#another time

Woah, y'all, the silly texting stories have plot now. Are we getting a communication ark?

unbecoming

@bookwyrminspiration !!!! QUIL!!! SURPRISE i was your secret santa for this year's @kotlcsecretsanta!! apologies for being a little late the procrastination guy on my shoulder does not stop for anyone but Ough. could not resist the chance to draw your guy ever. (color variations below the cut!)

Happy Ten Years to The Book of Life ! Look out for me nostalgia posting later but here's some art to celebrate featuring the ot3 of all time. I still think about this trio a lot, even if I don't have the art to show for it.

I wish I could have done more but life got really crazy in this final quarter of the year, maybe next year I can try some of the things I'd been planning, but for now here's this!

For @jackdaw-sprite, and for @ectoberhaunt 2025 Isekai Weekend: Another Place, Another Time

CW: Cosmic Horror, Body Horror, Existential Horror, Imagery of Phanon-Typical Dissecc, Lost Time (but make it fucked up)

Word Count: 269

ao3 | ffn

*~*~*

Danny doesn't know how much more of this he can take. His body and mind are broken beyond belief, stretched and twisted and changed in ways he can't ignore. He feels as a million million stars are born, lighting his mind with pinpricks of fire and heat. He senses their deaths, too—the way those stars dimple his everything, slowly pressing against his skin like his sister's finger poking him, like sitting on a crochet hook left on the couch by his dad, like his mom's scalpel against his flesh—pushing into him until they break against him, or until he breaks with them, leaving heavy cold dark in their wake.

Hadn't he wanted this?

Only, he doesn't know what want is. How can he, when he has-is-was-will be everything?

Purple and blue and deep red churn their way into his awareness, and a binary star system creaks and groans. A purple-gloved hand made of time itself brushes against the center of his attention, and a galaxy shudders. The hand takes a moment to strum the galactic filament to which the galaxy belongs, the shudder rising to a resonant frequency as time gives voice to space.

"Clockwork...." Two galaxies crash into each other, swirling like red and green on the floor of the lab, star systems flung in broken sobs of chaos and destruction.

Time smiles, gently caressing the surface of a star, and it blasts into supernova.

"It's alright, Daniel." A star system full of life weeps and screams and mourns as it is slowly, inevitably stretched and twisted and pulled into a black hole.