Skizz: Alright now remember, when I say come on in then come on in. And after you say don't be that guy
Tango: ...
Skizz: Then just- then just go... then go... PFFFT!
Original screenshot/comparison below the cut.
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eeeeeeeee it has finally begun
my piece for the hsbb!! absolutely wonderful event that i got to take part in, please go check out some of the other works from this event as well there’s some amazing stuff there!
will be updating this fic every wednesday and sunday over the next two and a half ish months until we’re done, scarian enjoyers come get ur slowburn in a neat lil fantasy world with magic and fun times :) legit been working on this since june oh my gosh, very excited to finally share this with y’all!!
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solider/poet/king the arcana trend:
Asra: poet who didn’t care what they got
Julian: king who wanted to be a poet
Nadia: king who wanted to be a soldier
Portia: poet who wanted to be a soldier
Muriel: soldier who didn’t care what he got
Lucio: soldier who wanted to be a king
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for all you fellow skizz enjoyers who wish for nothing more than skizz as a hermit...
there's a proximity voice chat group Impulse made called "Subscribe to Imp and Skizz!" in the registry now. And who knows, maybe it'll survive the entire season. And together with the four Skizz heads...it's something.
ONE DAY WE MAY HAVE MORE. BUT FOR TODAY, WE WIN THESE!
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hoppin by to say that the amounts of serotonin your AU gives me are making me feel shrimp emotions, i can almost physically feel my eyes dilating when i see a new post. utterely and eternally obsessed w the vibes, i dont even have anything else to say, just thanks for making this!!
no requests or questions this time however if you feel like dropping an additional detail or loose concept i'm all here for it :D
waussghh ;; that’s so very sweet thank you
as for additional details:
Nestled in the mountains’ arms, tucked away in blankets of pine trees, a radio tower blinks bright red.
“It’s currently 8:23AM here at KHHR…”
As patrons of the Stress-Free Diner settle in for their morning coffee, a radio in the kitchen crackles distantly, a backdrop amidst pleasant chatter.
“…We’ve been receiving reports of scattered showers all throughout the week, so be sure to pack an umbrella…”
A cashier leans against the counter, fingers drumming against the linoleum. He stares off into the distant aisle of chips and candy, the buzzing of lights humming in tandem with a radio that’s been left on in the back room.
“…And make sure to congratulate our local sports team for their amazing win! In more pressing news…”
A man sits in a darkroom. Red lights cast long shadows across his face, reflecting against his glasses as he pins another photograph. It’s of a radio station, nestled in the mountains’ arms, tucked away in a blanket of trees. He sits for a moment, thinking, before moving the picture to a corkboard adjacent, pinning it right next to an older news article.
Local Radio Station Destroyed in Fire.
He freezes as something clicks on behind him: a radio. Songs and words become a jumbled mess as the dial turns, slowly twining together into a slow, monotonous drawl.
“…Two. Three. One. Two. Zero. Three. Eight. Five. One. Eight. Two. Three. One. Two. Zero. Three. Eight. Five. One. Eight. Two. Three. One. Two. Zero. Three. Eight. Five. One. Eight—“
The numbers stops. The radio crackles. Then the voice continues, as easily as if reporting the local news.
“We know you’re listening. And I hope you stay tuned. This week on KHHR…”
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