#yknow the stressed and terrified with the whole trying to move out and figuring out how possibly can i because at this point i really need

[astranite]

--whiney rant and vent--- starts at tumblr but descends into my life.

Fucking tumblr!! *grabs tumblr and aggressively shakes it*

Some new hell update has made it so every time I reblog a post, i go right back to the top of my dash and have to scroll half a mile through the posts Ive already seen to get back to the ones i havent yet seen and want to see!! And even with the scroll bar it takes ages and breaks the loading and makes it nearly genuinely unusable!!!

But Im still going to even though it sucks, because tumblr is my designated scroll and look at characters time and be with mutuals. And yes this is a very small whiny thing to rant about, especially given the state of the damn world, but with the rest of my life imploding in many numbered crisises that even one of would be apparently considered a fairly major thing to have to deal with im now realsising because through massive amounts of avoidance id just gone "this is fine" despite being very reasonably banned from the word fine by 5 different people and then me, and then others going 'wow that really is alot' semihorrified, and I awkwardly laugh because i am used to this and its not that bad and whatever stupid shit i tell myself to keep going.

So yes, whining about tumblr because at this point its a load bearing coping mechanism. And its somewhat a last straw because i am barely hanging on as it is but ill deal with this like everything else because there isnt any other options.

#astra stuff #ill survive this i just got to be dramatic about it first #and some of this stuff i dont think im actually being dramatic about because its really not fine #yknow the stressed and terrified with the whole trying to move out and figuring out how possibly can i because at this point i really need #chronic illnesses being chronic annoyingly #trying to hold everyone together and then myself too #dumb panic attacks because im on a hair thin trigger but shrugging them off halfway through because i dont have time nor energy for this #the whole fucking cpstd thing which apparently psychologists dont hand out like halloween candy #so there really is a problem here given meeting the diagnostic critera #and what happened to me being just so incredibly Fine! #you can probably at this point see exactly the reason why i write scott like i do #okay apparently more dumb rant in the tags #and im getting really sick of the goverment social whatever services fucking hold music #plus the daily attempt convince my stupid emotions that nooo everyone does not despise me in particular that doesnt even make logical sense #ugh #cant exactly say im fine but i am getting help for what i can

[synchlora]

Tell me more about eret and Fundy in your au! Also! I would love to hear more about tubbo, ranboo, and Tommy before they meet Wilbur

YOOO let's go eret and fundy development time :]]

eret & fundy

SO. eret is (or rather was) a social science major along with niki (law student), fundy (computer science major), and wilbur (med student) at the same college, so the four of them knew one another well. fundy, eret, and their friend (elaina :]]) all roomed together freshman year onwards until the apocalypse. niki and wilbur lived together for a bit too but wil dropped out and also moved out on his own soon afterwards (leaving niki to move in w jack)

and with that backstory we get tooooo: eret, fundy, and elaina in the apocalypse Trying Their Best. long story short for that, elaina gets sick with what they hope is just pneumonia, turns out to be more sinister (as in yknow. zombie disease). and obviously the whole trio r panicked, not sure what to do here. and so they call on the only person they know who has Any medical knowledge: wilbur. and what does he do?? completely fucking ghosts them

and so here they are: no access to any medicine or professionals, too afraid to take their friend anywhere because they will probably just fucking kill her. and it progresses. Fast. its the lung infection version, so it spreads fucking fast, like within the godamn Week fast. and she is completely fucking out of it within a few days

so fundy and eret are terrified. fundy has always been very openly nervous, and while eret has tried to keep a brave face, even she starts to break as the situation just gets worse. and then, it's too far gone. and elaina is awake, but not in the way that they hoped. she's completely turned, and this realization came only after she lunged at fundy. in desperation to keep him safe, eret ended up killing her (i will figure out the logistics of this later rip). and they're both in fucking shock

they run off, leaving the apartment behind and taking only what they need. the car ride is silent and erets not really sure where they're going. just. anywhere but there

he ends up pulling off the side of the road, the sun is rising on the horizon, they've been driving all night. the two of them only break the silence to cry

bench trio before wilbur

gonna be honest, before wilbur they were just fuckin scrambling around trying to figure out what to do with very little medical knowledge. they are about as clueless (if not more so) than eret and fundy. so yeah, tommy and tubbo are Stressed

that first week or so, tommy and tubbo are scouting the area for some sign of a place that would feasibly have supplies. this is an unfamiliar city to them, so it takes them a while to find a hospital while also conserving gas and only traveling in daylight. its also made extra difficult considering they don't want to leave ranboo on his own. hes struggling enough with the disease, he shouldn't have to fight off zombies on top of that. but they also can't exactly bring him along either

they compromise by bringing the RV to stay parked in the hospital parking lot for a while, staking out a camp there. its risky, especially considering the density of zombies at night around the hospital (many were brought there when it first broke out as you'd imagine) but its one theyre willing to take

from ranboos perspective, this sucks. everything is painful, their arm feels like its gonna fucking fall off, their sight is failing them half the time, its a horrible combination of nothing to do and everything being overwhelming. however, because his infection isn't in his lungs, it is far more difficult for it to take root (which gives him a lot more time). but this does mean that it makes his bones hurt inside of his arm, which was a pain he did not know was even possible. most days are bad days, with days where he's completely nonverbal being the hardest to cope with considering he can't talk and signing with one arm is difficult, just about as hard as writing with his left hand. makes it difficult to communicate and those are days where everything feels all the more hopeless

basically: before wilbur, its hell. after wilbur, its also hell, but at least it passes eventually

#its altogether a struggle lmao #i dont think eret and fundy will ever forgive wilbur. and wilburs choice is something he'll have to live with for the rest of his life #and then ranboos just suffering. clingyduo are fucking STRESSED and its just a mess #wilbur did save a life in the end but it simply wasnt the one that he expected #i'll explain wils motives some day.. thinking those out a little still but id be happy to spitball it a little if anyone wants to hear #just vauge ideas for now #answered #apocalypse au where ranboo lives and its all happy and good and wonderful #wolf the beloved

[vincent-frankenstein]

32: “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” With Logicality?

Ooh? I haven’t written Logicality in months! This’ll be fun :)

Summary: Logan comes to a startling conclusion, late one night.

Warnings: Uh insomnia, panic, it’s Very Soft but also the ending is ambiguous and not very happy, lemme know if there’s anything else!

Logan was hardly one for sentimentality.

This came as a surprise to absolutely no one. He understood the concept of nostalgia, knew that some people could benefit from the occasional bout of reminiscence — but he also knew that Thomas was not one of those people. Nostalgia only served to hinder them, in small doses, and incapacitate them in big ones.

Furthermore, nostalgia had nothing to do with his core duties. Sure, a side could stray from their core duties and enjoy other pastimes, if they were so inclined, but Logan was not so inclined. Each of his hobbies looped back to his own core; he even carefully structured his relaxation so it would contribute to his duties. Everything he did, he did for Thomas. Anything that didn't fit his role couldn't be allowed to be a part of his routine.

Nostalgia hardly fit his role.

So why couldn't he stop reminiscing?

It was late, later than he'd usually allow himself to stay up, and he was unfortunately cognizant. He found himself dwelling on a series of memories, each just as strange as the last. They had no connecting qualities, no hint towards why his brain had decided to string them together like an ill-advised PowerPoint presentation.

Well... that wasn't entirely true. Each memory had exactly one thing in common: they all involved Patton.

Odd, was it not? They cycled through his mind in a seemingly endless loop — Patton bringing him tea, Patton listening to him read, Patton wrapped in blankets on the couch, Patton Patton Patton —

He sighed, dragging a hand over his face. It was becoming increasingly evident that he wasn't going to get any sleep that night. A frustrating outcome, but an unavoidable one; the more he stressed himself out trying to force sleep, the harder it would become to actually fall asleep. He needed a distraction.

He stood, pulling his tie into place around the neck of his onesie, and left his room. A book and a cup of tea would do nicely as a distraction, and maybe he'd be able to salvage a few hours of sleep from the relaxation they'd bring. He figured it was possible, so long as he was able to banish the thoughts of Patton from his mind,

He turned the corner into the kitchen and froze.

"Oh!" Patton whirled, slipping into a twirl on his soft socks, a smile lighting up his face. "Hey, Lo! What's got you up so late?"

Logan took a split-second to curse his very existence before he snapped away his onesie, his formal clothes appearing in their place. Patton's face fell ever-so-slightly and Logan pretended his chest didn't jolt at the sight. "Salutations, Patton," he said. "I came down for some tea."

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" Patton said, with a sympathetic grimace. At Logan's nod, he turned back towards the counter, sliding the kettle onto the oven with a little hum. "Me neither, hun. Any particular reason?"

"I don't know," Logan said, his least favorite phrase in the entire English language. He stepped further into the kitchen, leaning up against the counter as Patton poured water into the kettle. "You don't have to do that."

"Nah, it's okay! I was re-heatin' some of the cookies I baked earlier, might as well have 'em with some tea." Patton's hands fluttered down by his sides as the kettle began to steam, and he bounced on the balls of his feet. "You want some cookies, too?"

He shouldn't. The excess sugar would only worsen his insomnia, making sleep all the more difficult to obtain. But... "Of course," he said, stepping around Patton to reach the fridge. He drew from inside the greatest of the indulgences he allowed himself, and Patton grinned.

"I was planning on reading until I feel capable of falling asleep," Logan said, as Patton lifted the kettle and poured steaming water into their two mugs — Logan's a deep blue, freckled with stars, and Patton's patterned with puppies. "Would you care to join me?"

"Only if you read to me," Patton said, with a soft smile that sent Logan's heart into an illogical bout of arrhythmia. He hadn't read aloud to Patton in... quite a while. Once, they had all gathered to listen to him read each and every night, but one by one the other sides had left him behind until only Patton remained. And even then they had grown apart, until Logan stopped reading aloud entirely.

He hadn't noticed how sharp the absence of that one small pastime had felt until Patton mentioned it just then, and he paused, eyebrows furrowing ever-so-slightly. Patton lifted a brow, and he cleared his throat. "I don't see any reason not to," he said, with a forced air of nonchalance, and Patton beamed.

Patton — who was the best at summoning, next to Roman — led the way out into the living room, where he snapped his fingers, sending a deluge of blankets and pillows cascading through the room, gathering into a large fort in front of the couch. Logan settled into the center, placing his mug of tea on the table.

"Impressive design, Patton," he said, admiring the fort's spires, the twinkling fairy-lights spilling down inside, casting golden light across the room.

Patton chuckled. "I dunno, teach," he said, and Logan internally braced himself. "Are you sure it's fort-ified enough?"

"And you ruined it," Logan said, with the tone of someone who had to truly force their annoyance.

"Ah, you're right," Patton said, settling down by Logan's side. "This is the best I could get unless I built it by hand! But that would've taken a —"

"Don't you dare —"

"Fort-night," Patton finished, stifling his giggles behind his hand as Logan sighed. "A whole fort-y days and fort-y nights, yknow —"

"Cease immediately or I won't read to you," Logan said, his eyes narrowed. Patton pressed a hand to his mouth to stop his laughter.

When he finally had it under control, he smiled up at Logan. "The floor is yours, teach!"

"Falsehood," Logan said, lifting an eyebrow. "The floor is Thomas's."

"There we go," Patton whispered, pulling the plate of warm cookies closer. Logan shook his head; Patton was an enigma he could never truly hope to solve.

He closed his eyes and scanned along his bookshelf, fingers tapping against his thigh as he searched for an adequate book. He allowed himself the barest hint of a sentimental smile when he found it: a very old, very worn edition of The Secret Garden, bound in velvet. He lifted his hand, and the book appeared.

"Oh!" Patton gasped, eyes widening. "Oh... oh my goodness! Is that the copy that Thomas' teacher gave him in fourth grade?"

"The very same," Logan said. "Or, well. A metaphysical approximation of it. Does this suffice?"

Patton only cooed in response, his hands pressed up against his cheeks, his eyes closed as a happy smile spread across his face. "So many memories," he whispered, and Logan nudged against him to rouse him from his reminiscence. He opened the book and Patton leaned against him, his head dropping to rest on his shoulder.

"Chapter one," he read, his voice soft. "There's no one left."

Young Mistress Mary had only just reached her uncle's mysterious manor when Patton fell asleep, head drooping down towards his chest. Logan shifted, settling the book in his lap as he guided Patton into a more comfortable position.

Patton sighed gently in his sleep. He looked so... serene. It was a stark contrast from his usual demeanor; Logan could hardly remember a time when Patton wasn't absolutely full to bursting with energy, bouncing and twirling and jumping. Even in his saddest moments he still moved, shifting from one foot to the other, hands fluttering around. But now he was just... still. Quiet. His glasses askew, his golden hair falling in twirled ringlets across his face, his cheek pressed into Logan's chest, he breathed, peaceful.

And Logan found, somehow, that he was peaceful as well. For the first time that night, the cacophony in his brain had slowed to a quiet buzz in the background, easily ignored. Sleep tugged at the edges of his vision, blurring the world at the corners; he slid his glasses off his face and shifted again, falling into the warmth that Patton exuded.

It was odd. The very thought of Patton had been enough to keep sleep at bay before, but now his presence alone had calmed Logan down enough to sleep. The conclusion to be drawn was that he benefited, somehow, from Patton's company, that the other's existence was of great importance to him, that —

Oh.

Oh, oh, oh. Oh no.

How? Why? He wasn't built for this; he wasn't supposed to feel love! A healthy camaraderie with his fellow sides, perhaps, but not this. Not this.

"How did you do this to me?" he whispered, his thoughts pouring out of him. Sleep fled; he shifted again, twisting his hands in his lap, foot tapping against the ground as he thought. "This makes no sense! I'm not supposed to — that is to say, I shouldn't even be capable, and yet —"

The conclusion was as obvious as the existence of gravity, and came to him as easily as breathing. It weighed him down into the ground, stacks of doubt placed on his shoulders, and yet filled his lungs with air all the same, until his chest felt lighter than it ever had before.

"And yet," he said, whispered, breathed. He looked down at Patton, at the mess of curls pressed up against his chest, breathing ever-so-softly, and his eyebrows furrowed. The next words spilled from his mouth without forethought, with the hazy abandon of late-night honesty. "And yet, I — I think I'm in love with you, and I'm terrified."

He truly was. What did this mean? For him, for Patton, for Thomas? For the mindscape as a whole? If Logic was capable of something so... illogical, what other flaws existed in their system? What other problems would eventually come to light? There was no denying the feeling curling through his gut; it was just as Roman had described it, once. It was fire, but it didn't burn. It was air, but he couldn't breathe. It was love, and he couldn't believe it.

"...Do you mean that?"

He stiffened, a sharp gasp piercing his lungs. Patton pulled away, his eyes wide, a soft pink flush painted across his freckled cheeks, and he searched Logan's eyes. "Are you... are you really...?"

With a strangled noise, Logan shoved himself to his feet, tripping over the blankets piled around them as he forced as much distance between himself and Patton as he could.

"No, please —" Patton scrambled to his feet. "Lo, it's okay —"

Logan shook his head. His chest ached; freezing panic crystallized through his bones, and he took another step back. Patton struggled to reach him over the sea of blankets and Logan forced himself to breathe, forced himself to tear his gaze from Patton's.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and sank out.

#logan sanders #patton sanders #logicality #sanders sides #celeste's portfolio #AYYYYYY im sorry i saw the opportunity for angst and i took it #ill probably write a conclusion to this!!! #this was a nice breath of fresh air tho i havent written logicality in .... i think a year? #probably more #thanku for the request! i hope u like! #i love the idea of logan and patton being Book Buds #bexxbeauty

[spirit-shroud]

Tinsel: b c e f Cassandra: p q s v

hi nines!! love u!!

For Tinsel - 

Beverage : What do they most like to drink, and why?Tinsel’s two most common drinks are pumpkin spice coffee and pomegranate juice! Coffee just because he’s like, an autumn weeb in general (and he has Sleepy Bitch Disease, as i do), and pomegranate because he’s #not a vampire bat but kinda wants to look it so people don’t like, bother him, yknow?

Co-Habitate : Do they live with anyone? What’s “need to know” before moving in? He lives with his parents because he’s like, a baby, a small 15 year old, but when/if he gets older and like... inevitably fucks off and moves in with maple and gang as crime solving buddies im pretty sure his entire ‘need to know’ list is like: 1. chores need to assigned ahead of time, publicly, on a very noticeable list, so he doesn’t miss them / they aren’t left up to interpretation and people arent left frustrated2. he cannot cook anything that’s not in a box and he is too terrified to learn3. he needs two days’ warning before anyone comes over so he has time to free himself from living in squalorpretty simple stuff i think?Escape : What do they do to destress? How successful is it?his idea of “de-stressing” is arguing with people over the internet which would work and be a fun time except he. takes things personally. very personally. and would probably be thinking about anything mean he said or got said to him for like, months. it’s. a whole-ass thing. also the more stressed out he is, the more stupid, impulsive decisions he makes! and the more he wants to isolate! it’s whack! please get a stress ball or like, go outside, tinsel!! this isn’t healthy!!!we aren’t going to talk about the fact tinsel is literally just my self insert/fursona

Fluff : What hits their soft spot? Does anything them into emotional goo?(do you think the op noticed there’s a missing word in this question? lol)

not much, really? like he has a half-soft spot for his friends, but he never really gets emotional? like he gets defensive when complimented, doesn’t really squeal for long over kittens, feels guilty receiving gifts, doesn’t have any concepts of empathy or grief. like. i think the closest thing he has to a soft spot is the fact he’ll think forever if someone is generally nice to him or invites him out someplace or just says they’ve been thinking of him. he’ll feel the desperate need to top their kindness until it makes an infinite loop. 

how about i just make this a two for one deal where you get both clair and cassie? but like. im. making up 100% of stuff about cassie as i go and if im too far off path from what you think then yell at me about it in the devcord kjdfhgkdjfg

Pistol : Is this character skilled with a weapon? What’s their opinion of violence? Clair: Clair’s main weapons include a kris dagger and a heavy tome, since he’s like, a (clairic) cleric. he’s uncomfortably good with any knife or scalpel, though, just from his history of medical Nonsense and picking up a few things here and there. he doesn’t particularly like violence, though he has a tendency to snap and not stop hurting people people until everyone around him is in some way gone/incapacitated/dead should things come to that. he’s not the most aware person when he gets upset :V 

Cassandra: Cassie has a singular pistol that got sent to her P.O. box as fanmail and she’s kept it ever since. It’s not really effective against, y’know, hordes of zombies at all, but it sure does shred living people if need be. she’s another one who doesn’t like real violence, citing it as disturbing and difficult to watch, but definitely wouldn’t turn down some good ol staged graphic stuff. Movies/video games/witing are fine. It’s just when it’s happening in front of her without the stage lighting is she hurt by it. 

Question : How often do they feel doubt? What topics are they defensive about? Clair: Clair is like, made of doubt. 100% of his existence is just him doubting his own experiences and what really happened to him to land him where he is. he gets pretty defensive over topics like friends/family, being super deeply afraid of people getting attached to him. whenever people prove to like him too much, he goes out of his way to betray them and fuck off somewhere where he doesn’t have to see them anymore. 

he’ll also totally overexplain and correct anything pertaining to zombie lore or psychology. but remember, he’s not an actual zombie. allegedly. clair is allegedly not a zombie. 

Cassandra: Cassie doesn’t really doubt much. like, she hit that ‘self aware that everything sucks and there’s not much she can actually do about it as an individual’ stage, and rather than having a breakdown over it, elected to just have fun with it, tormenting the citizens of Isolon with her nonsense and trying her best to make sure people are at least somewhat aware like she is. i feel like if there was anything she’d take super personally, it’d be anything pertaining to the fact Jules Is A Bad Guy (she has like. 9 powerpoints on this, probably. she makes a new one with new evidence every No Censorship Saturday and streams its creation). she’d throw hands with a jules supporter. fuck em up, babe!!

Sing : Do they like music? Do they listen often/sing/hum/play songs in their head?Clair: Clair doesn’t really seek out music, per se? but he’s never bothered by it if it’s playing. he’ll bop along and if it’s something he’s heard before it’s definitely been quietly sung before. if you ask him to sing in front of other people you will definitely die, though. figuratively and literally. 

he’d never tell anyone without some extreme emotional compromise, but he used to play piano and was learning the harp before he died.

Cassandra: Cassie ran out of lofi/royalty free/meme songs for the CasCast(tm) on like, day 931, and decided she’d try her hand at making some of her own!! she has. limited success. but she’s trying and that’s what counts. She’s probably responsible for there being a refurbished karaoke machine in Tim’s bar because like, the world ended, who the fuck cares. she’s a music fan and old memes and is trying to bring back rickrolling in 2069. (this may be an excuse to add canonical rickrolling in SO. maybe.) 

Vice : What bad habits do they have? Is there something they would be ashamed of? Clair: i think clair’s most notable bad habit is that his idea of like... coping with anything is just. putting it off. he don’t have time for feelings. hes an apathetic lil bitch. but in that same vein he doesn’t really feel like.. shame, per se? because like. he hasn’t really done anything hes just mad all the time lol 

Cassandra: she kinda falls under the same vein as clair i think as far as her worst possible thing being Not Coping With The Apocalypse. i mean, she'd have a few annoying habits, like needing to talk through literally everything she does off or on the air, she probably hoards used mugs at her desk, leaves towels in weird places, has never once folded nor put away laundry, but nothing like. evil? just the dumb stuff. as far as shame goes, i can’t think of anything off the top of my head tbh

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa