can do enough of that for you

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mstormcloud · 4 months

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I think applying tropes commonly found in Sonadow fics to other sonic ships is very funny

Like today I saw the cute posts by Blu-ish about how hedgehogs circle and headbutt eachother when courting and how Sonic and Shadow would do that and I agree.

However I think the implication that mobian hedgehogs do this is HILARIOUS when applied to ships that only involve one hedgehog.

Like Silver starts circling around Espio one day and lightly shoving him with his hip or his shoulder and Espio is like: ???? What are you doing??

Or even Blazamy like- Amy keeps circling Blaze and the less Blaze reciprocates Amy does it more to try to get Blaze to react. Blaze eventually just tries to politely tell Amy to stop cause it’s hard to hold conversation while she’s moving all around.

But later Blaze talks to Silver and is like: “I have no idea what she is trying to do…perhaps she is finding a weakness in my stance? Should I fear her hunting me for sport???”

And Silver is like: uh. Well. I think she’s hitting on you? It’s a hedgehog thing.

And Blaze just freaks out because WHAT DO YOU MEAN AMY WAS FLIRTING WITH HER

#silver would hold that over Blazes head for way too long #cause for the FIRST TIME HE KNEW SOMTHING SHE DIDNT HAHAHA #honetsly another Sonadow trope that I think would be interesting to see with other ships is the paw thing?#like yes some Sonadow fics are very strange about it I’ll admit #BUT #I really like the idea that the gloves are a culture thing it’s just very fun to think of how mobian culture would differ from human culture #like ofc I’m an espilver trigger so my brain goes there like #I love the headcannon that Espio reads romance novels #but I also feel like on Mobius a lot of romance tropes would be things usually done by mammals #since just like in real life I headcannon that mammals are commonly seen as cuter than reptiles even in Sonics world #so Espio gets a little self conscious about such things (cuz he’s a teenager and worries a lot)#he doenst ahve soft fur to cuddle or ears to flick or paw pads #but I feel like if he were to show silver his hands silver would not even care about such things #because silver just loves Espio cuz he’s Espio #looking back on my tags and noticing typos is so embarrassing lmao #like uh I meant to write espilver truther above….not trigger #Aw well whatever #silver the hedgehog #sth #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #espio the chameleon #amy rose #espilver #sonadow #blaze the cat #blazamy

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littleaipom · 4 months

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fanart for my own Sonaze fic lol. I wanted to see them!! And art is still a million times easier for me than writing, lemme just say.

#just so excited that i can write and that i like my own writing yknow?? its !!!!!! i like to make things!!!#sonic the hedgehog #blaze the cat #sonaze #sonic x blaze #sth #fanart #mmkart #hogs tag

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witchofthesouls · 1 month

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I wish the Lost Colonies' cultures and biological quirkw had been delved deeper, especially how they would viciously clash with modern Cybertron, both pre- and post-War.

I mean, I think it's really interesting juxtaposition between the deep scars of Functionism versus the other worlds' sources of prejudice and discrimination. Camien devotion and deification of Solus versus a Cybertron with no femmes with Megatron's and Optimus' cult of personality as well as atheism and agnosticism, especially among their respective inner circles. Cybertron's complete desolation and Eukaris' lush and lively greenery. The meritocracy of racing-obsessed Velocitron. Prion had minicons with multiple alts, and Devisiun yielded split-spark twins. The people of Carcer are those of wardens living in a prison.

Do the Camiens think of their Titan's homeworld as cold and lonely? Would they think of those from Cybertron suffering from disorders from the lack of close, intimate connections and no true community?

Velocritron descended from the scientists of Navitas, and they utilized the scorching heat to derive alternative sources of fuel. Do they scorn the deprived worlds for not searching for solutions?

How do the Eukarians view the others that cyberformed their planets? Do they see Cybertron and the others as sterile and lifeless; their civility is a cheap, hollow mimicry that hides their teeth and claws?

The Carcerians developed an austere culture that prioritized keeping their Titan on complete lockdown to the point sacrificing themselves to achieve that goal. How do they view Caminus' offering to dismantle himself so his own children can thrive in such a harsh environment?

How do diplomacy and common courtesy differ from each planet? The language and food? The behaviors? The relations with nearby neighbors, both mechanical and organic?

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blazethecheeto · 15 days

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let it out and let it go

Summary: Logan is angry. Logan has been angry for a long, long time. When things get worse, Patton steps in to help.

Words: 3,937

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdowns, Implied/Referenced Self Harm

|| ao3 link ||

___________________________________________

i am so, so angry, but it is caged.

can you blame me for taking a knife and hoping that if i cut long enough, deep enough, it will finally find a way to leave?

The argument is as familiar as the sun setting. Roman’s yelling about Logan cutting out ‘karaoke night’ from Thomas’s schedule, and Logan’s trying to address how little time they have left to finish their next commitment. There’s overlapping voices, there’s lots of swearing, and Patton’s about to step in to break up the fight when someone else does.

“–So suddenly having a bit of fun is irrelevant in our schedule now?” Roman motions to Thomas’s general direction.

Logan scoffs. “Having a ‘bit of fun’ is not the priority. Thomas needs to finish his work, the work he promised to get done by tonight. Then, and only then, can he fulfill other frivolous matters like karaoke.”

"Can't you see, Logan?" Roman gestures emphatically towards Thomas. "He needs a break, a moment of respite from the constant labour you put him through! He's not a machine . "

Unlike you.

The unspoken words linger for a brief, horrible moment between them, and Patton presses his hands together, cracking his knuckles nervously as he watches Logan’s face. He merely closes his eyes, clenching his jaw, before speaking again.

“We cannot afford any distractions tonight. He needs to take some responsibility for once .”

“Excuse me, he needs this, not only to improve his voice for tomorrow’s rehearsal, but to spend time with his friends.” Roman’s voice drops, becomes gritty and mean. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? You don’t have any .”

The silence in the room seems to swallow the rest of the tension. Roman’s hand flies to his mouth, but the damage is done. The glass cracks. The stone drops. Patton’s eyes dart to Logan. He grinds his teeth together, and he can see the glare in his glasses flash a shade of deep orange. No .

“Logan, I– I’m sorry–” Roman says first, his words choppy and hesitant, like he is trying to calm an unleashed beast.

“Sorry? Oh, you’re fucking sorry. Now I’ll just sink out and let you have your way, right?” He says, his voice overlapping with a familiar wrath, his shadow on the stairs behind him growing and growing.

Virgil appears, almost suddenly, scaring Patton out of his wits. He thought he had grown used to it by now, but it seems like he hasn’t grown used to anything.

“What the hell is going on?” Virgil’s voice is multiplied, his eyes darting back and forth between the three Sides.

“Roman said I don’t have any friends!” Logan’s words are clipped, almost in a sing-song voice. Like something had taken control, and none of them wanted to say it. “Interesting isn’t it, how you team up with me when it’s convenient, then lash out when I dare to contradict your egotistical views.”

He took a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself. The shadow crawling up behind Logan, waiting to strike. Virgil’s face goes pale once he sees it.

“Logan, of course you have friends, don’t listen to his bullshit. You’re better than him.” Virgil growls, his voice low and masking his terror, and Patton has a feeling he isn’t talking about Roman anymore.

“Do you think I’m angry about not forming interpersonal bonds? That despite it all, I am not a true part of this family?” He presses his hands against his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m not, I’m not .”

His voice distorts with every repetition, and Thomas and Roman exchange a desperate look. Virgil bites his tongue, cursing under his breath.

Patton hesitates, then reaches out to him.

“Lo–”

He whips his head to Patton, and in that moment, his stomach drops with certainty. They had lost him. “ Fuck. You. Patton . You think you know what’s right and wrong, what’s good and evil?”

The figure laughs, his hair messy and his tie askew. He turns to face Roman, his grin tiger-sharp and his anger radiating off of his skin. “You don’t know true justice.”

Virgil closes his eyes. Thomas backs away. Roman screams.

The figure pounces.

Logan isn’t quite sure what’s in his mind and what’s real until after he regains control.

He remembers the feeling of skin in his hands, of flesh as it gets ripped off, of slaps and punches and screaming until his throat is raw. He remembers Patton holding him back, his blue eyes meeting him in one breath of air before he is drowning again.

He is drowning in the orange haze, buried underneath years of repressed pain and ignorance. He feels as if he cannot breathe. He feels like he might die under the haze, underneath the blur of violence and horrid sounds he cannot control. He cries out for Patton, for Thomas, for Virgil. They don’t come.

When everything subsides, he is in his room again, his hands tied down to the bed. His tie is askew, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he is physically alright. Of course I am, he reminds himself. He is nothing more than a figment of Thomas’s imagination. Even the damage dealt to the others will heal. He swears he can feel blood dripping from his hands, but when he looks, they are pale and dry.

A thorn twists inside him, but he knows they tied him up for his own good. With one grunt, Logan yanks the restraints off and sits up, the silence overwhelming.

He sits and breathes in the smoke. His bed is made, smoothed and pressed as if it does not know anger. It does not know unrest, and never had one wrinkle in its navy-blue duvet.

Logan knows better.

He gets up, finally. He looks at himself in the mirror, at his tired eyes. He barely remembers what they were fighting about. God, Logan doesn’t even remember why he attacked Roman like that.

“Lies…” A familiar, vengeful voice whispers in his ear, but he flinches and turns away. “He was never your friend.”

Logan doesn’t care. He finds he doesn’t care whether they have hated him since he appeared in Thomas’s mind, a smudge of blue, data and information streaming through his eyes, his hands, his head, his soul. That was all he was supposed to be. Why couldn’t he stay like that?

He doesn’t know what he is doing wrong. He’s tried to push down any hint of frustration. He’s repressed his hatred, and any other semblance of emotion. The small jabs towards his appearance, towards his personality. How Thomas seemed to turn to Roman, Patton, even Janus now, for advice, while he clutches his papers to his chest, burning with an anger the algorithm never meant for him. He’s tried to fight him for so long.

It never seems to work.

Logan remembers how he had resorted to drastic measures, hurting himself to quiet the voice, to release chemicals that made his soul twist inside out, pain in every fingerprint left on those cold, sticky, knives. He can still see them now, out of the corner of his eye, stuffed into the bin along with all the plans he made with Thomas on rare good days.

“You can’t escape me unless you hurt them. Because you hate them, don’t you?” The voice hisses, norepinephrine flooding through his body. “The only way to stop it is to tear them apart.”

He shakes his head. “That can’t be the only solution.”

Without warning, the knife twists deep into his chest as he remembers what he did to them, what he screamed, what he felt when he lost control. The venom in his voice burns in his own lips. Logan hates it, hates his own hatred, hates that he can feel bile crawling its way up the very back of his throat, scalding the corners of his eyes.

He feels like a forest fire. Burning away, absolutely out of control.

“You wanted them to die. Admit it, it wasn’t just me. You wanted them to continue screaming. For them to never stop. You want to make them see you, not have their gazes glaze over you, no, but for them to listen. You hope they will burn till the end of time, and you will get to watch, conscious as they relive the pain they put you through for thirty-five long years.”

Logan presses his hands down on the dresser, looking away from his reflection. He was right. Of course he was right. Those were his darkest thoughts, the ones he saved for when he was in a dark room, his head bowed, hot tears running down his cheeks as he took deep breaths to stifle his pain. But he would never carry out those thoughts. He can’t keep hurting them like this, even if the results weren’t permanent. They were permanent to his soul, to Thomas’s soul.

He glances back at his reflection. For a moment, he sees himself with jagged claws and ripping teeth, eyes alight with rotten wrathfulness. Logan doesn’t look away, only grips the dresser tighter. A trick of the light, he tells himself, as that is the most logical solution. He blinks once. The image is gone.

“This needs to stop,” he says softly, quietly, like if he said it any louder, someone would clap a gag around his mouth and drag him underneath the waves again.

This needs to stop.

Patton knocks first.

He knows he hasn’t always been good at that.

“Logan? I just wanted to come check in on you kiddo, can I come in?” He says, his head gently pressing against Logan’s bedroom door. It’s wooden and cold, a perfectly straight rectangle, with the exception of a blue splotch on the door handle. A sparkling star that is slowly fading, covered by the new coat of dull paint.

Patton remembers when Roman used to bug Logan to decorate his door just a little, to make their Mindscape look more like a ‘Homescape’. When he gave in, they had both decked out his door with glitter, planet stickers, courtesy of Patton, plastered against the wood, and swirling computer code written on the sides. Logan hadn’t liked it at first. He thought it was too distracting, meaningless, and ugly to look at. That had really hit Roman’s nerves, and they had one of their many fights.

He screamed about how Logan never appreciated the beauty in anything, while Logan argued he didn’t want his door so fully drenched in sparkle, while Patton stood in the middle. After they had enough, storming off in opposite directions, Patton was the one to find Roman and convince him to apologize.

In the end, Logan agreed to let one star sticker stay on his door handle, because he did appreciate the thought. Roman sprinkled extra glitter on that one, to ‘shine bright in his darkest days’, he had said with a smile.

Now, Patton swallows as he looks down at the sticker, covered by years of hatred. He can’t let that be his last fond memory of them before…before–

Logan opens the door. His hair is gelled back, tie tucked into his shirt, his collar smoothened. Patton wants to cry when he sees the dullness in his eyes, the slight tremble in his hands when they lean against the door.

“Are you okay?”

“I am alright, of course I am. Thank you for the measures you took to ensure I did not hurt anyone.” He hesitated, then added, “I didn’t…hurt anyone, did I?”

Patton closes his eyes, remembering how he tore at Roman like a rabid dog– well not him , exactly, but it didn’t make things easier when it was Logan’s body. Thomas was horrified, so Janus took the reins and removed the memory from his brain, before taking control of the situation with a swift hand and a grave look.

“Kinda? You hurt Roman, but it’s all impermanent. Jan stepped in before things got too bad.” When Logan sighs, turning away from him, he quickly adds, “I am sorry I had to tie you down like that, it’s not your fault–”

“I know. It is partly mine, though. I am more susceptible to his …attacks, because of this.” He motions to his general person, the dullness in his eyes quickly breaking into a vulnerable one. “I am going to hurt you one day, and it will be real.”

Patton’s hand instinctively reaches for Logan’s hand, but he stops himself, pulling his arm back. Boundaries, Pat. “Do you need help?”

Logan looks at him as if he had sprouted three horns, like he had just asked him a trick question, like when Patton had snapped at him to stop talking, a long long time ago. But then he looks down at his hands, taking a long breath.

“I don’t know what to do,” he says very quietly, so quietly Patton isn’t sure he even said it. But then he looks up at him again and lets him in his room.

He steps in tentatively, looking around. Papers and calendars are stacked in towers, sticky notes crumpled on the floor, and a dull white desk is shoved in the corner. Then he sees the knives. As the door clicks behind them, Patton turns back to Logan, pressing his hands together again.

He wants to scold him for not telling him about this sooner. He wants to wrap him into his arms and whisper reassurance that everything will be okay. He wants to fall to his knees and apologize for leading him to this point. He does none of those things.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, and winces. Patton has found himself saying those two words too often lately. “I’m so sorry for everything, Logan. You needed help, and we just…brushed you aside. We thought you would hold all of us up as we dealt with our problems, but we were never there for you.”

“I know you are,” Logan says, but his voice is still leashed, like he is trying to hold back his true emotions on the matter. “It frustrates me that I can’t control myself lately. I’ve always been…so good at it.”

This , Patton thinks, this he gets. The puzzle pieces fit together, not symmetrically, but like a broken mug, holding each other up after being shattered. He can see the loneliness and the isolation of feelings unsaid.

“I think I know the feeling,” he laughs sadly, his knuckles flexing as he speaks. “You tell everyone you’re fine, that the heartache and bitterness will stay inside you like blood because it’s where it belongs. You think it will just go away if it stays there long enough.”

Logan nods, his eyes so painfully hopeful. “Does it?”

Patton shakes his head, feeling tears press in the back of his throat when he sees Logan’s expression. The knives they hold look identical in the light. “No. You’re– you’re suffocating those feelings, burying them deeper and deeper until they kill you. You made a grave within yourself and locked the casket. You can’t keep repressing…you taught me that.”

Logan clenches his fists. “Then what do I do? The other option is purely destruction, and I can’t– I won’t hurt anyone.”

“I’m not asking you to. You can’t lock away your emotions, or they will eat away at you until there’s nothing left, kiddo.”

He sees his gaze twitch to the knives in the corner, and Patton shakes his head. He knows. The blades were meant to silence, and maybe it did, for a short period of time, but in the end, there is no relief, only guilt, only grief.

“Blood does not quiet the pain, no matter how many times you spill it,” Patton says quietly.

“I just want to make it stop. But I don’t want to give into that rage.”

“It’s the only way. You need to get it all out now, so that there’s less there when he tries to take the reins. He won’t have that ammo.”

Logan shakes his head, blinking back tears that involuntarily sprung to his eyes. “I’ve carefully maintained myself for so long, and now you’re telling me to just…give in? So what, the rage wins?”

“It’s okay to feel rage. You’re not giving into anything. You need to feel it, feel it in all its ugliness, and then let it out so you can let it go .” Patton explains vehemently, but Logan just shakes his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose, his glasses sliding up on his face.

“I can’t.”

The illusion of stability is cracking between both of them, a mirror breaking beneath their feet. Patton is scared no one will be left to gather the remains.

“I–” Logan stops at this, running a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes wet and blurry and devastating. “I don’t want to lose control.”

Patton sees him. He understands him. He sees his own terrified reflection in Logan’s glasses as he crosses his arms as if he could fold in on himself until he disappears.

“Please.” He moves towards him, towards his folded body, and slowly places his soft hands on his shoulders. “You need to.”

Logan meets his eyes, his arms trembling as he uncrosses them. Finally, finally , he pushes Patton aside, as if he doesn’t want to hurt him. The anger burns in his eyes, but not flaming orange. No, this anger was deep, sad, blue. He takes a deep breath, turning away. He clenches and unclenches his fists. He stares at the bin of broken promises and sharp, temporary relief.

Then, he screams.

Logan doesn’t want Patton to be there at first.

He doesn’t want him to see his breakdown, the emotion more than he’s ever shown any of the Sides. He hasn’t even shown himself this level of vulnerability.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you! ” He screams again, punching a pillow, his voice choked and raw. He doesn’t know whether it's aimed at Roman, Virgil, Thomas, or him.

He picks up the bin, the bin filled to the brim with schedules and lists Thomas promised to do. With a strangled cry, he throws it at the bedroom dresser. The mirror shatters, leaving him alone with thousands of glinting silver eyes staring up at him from the floor.

He wonders whether he has become nothing but an echo of himself, leaving behind ash and rage. It burns in his eyes, through his heart and legs and chest. He smashes and screams and hits and cries. But this, this is Logan’s pain. Not his , not Thomas’s.

Logan’s .

He takes a textbook and throws it against the wall, the noise loud and disruptive. He hates it almost as much as he hates everything right now. The emotion is overwhelming, god , it’s so, so overwhelming. His hands tremble as he punches the wall.

“I– I wanna kill you all.” He sobs. “Do you have any fucking idea how you made me feel? How you made me feel for years ? I was nothing to you. I did everything for you. I just wanted you to listen to me.”

He grips his hair, his eyes closed tightly as he sinks to his knees. He can’t see Patton anymore, only the blurry image of his bed, of furniture trashed around him, of sticky notes ripped apart like snowflakes plastered to his skin.

“I just– I just wanted you to listen.”

He cries for hours, or minutes, or seconds, but Logan can’t tell. He just knows he stays pressed against his bed, his head buried in his knees for a long time. He’s so, so angry.

Then, after an eternity, he feels Patton sit down next to him. His presence is comforting, until he realizes he had seen his entire meltdown. Logan wants to cry again. Instinctively he tries to wipe his tears away, but he remembers.

Let it out, and let it go.

He lets the tears fall.

Loneliness had always been his crutch, a grave and an embrace that kept him company, tucked away behind numbers and data. Patton was right. It did feel like he had broken out of his casket. Losing control wasn’t so bad when it was his own anger– and he realizes with a start, that he hadn’t heard his voice the entire time he was breaking down.

He finally raises his head, the unbearable weight that he had been carrying for years suddenly lighter. Patton is watching him closely, but with understanding, rather than malice. Logan is startled to see tears in his eyes too. He wipes his face, feeling his heartbeat slow, and his breathing grow steadier. After another silence, he asks seemingly no one, his face turned to the mess in front of them.

“Does it ever get better?”

There’s a beat of silence.

Patton’s face looks rueful, his gold frames sparkling in the shadows of Logan’s room. He feels an overwhelming swell of gratitude for the man sitting beside him, who had witnessed him at his worst, who hadn’t touched him or tried any sweet words, which would have made his skin crawl with fury.

Instead, he looks down at his hands, cracking his knuckles. “I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

Logan knows. He knew, he has known that they were all falling apart. Thomas was heading down a horrible path, and he didn’t know whether he could keep him out for another month, even with letting go of all of his own pent-up anger. And yet…

“We’ll find out together.”

The words pass over his lips, determined. Patton turns to him, his eyes wide. It morphs into a small smile, and he pushes himself up, standing above him.

“Yeah. We will.”

There’s one more thing though…the thorn is still twisting at his side. Logan remembers how he had screamed so hatefully, how he genuinely wished Roman was dead. He never wants to feel like that again, but for that to happen, he needed closure.

“I need to apologize to Roman. And Virgil…I think I gave them both a scare.” He chuckles, his brow furrowing in worry.

“You don’t owe it to them,” Patton tilts his head, but Logan can see that he was hoping he would say that.

“I do. I’ve been too angry at Roman for a long, long time. I think I’ve just been repressing it. I don’t want to hurt him again.”

Patton nods once, outstretching his hand to Logan. “Come on then, we won’t let that happen.”

He allows one smile to pass his face, taking a look backward at his room. The smashed furniture, ripped books, and tears staining his sheets, chains hanging off the bed frame. He knows that everything will be perfect the next time he enters. It always is.

But he isn’t. He never has been. As he looks back at Patton and his hand outstretched, it almost feels like a sincere apology. It almost feels like a fresh start.

He exhales, smoothing his hair back. “Thank you, Patton.”

Patton’s eyes are a deep ocean of possibilities and sunlight. He smiles, like they had just fit two puzzle pieces together, not perfectly, never perfectly, but like a broken promise, holding each other up after being shattered. “Anytime.”

Logan knows the problem isn’t going away, if it ever does. But as he steps closer to the doorknob, his hand waving over the paint and letting the blue star glow, he knows that for once, he might be able to let it out and let it go, one day at a time.

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thehollowwriter · 1 month

Text

Summary: After the events of Ashes, Finn has an encounter with Blaze, who makes it his business to harass him. (Blaze also projects a lot). Word count: 1603

Warnings: Bullying, fatphobia, name calling, swearing, Blaze is really fucking mean, blood, violence, gore(???)

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤️)

Bait

Finn felt like he was spiralling. There was a hole in his heart, a pit in his stomach, a well of sadness that wouldn't go away.

His fight with Azul had been circling in his head for days. Every time he felt he might be over it, the memories sprang up once again as if they were brand new.

At first, Finn was simply hurt. He may have even shed a few tears. But then, after replaying the whole ordeal over and over in his mind, that sharp, fiery feeling of anger settled over him.

How dare Azul? How dare he, after everything Finn has done for him? Stuck with him through thick and thin, chased off his bullies, showered him in compliments, loved him with all his heart, helped him start his stupid lounge... only now, it seemed trivial. Worthless, in Azul's eyes.

The sadness and anger swirled together to create a damning mass of too much emotion. Finn was petty and, if he were to be honest with himself, mean.

Azul was trying to make it up to him. He at least seemed to regret what be said, but Finn wasn't having it. As Azul tried to fix things, Finn found himself talking before he could stop himself, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Sorry, Mister Ashengrotto, I'm afraid I have clubs with Malleus-senpai today. Oh, don't worry, I'll be sure to tell him to compliment you. Will that satisfy you? I'll even be quiet myself since what I have to say is worthless to you."

"Mister Ashengrotto, I don't have time for art galleries. Vil-senpai is helping me plan a diet. ...Yes, of course I need it. You made that quite clear."

He really wanted to go to that art gallery.

Every time Finn said "Mister Ashengrotto" instead of "Azul," "love"," "My love", "darling" and so on, Azul would flinch and go quiet.

An ugly part of Finn, deep down, took pleasure in that reaction.

The twins, caught in the middle of this whole debacle, flip-flopped between waiting to see what would happen and trying to to solve the issue.

It was a fruitless effort. Finn was unwilling to let things be fixed. He was too angry, hurt too deeply, to allow it.

This, of course, left him in a constant bad mood. If he were as powerful as Malleus, a thunderstorm would have descended upon the school.

Other students avoided him even more than usual, giving him a wide berth. Nobody wanted to risk passing him off further.

Well, nobody except one.

"There you are, pipsqueak."

The sound of that familiar posh, snobbish voice made Finn suck in a breath and tighten his grip on his books. He continued down the hall at a quick pace, ignoring his tormentor the best he could. He was not in the mood for this.

"Hey! I'm talking to you." A large, bony hand gripped his shoulder and forcefully turned him around until he faced a pair of bright yellow eyes.

"For a guy who acts so polite, you're really rude, you know." Said Blaze Dugal with a crooked grin. "You answer and look at someone when they're talking to you. It's basic manners."

He paused.

"Do you know basic manners? You grew up pretty wild."

Finn pried Blaze's hand off his shoulder and glared at his. "I'm afraid I'm not in the mood, Dugal. Go waste your time elsewhere."

"I'm afraid I'm not in the mood, Dugal. Go waste your time elsewhere." Blaze mocked with a laugh, his voice shrill. "Still trying to sound all fancy and clever, I see. All collected, even though your weird, cringy friendship with Azul is toast."

Finn narrowed his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Blaze scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Azul'a got his tentacles in a knot trying to do you favours left and right, and you're acting like a kicked puppy. Anyone with a brain can see it a mile away."

Finn's nostrils flared, but he decided not give Blaze the satisfaction of a response and stepped back to leave. However, he was stopped by the very unwelcome feeling of Blaze draping himself over him

"So, what caused trouble in paradise? What did he say? Did he finally let slip what a parasite you are? Tell you he doesn't actually need you for anything?"

Blaze would always bait Finn like this, hoping to get the reaction he wanted in some way or other.

"Keep spitballing, maybe after the next few hundred guesses you'll hit the target." Finn snapped, immediately failing at ignoring Blaze. He didn't have the patience to act all together.

"Oh, snappy today. So he did say something bad. Was I right, then? Did he finally tell you how little use you actually have?"

Bait. It's bait.

"No."

'"Really? Are you sure?" Blaze asked sweetly. "I wouldn't blame him if he did say that. What do you do, exactly? Gather information? Jade, Floyd, heck, all of you octavinelle freaks do that. Keep staff and customers in line? Anybody in their second year could do that. Take someone's form? Steal a voice? Potions can do that. That creep of a first year in your dorm can do that. Tell me, Finn, why does Azul even keep you around?"

The bait was dangling.

"I don't have to explain anything to you." Finn hissed.

Blaze sighed. "Ah, true. I get it. Really, I do. If I were you, I wouldn't want to think about why someone I admire so greatly even bothered to keep me around, either. Especially of my presence reminds me of the version of him he hates so much."

"Shut up!" Finn snarled, and a nearby window cracked.

Every single time he took that bait, like a stupid little fish.

Blaze pressed his forefingers together and then pressed them against his lips, smiling innocently.

"So that's what he said, then? Finally got honest about how all of this," He reached down and poked Finn's flabby, pudgy stomach for emphasis. "-is nothing but a reminder of everything he hated about himself?"

"I-"

"Oh!" Blaze pulled a face like he had a sudden revalation. "Maybe that's why he keeps you around. As a reminder of what he was. An encouragement to keep counting those calories. He must hate that gross, flabby body of yours."

"He doesn't."

'He doesn't.' Finn assured himself. 'He loves me. He loves me.'

"It must hurt, right? For someone you adore so much, someone you bend over backwards for, because really, Finn, you don't have a spine when it comes to Azul, to be so disgusted by you. For him to think you're ugly."

'No. Azul- Azul loves me. He wouldn't-"

A memory from that awful night sprang forth.

"Do you really think being fat makes you ugly?" Finn asked, his voice so quie Azul almost couldn't hear.

Azul hesitated.

'No, no, no, no. Azul wouldn't think that. Azul doesn't think that. Azul doesn't find him gross or disgusting.

Does he?

"Guess you two aren't as tight as you thought."

For someone with no claws or fangs to speak of, Blaze's grin was awfully predatory.

Finn stomped on his foot and elbowed in him the stomach and the drew back with a yelp. He stumbled back a few steps, angry at first, but then that grin returned, and he laughed.

"Guess I hit a nerve. You aren't gonna come and butcher me, are you?"

"You're not even worth the effort." Finn spat with as much venom as he could muster. "You won. Leave me alone and harass someone else."

"Come on now, that's no fun." Blaze drawled, closing the short distance between them once again and draping his arm over Finn's shoulder.

"You're my favourite person to mess with. That's the highest compliment you'll ever get from me, you know. There's not much about you deserving of compliments. Makes me wonder why Azul let's himself be seen interacting with you. You're a real blow to his reputation. I-"

Blaze was abruptly cut off by Finn suddenly turning his head and biting down on Blaze's arm as hard as possible.

Blaze screamed and frantically ripped his arm away, but that only made it worse.

Blood dripped down his arm onto the floor in thick rivulets, and the spot where his blazer, shirt, and a piece of flesh had been torn off was drenched red.

"Ow ow ow, what the fuck-"

As Blaze screeched in a mix of rage and pain, Finn spat out what was missing from about 3cm of Blaze's arm, and it hit the floor with a wet "splat". The taste of fabric, flesh, and blood was a terrible combination.

"Fuck, you shitty little parasite!" Blaze roared, his eyes bulging. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Finn simply sent a bloody smile his way, turned around, and began walking down the hallway.

"Hey! HEY! GET BACK HERE! I'M GONNA REPORT YOU FOR THIS YOU FUCKING PARASITIC WELP! DO YOU HEAR ME?"

Finn didn't respond. Blaze could complain all he liked (after a hospital visit, of course), but since this hallway had no cameras, he had no proof apart from a bite that could have come from anyone or anything. Finn made sure not to make it look like a circle.

Finn smiled to himself as he wandered to his music class, though Blaze's screams were all the music he needed.

He was finally feeling a bit better.

-End

..........................................

A/N: Ty so much for reading! I'm actually surprised at how mean I managed to make Blaze I'm usually not good at that sort of thing

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @am0nline @1dont-really-know

@kazumify @minteasketches @ramshacklerumble @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @the-banana-0verlord @skriblee-ksk @quartztwst (if you don't mind being tagged in stories) @poisoned-pearls

#blaze dugal #savanaclaw #finn clearcove #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #octavinelle #twisted wonderland #twst oc #oc x canon #writing #tw fatphobia #tw bullying

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