#(There is no way on god's green earth that I can write this long every time but Arthur had a Vibe)

[livestosteal]

@etruatcaelum liked for a starter!

There were surprisingly few things for a man not interested in constant combat to do around Evernight. Well, for a given value of 'few' he supposed. For Arthur's personal tastes, it was occasionally more of a pain to do much more than his most lazy pursuits. Reading and coding were always excellent timekillers of course, but...well.

Today at least, it was the forge that beckoned him.

For a man as - admittedly - slender and cerebral as Arthur was, it was perhaps some surprise that he didn't just code or build some device to do such things for him when the itch got under his skin to make something, but of course, therein lay the catch: one could import or build whatever was desired, of course, but somewhere down the line it had to be made. And who knew better than he the things he needed, in the exact specifications?

Besides, when one got right down to it, there was something to be said for there being some satisfaction in the act of swinging a hammer at glowing red metal until it took the form that was desired. If absolutely nothing else? It was cathartic as hell.

Sweat soaked the scientist's loose shirt even as a soft tone interrupted the steady rhythm of his hammer to the bright orange slab of metal, and he half-turned to his worktable. His scroll buzzed again, and with a groan Arthur wiped the sweat from his eyes and paced over irritably.

Anyone at Evernight was likely well aware of his location and would have just poked their head in if they needed him - though, perhaps Salem might use some other method. No, the only person he could think of who might need him and would be using his scroll, was Cinder. Or, he supposed, one of the whelps that followed her about.

He opened it just before a fourth buzz might have sounded...and blinked. More out of sheer surprise than expecting it to work, he flicked the device shut, waited a moment...then opened it again. Indeed, the same banner notification from on of his surveillance programs flashed across the screen.

A low laugh started to slip out of his raw, parched throat, even as he cursed softly.

Whatever Cinder had done in Vale...he was not getting blamed for them having no signal now. His little virus was a masterpiece of course, truly a marvel of his own creation, but it didn't even have the means to bring down communications like that, let alone- stars above, had she somehow gotten one of the towers destroyed? The notification certainly seemed to think so, and he'd coded that program himself. The program could be faulty, he supposed, but-

How, by the moon and stars, was he supposed to do half his work without access to anything or anyone beyond their little localized pocket? Ugh...a problem for later. The notification had apparently been going off longer than he thought, too, because the timestamp was almost half an hour ago.

He barely registered the sound of the forge/workshop's door being opened, but he snapped his scroll shut and set it aside before moving back to his current project. It was only when he glanced up that he hummed, moving to put the cooling metal back in the sweltering heat of his forge.

"And what can I do for you? I doubt you came all the way here to see me smithing." Though, he supposed, weirder things had happened. Not even around Evernight, he'd...seen a lot of weird things in life.

[no-saints-around-here]

Yesterday's Cage for Tomorrow's Prison: Chapter 2

Yandere Shiba & Sano Family with Baby Shiba Sister!Reader

Masterlist

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<< Chapter 1

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this was a lot harder to write than I thought, and I nearly died but unfortunately the immigration line in hell was too long

tw: heavy incest, pseudo incest, explicit smut, yandere, drugging, sexual assault, heretic religious themes, afab reader, female pronouns, dead dove do not eat

Yuzuha cursed under her breath, large orange eyes sweeping side to side as she methodically checked the storefront for any sign of you. Nothing, again. Turning to briskly walk further down the same street to the next store, the orange-haired girl already knew that you weren’t going to be there either. Hell, she could say with a hundred percent certainty that you weren’t going to be anywhere near here, even if she wasn’t done with her meticulous searching for the day. Having long lost count of the number of times she had already looked in every nook and cranny of your favorite haunts over the past week, day and night, there was simply no way she would have missed you at this point. More so, it was the sinking feeling in her gut and that third sense she had for you that confirmed your absence from the area.

Opting to sink onto one of many benches that littered the shopping street, the Shiba sibling popped open a cold can of soda, taking a chug as she took a break from the afternoon sun in the shade of a tree, watching the rest of the world go by. Nameless individuals bustling up and down the street, bags of things filling both arms and eyes occupied with the glamorous displays, sparing naught a second glance at her or her situation as they rushed past on an unknown countdown. An undignified sigh slipped the lady’s lips as she lowered her now half-empty can, bronze eyes glazed over as she stared up at the rustling leaves overhead, though she did still catch a few stray empathetic looks thrown her way.

The last thing she wanted was anyone’s pity, really, but Yuzuha simply couldn’t help herself looking this despondent. After all, you were gone. Missing. Lost to the greater world, and no matter how poetic one could make that sound, the simple matter of the fact was that neither she nor Taiju had seen you in a week. if you weren’t here or there or wherever she looked, then where on God’s green earth could you possibly be? Were you even still alive?

‎

The quaint little shopping street, just a stone’s throw from the Shiba family home, brought a pang of nostalgia to the lonely lady’s chest - the shops that lined both sides of the pedestrian lane had changed hands countless times, but the slow, leisurely atmosphere had remained steadfast across the past twelve years. Once considered a rare escape from the house in exchange for your good behavior, the occasionally bustling area was now more of a reminder of the recurring nightmare Yuzuha was currently trapped in. Taking another large gulp, the orange-haired lady had to quickly sit up as she spluttered, earning herself another look from a passerby to which she sheepishly apologized, before quickly returning to her pondering. Was there anyone else you could be seeking shelter with? As far as she was concerned, it wasn’t as if you had any other friends outside of your older siblings, with most being too afraid of the long shadow of Taiju and the unspoken threat that you carried with you, and the rest having already been dealt with.

While there wasn’t much to like about the blue-haired former delinquent of an older brother -  their miserable childhoods under his tyrannical rule, the physical and emotional abuse they endured for years on end, and the extreme decisions that he had driven both Yuzuha and Hakkai to at the end of their wits - for you, it had been worth it all. She hated Taiju, but there was no denying that you had been kept safe by the oldest of the Shibas all these years.

Pulling her phone out from her pocket, the second Shiba sibling clicked into her chat history with you as if on instinct, her fingers mindlessly beginning to scroll upwards through the countless desperate, unanswered messages she had sent your way. You weren’t supposed to have a phone (Taiju would never permit it, no matter what the reason is) but the simple dumbphone you owned had been a gift from your older sister with strict instructions not to breathe even a word of its existence. It had no internet functionality, since not even she would risk you being able to access the internet and its treasure trove of internet, but as the only two girls left in the household, you and Yuzuha shared some secrets and had to have a way to do so. The phone was purely just for messages and calls and the occasional simple game when their big brother wasn’t watching. Or at least that was how the bronze-eyed lady told herself.

The memories came flooding back as she finally reached your last reply, what had seemed like a reassuring “yes, nii-san!” before you all but fell off the face of the earth. Such a simple gift had been enough to endear you to her, and you had thanked her again and again through the years, always willing to answer her messages and calls quickly, humming to yourself when you got time to fiddle around with the small electronic. Yet, you hadn’t replied in a week.

‎

Standing from the bench, the lady stretched, flicking her empty soda can into the nearby bin with pinpoint accuracy as she stalked off, phone swinging lazily in one hand. A slight breeze had picked up during her rest, and though it only seemed to blow hot air down the street instead of providing any respite, Yuzuha took in a deep breath, enjoying the fleeting moment of calm. There was no point in frantically trying to call or message you, even though she had been doing so herself over the past few days; your phone was most likely dead from a lack of battery, or if you had seeked shelter with someone, the phone had probably already changed hands. 

You didn’t want to be found, certainly not by her,  that much was obvious. And your older sister didn’t blame you.

The lady turned a corner into a side alley, the cacophony of the crowds dying down behind her with every step she took further into the shaded street. She didn’t believe in the concept of sin and repentance, the same one that her older brother so conveniently ignored when it came to you, but there was no denying that she would never be able to answer for what she had done to you. There were excuses she could give herself of course; that she couldn’t ignore the way that Taiju looked at you as the years passed, as you started to yearn for the freedom of the wider world. That Taiju should take all the blame for being the one to actually deflower you in a misplaced bid to preserve your purity. 

But Yuzuha would be the one to carry the original sin even if she was just trying to do the right thing. She had been the one that had trained you, that had prepared you to take Taiju. Cleaning you up after everything that had happened, soothing the mystery ache between your legs that you complained about the next day.  Keeping you on birth control pills for years and years, never knowing when the oldest of the Shibas would make his move yet never wanting to risk anything untold happening to you. All in the name of keeping the Shiba family together, as she had promised their mother. 

‎

A pause as she came to a stop at a fork in the road, the lady too lost in her own thoughts to make a decision which way to turn.

Yet even then, as much as that was all Yuzuha would like to admit to herself, she would always share the burden of giving into temptation. She could still see the first time it happened if she let her thoughts slip; your contorted expression, furrowed eyebrows as you mumbled in your sleep, your legs crossed as you unconsciously humped your pillow - a wet dream. Taking the opportunity of when you should share her room to explore you herself, the lady let out a ragged breath as her mind recalled her slipping her fingers into the pants of your pajamas and into your panties, slim fingers finding their way towards your already drenched slit and into your warmth. Your whimper as your walls clamped down around her intrusion as she teased and prodded, bronze eyes all the way carefully watching your expression.

The feeling of you spazzing uncontrollably around her as you came in your sleep, drenching both your underwear and her fingers with a moan that sounded too awake. Yuzuha had jerked away in a panic, the elastic band of your pants snapping back against your skin, but you had mercifully fallen back asleep amidst coming down from your high. You tasted sweet, the burst of flavor as she licked her fingers striking a chord deep inside your older sister, a sweetness that she couldn’t get enough of. And while it was the first time she - or anyone really - had ever explored you in that manner, it certainly wasn’t the last time. You had turned from her baby sister into an unholy addiction that she couldn’t give up. 

Her phone lit up and began to buzz, the ringing echoing down the otherwise lifeless sidestreet. Yuzuha blinked, drawn out from her thoughts.

Taiju. Was it already time?

With a deftly press of a button, she brought the smartphone to her ear, taking the quiet path to the left.

‎

‎

There was no doubt that your siblings would be scouring the streets for any sign of you, Izana mused, the fingers on one gloved hand tapping a rhythmless tune atop the glass as empty eyes watched you consider and reconsider your decision, yet that train of thought hardly bothered him. For one, this was a privately owned shop in a rather obscure location, down several narrow and rarely trodden alleyways that no regular passerby had any business accessing. And for two, was most definitely the right decision to bring you on this little excursion; knowing your older siblings and their annoying habit of breathing down your neck about everything big and small, they would have never allowed you to choose your own unhealthy, sinful treat, let alone see the inside of a convenience store. 

Which meant that this would put him squarely in your good books, ahead of not only your wretched siblings, but more importantly, ahead of the rest of his own wretched siblings. His grip on you tightened slightly, the rate of his breathing rising.

The longer he could keep you to himself, the better.

Returning to reality from his daydreams of his life after you had obviously picked him over the rest of the Sanos, it was obvious that the colorful display of ice cream in the freezers was more akin to cocaine to you; the large selection spread out beneath you having you absolutely mesmerized with just the glass slider separating your eager hands from the delightful treats. “There’s so many…” you mumbled out under your breath, your eyes darting right to left as you leaned over the chest freezer, the colorful wrappers glinting in the reflection in your eyes. “Which one?”

Was it really that hard to choose? Not that he would know, he supposed, given that he already had his favorites delivered straight to his doorstep and barely spares a second glance to the entirety of the shop on a regular day. But even if he was usually an impatient man, this was one instance that Izana didn’t mind taking it slow, the tanned club owner leaning in so that his body pressed up tight against your own, violet eyes fluttered closed and his face pressed into the crook of your shoulder, biting back the groan he could feel building in the back of his throat. Your blood family was the last thing on your mind at the moment, and this was exactly the way he liked it. One hand resting on your clothed thigh, the other already taking the initiative to begin exploring under the hem of your skirt, it took every ounce of control he had to ignore the tenting crotch of his pants. He couldn’t wait. “Wasn’t there a certain brand you were looking for?” He breathed out into your ear, warm air tickling your skin. “Do they not have it here?”

“Y-yes!” You startled slightly at his question as if you had been lost in your own world, your hands instantly flying up to shake a ‘no’ at his question instead much to his amusement. “Um, Izana-nii, I mean-”

His hand teased at the hem of your panties, rubbing the cloth that covered your crotch lightly between the pads of his fingers, occasionally brushing against the bare lips hidden underneath. Still no negative reaction from you. “You can’t choose?”

“No,” you admitted, though your eyes were still fixed on the contents of the freezer. “I didn’t know there were so many here.”

The air-conditioning continued to whirl from above unimpeded as the world outside continued to turn, the convenient store absolutely silent save for the sound of breathing.

“Hmmm.” Violet eyes scanned the small area even as his hands never ceased their exploration - it was never intended to be a cover business, he mused to himself, given there were more convenient alternatives to launder money, but this small snack stop had finally shown its usefulness beyond allowing his men to get what they need. A tingle in the back of his neck, and Izana swirled around, only for the heavily-tattooed man serving as the cashier to immediately avert his gaze at his nasty look. “Tch.” His eyes had lingered on you for a second too long, and he didn’t like it one bit. He’ll have to get that sorted later.

‎

Unfortunately for the tanned club owner, that gut feel wasn’t just for the unwelcomed looks at his new little sister. A sudden blast of humid air and an untimely trumpet of a car horn in the distance signaled the arrival of an unwelcome guest and a disruption to his plans with the click of the store door being opened, much to Izana’s displeasure, though the fact that it was Kakucho’s voice floating over from the shelves through the now-open door and not the sound of gunshots gave a good indication of who this intruder might be. “Wait, you can’t go ins-”

”Fuck off,” returned Mikey, the cheery welcome jingle of the convenience store a stark contrast to the other’s completely unamused tone. “I have business with that asshat.”

A smack, and then a second voice piped up, drowning out the burst of protests and whines from Mikey. “Don’t be so rude to Kakucho-kun, Mikey!” Emma scolded, the click of her heels echoing up from the tall shelves of the shop as she followed the other deeper into the shop. “He’s just doing his job, you know.”

How did they know to find him here? Izana glanced back at you even as his Sano half-brother continued to complain loudly about being ill-treated and biases towards anyone who would listen (which is to say, nobody in the vicinity); you were still too distracted with the first choice you had in a long time to notice the intruders, and it was already slightly too late to make an exit before the two of you could be noticed. He would have to wait and see what happens next, he supposed, empty eyes glancing back down at you.

“Hey shithead,” Mikey started from around the corner, right as the first of his blond locks came into view from behind a shelf of snacks. “I’ve been trying to call you for the past hour-”

‎

It was at that precise moment that you made your decision, turning your head up to look at Izana, ice cream already carefully clutched in hand. “Izana-nii, can I -“ And almost as soon as the words left your tongue, you finally took note of the arrival of outsiders, perhaps catching the subtle, sudden movement from the corner of your eyes, or catching the last of Mikey’s spat words. Yet for all that was going on around him, the ifs and could-bes, Izana’s gaze and fascination was fixed on you. What would your next move be? Would you scream? Would you attempt to scurry away to hide? 

Time froze for a moment as your eyes fixed on the unseen source of the noise on the other side of the shelves. What was going on in that little mind of yours?

Yet contrary to all his expectations, you instead instantly clammed up, your jaw snapping shut like a trap around a mouse. Taking a short step in his direction and ducking behind the white-haired man, you seemed to be attempting to line yourself up in a bid to ensure that his silhouette almost covered yours perfectly from the entrance. You were trying to blend into his side, hiding from the unknown.

It was a move that was so unlike your personality that it took Izana by surprise. No doubt this smooth a movement was the result of previous practice, Izana noted amusedly as he watched you move with uncharacteristic speed, something you have had to do multiple times before. Did you think it was your siblings here to pick you up perhaps? No matter, because most importantly, it didn’t matter to him that you couldn’t have known who it was at the door - in Izana’s mind, you had picked your side, and it was his.

Alas it was too little too late. 

As soon as both of those iconic slippers left the cover of the tall shelves filled top to bottom with snacks of every kind, your presence was immediately picked up by Mikey, whose footsteps and words came to an abrupt halt, blank abyss eyes staring at you. An expected outcome, acknowledged Izana as he snaked one protective arm around your shoulders, given the now black-haired man was and is still both the Toman president and legendary delinquent. Didn’t mean much to him anyway.

“Oof Mikey!” Came Emma’s voice from behind as she ran headfirst into the suddenly still back, before the annoyed blond-haired lady stepped round to assess the unfolding situation.. “Why did you stop- oh.”

“Can I help you two?” Izana asked, the tinge of annoyance clear in his tone. The blatant stares were making you uncomfortable, and he didn’t like that one bit.

‎

‎

Walled in on four sides, three by shelves and one being Izana, there wasn’t really any room for you to run or hide, given how small the shop was to begin with. You buried your face into the side of the white-haired man you barely knew, waiting with baited breath, ice cream still clutched in hand. The hum of the chillers around you only seemed ever louder with the silence that fell upon the store.

Scanning you up and down, Mikey’s expression remained unchanged as those blank abyss eyes seemed to reflect you and nothing else, opaque windows that had helped the man hold all his cards close to his chest all these years. You looked…familiar. He’s seen you somewhere before.

Emma glanced between the two men and you, the questions in her mind only growing by each passing second. “Do you know her?” She raised an eyebrow at Izana, who only shrugged in return, unwilling to disclose any further information.

Though in another stroke of bad luck for Izana, one more for the count on this already particularly horrid day, the dots connected for the younger of the two Sano men present, and Mikey’s eyes lit up in recognition. “You’re-“ the black-haired man paused for a moment. “Hakkai’s sister?”

That was enough to spark your curiosity, and you carefully peered out from behind Izana, doe eyes catching the white illumination from the standing refrigerator to the side.  If they knew Hakkai but not Taiju or Yuzuha - could they be on your side? Fortunately, the man on the other side was one you had met before. “...Mikey-san?”

Said man nodded, taking a step forward into the direct shine of an overhead light, as if so that you could take a better look at his face. So it was you that he had been hearing the whispers about, Izana’s little bird; he could still recall that particular night twelve years ago when the Toman Second Division Vice-Captain had brought you along to the gang meeting all apologetic, insisting that he couldn’t leave you alone at home by yourself. You were as shy as you were back then, Mikey mused, taking a good look at you as you shuffled out from behind Izana, seeming slightly more comfortable now. Though he couldn’t say that he wasn’t pleased that it was you of all people.

‎

The white-haired club owner’s grip on your shoulders visibly tightened, and you winced slightly at the pressure. “What do you want?” Izana’s tone now was sharp, violet eyes narrowed at his two siblings.

Mikey was hardly affected, his gaze fixed on you even as he responded. “Shinichiro’s looking for ya. Business,” was all he said.

“Tch.” Clicking his tongue, it was clear that Izana understood the cryptic message - and you couldn’t come along. 

“I can look after her while you’re busy,” came the Toman president’s offer, his hand already outstretched and reaching for yours before his offer had left his lips, but Izana was faster, yanking you backwards and out of reach.

“Absolutely not. She will not be going with you.”

Emma, silent up till now, stepped forward, the sweep of her blond hair backwards looking much like a momentary flash of angelic wings. “She can come with me,” she proposed cheerfully, stopping to shoot a warm smile your way. You shrank behind Izana slightly, your cheeks dusted red.

But the oldest of the three showed no sign of budging. He finally had you, and he wasn’t inclined to share. “Kakucho.”

As if a fae summoned, said man appeared behind the Sano siblings with nay a footstep to be heard nor a door opened, his working red eye respectfully lowered to the ground. “Yes sir.” 

“Take her back to her room. And stay with her.” 

“Yes sir.”

Mikey didn’t seem all too pleased at the decision made without his input. That was very rude. “Hey, I said I can take care of her!” He insisted, his arm once more shooting out to grab at you as you were shuffled past the narrow shelves, though this attempted interruption was quickly stopped by Izana with a quick chop to the offending limb.

”And I said no.”

Puffing up his cheeks only made the gang leader look like a squirrel, earning him a chuckle from you which you failed to bite back. ”I’m telling Shinichiro.”

As if that was a threat. Ignoring Mikey, Izana simply opted to walk you to the door and to his right-hand man and trusted friend’s side. “Straight to her room, Kakucho,” he repeated firmly, before turning to you. “You don’t talk to anyone else, understand?”

You nodded obediently, which earned you a ruffle of your hair.

”See you later.” Izana waved off your escort party, before turning once more to face Mikey and Emma, still waiting inside the shop. “Let’s get this over with then.”

‎

‎

It was rare to see Hakkai in such a frenzy these days, Mitsuya mused, lilac eyes watching said man frantically scan the vicinity before rushing towards him from the airport terminal exit, small suitcase all but bouncing off the floor and his legs as it was mercilessly hauled across the ground.

That striking blue hair was still visible as it bobbed above a drifting crowd of unsuspecting tourists. Comfortably leaning against the door of his car, the former Toman captain took the time to review the context of the situation he had found himself in, starting with the phone call he had received in the dead of night just a day before. He had thought nothing much of it at first, despite the strange 3am call: Hakkai had been overseas on a modeling contract for an international brand for the past week, as a well-sought after model usually was, so perhaps it was just that his former Division Vice Captain had forgotten about time zone differences.

Yet even with that excuse, the whole situation only got stranger, something that even a half-asleep former delinquent-turned-fashion designer noted; the blue-haired man sounded as if he was attempting to catch his breath after running a full marathon, huffing and puffing as he struggled to say even the few words informing Mitsuya that he was already on his way back to Japan, and would contact him when he lands. Divines only knew what was urgent enough to send Hakkai into such a rash decision, though he supposed he would find out soon.

Pushing off from his car, Mitsuya raised one hand as the third youngest Shiba sibling closed the distance, coming to a screeching halt just inches away. The lilac-haired man swore he could see the smoke trails left behind from the suddenly dispersed momentum, though judging from those blown eyes and half-style hair, it wasn’t exactly the best time for a joke. “Hakkai,” he greeted simply, sliding both hands back into his pockets. “What happened?”

“She’s missing, Taka-chan,” Hakkai stammered out, one hand on his chest as if to keep both his lungs and heart from falling out of his chest. “My lil’ sis, she’s gone.”

[r-i-03-17]

@yasammyweek Ok I guess this is a thing that exists, so I'm gonna contribute to it. Today's theme is a wedding, so I'm gonna write something that relates to that. This kinda caught me off guard but I'm gonna try my best. Enjoy

It has been about 8 years since Yaz and Sammy had "officially" gotten together, If you ask them they'll say they started REALLY dating after they made it back home, an agreement they made when they were still stranded on Mantacorp Island, in case either one (or both) of them hadn't made it, but basically everyone else agrees it was after they both brought their feelings to light. Either way it had been about 8 years, but for the past week, Yaz had been acting a little....skittish.

Yazmina was a woman of focus, commitment, and sheer flipping will. She had survived almost a year on an island full of dinosaurs, while having a sprained ankle for two of those months. She had faced down the Scorpius Rex, the Mosasaurs, and a really ticked off Galimimus (long story, but the dino had it coming). After all that, the almost dying nearly every day, why on gods green earth would a small wooden box with a diamond ring inside make her so nervous. She wouldn't even be the one receiving it, but the conclusion this poor nervous girl came to, is that the reaction of the person she wanted to give the ring to was what caused her nerves to shoot up. What would Sammy do? Cry, laugh, run, say no? All these possibilities were making Yaz more nervous than it would if she just asked Sammy the damn question "Will you marry me?". There's no reason for her to be this nervous right? I mean, the two of them have already been as intimate as you can get with another person, multiple times, so there was no grand surprise afterwards, no pressure to hold up to any "expectations" except of course actually showing up for the wedding....the wedding, the music, the people, the dresses, all the things that weddings involved made Yaz feel even more nervous. She had always considered herself the quote-un qoate "man" of the relationship, and as such she felt it necessary to perform the usual "man" rolls, she opened the doors to restaurants and vehicles for Sammy, made sure Sammy's truck was safe before she drove somewhere, and besides all that, had always gotten along better with Sammy's father, brothers, and nephews, than she had her mother in law, sister in laws, and nieces, though they all still got along well, but she had always found herself gravitating towards the guys, and had actually went to Sammy's father for advice on what to do for their first official date. But unfortunately, with Yaz fulfilling that role (that she was perfectly happy in, Sammy as well), that means it was up to her to propose. Great 😑.

Not really sure what to do, Yaz had chosen to try and distract herself from the thoughts racing in her head by going to lunch with Darius, Brooklyn, and Ben. Sammy was working and couldn't go, but insisted Yaz go and give them all a hug for her, which she had. As they sat down, the rest of the group noticed Yaz looked a little down, not that she was super bubbly to begin with, but she usually had more energy than this.

B: Yaz, are you ok?

Y: Yeah....I'm fine.

(obviously not fine)

D: Yeah sure, ok skip the BS and tell us what's up so we can help.

B: Dude, a little sensitivity would be nice.

D: What? She obviously has something that's bothering her, I'm just trying to figure out what?

B: Yeah but you can't just ASK, what if it was something sensitive?

Ben: Sensitive..... something kinda like a....ring...maybe?

Ben looked over at Yaz, who was now staring at Ben. And he instantly regretted it, Yaz had tears in her eyes, her cheeks red, and trying to compose herself as to not have a breakdown in the middle of a shopping mall food court. Yaz reached into her pocket, pulled out a small wooden box, and slid it across the table.

Y: Yeah, it's a ring. But I don't need it, it's not like I'd ever have a possibility of using it anyway....so take it.

She wiped her eyes and took a shaky breath and put a 20 on the table, asked them to pay for her food, and went to her car to go home.

Yaz made it to her truck, but didn't open it. Hand on the handle she looked at the reflection in the window, and it was a sad, sorry sight. Red in the face, tears running down her cheeks, crying like a 5 year old that had just broken her toy. What was she supposed to do? Go back to Sammy, the person that made her so happy, and dump all this on to her? And that's when the realization struck Yaz like a horse hoof to the chest, the reason Yaz didn't want to propose, wasn't because she didn't want to spend the rest of her life with Sammy, it's that she didn't want Sammy to be stuck with her. She's always been self conscious about herself, and in some ways that's a good thing, keeps a person humble, but it also can be a real pain for self esteem. Would Sammy WANT to be stuck with her for the rest of their lives, till death does them part? Why would someone like her, a beautiful, intelligent, friendly, girl from Texas want to spend the rest of her life with an introverted, relatively speaking average looking, sad nerd like her? There wasn't one, at least not one that Yaz could think of. So, she decided she wouldn't propose, and wouldn't put that burden on Sammy, so if at any time Sammy wanted to leave, she could. As corny as it sounds she'd rather Sammy be happy without her, then sad with her.

Yaz hadn't realized how long she had been standing with her hand on the truck handle, hadn't realized how long she had been crying, and hadn't realized how long her friends had been standing there, until Brooklyn had very gently put her arm on Yaz's shoulder, and was looking at her with so much concern that it almost made Yaz start crying again, but even if she wanted to, she couldn't, she was all dried up.

B: Yaz, we're so sorry, we didn't mean to push, we were just worried about you. I wasn't going to say anything, but the whole reason we came down was that Sammy was concerned about you. She said you'd been acting sad and wanted us to get you out of the house to see if you'd feel better. She's really worried, she was actually starting to think you had gotten tired of spending so much time around her.

Y: What? No, I....I didn't mean...I could never.....

B: Yaz, please tell us what's the matter, all we want to do is help you.

So Yaz did, Yaz told them EVERYTHING, every insecurity. All the hopelessness and sadness came out in one big, frankly depressing, story (including everything she said in her head, read above). At the end, Yaz was just sitting sadly on the tailgate of her truck, her friends sitting with her, looking for lack of a better term, dumbfounded and sad. They had all known Yaz had insecurities, who didn't, but they had no idea it ran so deep.

Y: So that's why I can't propose. I care about her, and I care enough to let her go.....I don't want to but.....

Ben: Yaz, kinda crazy question here, but have you... Idk......maybe mentioned ANY of this to Sammy, at all? Do you have any idea if she wants to get married?

Y: No, but I don't want to burden anything on her. And why would she want to marry ME anyways?

Nobody had noticed the black car that had pulled in the parking lot an hour before, and nobody had noticed the driver sneaking over and hiding behind the car beside them, listening to Yaz's entire story, every word since Brooklyn, Darius, and Ben had come out to comfort their sad friend. And nobody noticed the Texas girl hiding behind some strangers car, trying her best not to cry, and wanting to do nothing else but hug not just the girl she's been dating for 8 years, but her business partner, her other dog mom, and her best friend. But the little Texan girl couldn't stand it any longer and decided to set the record straight.

Sam: Yazmina Fadoula, are you kidding me?

Sammy stepped out from behind the car she was hiding behind, and gave a heart attack to the entire group sitting on the tailgate. Yaz started to get up but Sammy in no uncertain terms gave her a look that said sit back down......Yaz sat back down.

Sammy: So let me get this straight....the reason you've been acting depressed all week, the reason you come to bed later and wake up earlier than normal, why you aren't eating as much and acting super shy, is because you wanted to propose? And was worried I would laugh in your face, or reject you, or not want to be with the girl that I've been with for 8 years??

Y: Um....yes? Look it's not you Sammy, it's me...I was just....

Sammy: Oh I know, I heard the whole conversation, basically everything. I came her to pick up some food to surprise you, and I see you crying and looking at the truck, you didn't even see me drive by. I was gonna talk to you, but I saw them coming over to you, and figured they'd be better at getting you to open up.....guess I was right. I'm gonna be honest Yaz, why didn't you talk to me? We're a team, you're supposed to be able to trust me, and I know that's selfish that I just WANT you to trust me, but we've known each other for almost 10 years, even before we started dating......is it me? Am I driving you away, am I being too over bearing, I just wanted to help you, I didn't mean to be too much.

Now Sammy was crying, and Yaz felt like the world's biggest a**hole, beating herself up internally for not thinking about how this would affect Sammy. She knew Sammy was sensitive, and tuned into people's emotions, so she definitely knew Yaz was upset, but wanting to respect her privacy, hadn't pushed the issue. Yaz felt awful.

Sammy: You know the worst part about this, Yaz? This entire time I was scared you were getting sick of me....I thought you were seeing someone else.

Well if Yaz thought she couldn't feel any worse, she just got proven wrong.

Y: Sammy.....you thought that.....why would....

Sammy: What? See someone else?.....Yaz I heard everything you said, and the entire time I was wondering the same thing you were. Wondering why you'd want to be with ME? I'm just some yee-haw Texan rodio, banjo playing, chubby, middle of nowhere farm girl and there's a million girls just like me within like 20 miles of just like me, except prettier and cooler. I was scared to death that the only reason you were with me is because we were stuck on the island and once you had more people to choose from.....you'd leave. Yasmina I would LOVE to marry you, of course I would, but I still don't really understand why it'd be ME you'd pick out of everyone else. You're beautiful and smart and ACTUALLY talented, you have skills that are actually cool and unique, unlike me who can do farm things yeah, but so can everyone else.

Yaz sat with her mouth hanging open, in awe of that one, her girlfriend had the same insecurities she had, and two, that Sammy thought of herself like that. Yaz couldn't understand why the girl she was so worried about proposing to had never brought these issues up to her before. Yaz decided there and then that damn the consequences, whatever her future had in store for her, Yaz was going to make sure Sammy never had to worry that Yaz would leave her again. She walked up to Sammy and kissed her, a long kiss full of love and warm feelings that made butterflies fly in both of the girls chests.

Y: Sammy, I'm so so so so so so so sorry that I EVER made you worried about me leaving, ever made you feel insecure about yourself. With our friends and God as my witness I will do everything I can to make sure you never feel like this again. Brooklyn.......can I have my ring.

Sammy opened her eyes wide, Ben and Darius gasped and Brooklyn smiled as she handed Yaz the ring.

Y: With this ring I promise to be with you forever, for every sad day, when it shines, rains, or snows. Through every up and down, left or right, whatever happens I want this ring to symbolize how much I care about you... Sammy Gutierrez, can I put this ring on your finger.

Everyone was crying now, their friends, and some random people in the parking lot.

Sammy: Of course you can, but I have one request......Don't call me Gutierrez anymore.....it's Fadoula now.

Yaz smiled, slipped on the ring, and grabbed Sammy by the hips and hoiseted her up off the ground so they could look at each other, Sammy's legs wrapped around Yaz's hips and her arms rested on her shoulders. The parking lot whistled and hollered, horns honking and lights flashing to celebrate the couple.

Sammy: Hey Yaz?

Y: Yes Sammy?

Sammy: I think the chicken thawed in the back of my car.

Everyone laughed, and Brooklyn, Darius, and Ben all drove home with Sammy and Yaz to stay the night. Brooklyn was thankful that Yaz had soundproofed her and Sammy's bedroom wall, and Yaz kept her promise and made sure that Sammy knew every bit of her was as beautiful to Yaz as anything else.

They went to the town office the next day and made it official, and Sammy bought Yaz a ring.

Woooo, that was a long one, I hope everyone enjoys my contribution to @yasammyweek. See y'all later

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tags @mysticstarlightduck @theink-stainedfolk and probably many more!

Wip Aesthetic Tag

Rules: Make a moodboard for your WIP, a playlist (3+ songs/music will suffice but it can be as long as you want) and describe the Vibe of your WIP.

Oh god, I'm really bad at aesthetic stuff. No clue why, I just feel like it's never cohesive. That said, here's my best stab at Mystery of the Mortal God.

⚙️Moodboard🌿

🎵Music🎶

Instrumental (pulled from my character playlists):

Flight of the Silverbird

Ponyo's Sisters

HUNGRY!

Exclusive Coupé

A Murder of Crows

Wings (Aether 2)

The Quiet Earth

Vocal:

I Want to Conquer the World - Bad Religion

Supersonic - Bad Religion

Harlan Road - NewTown

Black Lipstick - Chicano Batman

The Reckoning - Dom Fera

Norwegian Wood - Buddy Rich Big Band

Call me Call me - Steve Conte

🩸Vibes🏵

A walking, steam-powered vardo lurches over a yellow-flowered marsh and under a sky of curious stars. Red, sparkling smoke rises from its chimney. Muddy footsteps are left in its wake like the trail of a mechanical dragon. It seems like a place of magic, which is fair, as it's the home of a witch. She sits with a lit pipe and a tabby cat purring on her lap, quietly contemplating a distant, stolen song. Even in the peace of the moment, her mind is alight with grand schemes and dreams of adventure.

In the capital of a thousand peoples, there stands a detective office lit by golden lamps. It's busy - goblins, elves, and lizardfolk rushing every which way in hopes of managing the many crimes wrought by rogue mages. At its heart resides a beat of calm in the eye of the storm - an opulent office out of place for its cushy decorations and color coding fit for a palace. This is also fair, as working at its desk is a prince of sorts. The prodigal heir to divine contracts and a deadly curse. He shudders at the knowledge of his bloody fate, yet pursues it nonetheless.

On the side of a lonely road, in a lonely land, under stars that are not curious, but disappointed, lays a wreck of bronze and steel. It bleeds black on green. It is confused by this. Where is the red? Where is the pain? It remembers another place - gray and icy and riveted. It remembers two eyes surrounded by shadows and a grin hanging in the dark like a half-moon. Hate closes in like a frigid wind, piercing through any amount of heart or compassion. It will have revenge.

Tropes include slow burn romance, revenge quests, magic as a science, and mad scientists. Genre is fantasy steampunk.

Snappier character descriptions include a braggadocious redneck mage with a chip on her shoulder the size of a mountain, a prissy, gossip-loving detective with a deadly curse, and a sweetheart of a maybe-robot with some terrifying instincts hidden behind a fog of amnesia. All of them, due to personal quests, will end up banding together to defeat a would-be demigod, facing cunning traps, summoning ritual shenanigans, and their own conflicting personalities. Will they survive? Will they join the villain? Who's to say? All I can assure is that if they fail, it'll at least be in a blaze of glory.

Heavily inspired by the Foundryside Trilogy and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood.

I'll tag @spideronthesun @kaylinalexanderbooks @ominous-feychild @galactic-mystics-writes and anyone else who wants to play!

[feral-bunny31]

Ok ok ok ok so I’ve been reading a few fics/prompts of Danny Phantom having to declare war on the living (he’s ghost king ofc) and I’ve had an idea slowing forming in my head with each one I’ve read and it’s just how I’d envision that scene happening and I need to get it out so here goes (putting it below the cut bc idk how much I’m going to write) how it leads up to this, your choice if you see this and decide to write more/around it. Ok here goes:

They had 13 hours left of the 3 days King Phantom, High King of the Dead, Defeater of the Dark, Son of Time, The In-between, The Balance, The All Star, had given them. 13 hours. 13. The number of the dead, ironic really that that was the amount left.

He gave them 3 days to dismantle the Ghost Investigation Ward, to release their prisoners, his people. 13 hours left and they couldn’t get them to yield their ways. To give up and break up and release the dead they had tortured. King Phantom, no older than 18, gave them a warning and they were failing. War was coming and King Phantom warned them he and his infinite army of the lost souls of this plane and the in betweens were going to march.

It was his final choice to be made in his existence. His last option. His espoir perdu. He didn’t want to do this, he hated doing this but he had to and everyone saw it as his warning was broadcasted onto every possible screen in the United States.

2 hours. They had 2 hours left and they were giving up. Trying to get as many people to safety and shelter as they could. They needed to get the civilians to hide. Gods, there was only an hour left.

And as they watched the sky above Illinois- of all places- shatter and breaks like glass they saw the King emerge as the final seconds ended.

He was stone faced, no one behind him as he stood, floating in the shattered rift of the realms, the portal green. So so green. Swirling like hypnosis. Black armor draped over his body, a sword held tight, white knuckled at his side, a crown of burning ice drifting close to his head. His face was set, cold to those that see him that don’t know him. Expression hard except for the minute furrow of his brow, seen only by those that know him, that see who he is, white hair whipping softly around his face, casting shadows over his green eyes. Oh his eyes. They were the only thing able to show what was going through his mind. They held so much.

Years of experience, of pain, of loss, of suffering and sadness. Of struggling to be heard, to fight for his people and those of this earth. To keep the peace but save what he can in this destructive world. His eyes held so much words didn’t exist to tell what all they showed.

Calmly, slowly, deathly, his sword arm rose. Rose high above his head and fell. Fell until it was straight out, a signal that the war had begun.

Thousands of souls poured out of the portal, though they spared the citizens around not a single glance. They were vaguely human, some just skeletons, some races long since extinct. They only had eyes for the buildings that were beginning to scream. The voices of their prisoners rising until every single one of the Ghost Investigation Ward’s buildings rang with the rage and hurt and pain of those souls.

The army, still pouring from the crack between realms, only targeted those buildings. Flooding the United States searching for those buildings. Men in white suits poured out of the buildings. Raising weapons to the army and unloading everything they had, uncaring of the civilians they hit and the homes and jobs they destroyed, killed.

Then they noticed it, Phantom on the front lines, defending and protecting the civilians as he tore his way through the men in white, Agents they called themselves. Giant frozen Yetis came with him, tending to the wounded he had protected. They creates shelters and barriers of ice to take the wounded and heal them. Bandage them and cover the dead with soft sheets.

The army avoided and even blocked their enemies fire from hitting those shelters, from hitting the homes and jobs as best they could while still fighting. They were angry, rage filled that the Agent cared so little about civilians, all in the name of “getting rid of those ecto scum”

King Phantom and his army fought for 3 days, wiping out any Agent and their buildings that ever existed. Freed his people and made sure they returned safely to the realm of the dead, the Infinite Realms, before he and his army slowly worked on restoring the damaged buildings of the civilians. He gave the dead proper care, tending to the souls that had come back, sending them the portal after they said goodbye to their family.

And when all was said and done, he collapsed, beaten and bloody, into the arms of a god, a being that shifted ages, a clock shoved into his chest, was his chest, and sobbed. Sobbed for all the lives taken, even of the Agents. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want this death and destruction. He wanted peace, for his people and for the living. He was Balance! Why couldn’t he have brought balance peacefully? Why couldn’t he stop this from happening? He tried! Tried so hard to keep this from being a choice. He hated that he had to make this decision.

When everything was restored the best they could and wounded were healed and dead buried, King Phantom gathered his people, entered the rift between realms, and closed it. The one vision of the sky shattering like glass reversing and piecing itself back together, and the army of souls was gone.

Ok how’d I do? Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please let me know! I love the feedback

[stuckyfingers]

Idk what I'm even writing but here is a What If extension fic about Rogers Hood singing. The whole fic is there just for the song.

“Who are you?” Strange drawled, looking at the blue-green clad mercenary looking guy.

He had been stuck in Earth-1602, successfully evading capture by the Sherriff for only so long. T'Challa from Earth-527 was supposed to get him sometime soon, but the wait had stretched into days.

He was in the Sherriff's carriage being grandly arrested by the familiar looking official and his following army of guards, when a gang of tree swinging bandits had surrounded them, forcing them to dismount. A carriage up ahead with a man in a pentagonal hat standing outside, told them that the Bishop was also undergoing a robbery.

The man in the green and blue clothes chuckled. “I’m known far and wide as a legendary outlaw, Strange Wizard!” He dropped his hood with flair, revealing his face. “I am Steven Rogers, or Rogers Hood as people have come to call me.”

“Rogers Hood?” Strange scoffed. “Not surprising though… you do tend to do illegal things in every universe.”

“’Tis the powerful that maketh legality immoral, my friend. To abide thy morals, thou must break the law.” Steve replied unfazed at the mention of universes. His gaze turned rather cold when he looked at the other people from the carriage. "Sherriff Thaddeus Ross. Pleasant morn it is, but for thy presence."

The Sheriff growled. “Thy speech of morals shield not thine acts of disgrace! Thou hast lain with men as thou would with a maiden: it is frowned upon, verily!"

The guy close beside Rogers Hood shed his own hood to raise a haughty eyebrow. The manicured beard was confusing, but it was undoubtedly Bucky Barnes.

Rogers Hood did not seem perturbed at being accused of sodomy but rather, leaned sideways to kiss Bucky on the cheek, smirking at the Sherriff. “So be it! ’Twould be thine own visage that is marred!”

“ 'Tis God’s visage that you mar!” The Bishop cried from a few yards away, rather bravely for someone being searched for coin.

“How little must thou think of Him, that a poor outlaw can change His divine skin!” Rogers cried louder, throwing his hands up like he was on Broadway. “A Bishop, indeed, thy Bishop clothes don’t hide the doubt within!”

“Uhm, Rogers Hood, could you-?” Strange started.

“Interrupt him not!” Another Merry Man with a bow- who looked like Clint Barton- who was Clint Barton, shushed him. Rogers really began singing like he was in a musical- even jumping onto a sunlit tree stump as the Sherriff watched in agony.

“How little must thou believe in thine own self to bring an army: When Merry Men are armed with naught but bows”

“But bows!” The Merry Men added.

“How little must thou find it in thy heart to be more charming: When Merry Men, we zest while in the throes!”

“The Throes!”

"Well, maidens go to Church no more, for we have larger bells!"

"AYE!"

"But we insisted they must trust the Lord!"

"The Lord!"

"And maidens who skipped Synagogues for the reasons much the same, we led them back to their fine carven doors!"

"Doors!"

The Merry Men began chanting as Rogers turned to Strange with a flourish.

"Now this fine old Wizard doth seek to know us well, what ways of ours shall we queintein him with?"

"We spend our days with parties gay under the sunny glades," Sang Bucky Barnes.

"We give the poor what we steal from the rich!" Sang the Leonardo da Vinci looking version of Sam Wilson.

"We hate the King of England and the Sheriff we hate more, the travelers of Egypt* are our kith!" sang Clint Barton.

The trees around them rang with song:

"And maidens go to Church no more, for we have larger bells- hey! But we insisted they must trust the Lord! And maidens who skipped Synagogues for the reasons much the same, we led them back to their fine carven doors!"

The Bishop grew increasingly purple with every reprise of the chorus, like he was going to explode. They actually repeated it three times before Rogers took the stage again-

"And now my sweet Bishop thou seemst burdened with thy gold-"

"Let us free thy shoulders of this weight!" Scott Lang joined in.

"For, O wretched Bishop sitting in thy Bishop clothes, you've become the very thing He hates!" Steve finished with a laugh.

The guards waited for some command from the Sherriff, but the Sherriff was far too occupied with being gagged. Dr. Strange alone was not subject to such treatment.

"Go, now!" Barnes boomed, waving a crossbow at the army. "You don't want to be caught here with us! Return to thy wives before you get arrows up thy arses!"

The guards scattered nervously casting glances at the Sherriff. They couldn't all be punished if they left together, could they?

Dr. Strange started again: "So, er- Rogers Wood, I mean, Hood uhm-"

Steve nodded at him while rounding up the valuables. "I have heard of ye, Strange Wizard... I doth not doubt we are in f'r a delightful conversation!"

"Neither do I." A voice came from across the road. The calm, regal consonance of-

"T'Challa!" Strange cried, half relieved, half really annoyed.

The space pirate revealed himself- not bothering to hide his bootstrap jet boosters from the medieval folk. He was dressed like a Golden Age pirate but with a punk metal twist that was probably lost on the people present there.

"Fie! Fie!" The Bishop wailed, "'Tis the devil! 'Tis the- ack!"

Clint Barton gagged the Clergyman for good and stared at the new arrival. "And who may that be! He flies with fire on his feet, like Hermes himself!"

"And yet his name is T'Challa." Rogers Hood mused, signaling his men to lower their arms. "I know of only one T'Challa- and he is the King of Wakanda. Art thou he?"

Star Lord T'Challa's eyes glimmered with mirth. "Oh well, I'm not him. I just share a name with him, Captain Hood. I'm from another universe, and I am here to collect Dr. Strange."

"Thou art free to take him, if he doth not wish for our protection against you." Rogers smiled.

"How about... we sit down for a drink with them?" Strange sighed. "I don't want your protection, but I do want to get back at this asshole."

"Oh Bast, what slander!" T'Challa gasped mockingly. "Weren't you trying to leave this place as fast as you could?"

"I'm not leaving now that I've found the best part?" Strange shrugged.

T'Challa hopped down merrily to the ground. "Well, one outlaw to another, I would love the company!"

"Outlaw!?" Roger Hood perked up.

"Outlaw." Strange groaned.

[darkkitty1208]

The past few weeks before I finally returned from my unofficial hiatus, I've lost a lot of my motivation to write and anything to do with being part of the fandom as a whole. I contemplated quitting and never returning again, deleting all my works and socials and any other trace of me anyone could find, but I know that it's just the anxiety talking and my brain playing tricks with me due to IRL stress and that logically, I *do* have a place here in the fandom space. So I held back.

Now that I'm here again -- and have been welcomed very warmly by dear friends -- the urge to create has finally come around again and I want to get back into writing. It's just that, god, I feel very rusty. It's been quite a while and I feel like the words have run away from me after not using them for so long. I look into my mostly-abandoned WIPs and I can't find the right way to continue them.

But despite that, I decided to do a bit of the good ol' self-projecting and started a WIP (instead of finishing my old ones, lol). It's not much, but it's something. I felt compelled to share in hopes it would motivate me to write some more. This is all I've got so far, and it is admittedly very rough, but it's getting there.

~

Here’s the thing: healing isn't linear.

These are words repeated over and over again by those who you wouldn't think ever even had to heal. They're the kind of words that would lose its meaning the more they're said, and have you start wondering if to some people, they ever had any sort of meaning to begin with.

You can never really tell where it starts or where it finishes, or how it happened or if it ever did happen, the same way the flawed five stages of grief could never explain the true act of mourning and the same way your every emotion defies anything your logic could ever tell you.

Sometimes, Stephen finds, some things are just unexplainable like that.

Sometimes, Stephen doesn't think he's capable of healing. Sometimes, especially in nights where every bit of his sanity starts to fall apart and each choking breath would sting as it enters his damned lungs, he thinks he's too far gone to be capable of it at all.

(Sometimes he would sit silently and stare into nothing, thinking about the way nobody would understand that at some point in his life, he wasn't the man he used to be anymore. Sometimes he could feel it, the thing that consumed him, that took away who he was, and the way it would take up every space in his ribcage and burn his insides like acid, the way it would rip apart the space in his chest where his heart used to be. Sometimes he would think about it, and the way that it makes him nothing but an empty shell of a man. Every day that thing would grow inside of him and one day, it might ruin him; as if he isn't already far too broken to begin with.)

But it's here, in the roof of a sentient building he's grown to call his home where various pots are neatly arranged in small shelves, with his trembling fingers digging into rich soil and dirt sticking underneath his fingernails, that he starts to find proof that maybe, he had the capability after all.

It's here that he understands why humans would pick up a trowel and spend so much time getting on their hands and knees to dirty themselves with grimes of dirt.

There's something about the green of the Earth and the smell of her moist dirt in the early mornings, damp from the moon's tears, that soothes a part of him that he couldn't quite identify. There's something comforting about the mindless action of digging and burying and placing and watering. There's something comforting about knowing that his damaged fingers could sprout life even if it all depended on time.

But that's the thing, isn't it? Everything is just a matter of time.

(Sometimes he wishes healing isn't linear, the way he wishes time doesn't march on an ascending line.)

He remembers the same damp smell of moss and the same smudges of dirt on the knees of his trousers back then, the first time he was taught about gardening and farming and sprouting life from seeds.

He had still been a small boy in Nebraska, back then. He had been young, and he had never understood patience the way he does now. He didn't understand that what he planted was something that, if anything, was considered a miracle, and that miracles took time, and that miracles don't last forever. He didn't understand that life and decay is just a matter of time, and that everything including himself would eventually be nothing but rotting flesh and cracked bones, becoming one with the earth and consumed by the maggots and mushrooms.

Because that's the thing: everything is just a matter of time.

The experience had meant nothing to him then, and had taught him nothing much of anything at all, but it means something to him now.

[demifiendrsa]

DC Studios | Chapter 1: Gods and Monsters

Chapter 1: Gods and Monsters:

Creature Commandos: An animated seven episode series, written by Gunn, that is already in production. Originally a team of classic monsters assembled to fight Nazis, this is a modern take on the concept. The voice actors have yet to be cast but the executives are looking to find people who can voice the animated characters and also portray the live-action versions when the anti-heroes to show up in movies and shows.

Waller: A spin-off of Gunn’s own HBO Max hit series, Peacemaker, Viola Davis will return as the ruthless and morally ambiguous head of a government task force. It is being written by Christal Henry (Watchmen) and Jeremy Carver, the creator of the Doom Patrol TV series.

Superman: Legacy: The movie featuring the Man of Steel that Gunn is writing and may direct, although no commitments on that end have been made. While the two previous titles are meant to be “aperatifs,” in Safran’s words, Superman is the true kick off for the duo’s DCU plans. “It’s not an origin story,” Safran said. “It focuses on Superman balancing his Kryptonian heritage with his human upbringing. He is the embodiment of truth justice and the American way. He is kindness in a world that thinks that kindness as old-fashioned.” A release date of July 11, 2025 has been penciled in.

Lanterns: Greg Berlanti’s long-in-the-works Green Lanterns TV series has been scrapped and the duo have parted ways with the longtime DC series steward. In its place will be a new take on the space cops with power rings. “Our vision for this is very much in the vein of True Detective,” Safran described. “It’s terrestrial-based.” It will feature prominent Lantern heroes Hal Jordan and John Stewart and is one of the most important shows they have in development. “This plays a really big role in leading into the main story we are telling across film and TV.”

The Authority: a movie based on a team of superheroes with rather extreme methods of protecting the planet that first originated in the late 1990s under an influential imprint known as Wildstorm, run by artist and now head of DC publishing, Jim Lee. “One of the things of the DCU is that it’s not just a story of heroes and villains,” said Gunn. “Not every film and TV show is going to be about good guy vs. bad guy, giant things from the sky comes and good guy wins. There are white hats, black hats and grey hats.” Added Safran: “They are kinda like Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men. They know that you want them on the wall. Or at least they believe that.”

Paradise Lost: The duo describe this HBO Max series as a Game of Thrones-style drama set on the all-female island that is Wonder Woman’s birthplace, Themyscira, filled with political intrigue and scheming between power players. It takes place before the events of the Wonder Woman films.

The Brave and the Bold: “This is the introduction of the DCU Batman,” said Gunn. “Of Bruce Wayne and also introduces our favorite Robin, Damian Wayne, who is a little son of a bitch.” The movie will take inspiration from the now-classic Batman run written by Grant Morrison that introduced Batman to a son he never knew existed: a murderous tween raised by assassins. “It’s a very strange father-and-son story.”

And, importantly, it will feature a Batman not played by Robert Pattinson…

Booster Gold: an HBO Max series based on a unique and lower-tiered hero created in 1986. Safran said of the series, “It’s about a loser from the future who uses basic future technology to come back to today and pretend to be a superhero.” Gunn described it as “imposter syndrome as superhero.”

Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow: Taking its cues from the recent Tom King-written mini-series, this movie project promises to have a different take than what most think of when the idea of Superman’s cousin comes to mind. “We will see the difference between Superman, who was sent to Earth and raised by loving parents from the time he was an infant, versus Supergirl, raised on a rock, a chip off of Krypton, and who watched everyone around her die and be killed in terrible ways for the first 14 years of her life and then come to Earth. She is much more hardcore and not the Supergirl we’re used to.”

Swamp Thing: a horror film that promises to close out the first part of the first chapter.

[jsraven7]

Hi I’ve been practicing Paganism in some form since I was very young. I’m pretty eclectic [baring closed traditions] and I’m new to the Hellenic space. I worked with Hecate for a couple years, but very individually. Every tradition is different and we have to start from the beginning, or so for me. I’m looking for ways to start to build a relationship with Poseidon and Hades, probably Persephone. I don’t see much about them. I love research and reading EVERYthing but I don’t know where to start 😅 thank you for your time and if you can help me 😌

Hello, I apologize as I did not see this before.

A wonderful way to start with any deity is to read their myths, and find out more about them. Hesiod and Homer are both wonderful places to start. There are also the Orphic hymns. Researching epithets and reading others’ anecdotes can also really help in starting out! I’m unsure if this is the best resource to recommend but a lot of people recommended this to me starting out and it’s helped so far—there is also Theoi.com.

A good starting book I recommend is Hellenic Polytheism: Household Worship by LABRYS. It only really covers household and household adjacent Gods/epithets, but it’s great building blocks for the act of worship itself, and it has baseline deity associations (though I do not remember Lady Persephone being in there).

A good baseline for starting a relationship with a deity is to just start it! Once you have some good foundation in information, just go ahead and start worshipping. Your relationship with Them will build up over time. Each little present you give Them and every word you say to Them will bring you closer.

For me personally, I always start off with candles in associated colors/scents. For Lord Poseidon, a blue candle or a candle that has an ocean-like or earth-y scent would be good. For Lady Persephone, a pink/red candle, or one scented like flowers or pomegranates. For Lord Hades, a black or green candle would be good too. If you live in the US, the dollar store and Walmart have pillar and taper candles for a good price! If you can’t use candles but would still like something like that, the fake/LED candles do just fine!

Other things you could do is give Them bits of food you make, write letters and burn them (be careful!), or offer flowers and plants. They also like acts done in Their name (singing, volunteering at places in Their domain, running around outside).

I really hope this was helpful and gives you what you were looking for, and it wasn’t too long-winded.

[unadulteratedfandomtrash]

Thor Odinson x Reader ~ Shopping Lists

A/N: A cute plot idea provided by my lovely friend @drstrangefictions​! I hope you guys enjoy. (Please note that this is supposed to take place roughly right after the first Avengers film in 2012.) I know I have been incredibly slow and inactive, and I apologize for that. A mix of writer’s block and a busy life are to blame. I will try to be more consistent, but I do not want to make any promises. Thank you to those of you who stick around and support my writing in spite of this.

Word Count: 2534

“Hi, welcome to Big Tony’s Supermarket, where prices are so cheap, it should be illegal.”

The day seems to pass too slowly for (Y/n) as she half-heartedly greets every customer who walks into the store and past her spot at the register. She cannot wait to finally leave her retail position behind to pursue her dream of becoming a chef, but unfortunately, she needs this current job until she can achieve her degree and experience before quitting—college is not cheap; while the job is nowhere near desirable, (Y/n) cannot bring herself to complain since her boss pays her quite well. The customers, however, often leave her very wary and uncomfortable. She often chalks it up to the shady neighborhood, but there is nothing she can do about it until the day she can afford to leave town.

One day, she tells herself, she will be able to afford to be jobless for a short period of time as she searches for a reputable restaurant willing to hire her as a chef. There is no way (Y/n) will ever settle for employment in the fast food industry. She has big dreams and refuses to ever go near cheap, greasy food with questionable ingredients. Creating dishes with real food is an art, and (Y/n) will not settle for anything less.

“Hi welcome to Bi-” In the middle of greeting another patron, (Y/n) finds herself tongue-tied and star-struck. The man who passes through the threshold of the automatic doors is nothing like any of her usual customers. Long blond hair whips around as he turns his head to scan the store, his striking blue eyes lighting up with delight once he notices her.

“Are you the keeper of this market?”

“Y-You’re Thor…” (Y/n) utters out in amazement. She never thought she would ever live the day to see a god standing before her, let alone speak to her. “And, umm…I just work here.”

“Then you are the perfect person to assist me,” Thor exclaims with a smile. “My teammates have requested that I purchase something for them. Could you help me, grocer?”

“S-sure thing! What do you need to purchase?”

“I do not recall.” A frown tugs at Thor’s lips as he struggles to recall what the Avengers had told him. He faintly remembers them shouting various things as they passed around a pencil and long sheet of paper. They handed him the paper and shooed him off before he could ask. “I believe they called it a ‘grocery list.’”

It takes every fiber of (Y/n) being to not laugh at the blond god. She realizes that Thor has probably not been on Earth long enough to understand the ways of life for humans, but she cannot help but find humor in his confusion.

“No, no,” she giggles softly. “A grocery list is what we use to write down the stuff we need to buy. Did they give you a piece of paper?”

“Ah, yes!Here it is.” Thor, who is dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, reaches into his pocket to fish out a crumpled ball of paper to hand to (Y/n). “Please decipher this page, grocer.”

Scanning the Avengers’ handwriting, (Y/n) tries her best to make sense of the list. A few items are incomprehensible, but given that she can read a majority of the list, she disregards the minor issue. She grabs a pen from the cubby below the register while beckoning Thor to follow her as she switches off her station’s green light. The god obediently trails with a spring in his step.

“Well, the first item on here is goat’s milk,” (Y/n) informs him, a pen pointing out the messy scribbles at the top of the paper. “For any dairy products, all you have to do is look for the number thirteen.”

A week has passed since a visit from Thor and (Y/n) cannot keep her mind off of him. She tries to convince herself that she is merely infatuated by the idea of having been in the presence of a god, but a small part of her wonders if there is much more. Something about his innocence, his obliviousness, of human customs and ways of life—it attracts her like a moth to a flame.

Warmth suddenly floods (Y/n)’s cheeks, leaving her to pat them in an attempt to dispel the redness. Common sense tells her to disregard the butterflies in her chest; she had only met Thor for two hours that day, so it would be unreasonable to think of him as anything other than another customer.

The sliding of the automatic doors signals the entrance of a customer, so (Y/n) turns to greet them, only to see the one person, the god, who has been occupying her thoughts. Just like the week before, (Y/n)’s words are caught in her throat.

“Grocer! We meet again!”

“Oh,” she gasps, his exclamation having startled her out of her dazed state. “Hi, Thor. How are you today?”

“I am doing well. My team has tasked me with the weekly purchasing of their sustenance.” Thor hands over his list once again, a sheepish smile gracing his features as (Y/n) accepts the sheet with an open palm. “Stark has asked that I bring him a ‘can of sprayable cheese,’ but I am afraid I do not understand why or how curds of milk can be stored or dispensed in such a way.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not too difficult to find, though explaining it is much more complicated.”

“Very well. Please lead the way.”

“Thor! Back so soon? I hope the list wasn’t too difficult for you,” Tony greets with an impish smile as the large god steps out of the tower’s elevator with multiple bags in hand. 

“My journey to the indoor market was absolutely delightful. I was able to retrieve all that you asked without fail. The kind grocer has been aiding my search every time.”

“Wait, wait, wait. What grocer? I sent you to the supermarket, not a farmers market or wet market.”

Thor immediately deposits the bags of groceries on the counter top and goes into detail about the kindness of the female market employee who has been taking it upon herself to personally guide the thunder god throughout the store to pick out the items documented on his shopping list while also providing explanations for any particular items he was unfamiliar with.

“I shall gladly retrieve your weekly necessities without fail, Stark. I am graced with the grocer’s hospitality and beauty each visit. There is nothing she cannot find.”

“Oh really, huh? Nothing she can’t find…”

Once again, thoughts of the thunder god have invaded (Y/n)’s mind as she wanders into the back storage room of the store. This time, her mind begins to wonder what life would be like with Thor. She dreams of herself going on dates with him, sitting in a park with a basket of food, chatting the day away with her head resting on one of his broad shoulders.

The sudden clanging of a can hitting the tiled flooring brings (Y/n) back to the real world. She absentmindedly reaches for the fallen object, but when her hand fails to feel for the round can, she comes in contact with another hand.

Jerking her head up to chastise whoever was about to steal her runaway can she has yet to label with a price sticker when she is met with a friendly pair of blue eyes she has been acquainting herself with as of late.

“Good afternoon,” Thor greets cheerfully as he stands to his full height with the can in his grasp, forcing (Y/n) to rise as well. “I figured I could help you since you have that large box to carry as well. I did not mean to startle you.”

Rather than freezing up, this time, (Y/n) musters up the courage to take the can from Thor to return it to the box, picking it up as she walks the product over to its designated aisle with the thunder god trailing after her.

“How have you been, Thor? Anything exciting happen this week? Not everyone lives in a building with a handful of friends who are also superheroes,” (Y/n) comments without so much as a glance at Thor, too focused on her job of restocking the canned goods. While it doesn’t take very long, she wants to do her best to stay on her boss’ good side.

“Ah, yes. Barton and Stark were ecstatic to receive the haul of requested items. In fact, they were so excited for my trip this week that their laughter was like thunder as I walked away with their list.”

“Really? Well, I am done here, so may I see what you’re here for today?”

At first glance, the shopping list seems normal enough. The team of heroes wrote down grocery items such as vegetables, meats, milk, protein powder, fruits, and so forth—the standard, healthy muscle-building stuff. Yet, as (Y/n) reads further down the list, she suddenly understands the reason for the boisterous laughter Thor had described moments ago.

“What’s this last one, Thor? I can’t really read it.” “Oh! Barton had asked for the particles that fall off of pixies during flight.”

“Pixie dust?” (Y/n)’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead at the description Thor provides her, thus confirming a suspicion she did not want proven to be true. There is no way these human heroes are asking for a substance that is a byproduct of a supernatural creature’s flight activities. Surely this god is just pulling her leg. “Why wo-” “Yes! That is exactly what he asked of me.” Guess he is being serious. While she does not understand why the Avengers are sending Thor on a wild goose chase for magical pixie dust, (Y/n) is more than willing to play along if it means spending more time with him. “Right here at aisle eight.” Walking down to the row filled with shelves of confectioneries and snacks, (Y/n) leads Thor over to several boxes filled with colorful paper tubes. “Here you go: Pixy Stix. It doesn’t exactly come from pixies, but-”

“Perfect! Thank you, grocer.”

For well over a month, (Y/n) has been receiving regular visits from Thor, who seeks her out for assistance with his teammates’ outrageous shopping list requests. Taking advantage of the fact that the thunder god is still learning the English language, the young woman opts to substitute some of the mythical items on the paper with obscure items—usually foods native to an obscure region in the world to keep the Avengers on their toes.

Now, as the register beeps continuously as she continuously passes items through the scanner, the nearby cart nearly filled to the brim, she takes a brief second to wonder how the blond thunder god is able to afford all the groceries; her eyes eventually find the black credit card with Tony Stark’s name on the bottom, reminding her of the true reason for his regular visits. She tells herself to get over the juvenile feelings she has been developing for someone who clearly has no interest in her. 

Thor is just being polite. 

Nothing more, nothing less.

She enjoys helping him, but her heart cannot help but yearn for more. It yearns to see the thunder god every day, to be able to openly express its feelings for him without the worry of rejection. For now, all she can do is placate her hunger for love by pushing aside her thoughts to focus on the task at hand: ringing up Thor’s purchases.

“So, I got most of the items on that list for you,” (Y/n) explains with a small smile, “but I’m afraid some of those things are just not available.”

“I do not understand.” Thor’s face drops as an expression of concern overtakes his smile. “Is it an essential item?”

“No, no, no.” Quick to reassure him, the woman waves her hand in objection while trying to contain the giggle bubbling up her throat. “Well, I mean, unless if you’re something along the lines of a stereotyped witch from popular culture, I doubt you’ll be able to find any yeti hair, griffin claws, or wendigo antlers. Those items are either mythical or fictional. I don’t want to pry, but I think the Avengers are pranking you.”

The look of disbelief and shock on Thor’s face is enough to make (Y/n)’s heart hurt for him. For a moment, she could visibly see the thoughts coursing through his mind.

 The god did not deserve this. 

“Why would they do that?”

She does not have an answer to that. If she had to guess, the newly formed team of heroes have chosen to haze their extraterrestrial teammate. While their long-standing prank seems pretty harmless, (Y/n) still worries. Thor seems to wear his heart on his sleeve, and put his full trust in his teammates. He must have taken the prank too seriously and felt hurt from being sent on a wild goose chase.

“It’s okay, though! It’s just a harmless joke. I’m honestly glad you come in every day. Getting to talk with you really makes me happy.”

A small smile creeps up on the god’s face upon hearing this. He enjoys spending time with (Y/n) too. So much so that the thought of it coming to an end saddens him.

“I do not wish to end our small discussions. Should you allow me to, I would love to escort you to a restaurant tonight for dinner.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Thor,” (Y/n) asks shyly, a growing blush spreading across her warm cheeks.

“I am.”

Nodding happily with a bright smile, she accepts his proposition. A quick glance at the clock on the wall tells her she still has two hours before the end of her shift, so she relays this information to the blond god.

With a promise from Thor to return after dropping off the groceries at the tower, (Y/n) pushes through the remainder of her shift with a newfound source of energy.

“So, how do you plan on paying for dinner tonight? I doubt you have a job here on Earth that’ll help cover the fees.” The air is chilly as the winds pick up around the young woman and her date. Much to her surprise, Thor had chosen to go to a high end restaurant not too far from her workplace; the price for just one appetizer alone costs more than her hourly salary, which leaves her wary. She is not petty enough to leave the bill all up to the god of thunder, but she simply cannot afford to pay for a full meal.

Glancing over her shoulder, (Y/n) is met with a cheeky smile and wink as Thor reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small black card she has come to recognize.

“I decided that Tony Stark should at least treat us to this meal. Let us consider this as his reparation.”  

[bleue-flora]

10? 16? 20? Hope that's not too much...

10. Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up.

“Dream studies him, grazing his eyes over every inch of Bad. His stature full of mistrust, searching for sincerity. The utter shock, doubt and apprehension wrinkling his brow makes Bad wilt a bit. His heart aching at the way he appears stunned as if Bad just walked on water instead of simply offering sympathy. Dream blinks, clearly struggling to process it.”

(Oooo next chapter?….)

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

3 in the writing process (not including posted ones), 1 idea in outlining phase and 3 chapters of Misery Loves Another Idiot with a Jukebox Where his Soul Should be (Why did I make that title so long lol XD ) which are basically oneshots in their own right to be fair…

I just started writing part two of Dreamcatcher which I wasn’t necessarily planing on doing… but then one night last week I up and wrote 4,000 words so I guess it’s happening lol. What can I say I missed writing Punz. :) This time it’s Dream’s pov and here’s a snip bit.

“The only remains of the obnoxious, over the top, lit up sign is the large letter L.”

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Besides Quackity always managing to make an appearance? Lol. Let’s see, the obvious answer would be that my works all directly connect to the torture box, which means that the words: torture and pain always make an appearance at least once (have you ever noticed how there really aren’t synonyms for those words?)

But outside of that, I tend to write an abundance of alliterations (oops), which I swear I really don’t do intentionally.

“And that’s all the green light Punz needs to continue to vehemently voice his vengeance, this time with more volume and vigor, “I swear to god, they are going to fucking pay.”” - Hell in a Box (Ch 4)

As well as follow certain writing patterns like repeating sentence starters:

“His essence lost forever. Forever wiped from the earth. Forever the rumors of a cruel capricious villain who destroyed the land. Forever hated. Forever alone.” - Misery Loves Another Idiot with a Jukebox Where his Soul Should (Ch 12)

For just a few examples I could find… I blame my poet instincts lol.

(How does it always end up so long?… oops)

[fragrantpines]

i've been thinking about yangzhou rice for the past few hours. he suddenly somersaulted in my brain and now i can't get him out of my head [sighs lovingly]

so beware of this incredibly long ask because here's some of the scenarios i think of <333 i hope you enjoy!! ^^

imagine stargazing with yangzhou under the winter plum blossom tree—you pointing out the constellations while he gazes at you with tender and warm expression; a hint of longing in his emerald green eyes. 

imagine mutual pining with him BUT both of you are afraid to confess to each other because YOU think he doesn't have feelings for you then HE thinks he's not worthy of your affection and reducing himself as a lowly food soul. other food souls are rolling their eyes in annoyance because they want you to get together already!!!!!! [this is cliche i know <3]

imagine staring at the sight in front of you that resembles like a painting that brought out to life—yangzhou laying down on a seabed of various flowers, resting in tranquility; his blonde hair lying down and blown out like waves; a serene expression plastered on his face and some butterflies around him. you fall in love with him even more because of the sight because you're so lucky to have him <333

his first kiss with you are hesitant at first but later on your relationship, he always kisses you desperately and coveting—as if you're a mirage; an illusion that will vanish quickly once he pulls away. he kisses you with a vow for everlasting love; to be always by your side and remain devoted to you. if something or someone breaks the two of you apart just like last time—he'll travel the ends of the earth just to look for you; to find his way back to you because to him—you are his forever home. 

NOW IT'S DONE oh my god and ngl writing these scenarios got me out of my writer's block, i feel refreshed and satisfied!! 

also I WANT TO TEASE YANGZHOU SO BAAAAD BECAUSE I WANT TO SEE MORE OF HIS BLUSHING FACE 🥹 he's so adorable and cute when he blushes while getting shy and embarrassed 🥹❤️

okay that's it <333 also i'm the previous anon from before who found your blog and may i be zella anon pls??? i wanna gush more about food men and you seem fun to talk to !! hehe ❤️ enjoy your day and don't forget to hydrate!! 

– zella

Kicking my feet in the air while screaming because this entire thing is so so CUTE. I adore every single imagine here and the way each one written is (chef kiss) amazing, beautiful, showstopping, spectacular just like Yangzhou himself. Especially that last one because I can imagine when Yangzhou decides to pull away, he does it hesitantly as evident from his lips that shake the moment they part from yours and his hand that doesn't wish to let go of the warmth underneath his palm-- your warmth that he so desperately craves every waking moment, wishing that he could hold everywhere he went to but alas, Kongsang needs its master more than he needs you; and that very thought is enough to shake him to the core.

"I love you," he whispers, a silent plead for you to stay a little longer. If that isn't enough to convince you, then maybe another kiss will, and another, and another, and maybeeeee another....

Snsosnsksnjd I'm turning red but you get the idea. Also, you can absolutely be Zella anon and continue gushing about food men here. My inbox is always open for gushing, talking and ideas so feel free to drop by whenever!! Take care and hope you have a nice day 💕💕💕

[suuho]

anyways, i can’t sleep so i might as well write my last piece on the topmew show, now that it has ended. craziest thing is that i came into this with no preference for any couple or any pairing, but surprisingly topmew got me hooked and thus, we got to experience all of this together. me and the 3 other topmew stans on this website. amazing.

my main takeaway from this is that forcebook should find projects that are as serious as only friends and skew more towards melodrama or just a more indie offering in general, than romcom. especially book has done so well in this show, and i think his performance has increasingly improved in a more dramatic setting as to compared, for example, a boss and a babe. force is a tremendous actor, tends to act circles around others in less serious shows, so i like that he got to do something that matches his intensity and his talent and tone here. who else has got those eyes, man. truly, a tour de force performance of making eyes for days as the most smitten man on god’s green earth. thank you for that, only friends. every scene a hit.

i’ve written at length about topmew and their relationship but i just wanna say that their ending is not only deserved, it is even overdue for the amount of groveling top had to go through to get mew back, and for how insanely hard earned their reunion was. sorry but i don’t really get anyone who thinks they don’t deserve to be endgame, or aren’t allowed a happy ending; top and mew have shown time and time again that they are in love with each other, that they love each other, and that they, unlike other relationships in the show, are willing to make compromises for each other and are aware of the consequences of their actions as well. they have talked about their mistakes, they have acknowledged how fucked up their behavior has been at times (and still is (for mew); top’s cheating and mew’s tendency to hold it over his head), they don’t have any illusions anymore, which is part of their necessary growth.

topmew’s relationship began as mostly a lie and under false pretenses and terrible motives. mew dreamed of a man that could tick all his boxes of some made-up list, meanwhile top saw mew as a conquest and as something he had to own—someone’s affection he had to win in grandiose ways, like it was a game. throughout the show, they both shed those ideas about their relationship, and while i think that their time apart and all the bullshit obstacles have been unnecessarily drawn out, in the end it served to push them towards a better place.

they are very in love with each other and very committed to each other (even including the funny little cameo at the end). topmew love each other, and i think it at times actually impossible how people can be so mad about that? the entire time, they have made it very clear that they love each other and have voluntarily chosen to be with each other. at some point, a relationship doesn’t have to be cookie-cutter perfect as long as it is what the people involved want. you don’t have to agree with mew forgiving top, or top wanting mew still; it is what these characters want, and it is the right choice for them. just because you don’t agree, doesn’t make it necessarily a wrong choice. that is sometimes just… writing. not bad writing, just writing flawed characters. that’s all there is to it. and i think topmew deserve their endgame just as much as sandray; and their endgame doesn’t negate boston and nick’s relationship or whatever.

all in all, i’m fine with how this show ended and mostly happy with topmew!!! it was a crazy ass show, but like. why not. most of all, i’m glad topmew got their endgame, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day. also, seeing all the behind the scenes footage of the cast was so wonderful.

[sarahlizziewrites]

Find the word tag(s)

Hello! While I was on vacation I got tagged in no less than 5 find the word tags, which...thank you. I honestly love that all of you think of me even if I don't respond straight away asjkshhf

This is going to be a long af post so please don't feel like you have to read it all.

from @sleepyowlwrites:

ESCAPE (ty for this word because it made me find a phrase I use too often - almost every instance of this word is some variation of 'escaped his lips' or 'escaped her mouth' and I need to change some of these!). From the prologue of The Adventures of Sitora Lux:

“Not fast enough,” came the threat, spoken directly into his brain. The voice felt close and all around him - there was no escaping it.  “S…soon,” he gasped through his locked jaw. “I can…do it.”

EARTH: The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 13:

She ran her fingers over the high cheekbones of the representation of the statue, tilting her own head to match the angle of Saor’s. Could she be like this, someday? Renowned for charity, yet deserving of a spot in the Academy’s crypt? Not a holy weapon, as Master McKinnon had promised, but a holy farmer? Not knelt before by kings and priests, but kneeling to tend the earth?

EARLY: The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 4 (YOUR HONOR, THE CUTIES):

Early on their first day off of the week, Sitora woke at dawn, having left a crack in the curtains to let the rising sun fall across her face to wake her. She dressed as silently as she could, freezing every time Raelynn stirred. The half-elf dozed lightly, nightdress strap falling down as she adjusted the hand under her cheek. Sitora watched her as she nudged the curtain closed again to prevent the sun from encroaching on her slumber.

END: Grey-Sky Lark

“Could I trouble either of you for a drink, lads?” Wooden shutters slide hesitantly across what must be a window. I turn my covered head towards the sound. There is a dark mutter from the other side of the door. “Yeah, I bet you’d like a drink of me, creep.” Rude. “Well, look. Could you let me out here? We’ve come far enough, I think.” The two men chuckle to themselves. “We’re not there yet. Stay put,” the other voice says. “This ends in one of two ways, gents,” I bargain. “One of those ways is considerably worse off for you. So maybe you could let me out.”

ENTRANCE: The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 14:

“Thank you,” she said, handing him a crutch and leading the mare towards the side entrance of the bakery. “Uncle Dallan almost didn’t let me come. You know, with the leg. I told him that you’d probably dive into a frozen lake with a broken leg if I needed you. That’s what friends are for.��

From @talesofsorrowandofruin: WORK: Grey-Sky Lark:

The vampire across from me doesn’t laugh again, but rather looks at me pityingly. “There’s no need to be scared.” She reaches for my hand, and I notice that four deep lines have been gouged into the bar where my fingers are. My body wills me to flinch away, and I resist the overwhelming desire to flee.  I know from experience fleeing won’t work.

WONDER: The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 9:

“Will you tell Master Aaren?” “I already have. I wonder what they’ll do to her.” Suddenly, the steam in the room was too thick for Sitora to breathe in.

WALK: Grey-Sky Lark:

I finish the first job before Lofar extinguishes his own candle for the night, digging a shallow hole behind the barn. As I walk further into town to take care of the second, my way is lit by green and yellow lights dancing across the sky in hypnotic patterns.

WILDERNESS: Not found!

WRITE: The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 7:

Drumming fingers on her paper, Sitora wasn’t sure what to write to summarise that. She looked up at the halfling Master, sitting coolly in her armchair. How could she seem so unconcerned about needing to gain the favour of the Gods in that way? How were they supposed to know when the Gods were displeased?

From @darthenra: JAR: The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 5:

Sitora rushed to the other side of the room to fetch the jar of healing salve she had taken from the San. By now, Raelynn had begun to unbutton the top buttons of her blouse.

JOLT: Chrissie's of London:

"Mmmh, Silas," he mutters, pushing away the cloth and requesting the bottle of whisky with his good hand. His voice is a little slurred, hoarse and sultry, and he says my name in a way that gives me a jolt down the spine.

GIFT: The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 20:

He sneered slightly, eyes still fixed upon it. “A gift from your half-elf?” She swallowed, ignoring the flop in her stomach at the way he described Raelynn. Intrigue him. Make him think it’s worth stealing. “None of your business,” she said, spitting the words out.

CRAVE: The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 10:

Once, she dreamed that she laid in the window seat of the dorm, head in Raelynn’s lap, a hand carding through her hair, close to bliss. She woke up that day to a soreness, craving both the golden sunlight streaming through the window and the close and easy affection of her best friend.

VIOLENT: The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 21:

Letting her eyes slide closed was sweet relief for a brief moment, until the violent spinning of the room forced her to open them again.

READY: Grey-Sky Lark

A bath is a luxury to which I am not accustomed. Especially this bath, scalding hot and garnished with goat’s milk and violets, with a stoppered bottle of a scented oil - by my reckoning, cedarwood - on a table by the side. I am told to ready myself for supper, and taking account of the bathing regime, it almost feels as though I am being cooked and seasoned for the table.

From @mariahwritesstuff: FOLLOW: The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 16:

“You’ve been sneaking out of meals a lot lately, so I decided to follow you this time. I’m really glad I found you here, actually, because I’ve been trying to find reasons to have you expelled since day one. And you’ve kindly done it for me, how nice.” Trix placed elegant fingers against her collarbone in mock modesty.

JOIN: Grey-Sky Lark:

“You’re so lonely,” she continues, following me as I finish crossing the road. There is the pity again, the rotten and misplaced care in her voice making me cringe. “Come. Join me. We’ve formed a group. A community.”

LONG: Grey-Sky Lark:

She had seen a great number of drowned men and women, many more than she would like, and she knew that it did not take long for a drowned body to bloat, for the skin to turn to netting and split, for the soft parts to be eaten.

RIGHT: Chrissie's of London:

The dress shimmers like lakewater, scattering lamplight, and a long string of pearls creates a soft dip between breasts that I’ve never allowed myself to look at properly before. In fact, the whole effect is delightful, right up to the peacock feather headband in her light curls, glimmering with crystals.

From @void-botanist: SPARKLE: Not found!

DOUBT: The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 7:

Unbidden, Sitora thought of her mother. Would a mage trained in necromancy have been able to keep her alive? Cloying doubt caught at her lungs - perhaps a school of magic that could have prevented her from losing her mother did have some good to it.

POP: Chrissie's of London:

Grandpapa spared no expense here, and the legacy of the kitchen at Chrissie’s is as monumental as her gothic facade. My next job is to convince the Michelin brothers to pop us in their guide, or bribe them enough to do so.

HORROR: Grey-Sky Lark:

"What have you done?" I look in horror at the body of our landlord. Two neat bite marks on his thick neck, and a lot of blood. Matthew's voice is frantic. "He…he made me angry!"

CONFUSE: The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 11:

Lance spun the spell scroll in his lap, finding a section of the writing. He passed a finger across it, and read: “Feather black, blossom white, sheaf of wheat that grew at night.” Seeing Sitora’s confusion, he explained: “We need one of each of those items in order to cast the spell. The spell consumes them.”

If you read this far, I love you! I'm leaving this as an open tag, but in particular, if you tagged me I'm going to give you some new words if you want to play again:

BROW, LAMP, PEARL, ROTTEN, STEAM

[themuseandantarctica]

* 𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒑𝒕. 35

change however necessary.

“Betrayal is the only truth that sticks.”

“Anyone who hasn’t experienced the ecstasy of betrayal knows nothing about ecstasy at all.”

“A woman’s best love letters are always written to the man she is betraying.”

“All men should have a drop of treason in their veins, if nations are not to go soft like so many sleepy pears.”

“If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country.”

“In politics, it is necessary either to betray one’s country or the electorate.  I prefer to betray the electorate.”

“Corporations cannot commit treason, or be outlawed or excommunicated, for they have no souls.”

“The best way to keep your friends is not to give them away.”

“Except during the nine months before he draws his first breath, no man manages his affairs as well as a tree does.”

“The wonder is that we can see these trees and not wonder more.”

“The clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness.”

“For in the true nature of things, if we rightly consider, every green tree is far more glorious than if it were made of gold or silver.”

“As the poet said, ‘Only God can make a tree’—probably because it’s so hard to figure out how to get the bark on.”

“Trees are poems that earth writes upon the sky, we fell them down and turn them into paper, that we may record our emptiness.”

“Trees are much like human beings and enjoy each other’s company.  Only a few love to be alone.”

“Trees cause more pollution than automobiles.”

“The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing which stands in the way.  As a man is, so he sees.”

“The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago, the second best time is now.”

“The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn.”

“The planting of trees is the least self-centered of all that we can do. It is a purer act of faith than the procreation of children.”

“When eating a fruit, think of the person who planted the tree.”

“The axe forgets what the tree remembers.”

“No tree falls on the first stroke.”

“When a tree is falling, everyone cries, down with it!”

“When the big tree falls, the goat eats its leaves.”

“From a fallen tree, all make kindling.”

“When the axe came into the forest the trees all said, ‘Well, at least the handle is one of us.’”

“In a moment the ashes are made, but the forest is a long time growing.”

“Suburbia is where the developer bulldozes out the trees, then names streets after them.”

“I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things to do.”

“Nobody, as long as moves about among the chaotic currents of life, is without trouble.”

“If you will call your troubles experiences, and remember that everybody experience develops some latent force within you, you will grow vigorous and happy, however adverse your circumstances may seem to be.”

“She would take any amount of trouble to avoid trouble.”

“That’s what stoicism is: the avoidance of bother when bother’s the other option.”

“Few things help an individual more than to place responsibility upon him and to let him know that you trust him.”

“Put not your trust in money, but put your money in trust.”

“Never trust a man who speaks well of everybody.”

“Never trust a man who, when left alone in a room with a tea-cozy, doesn’t try it on.”

“Nothing is too wonderful to be true.”

“The Truth shall make you free.”

“Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad.”

“There is nothing more likely to drive a man mad than an obstinate, constitutional preference for the true to the agreeable.”

“Truth is for the minority.”

“Never tell the truth to those unworthy of it.”

“There are no whole truths; all truths are half-truths.  It is trying to treat them as whole truths that plays the devil.”

“Truth is eternal, knowledge is changeable.  It is a disastrous to confuse them.”

“One must explore deep and believe the incredible to find the new particles of truth floating in an ocean of insignificance.”

“As scarce as the truth is, the supply has always been in excess of the demand.”

“The exact contrary of what is generally believed is often the truth.”

“In war, Truth is the first casualty.”

“Whoever undertakes to set himself up as a judge of Truth and Knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the Gods.”

“No man is likely to have arrived at complete and final truth on any subject whatsoever.”

“Truth always originates in a minority of one, and every custom begins as a broken precedent.”

“The high-minded man must care more for the truth than for what people think.”

“Truth is the daughter of search.”

“Truth is a woman.  One must not use force with her.”

“The smallest atom of truth represents some man’s bitter toil and agony. For every ponderable chunk of it there is a brave truth-seeker’s grave upon some lonely ash-dump of a soul roasting in hell.”

“No pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage-ground of truth.”

“None attains to the Degree of Truth until a thousand honest people have testified that he is a heretic.”

“Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of men of old; seek what they sought.”

“There is nothing so powerful as truth—and often nothing so strange.”

“Why shouldn’t truth be stranger than fiction?  Fiction, after all, has to make sense.”

“There is no a priori reason for supposing that the truth, when it is discovered, will necessarily prove interesting.”

“Give me fruitful error any time, full of seeds, bursting with its own corrections.  You can keep your sterile truth for yourself.”

“All truth passes through three stages.  First, it is ridiculed.  Second, it is violently opposed.  Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.”

“Truth is the daughter of time, not of authority.”

“The terrible thing about the quest for truth is that you find it.”

“Follow not truth too near the heels, lest it dash out thy teeth.”

“Ugliness is in a way superior to beauty because it lasts.”

“Ugliness is a point of view: an ulcer is wonderful to a pathologist.”

“I hate ugliness.  You know I’m allergic to ugliness.”

“I never saw an ugly thing in my life.”

“I do not feel I have wisdom enough yet to love what is ugly.”

“There is no such thing as an ugly woman.  However, there is such a thing as not enough vodka.”

“I am a lone monk walking the world with a leaky umbrella.”

“All men are equal—all men, that is to say, who possess umbrellas.”

“He was so benevolent, so merciful a man that, in his mistaken passion, he would have held an umbrella over a duck in a shower of rain.”

“My goal is simple.  It is a complete understanding of the universe, why it is as it is and why it exists at all.”

“Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.”

“All those who do not understand will be damned.”

“The hardest thing in the world to understand is the income tax.”

“The hardest thing to understand is why we can understand anything at all.”

“If one is master of one thing and understands one thing well, one has insight into and understanding of many things.”

“When I have clarified and exhausted a subject, then I turn away from it, in order to go into darkness again.”

“Only one man ever understood me, and he didn’t understand me.”

“In the beginning the Universe was created.  This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.”

“If you want to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first create the universe.”

“Why does the universe go to all the bother of existing?”

“The effort to understand the universe is one of the very few things that lifts human life a little above the level of farce, and gives it some of the grace of tragedy.”

“Every grain of sand, every tip of a leaf, even an atom, contains the entire universe.  Conversely, the universe can be perceived as the tip of a leaf.”

“Not I but the world says it: All is one.”

[thenotebookwizard]

GOD wants you to have fries with that

This is written in reply to a comment discussion on A03*. *Go check out this **Star Wars fanfic series.

Ahh, college.

That grand institution, so noble in how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties. How necessary for our future!

Or, so they told me. Guidance counselors. Teachers. Bosses. Random commercials on television telling me to stay in school. (Did they really mean I should stay in school that long, though? I mean, what's the cutoff before you're in school too long. Too much of a good thing and all that...)

I went to college for English Writing and Rhetoric. Because I love words, and I hate math. I double majored in religious studies, because I thought I knew everything and decided being very confused about the nature of the universe was a good way to get over that.

I did learn a lot, though. I learned I had no career prospects, unless you count asking customers: "Do you want fries with that?"

Lots of people were willing to let me know that's all my majors would be useful for. Joke's on them! Using the persuasive power of rhetoric and my vast knowledge of religion, I can not only convince you to have fries with that - I can convince you that God (of your choice) wants you to have fries with that!

So. As requested, I give to you the Sermon of the Fast Food Servant: Why God Wants You To Have Fries with that. So, hear the Word of the Lord!

Did not Paul say to the Thessalonians: “For even when we were with you, we gave you this rule: “The one who is unwilling to work shall not eat.”

I am merely a worker, serving my fellows, delivering to them the bounty of food! Would you deny me my chance to work? That would be uncharitable, brothers and sisters! I am but a worker, presenting myself to you as one approved, who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth! (2 Timothy 2:15 - paraphrased)

Do not discount the Word of the Lord as I discount these fries! There is no coupon for righteousness! "For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart." (Hebrews 4:12)

There is naught unnatural in this food I now beseech you to trade your coin for! "For the earth is the Lord’s, and all it contains." (1 Corinthians 10:26)

And what do I offer you, but the glorious potato! A plant, grown in the dirt of God's earth! One of the first things God gave to us! What could God want more for us, than to eat of the bounty he has given us?

Optional Quote: Then God said, “Behold, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is on the surface of all the earth, and every tree which has fruit yielding seed; it shall be food for you; and to every beast of the earth and to every bird of the sky and to every thing that moves on the earth which has life, I have given every green plant for food”; and it was so. (Genesis 1:29-30)

The Prophet Isaiah even spoke of it! "If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the good things of the land!" (Isaiah 1:19) and :“Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare.” (Isaiah 55:2b)

Fries are of the land, consecrated in oil and preserved with salt. Are not fries the tradition of our people, served at our celebrations and our festivals? They are a holy food, blessed by God! Do you listen to the naysayers, those who find no joy in our Lord and our country?

Do not fear! Many speak ill of the fry, for they fear the bounty of the Lord! But you, my brothers and sisters, have nothing to fear! "Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him." (James 1:12)

Must I remind you, even if your cholesterol is high and your pants too tight, that God hath commanded us not to worry of such? Would you deny our Lord by listening to the conspiracies of doctors and scientists, when Jesus himself told us not to?

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body; what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?" (Matthew 6:25). For we love God and worship the Lord, we cannot simply choose not to have fries with our sacred burger, no matter what dangers they may (theoretically) present!

Paul exhorts us in Romans: "I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship." (Romans 12:1)

Do not ask me how long the fries have languished! Remember, we "do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you. For on him God the Father has set his seal.” (john 6:27) and I tell you this food has not perished, but has endured, as you shall endure any distress this blessed meal brings upon you!

When I ask of you to super size, I do not lead you into temptation! Nay, I merely remind you of the generosity of God and the generosity Christ has asked of us! "Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.” (Luke 6:38)

So go forth from this place, and rejoice in the bounty of the Lord! "So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." (1 Corinthians 10:31)