#I can’t hold myself to the levels everybody else is at

[garfieldsladybird]

i have a small question! i remember you being a writer whenever i first followed you and i was wondering on how you got into writing on tumblr? i write on wattpad a lot and i feel like it’d be nice to post small imagines on here and i just want a few tips or anything you have to spare, if that’s alright? thank you!

hiii !! thank you so much for coming to me and yes I was a writer and still am (just haven’t written anything in a while lol).

— before reading all of this, I would just wanna let you know that I don’t know if any of this really helped because I don’t know how to the answer your question. ik how too but idk.  thank you for coming to me! I hope some of this or something in this helped! If none of this helped, please ignore, but thank you and have a good day! :)

and also If you ever need help trying to learn the ways of Tumblr, please come ask me, I already have a few posts explaining how to do things on here too.

how did I get into writing on Tumblr?

well, I joined very spontaneously in early 2022 and I just read and reblogged a lot fic’s at first until May when I posted my first actual writing piece. Like first ever actual writing piece. I was on Wattpad from 2020 till the end of like 2021-early 2022, and writing on Wattpad is much different than writing on here. and I much preferably like Tumblr for writing because it gives you more font options, and I just personally like this app more.

how I got into actually posting that piece of writing though was because I hit 100 followers and I was very happy to hit that mile stone. I was very proud of myself in that moment. And so I wrote an idea. and I put it together, and I liked it. It made me laugh and so I posted it.

and honestly if you do feel like writing small imagines here, go for it!! do it! I believe in you!! (but of course, only do it if you want to.)

I suggest using tags, you can put the fandom in the tags, the character name, what genre it is;  ‘harry potter x reader fluff’ or ‘harry potter fluff’ it would be like that.

I honestly suggest making your Tumblr blog kind of look like something that’s ngl like mine, with a main post pinned with your links and having some aesthetic or something, just so people know you’re not a bot. but you can have like a small introduction at first if you don’t have anything made. but just make your blog, your blog. and you don’t have to have pictures or anything, you can just have a name (i suggest a fake name unless you’re comfortable giving your real name, just don’t give out details on where you live and all that yk.), you can have age too or if you’re a minor or not, though you dont have too, and pronouns too. again only have the stuff that you really wanna have on there. and also a masterlist would be very helpful in finding all of your works.

go find other Tumblr writers that write for the fandoms you into, make mutuals. And also just want to add please respect the blog users boundaries, the people’s boundaries, I just say that because like be aware of the 18 and 16 plus accounts if you are under those ages but yeah just in general be respectful.

The interactions you get on here are way better than Wattpad. I mean some are. with having the inbox, question thingy, you may get hate for the things you say and write and they literally can just say it and it will be anonymous too. it’s fucked up. But people do that, and please ignore them if you do get hate. but on the brighter side of the interactions on here, the mutuals I made here are really amazing! I have my following open if you want to go look through it.

Oh, and also, the system on here is very different. Notes, like/hearting the post will basically do nothing for it, you have to reblog a post for it to be shown in other places… basically. So you have to share it for it to pop up ig. I don’t know how to put it in words. But that’s how the algorithm works here. the community here is very nice though much better then wattpad in my opinion but then again, it all depends.

you should go with what your heart desires in writing. ofc go with what your heart desires.

(request writing??, heres this) if you have a request sitting in your inbox forever, but you moved on from that character though you still love the idea of writing that request someday, you can just keep it in your inbox and when you come back to that character, you can write it then. (maybe only do that if you know you will come back to that character, and if you really do love the request/idea). 

But if a request is draining you, you can just delete it. you don’t have to write requests. And you also don’t have to write every idea that comes to your head all at once. You can make a list and slowly get to all of them, one bit at a time. 

and if you lose motivation, that’s okay. you can definitely try pushing yourself through the writers block. (though it’s hard too sometimes and that’s understandable, it’s okay)

Don’t compare your writing to anyone else’s. Everyone’s writing is unique in their own way, and you’re doing it in your way with your own words. Everyone’s writing is going to be different and if anything learn from the writing that you read.

also, write for yourself.

okay peace ✌️ love ya 🫶🫶🫶 be safe :)

[marlynnofmany]

The Mechanic’s Burden

I pushed my way into the engine room with a tray of food, wondering what was keeping Mimi from his meals this time. He was a dedicated sort, taking his job as spaceship mechanic seriously, and sometimes that meant long hours grumbling in the guts of the ship.

“Dinner!” I called. There was no sign of green tentacles among the viewscreens of the main room, and I didn’t feel like guessing which passageway he’d gone down.

“Thanks,” grated Mimi’s rough voice from somewhere to the right. “Up here.”

I followed the sound of someone rummaging through a toolbox to find Mimi perched on top of one pipe among many, in front of an open electrical panel. Wires were everywhere, most held aside with twist ties to bare the problem area. Mimi clutched tools in many tentacles. He was the very picture of an annoyed octopus digging through his toolbox for more. I wasn’t sure which pipes he’d climbed to get there, dragging the toolbox up to what was head height on me.

“Hi,” I said. “Where do you want it?” There wasn’t space for the tray on the curving pipes next to him.

“Eh, over there.” Mimi gestured with a mini-welder toward a mostly flat surface on a bit of engine housing at knee level. “I’ll get to it eventually.”

I set it down. “Hopefully you can take a break soon. This is pretty tasty: roast fursqueak from Zhee’s planet with some kind of Frillian shrimp sauce.”

“Hm,” Mimi said absently.

“The sauce is a good one, though it’s a flavor that kinda sticks with you.”

“Uh-huh.”

I dug in my pocket for a stick of gum, deciding that I’d rather not have that particular flavor follow me around for the rest of the night. Mimi was likely too distracted to care, but it was only polite to offer him one. “Want some gum for after you eat? It’s peppermint flavor.” (We’d already had the “this is food you don’t swallow” talk, so it was all down to taste. Not everybody onboard liked mint.)

“That’s the one that tastes cold, right? No thanks.” Mimi shoved the tools around a bit more, then heaved a deep sigh that made him seem to deflate.

I moved closer for a better look, trying not too breathe to much mint at him. “What’s the problem?” I could see a wire sticking out of the mess, with the covering stripped off the end and the fibers twisted flat.

“A stupid one,” Mimi said. He started putting tools back in the box. “It took me all day to track down where the disconnect was, and it turned out to be just one single loose wire. Can’t believe how much time I wasted checking everything else.”

I considered before speaking. “You know you can ask for help, right? Not everybody’s busy today. You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”

Mimi waved a tentacle instead of shaking his head-body. “It’d take longer to train someone else than to just do it myself.”

“You sure?” I pressed. “They wouldn’t have to know everything to be an extra set of hands. Or tentacles.”

“There’s a lot to know,” Mimi said. “Even this loose wire takes a delicate touch to weld back in place. You’ve got to put the welder on just the right setting, secure the wire but not get your flesh too close, and watch through a filter so you don’t hurt your eyes.”

“Yeah, sounds like welding to me,” I agreed. “Do you have a welding mask?” I didn’t see anything that looked like a face shield, or even sunglasses. Not that those would fit his cephalopod head anyway.

“A small filter is fine for this scale,” Mimi said, holding up a dark paddle-shaped thing. “The mini-welders don’t throw sparks.”

I realized that he had enough tentacles that he could hold a thing in front of his face and still be able to work. No need for goggles strapped to his head. Must be handy.

He was still talking, warming to the subject. “Now while I could train somebody else to weld effectively, I don’t want to risk she ship’s integrity on a rookie. I also don’t want to send anyone to Eggskin with burnt extremities because they tried to hold the wire in place without fastening gel.”

I peered over the edge of the toolbox. “Can you hold it with pliers?”

“This mess doesn’t leave much space for pliers,” Mimi said, pointing a tentacle tip at the nest of wires. At the depths of all those, I could see the spot where the stray wire was meant to go. I could probably get a hand in there. But yeah, pliers and the welder both wouldn’t make it easy to see what you were doing.

Mimi said, “Now I could disconnect a couple sections, but I’ve wasted enough time already. I’d rather just stick it, weld it, and be done. But of course I already used all the gel in this box.” He gave the toolbox an irritated rap with the welder.

“Want me to go get you some?” I asked. “Where is it?”

“Ah, that would take too long to explain. I’ll just go grab it myself.”

“Wait. What about—” I took out my gum, wrapped it around the covered part of the wire, then reached in with fingertips and stuck it against the other end. “—That? Did I get it placed right?”

Mimi was quiet for long enough that I started to worry that gum was bad for wire casing, or was somehow explosive around alien welding tech. I probably should have asked first.

But then he raised the welder without a word, and held the viewing filter in place. I looked away while the welder glowed and fizzed.

“Done.”

I turned back to find him putting the tools away.

“Did it work?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Hooray!” I grinned. “Want me to peel the gum back off, or is the area still hot?”

More negating tentacle waves. “No, definitely too hot. I’ll get it after I eat.”

“Okay. Can I at least take this down for you?” I lifted the toolbox.

Mimi sighed. “Sure. Thank you.” He climbed down the pipes, suction cups popping quietly. That would have definitely been hard to do with the toolbox.

“You know,” I said, putting it down near his food, “Even Eggskin isn’t the only person on board who knows basic first aid. If they got hurt, we wouldn’t be panicking because they’re our only medic. You’d probably be doing your job even better if you made sure at least a couple other crewmembers could do basic troubleshooting.”

Mimi settled into place beside the tray, looking like he was trying not to sigh again. “You make a good point,” he admitted. “But I get pebbleskin just thinking about Blip and Blop rushing to adjust a loose rod, and jamming something that would cause a cascading failure.”

“Well yeah, you’d want to be careful who you entrust with what task,” I said. “But they’d be great at moving heavy things, like those panel covers you had to take off before.”

Mur scooped up a mouthful of food. “They probably would. As long as they follow directions and don’t touch anything else.”

“I’m sure they can do that!” I smiled. “If you need any wires cut or packages opened, Zhee and Trrili will be happy to do precise violence with their pincher arms. I can reach things up high, and…”

“And Paint would make a good heat sink, snuggling against overheated components,” Mimi said. “That’s occurred to me before.”

I laughed. “She’d probably love that. Who needs a heat shawl or other coldblooded accessories when you can take a nap in the engine?”

“She’d do it, too.” Mimi scooped up more food. “But no letting your cat in here. I know that animal likes warm things as well, and it would make the overheating worse.”

“You are absolutely right. No cats in the engine room.” I nodded. “Just crewmates.”

Mimi waved a tentacle and mumbled something about writing up a list of training possibilities after he ate. I left him to it, wishing him a good meal, then leaving with my minty gum and a quiet smile of triumph.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[arpmemething2]

Quotes from Firefly/Serenity Sentence Starters

Send one for my muse’s reaction.   Feel free to change pronouns as needed.

“Let’s go be bad guys!”

“Ten percent of nothin’ is … let me do the math here … nothin’ into nothin’ … carry the nothin’ … ”

"We’re crooks. If everything were right, we’d be in jail.”

"Nothing buys bygones quicker than cash."

“Like woman, I am a mystery.”

“Oh, I think you might wanna reconsider that last part. See, I married me a powerful ugly creature.”

“Every man there go back inside or we will blow a new crater in this little moon.”

“Well, maybe I’m not a fancy gentleman like you, with your … very fine hat. But I do business. We’re here for business.”

"How can you say that? How can you shame me in front of new people?"

"Um, I’m trying to put this as delicately as I can…how do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?"

"Go to blackout! We're being buzzed!"

"Well, I guess death will solve the issue to everyone's satisfaction."

"Everybody plays each other. That's all anybody ever does. We play parts."

“Did something just fly off my gorram ship?”

"You guys had a riot... on account of me? My very own riot?"

“We’ve done the impossible, and that makes us mighty.”

"It's been a big day, what with the abduction, and all."

"I'm not sure you'd be safe."

"Live with a man forty years. Share his house, his meals… speak on every subject… then tie him up, and hold him over the volcano's edge. And on that day, you will finally meet the man."

“Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!”

"Seems like a lovely little community of kidnappers."

"Maybe. Or maybe you're exactly where you ought to be."

“Can we maybe vote on the whole murdering people issue?”

"If you take sexual advantage of her, you will burn in a very special level of hell. The kind they reserve for child molesters and people who talk at the theater."

"Go play with your rainstick."

"Don't make yourself sick."

“Mercy is the mark of a great man.”

"I don't suppose you'd find it up to the standards of your outings. More conversation, and somewhat less... petty theft and getting hit with pool cues."

"You gonna give us what's due us and every damn thing else on that boat. And I think maybe you gonna give me a little one-on-one time with the misses."

"I cannot abide useless people."

"Mmm. You missed a spot."

“Man walks down the street in a hat like that, you know he’s not afraid of anything … ”

"This is the place. We'll buy you the time."

“Also? I can kill you with my brain.”

“Psychic, though? That sounds like something out of science fiction.”

"It’s not embarrassing to be a virgin. It’s simply one’s state of being."

"That's why I never kiss 'em on the mouth."

"I been waiting for you to kiss me since I showed you my guns."

"I'll be in my bunk."

"They don't like it when you shoot at 'em. I worked that out myself."

"Drunks are so cute."

“Going on a year now, nothins twixed my neathers not run on batteries.”

"He's not wildly interested in ingratiating himself with anyone, yet he's very protective of his crew. It's odd."

"How we treat our dead is part of what makes us different…than those did the slaughtering."

“The important thing is the spices. A man can live on packaged food from here ’til Judgment Day if he’s got enough rosemary.”

"I think you have a problem with your brain being missing."

"Okay! Everybody not talking about sex, in here. Everybody else, elsewhere."

“First rule of battle, little one … don’t ever let them know where you are.”

“Terse? I can be terse. Once, in flight school, I was laconic.”

"Don't you just love this party? Everything's so fancy and they have some kind of hot cheese over there!"

"I hate to bring up our imminent arrest during your crazy time, but we gotta go."

“I don’t think of myself as a lion. You might as well, though, I have a mighty roar.”

"You can't open the book of my life and jump in the middle."

"I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I soar."

“I aim to misbehave.”

"Live with a man forty years. Share his house, his meals… speak on every subject… then tie him up, and hold him over the volcano's edge. And on that day, you will finally meet the man."

"Every man there go back inside, or we will blow a new crater in this little moon."

“You know what the chain of command is? It’s the chain I go get and beat you with until you understand who’s in ruttin charge here.”

“I cannot abide useless people.”

"I I ever kill you, you’ll be awake, you’ll be facing me, and you’ll be armed."

"You are very much lacking in imagination.”

"Call me if anyone interesting shows up."

"Very well-bred petty crook knows that the small concealable weapons always go to the far left of the place setting."

"This must be what going mad feels like."

"You don't seem to be lookin' at the destinations. What you care about is the ships, and mine's the nicest."

"Remember that sex we were planning to have, ever again?"

"Someone's carryin' a bullet for you right now, doesn't even know it. The trick is, die of old age before it finds you."

“If anyone gets nosy, just …you know … shoot ’em. “

“WHOO-HOO! I’M RIGHT HERE! I’M RIGHT HERE! YOU WANT SOME O’ ME?! YEAH YOU DO! COME ON! COME ON! AAAAAH! Whoo-hoo!”

"I'll do anything you want me to. You know how I can make you feel."

"I need this man to tear all my clothes off."

“Someone ever tries to kill you, you try to kill ’em right back!”

"Sorry to interrupt, folks, but y'all got something that belongs to us, and we'd like it back."

“Next time you want to stab me in the back, have the guts to do it to my face.”

“I’ve been under fire before. Well … I’ve been in a fire. Actually, I was fired. I can handle myself.”

“I’ve been out of the abbey two days, I’ve beaten a lawman senseless, I’ve fallen in with criminals. I watched the captain shoot the man I swore to protect. And I’m not even sure if I think he was wrong.”

“In the maiden’s home, I heard talk of men who weren’t pleased with their brides…”

"Got your next heist planned?"

"It's good to be home."

"She still has the advantage over us."

"Do you know what the definition of a hero is? Someone who gets other people killed."

"Yeah, but she's our witch."

“We’re not gonna die. We can’t die. You know why? Because we are so very pretty. We are just too pretty for God to let us die.”

"Can you stop her from bein’ so cheerful?"

“How did your brain even learn human speech?”

“Yes sir, Captain Tightpants!”

"You are such a boob."

"You don't need strength as much as speed. We're fragile creatures. It takes less than a pound of pressure to cut skin."

"Your mouth is talking. You might wanna look to that.”

"You guys always bring me the very best violence. "

"Every problem is an opportunity in disguise."

“We got some local color happening. A grand entrance would not go amiss.”

"I'm assumin' y'all were listenin'? Did you hear us fight?"

"I... I threw up on your bed."

"I swallowed a bug."

"I'm... trying to think of a way for you to be cruder. I just... it's not coming."

"It sounds like the finest party I can imagine getting paid to go to."

“Now I did a job. I got nothing but trouble since I did it, not to mention more than a few unkind words as regard to my character so let me make this abundantly clear. I do the job. And then I get paid.”

"I said you're a coward and a piss-pot. Now what are you gonna do about it?"

"You paid money for this, sir? On purpose?"

“I swear by my pretty floral bonnet, I will end you.”

“Well, we may not have parted on the best of terms. I realize certain words were exchanged. Also, certain… bullets.”

"You were truthful back in town. These are tough times. A man can get a job, he might not look too close at what that job is. But a man learns all the details of a situation like ours... well... then he has a choice."

"So you had to be naked?"

"So… are you enjoying your own nubile little slave girl?"

"Just keep walkin', preacher-man."

"We crashing again?"

“No power in the verse can stop me.”

"I know something ain't right."

“‘Course, there’re other schools of thought.”

"Can't miss a place you've never been."

"Tell me I'm pretty."

"Physical appearance doesn't matter so terribly. You look for compatibility of spirit. There's an energy about a person that's difficult to hide.You try to feel that."

"Can we fly somewhere with a beach?"

"What gives you the right to put her in a dangerous situation like this?"

"I think I've been kidnapped."

"Money wasn't good enough."

“Well, my time of not taking you seriously is coming to a middle.”

"Is it bad that what she said made perfect sense to me?"

"See, morbid and creepifying, I got no problem with, long as she does it quiet-like."

"What was that?"

"Well, you were right about this being a bad idea."

"Haven't you killed me enough for one day?"

"You save his gorram life, he still takes the cargo."

[triscribeaucollection]

Can’t Breathe In

(SO. What if, way back during Infinity War, the group on Titan fighting Thanos managed to get the gauntlet away from him? Say, for example, Peter yoinks just a tad harder at the right moment, pulling it and the four already-retrieved Stones off. There’s still the problem of keeping them away from the purple bastard, so Strange opens up a portal back to Earth, tosses the kid, the gauntlet, and the Eye of Agamotto through for good measure, before he and Tony and the Guardians do their level best to put Thanos down for good.

One thing leads to another, all roads converge in Wakanda, and there ends up being a knock-down drag-out free-for-all fight between the present Avengers and the remaining Children of Thanos for six Infinity Stones in one room (Shuri having just enough time to cut Vision free of the Mind Stone before shit hits the fan).

Stuff is exploding, containers are breaking, half a dozen all-powerful artifacts tied to the foundations of Existence are flying through the air, and a certain Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Doofus manages to grab two at once.

Things get... interesting, after that.)

---

Peter is so screwed.

Even if he survives, even if he manages to change enough things to save the day for everybody else, he is so screwed, because he did the one thing Doctor Strange explicitly said not to and at this point it’s definitely going to kill him.

Just. Slowly. Because that’s Parker Luck for you.

Panting through the pain, Peter manages to finish scrawling out the last of his future-notes, doubled up at the very bottom of the page. Then he promptly drops the pencil and grasps at his head, whining faintly.

Some of it’s definitely a residual after-effect of accidentally grabbing two Infinity Stones at once and super accidentally activating them. The rest is a miserable combination of adjusting to no longer having his powers, adjusting to once again having asthma, and of course the bout of bronchitis his thirteen year old body happened to be dealing with when Peter’s sixteen year old mind got dropped into it.

Zero out of five stars, do not recommend.

A hand knocks on his bedroom door, and Peter barely bites back an instinctive whimper. “Y-yeah?”

“You okay in there, kiddo?”

And there’s the other thing. Ben is still alive.

Ben is alive, May isn’t a widow, and Peter really needs to make sure they both stay that way.

But he also needs to warn Mister Stark about everything that’s coming.

“I- I guess,” Peter says miserably, and it’s enough to make his uncle open the door and step inside. The kid’s heart stutters just at the sight of him: familiar concerned expression, rumpled well-worn clothes, brown hair that’s only just started to turn gray around the ears.

“Well, you must be feeling a little better, at least,” Ben mutters, glancing between Peter at his desk and the abandoned bed. “I’m ducking out to run a couple errands, kiddo, shouldn’t be gone too long. Want anything?”

He takes as deep a breath as he can manage at the moment. “Actually- yeah. Could you drop off a letter for me?”

Ben raises an eyebrow, mouth quirking up a little at one corner. “A letter?”

“Mmhm.” Peter reorganizes his papers real quick, then folds the four sheets in half before taping them closed. On top goes a post-it note, and one final scribble: for FRIDAY or Happy Hogan, please.

...after a moment’s consideration, ‘please’ gets underlined an extra time.

Ben’s second eyebrow has risen as well by the time Peter turns back, holding out the makeshift envelope. “Where am I taking this, kiddo?”

“Manhattan. Stark Tower.” He can see the startled blink, and hurries to go on, “It’s really important, Ben, please. If I could take it my- myself-” His lungs choose that moment to induce a coughing fit, and Peter practically doubles over as his whole body shakes.

One of Ben’s large hands settles between his shoulder blades, rubbing up and down until Peter can breathe again. “Okay, buddy,” his uncle murmurs, gently tugging the papers free of his grasping fingers. “Okay. Stark Tower. I can do that. Might take me an extra hour, though- are you going to be okay by yourself?”

Rather than speak and irritate his poor throat, Peter raises a thumb’s up.

Ben grins, just slightly, and ruffles his hair. “Go on back to bed, then. I’ll top off your water cup and head out.” A+ plan. Truly phenomenal. Peter drags himself out of the wobbly desk chair and shuffles over, dragging the same blanket he’d brought along with him in the first place. Toppling over onto his old mattress is easy; so is making an unintelligible noise of gratitude when Ben sets down a refilled plastic cup. And from there, Peter slowly... drifts... off.......

...only to lurch back upright in a panic, mere minutes later, because he addressed the notes to Friday.

FRIDAY, the AI who doesn’t exist yet. Instead of JARVIS, the one who does.

Several curse words drop from his mouth, as Peter scrambles to try and find his- his phone. Which he does not have yet. Because it was a Congrats On Starting High School present after he turned fourteen. Because of course.

Nothing for it, then. As miserable as he feels, Peter needs to get dressed, go after Ben, and swap out the incorrect post-it for a properly addressed one.

When asked, he will very much blame his current fever and illness to explain why he didn’t go out into the living room, and use the landline they still possess at this point in time to call his uncle and fix the error. But that’s later, and this is now, and Peter fumbles for his jeans and a mostly clean t-shirt.

---

Ben Parker would like to claim he isn’t a terribly gullible person. Nor a distrusting one, either. But this feels like a delicate balance between the two, as he takes the subway to cross from Queens over to Manhattan, and then walks a couple blocks to a particular nigh-infamous building. ‘Stark Tower’, ‘Avengers Tower’, either way, the gleaming structure easily attracts attention, even when you aren’t a rubber-necking tourist.

The sheaf of papers crinkles in his back pocket.

If Peter weren’t so sick, Ben probably wouldn’t be humoring him like this. Then again, if Peter weren’t sick, he’d more than likely have found a way to sneak off to Stark Tower himself to deliver the mysterious letter. Taking a deep breath, Ben steps through glass doors, and does his best not to hunch his shoulders or otherwise look nervous around so many people in business attire.

Even so, his thrift store outfit and old leather boots draw at least a few stares.

The young woman at the desk he goes up to at least smiles welcomingly, and Ben does his best to return the expression. “Hi there. This is going to sound weird, and I apologize in advance, but my kid’s sick and begged me to drop off a letter for him.”

“A letter for whom, sir?”

“Ah-” Ben pulls the folded papers from his pocket, miraculously managing to avoid losing the post-it note on top. “-Friday or Happy Hogan? He wrote down both their names, but I’m afraid I don’t know who either is.”

The woman’s face does something complicated when she sees the taped letter, but thankfully doesn’t laugh or scoff. “Well... Mister Hogan is Mister Stark’s head of security, but I’m afraid I haven’t heard of anyone named Friday who works here.” Something chimes on her computer screen, and she glances away to tap a quick reply.

Ben can’t help but blink. “Security? Huh. I would’ve figured a scientist or something...” Well, to be completely honest, he figured a feverish Peter would write directly to Tony Stark, considering how many Iron Man posters occupy the kid’s bedroom walls. But a security man just makes no sense at all.

“Pardon me, but what was your name, sir?”

“Parker. Ben Parker. Uh, like I said, I’m really just humoring my kid while he isn’t feeling well - I understand if you can’t actually get this to Mister Hogan-”

“On the contrary, sir,” a British voice says out of nowhere, making Ben jump. “I have already taken the liberty of summoning the appropriate individual to meet with you.”

He stares at the young woman, who looks startled but not nearly as confused. “That was Jarvis,” she quickly explains, “Mister Stark’s AI. Jarvis runs most of the building’s automatic functions, but- he doesn’t usually speak to guests without prompting.”

An uneasy feeling creeps up the back of Ben’s neck.

‘Jarvis’ doesn’t talk again, and the young woman directs him to wait by the end of the welcome desk for whoever’s coming down to meet him. It’s awkward, to be sure, especially as more people idly glance in his direction.

But then an elevator dings, and Ben turns, and shock overwrites literally everything else.

“Mister Parker?” Tony Stark asks, walking briskly towards him. Behind his glasses, the man’s eyes dart to either side of where Ben is standing, and they flicker slightly with something he would almost call disappointment. “Hi, welcome, sorry to startle you, but we’d better have this conversation in private. Jarvis said you’ve got a letter?” Wordlessly, Ben holds it up. Stark huffs, quickly plucking it from his fingers, but doesn’t bother to do anything besides tucking it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Then he claps a hand on Ben’s shoulder, and steers him straight into the waiting elevator. “How’s Peter?”

The shock is still going strong. That’s the only explanation for why he blurts out the single word response, “Sick.”

Stark’s head snaps around. “Sick? With what? How bad is it?”

“Bronchitis,” Ben barely manages to say, most of his brain power currently occupied trying to reconcile the fact that Tony-Iron-Man-Stark apparently knows his nephew. “Not- not too bad, this time. How do you-?”

“J, you downloaded the kid’s medical files, right?” Stark asks the open air. 

“Yes, Sir,” the same disembodied voice as early rings out. “This would be Peter Parker’s fourth bout with bronchitis in the past three years. Records indicate he is taking appropriately prescribed medication and has been home from school for the past two days.”

“Good, that’s good.” Still, Stark’s expression is twisted unpleasantly, and Ben can only stare in a sort of detached fascination. “Double check that our pharmaceuticals division doesn’t have anything better for him, J.”

“Of course, Sir. I also need to inform you that we have received confirmation from Prince T’Challa of Wakanda, and reassurance that his family is taking the necessary precautions.”

“About time Pink Panther got back to us. Anything from Fury and our super-duper wonder spies?”

“They have yet to emerge from the secondary conference room. Mister Barton’s only communication at this point has been to request another round of takeout and coffee, as it looks to be, and I quote, ‘a long-ass day on top of a long-ass night’, Sir.”

Stark snorts. “Got it. Approve whatever he and Nat want. Anyone in the lounge?”

“Negative.”

“Right, take us there, then.” Sighing, the celebrity finally turns to actually face Ben. For a long moment, he only stares. “It’s different, seeing you in person. Good different. Peter actually say anything about the letter?”

“...no,” Ben manages to answer. “No, and I don’t- no offense intended, Mister Stark, but what the hell is going on?”

“Tony, please.” A flash of genuine pain crosses Stark’s face, before he returns to the bland observing expression. “And none taken. I’ve had a lot of people ask me that question since two this morning.”

The unease returns, this time in Ben’s stomach. At 2am, he and May were woken up by Peter shouting in his room - a fever dream turned nightmare, or so they assumed.

He doesn’t particularly care for the coincidence.

“So tell me, Ben Parker: do you believe in time travel?”

---

Peter is so, so screwed.

He left the apartment without his key. Without his shoes. And the longer he attempts to keep shuffling down the city sidewalk only in his socks, overwhelmed by noises and smells and the bright sun overhead, the more it becomes abundantly clear:

He messed up.

Majorly messed up. On top of his other major screw-up, and the more he tries to squint at street signs without the glasses he also forgot at the apartment, the more his head pounds and his nose runs and his chest hurts.

Eventually it’s just- too much. Peter coughs weakly into his elbow, and scoots into the first alley he can find.

---

Once, not so long ago, Ben didn’t think aliens or superheroes existed outside of books and movies. Time travel isn’t that far a leap in comparison.

But the more Stark keeps talking, the less Ben takes in, overwhelmed by a couple of things the celebrity breezed over, which stand out all the more for his lack of emphasis. First and foremost: Tony Stark cares about Peter. Knows him. Likes him. Invites him on weekend visits to work on personal projects. Illegally hacks medical databases to double check that the boy is getting appropriate medication for his current illness. Ben might actually laugh if it weren’t for the second thing:

He’s going to die.

Stark doesn’t outright say that, of course, but he tip-toes around the fact that he knows Peter well enough to care about him, and he knows May well enough to be wary of lying to her, but today is the first time he’s ever laid eyes on a living, breathing Ben.

Peter is going to be a superhero. May is going to be a widow. Peter caused some kind of magical accident that sent the Avengers back in time three years. May is going to be a widow. Peter apparently wrote out four pages of notes about incoming disasters for nothing, because Stark and his teammates have been scrambling for the past ten hours to prevent all of it and more.

May is going to be a widow.

Eventually, Stark must realize Ben’s only absorbing every fourth sentence or so, because he abruptly finds himself pushed down into a sleek leather chair, glass tumbler in hand. He doesn’t bother to check exactly what kind of alcohol he’s been given; it burns going down, and that’s good enough to restore some clarity to his overwhelmed mind.

First thing’s first. “Peter has superpowers?”

“He will. Probably. We know when and how he gets them, at this point it’s just a matter of making sure he’s in the right place at the right time. If he still wants- I mean, I’ll be honest, I’d probably sleep a little better knowing the kid isn’t swinging around Queens stopping muggers in the middle of the night, but I also know there’s only a point oh two chance he’ll willingly avoid becoming Spider-man again.”

Ben nods, swallowing down his initial reaction to that word-vomit. “Okay. Okay- next question.”

“Shoot.”

“How do I die?”

Stark promptly winces. “...alright, poor choice of words on my part. Look, Ben- can I call you Ben?” He nods. “Thanks- look. I don’t know all the details, but Peter definitely will, and between the two of us I can guarantee you won’t this time. Hell, I’ll get you a nano-tech bulletproof vest if I have to, but we’re going to make damn sure you live to a ripe old age no matter how many burned casseroles May tries to fix for dinner. Alright?”

Something in the back of Ben’s mind whispers that it can’t possibly be that simple, but he’s willing to take the other man’s words at face value for the moment. “Alright.”

“Sir? Captains Wilson and Rogers have returned, with two guests.”

“Hot damn. Okay, Ben- just hang tight for a minute, I need to say hi to Ruby Tuesday and her delinquent brother, and then we’ll see about getting Peter up here, yeah?” Ben doesn’t have a chance to respond before Stark is up and moving, heading for the elevator just as it slides open.

Captain Rogers is apparently that Captain Rogers, and Ben’s eyes widen so much he half-wonders if they might actually fall out of his face.

Steve-Captain-America-Rogers steps out of the elevator, face tired but triumphant, dressed in civilian clothes rather than his iconic uniform. That’s definitely The Shield slung across his back, though.

Behind him comes another man, dark-skinned with short hair, rolling his eyes as he finishes saying something to the people behind him. Both young, on the thin side - the girl’s hair is long and dark, the boy’s shifting from a similar color to silvery-white in a way that doesn’t look like a dye job. He’s nervous; she’s relaxed. Stark approaches them with stiff shoulders and a careful smile.

“Tony,” the girl says warmly, and half the tension drops away from Stark’s frame.

“Wanda,” he replies, stopping short of arm’s reach. “You’re okay?”

“I will be. I have Pietro again.” She reaches out, and catches the boy’s hand where he meets her halfway. “Ultron?”

“Shut down for good. Never even got the chance to wake up and cause trouble.”

The girl lets out a low, shaky sigh, squeezing her eyes shut as she nods. “Good. That is- very good. Vision?”

“We’ve got him. Sort of- no body for him to land in like the rest of us, obviously, but Cho’s putting one together, and there’s a copy of his consciousness tucked in with Jarvis right now.”

“One moment please, Miss Maximoff,” the AI says. A moment later, what sounds like the exact same voice speaks again, but with a great deal more emotion. “Hello, Wanda.”

“Viz,” she replies, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “You are alright?”

“I am much better, now that you’re here.”

Well didn’t that sound adorably sappy. Some small sound must escape Ben’s mouth, because a moment later the girl, Wanda, is looking right at him with a frown. “Who is this?”

“Ben Parker,” Stark promptly answers, shifting in place to make a sweeping gesture. “Better known as Spider-man’s uncle. He came to drop off some notes from the kid, who apparently didn’t realize we all got swept back in time thanks to his stunt with the Mind and Time Stones. Speaking of whom- Jarvis, have we got eyes on Underoos yet?”

“Yes, Sir. But I am afraid Peter Parker is not in his Queens apartment.”

Like a storm blowing out a candle, Stark’s face turns immediately grim. “Beg pardon?”

“Facial recognition picked him up eight blocks from his home building, moving slowly. Approximately nine minutes and thirty-four seconds ago, he entered an alleyway without any available security cameras. To my knowledge he has not yet emerged.”

Ben couldn’t say when exactly he got to his feet, but he suddenly finds himself standing next to Stark, hands clenched to keep from shaking. The other man meets his panicked gaze, and a flicker of understanding passes between them. “Show us, J.”

A holographic screen pops up. Footage plays. Ben barely pays any attention to Captain America stepping closer, too focused on the little figure helpfully highlighted by Jarvis.

(Peter isn’t even wearing shoes.)

“What, did he feel the need for a Delmar sandwich?” Stark grumbles, before the image zooms in. It becomes abruptly clear that Peter isn’t feeling suddenly better - his face is tight with desperation, mouth open to breathe, and every few steps he pauses to lean against a wall, eyes screwed shut. Ben feels a vice grip squeeze his heart, especially when his nephew staggers between two buildings, disappearing with his head down, arms tucked in close.

“Yeah, he’s not doing so hot,” the other man beside Captain America states.

“Understatement of the year, Wilson. Alright, everything else is on pause, I need to go get him-”

“I am faster.”

They all turn to stare at the boy still standing halfway behind Wanda. Even she looks surprised. “Pietro?”

He shrugs, a small nonchalant twitch, belied by the concern in his eyes. “I am faster. Show me a map from here to there, and I can pick him up without attracting attention.”

Ben glances at Stark. The celebrity offers back a flat smile, face carefully blank. “I mean, he’s not wrong. Speedy Gonzales here could probably run to the other end of Long Island and back in a couple of minutes.” There’s a moment’s hesitation, and then- “Your call, Mister Parker. He’s- your kid. First and foremost.”

...after a long, painful moment, Ben turns back towards Pietro. “Please.”

---

It feels like his life is just one big mistake after another.

Arguing with his uncle, distracting him at exactly the wrong moment, and paying for it with a funeral. Ignoring Mister Stark’s orders, almost causing all those people on the ferry to die. Not pushing harder to get a message through to Happy, almost allowing the plane to be stolen.

Grabbing the first two Infinity Stones to go flying past his face, in a room full of aliens trying to steal them and Avengers trying to protect them. Peter can still feel the burning in his hands, like catching a pair of electrified cables except dialed up to eleven, and every time he tries to take a deep breath it just gets worse. Not even the spider bite had caused him to hurt this much.

Wind whistles, short and sharp. A train going by- or maybe just a single car? No, wait, that didn’t make any sense-

“You are Peter, yes?”

Slowly, agonizingly, he manages to peel one eye partly open, and squints at the guy crouching in front of him. Familiar, but- not in the way that meant Peter had seen him somewhere before. “Y-yeah?”

“I am Pietro Maximoff,” the guy says. “Tony Stark and your uncle are upset you left home.”

Ah.

Well. On the one hand, Ben clearly made it to the Tower. On the other, Peter’s probably going to be in a lot of trouble for this. On the third- on a metaphorical third hand, Peter hurts. He can’t even bring himself to say so to this guy, Pietro- Maximoff, does that mean he’s related to Wanda- and instead whines, hands pressing tighter against his head.

“I am going to take you to them,” Pietro goes on. Peter lets his eye squeeze shut again, and jerks his head in a short, shallow nod. Hands carefully drag him out from his hiding place between two dumpsters, and then he’s being picked up, cradled close like a much younger kid. Normally he’d protest, insist that he’s sixteen- or thirteen- but honestly, Peter can’t bring himself to care.

There’s a distinct lurch, and a thousand sounds bombard his ears, horns and voices and wheels turning and doors opening and it’s way WAY too much too many too soon-

-and he checks out.

---

Ben doesn’t quite stare at his watch the entire time Pietro’s gone, but it’s a near thing. Steve Rogers takes a moment to introduce himself, along with Sam Wilson and Wanda Maximoff, but thankfully none of the Avengers try to force any strained small talk. Stark barely makes a sound at all - he keeps on staring at the blue-tinted holographic screens, eyes glued to the replaying clip of Peter stumbling into that alleyway.

It’s a relief when Pietro blurs back into existence in front of them, Ben’s actual physical nephew held securely in his arms.

But only for a split second.

Because Peter looks awful.

In the time since Ben left their family’s apartment, his kid has somehow managed to slide from pale to almost ghostly white, tremors wracking his entire body. He doesn’t react to Ben or Stark calling his name, eyes screwed shut and fists pressed hard against both ears, breathes coming short and shallow.

“Jarvis, vitals,” Stark orders, gesturing for Pietro to set his burden down on the nearest sofa. Peter whines when the young man lets go, but Ben slides right in, one hand carding through his nephew’s hair while the other presses flat against his scrawny chest. He doesn’t pay attention to whatever the AI relates to Stark; there’s just Peter, and his ragged breathing, and his pounding heart.

“Okay, kiddo,” Ben murmurs, soft but hopefully loud enough for the kid to hear. “We can make it through this, and you’re going to get better, if only so I can ground you until you’re eighteen.”

Peter’s next breath comes out more like a huff than a gasp, and one corner of his mouth turns up, just slightly.

“Only eighteen?” Stark leans a little over Ben’s shoulder, not quite intruding though it’s pretty clear he’d like to. “I’d make it twenty-five, at least.”

“M- Mis’er S’ark-”

“Hey, kid. Fancy seeing you here, when you should be tucked up at home in a nice warm bed. What’s the idea, huh, giving me and your poor uncle a matching pair of heart attacks?”

Peter coughs weakly, eyes still closed. “Wrote- wrong. Fuh-friday, not- Jarvis.”

Ben sees Stark stiffen in the corner of his eye, and holds back a sigh. “Friday’s the name of another AI?”

“Back-up for Jarvis,” Stark mutters. “I would’ve switched to her in a few days, if we were still following the original timeline.”

That manages to make Peter’s face scrunch up with confusion. “-what?”

“We all came back in time, kid. Whatever the hell you did with those Stones, they picked up every Avenger plus a few bonus people and tossed our minds back to the good old days before we’d even heard of Thanos. Possibly those Guardian idiots too, but we haven’t been able to make contact with them yet.”

“Oh,” Peter croaks, finally cracking his eyes open. “Good?”

Rather than answer, Stark sucks in a startled breath, and Ben feels his stomach swoop unpleasantly. From the abrupt silence behind them, where the others had been murmuring amongst themselves, he figures everybody’s equally stunned.

Peter’s eyes are glowing.

The kid just stares upward for a moment, obviously aware something’s wrong. “...Mister Stark? I don’t- feel so good.”

To Be Continued...

[leighlew3]

I've been thinking about this a bit lately, and there was a small misunderstanding when I dipped my toe (and then whole body 😂) into the SC / SG fandom, i.e. a few people unfortunately thinking I was trying to mislead or exploit fans in some way, because of others from this industry who used and lied to fans in the past re: a different show. And while that was unfair to paint me with the same brush without knowing me, I can understand where they could’ve had concerns because of wounds caused by others.

Hopefully people understand by now though that wasn’t the case. As I’ve said so many times before, if nobody around here ever consumes anything I write? Cool beans! But I’m both a professional in this industry and a lifelong fan girl and that’s not gonna change. And I’m going to talk about both my career and fandom stuff. 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, I do hope people know by now that I’m here for the right reasons, and always have been. And I always will be. But if I ever did anything that made it come across otherwise — I truly apologize. I mean it, seriously. Any misunderstandings that I might’ve inadvertently caused through making a dumb math joke or expressing that fans should always have hope and fight for what they believe in, etc — if it upset anybody in any way or wasn’t expressed properly by me at the time — I feel awful.

While I can’t do anything about a couple people who twisted my words or intentions or even flat out lied about stuff being said or done that never happened — I do want to own any part I had in it by not more quickly clarifying or shutting that stuff down. I really do feel bad about all that, because all I’ve ever wanted to do was show love and be understood and connect with people and fight for the ship and fandom, and I’ve done that online (and behind the scenes in ways that I can’t even talk about) for years now.

I adore y’all, and I will always be a Supercorp fan. I’ve always been (brutally) honest and an open book, but I’ve also just been passionate (and sometimes sadly misunderstood) by the occasional little pocket of people. And that sucks. But I don’t hold it against them, and I hope nobody holds that stuff against me.

I'm posting this now, because after losing my mom this year and with the holidays coming up, I've been reflecting a lot. And I realize that life is too short for grudges or misunderstandings that can be corrected or made amends for, so I hope people know that I love y’all and appreciate y’all and any past minor conflicts or accidental misunderstandings — even if it was just with a few people — really sucked, and I hope there can be mutual forgiveness.

Anyway, I don’t expect everybody to like me or agree with my perspectives, or even approve of how I go about expressing myself. But we can’t control anybody else in life. All we can do is control ourselves, self reflect, and work towards growth. Thus, if I ever did anything to make anybody — even just 2 or 3 or 10 people — feel any kind of negative way, that's a big oops on my end, and I'm sorry.

And if some of those people still feel like it was entirely justified to target me so intensely the way they did — hey, bygones and I forgive it — and I still want to offer nothing but love and hope that the future brings better things for us all. For real.

TLDR: The last 5-ish years on a personal level have been incredibly difficult, and the last 6+ months have been emotional hell, but the ship between Kara/Lena and the SC fandom as a whole has been there for me in the most incredible of ways (through humor and fan art and fanfiction and friendships and lions and tigers and bears). And I’ve tried to be there in return, as much as humanly possible, and as authentically as possible.

And that’s why the little percentage that didn't like or trust me — I hope we can metaphorically hug it out and move forward and I hope I’ve made some progress in your perception of me over time, but even if not — or hell, if it’s gotten worse for some reason, I’m going to continue to show love and support towards this ship / fandom and fight for our LGBTQ community. Because I truly care. Even if I’m human and make some mistakes along the way, past or future. Even if people misunderstand me sometimes.

All I can do is my best. And that’s all I’ve ever tried to do...

Love y’all. 💜

P.S. If you’d like to chat or seek to be unblocked or whatever, send me a message via a burner or on Instagram DM or somethin’ and we’ll chitty chat and hopefully hug it out. I’m down. Cheers. 🤙

[whitehartlane]

Yap master sham will entertain you: im studying english studies 75% and proto and pre history 25% (basically archeology) and i am SO thinking about moving to ethnology from archeology but i LIKE that and now i went to a little counselor and i CANT do 125% (english 75% + archeology 25% + ethnology 25%) NOR 100% but i do english 50%!!! And I'm truly in a big rush to finish this bachelor quickly because EYEEEE want to do an ausbildung or more likely want to study art part time!! (Maybe distance?) And like... THAT SUCKS! because idk if i wanna change my minor from archeology to ethnology!!! And i think i might just do two ethnology courses for extracurricular ECTs .... But like arggggh!!!!! It's still annoying because everybody tells me to enjoy uni like as in go out and meet people and have fun but I'm truly just here to learn and get a farking bachelor and idk if i should feel bad but i like... I don't see myself having that much fun here 😭 like for me that comes after when I'm done .... Like rn i can pick what i do and where ill live but i feel like im more excited for my life AFTER uni!!??

hello master sham 🫡 now as for what to study i can’t tell you that, i quite like your idea about taking two extra ethnology courses if that’s something that really interests you!! what i do want to do is tell you to do whatever feels right for you. the university experience is different for everyone and highly depends on what you study; some people like the partying and clubbing and going out aspect of it and some people are purely there to learn.

as all things in life it’s good to find a balance. i understand wanting to be done with your bachelor’s as quickly as possible especially if you’ve got plans for after and if you don’t vibe with the people there but from personal experience something that i’ve had to learn the hard way is don’t postpone your joy. some phases of life are difficult or can kind of be nail-biting to get through but it’s rly important to not fall into that trap of ‘yeah after this i’ll probably be more excited/happy’ because that ‘this’ keeps changing and suddenly you realise you’ve put your life and your joy kind of on hold. i’m not saying that that’s what happening with you at all but reading through this i was reminded of that bc i felt just like this!

i think it’s rly important that you find your joy in your day to day life more than anything and that you chase that joy. you absolutely shouldn’t feel bad about having or wanting a different uni experience than others and if your perspective on it is that you’re here to learn first and foremost then that is a perspective that should be valued just like anything else and is 100% valid!! your balance can be found in other places, like doing art or going on walks, it doesn’t necessarily have to be the german culture of parties and meeting people if that’s not what you want to do.

university is mostly also just a time of figuring yourself out on a personal level. what you’re studying, what you want to do, that’s all important—but the person you’ll grow into and become over the course of your degree. for some people that’s really major like figuring out their sexuality but for some people it’s more minor like learning how to make a grilled cheese without setting the kitchen on fire. and in the end this is another phase of your life, everything works out in the end even if it seems like you’ve got no clue what you’re doing in the moment, i promise you that! i rly believe firmly that whatever happens in life is a redirection to something else, so maybe you decide you wanna do eng 50% and archeo/ethnology 25% each and that opens up a path, or you switch to ethnology and that opens up another path, or you stick w archeology and that opens another path. in the end you’ll get where you need to go. there are only doors, no right or wrong things, and the good thing about doors is that you can always go back through them. 🤍

(also small tip from me an der stelle: if you’re stuck between two choices that you feel you want equally then take a coin and decide that one is heads and one is tails. flip it and look at the result. if the first feeling you feel when you see the result is a feeling of dread in your stomach then it’s not the thing you want right now. doesn’t always work but it helps!)

[dallonwrites]

❄🍲 <3

❄️ Snowflake: talk about a unique trait or aspect of your favourite OC. Have they been living rent-free in your brain? It’s time to talk about them!

dorothy and felix have a thing where they comfort each other by holding the other one's wrist. they'll hold it, squeeze it, trace shapes on it, rub their thumb against the skin etc etc etc. and this is something they do out of habit to themselves when they're on their own and need be grounded. if they need to hold/grab onto the other's hand, they'll hold the wrist. there's no deeper meaning to this and i don't know where it came from. it's just something they started doing as kids and the habit never broke and i think it's sweet that they have something like that which is unique to them

🍲 Soup: share a snippet where a character does something kind.

okay i had to DIVE for this one back into one of the first things i wrote for nano so this was kind of a treat because i had no recollection of how i wrote this bit LOL. this is from a flashback where Dorothy encounters a boy in the woods, one of the things they talk about is how he can't tie his shoelaces, no matter how many times somebody teaches him. this is very much a self insert moment because i cannot tie my shoes either, definitely an autism/fine motor skill issue thing, and i've basically accepted that i more than likely Never will because i've tried every avenue to teach myself or be taught and my brain just cannot do it. but the most frustrating thing is when i tell people they will more likely try to teach me than just help me; even though the former comes from a good place, it just makes me more embarrassed and feel like, as dorothy says, i'm missing some inherent chunk of myself that everybody else around me seems to have. so i wanted to write something similar to that where the character needing help is just, you know, helped! and not treated abnormally - intentionally or not - for not having this skill

She didn’t teach him, because she knew that sometimes things can’t just be taught. And sometimes you feel like a chunk of you is missing because everyone else functions better than you on that minute, shoelace level. And Dorothy knew that she didn’t have the magic touch that could teach this boy what his mother couldn’t, what Valentine probably couldn't. Sometimes that struggle is rooted deep. Sometimes it's not a struggle at all, or a lacking, the way other people view it as. What she does do is tie him a double knot.

winter writing asks!

[the-firebird69]

Mystique Abducts Senator Kelly - Helicopter Scene | X-Men (2000) Movie C...

And yes I can look like this and I can beat people up a lot and I beat a lot of people up. And we're both telling you to shut up it says I'm gonna get bigger in a couple years so won't be that easy and yeah OK. But really the pleasure of Dolby Mine I'll be mine and come and beat me up Hera and shut up you idiot...and funny guy ok is.  I mean it is jokesI mean it is jokes are making me laugh. It's in it out loud and it really shouldn't he is saying it out loud and he should not but OK so this is me helping on assignment and this is Senator Kelly. And it's one of Trump's And it's one of Trump's idiots and he is going after people who are mutants and he's a mutant and he's a **** people say it's him and it might be that someone's character and he goes in and out of the characters. So he beat him up and we hold him and they're holding him and they're getting information and then the guy is really lame and he's telling them stuff some of it's helpful and they figure out the max have a plan to do them all in and it's very important so he escapes and he is recaptured by other people and he comes down and he says those people know my secrets and it's starting to war even though they're on the same side and there's a lot of people who are very sick of them and they don't want them doing what they're doing there are things that aligned you can together and people are trying to do it because this is a disaster.

Hera

We are so tired of pretending where other people and everybody telling us to shut up and we probably shouldn't and we keep doing it I'll tell you what I don't think we ought to keep doing it I think people are telling us that we have to take a rest from screwing around with everybody and then Trump says no and it looks like the wrong thing to do is to bother him and harass and but he's doing it to everyone and his programs really awkwardly bad and he sounds like a dunce we think he is stupid and even this guy here says boy you know it would be nice if your guys is part of the rebellion would not like cut everybody else down as you're falling to make sure the empire wins and yeah it sounds like me and we're saying that in Westborough but this guy just kinda up and left and he's completely wrong the Pseudo Empire as well usually nobody says anything but I feel that I am obliged to say that they're wrong and a lot of them say that and say if you're wrong why can't we work together and figure out what to do. It says now we have a common enemy a It says now we have a common enemy and we have common goals and we're being attacked by them they're coming up into our cities those are our cities and it should be an obvious thing what we should be able to do and they say no so I'm sitting here by myself at times and I'm thinking what can I really do and this is one thing. This guy is collecting names of people who are mutants or who are able to mutate better than others and they know what they're doing and we're gonna be the only ones left and he's collecting our names as we speak this idiot is running around doing it and Trump and he's a moron 'cause he's one of the ones he's collecting name of his name is on it and it's on the list It's been Concord MA a real tough one they have the Mac proper down below they're accessing information on all these stashes and caches and nobody is even splitting it up. Now that's a horrible thing and what he says is they're taking it out already even from the even from the ones that look like they're isolated and they're arming their ships so Trump is doing nothing now I see how frustrating it must be because he's a competitor on the same level the foreigners say the same thing and we have to do something.

Mystique aka Jennifer lawrence

We have several things to talk about one of them is this kind of thing but really she's helping and this is a rebellion. We have the Revolutionary War reenactment going it's helping a lot people looking at the dates and checking what's going on the checking October 24th. and they're finding out something peculiar goes on that day and it is something like this new coach being introduced and they're saying that you're under the influence and they're saying we're right next door and things like that. But the coach didn't make it because it was too big and kinda clunky and took too much energy to pull and that's what it looks like and it is. And the horses were not big enough now these things coincide this other stuff like that I found my husband would be interested in and I know it is saying after that some kind of change here they're treating me like a 3 year old child and he wants to mess people up who do that to make sure that they don't and we're going to get on it that's the way it should be but this is an awesome The Max are watching this series in a don't know what it's all about really if they find out about it they've watched a lot of stuff like it but these guys their heads are gonna spin there's a lot of information to take in and a lot of stuff going on but it's all real. These people are bumps these trumps are just sellouts and they survive by selling a whole bunch of people out and they are like spies for the empire they don't do any good here 'cause you don't get the empire out here. It's a one way street they just keep taking from them. And yeah if they're in the pyramid area and they're pulling them in they can go after the stashes and caches whenever they want and that's what's happening. I really enjoy this film series and I want people to know that I do and we do a lot of work and we might be women we might be attractive but that's not the whole thing

Hera

Olympus

[061801]

PART 1: I was having a pretty big debate with someone about being understanding of other people’s lives. And then I got too deep into it and I realized everybody needs to be understanding of each other at SOME point. And then most of the other time you need to put yourself first. But I feel like there’s a certain level of arrogance people have for certain situations. Like holding someone else back in life, making someone else lose out on money, putting someone else in danger because you feel like they need to understand that you don’t feel like doing something… let me explain. The topic that has had me thinking lately is a pretty specific topic that had to do with a friend. Let me clarify I’m a tenant, I’ve heard some bad things landlords have done and I don’t agree with it but I’m someone who also likes to put myself in the other persons shoes too. I don’t just isolate my needs and wants and that’s how I used to be TOO understanding and let ppl walk all over me but anyway. My friend’s dad passed away and my friend now has to deal with the house. My friend noticed the house was in really bad condition and it most likely would not sell. So my friend has been fixing it up a little bit and there’s a tenant in a room who hasn’t paid their rent in over a year, doesn’t take out the garbage, house is trashed. Like this guy is not taking care of the property. He’s considered a squatter; for people who don’t know what that is it’s something along the lines of being able to live somewhere without paying your rent or getting evicted for it. I haven’t completely looked into that but I know it’s an insane right tenants have. My friend obviously does not want him there anymore. I told someone this just for conversation cuz they know my friend. They literally argued that it’s law that he can stay there and it’s not his fault or problem my friend wants to make more money by renovating the house. They also said if my friend can’t afford to fix the damages; don’t own a house. By going off that logic… it’s not my friends PROBLEM that you don’t have a Plan B to live? (I dont actually expect everyone to have multiple options of living but im going based off of the logic someone basically gave me) and if you can’t take care of someone else’s property that you feel ENTITLED to be in then don’t rent if you can’t deal with the consequences of the damages you make lol? If this tenant was a decent person and paid their rent and wasn’t shitty then my friend would most likely work something out with him. My friend is not a bad person like that. Especially to people who are kind to him. Why would my friend pass up making more money from selling HIS OWN house just because some random guy he doesn’t even know has issues in life.

[billconrad]

Self-Plugging

    My parents are getting older, so I downloaded a self-help book so I can help them and know what to expect. Unfortunately, the book was a dud. Instead of focusing on practical advice like low-impact exercise, a good diet, and working with doctors, the author presented a holistic approach. Before you get upset, this would have been fine if the book description or title had prepared the reader. “A holistic approach to old age.” However, neither was present, and the light content provided little helpful information.

    Forgiving an author for lackluster content is possible, but there was a more significant problem. The author spent two (out of eight) entire chapters on a book that was far too short, instructing (not asking) the reader to write a positive review. The first chapter described how vital reviews were to the author, gave tips on the review content, and discussed how to post the review. The second chapter repeated how critical reviews were to the authors’ success. I have never encountered such an arrogant request and found it to be outrageous and unprofessional. I hope this new form of promotion is not a new trend.

    I am a humble author who appreciates when a reader views my words; this is my positive review. You read my work? Thank you! The icing on the cake occurs when somebody takes the time to thank me. Wow, it feels great to be appreciated.

    Now, hold on. I self-plug my published books in my articles and use my plots as examples. Why? I want to be successful, and advertising is a significant part of sales. Yet, I would never demand something from my readers and do not have gushing self-plugs. I would rather be a failure than stoop to that level.

    Yet, my self-plugging seems hypocritical. I can complain about an author who went too far, but not myself. I suppose I must fall back on the title of a Cranberries song, “Everybody else is doing it, so why can’t we?” The difference is that I go far to ensure my humble plugs are tasteful and not in your face.

    There was something else amusing about this book. None of the reviews mentioned the review demand. I would have expected at least some anger; after all, it upset me. This lack of reaction made me wonder why I get so upset.

    Every day, commercials bombard us. Billboards, magazines, bumper stickers, radio commercials, banners, pop-ups, subliminal messages, and hidden text. Nearly every online video ends with “If you liked this content, please like and subscribe.” Likes have become the content currency.

    Readers and viewers have become accustomed to in-your-face advertisements and demands for many things. It is so much noise and wasted effort. We live in a modern world, and advertising will only get worse. I predict that artificial intelligence will soon bombard us with hyper-specific advertisements.

    Yet, a book is a flat, dull thing. They do not have exciting YouTube personalities with excellent graphics or pop-up windows with a great deal on socks. And that is the big reason we read them. “Today, I got under a warm blanket and read a lovely book.” What did it do? The book entertained and informed me. Great job, you wonderful author. But two self-plugging chapters? They crossed a thick line.

    You’re the best -Bill

    January 10, 2024

    Hey book lovers, I published four. Please check them out:

    Interviewing Immortality. A dramatic first-person psychological thriller that weaves a tale of intrigue, suspense, and self-confrontation.

    Pushed to the Edge of Survival. A drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

    Cable Ties. A slow-burn political thriller that reflects the realities of modern intelligence, law enforcement, department cooperation, and international politics.

    Saving Immortality. Continuing in the first-person psychological thriller genre, James Kimble searches for his former captor to answer his life’s questions.

    These books are available in soft-cover on Amazon and eBook format everywhere.

[leavemybodybythecreek]

I hate myself

I hate how lazy I am, I hate how hard it is to fight against staying in bed all day, I hate how I only see the worst in my situations, I hate that I can’t let anything go, I hate how things I used to enjoy that gave me purpose feel monotonous and pointless like I’m punching in for a work shift, I hate how I compare myself to everybody else’s surface level, I hate how easily overwhelmed I get, I hate how I let myself be crippled by the smallest shit, I hate that my brain is wired to a point where hurting myself is the only thing I feel capable of in these moments, I hate that when I criticise somebody for there negative traits I can site a situation where I acted similar and instead of letting it go I hate myself more for the hypocrisy I display, I hate that I can’t see it getting better, I hate that my stepmum has to talk me out of everything I’ve just explained because she’s worried for her son, it’s not her burden to hold,I hate how full of hate I am, I hate myself

[shotorozu]

being shotos personal translator is such a funny concept to me 😭 we all know he doesn’t understand a lot of social cues poor guy but imagine he just runs to his s/o, who has to be the one to explain to him smiling will not in fact kill a woman

and you wouldn’t be just that kind of translator for him— whenever shouto says something a little confusing (with that classic straight face of his), everybody whips their heads towards your direction like

👁👁 wtf did he mean? you’re dating him so you obviously know— right?

also, this was initially a short post— but i just couldn’t contain myself. i love this man so much🧍‍♀️ (i’m going to go on a writing spree before i disappear because of school work)

»»————-　♡　————-««

“shouto,” you exhale sharply. you’re a patient person, really. especially when it came to shouto— your princely, but sweetheart of a boyfriend.

but you don’t know if you’re more shocked at the fact that he genuinely, genuinely doesn’t know— or if you’re irritated.

you immediately dismiss the idea of being overtly irritated at him because of this. you just can’t find it in yourself to be annoyed at his curiosity. it’s authentic especially with the way he stares at you with such softness in his eyes, and also as if like whatever you’re about to say is the law.

and that he must obey you.

“you won’t literally cause a woman’s heart to stop. it’s just a saying, shouto.” you reassure, cracking a smile. “try not to think about it too hard.”

shouto’s lips form into something that looked like a pout. how cute. “but it’s not just mt. lady— i heard kaminari say that too. that’s not a coincidence, Y/N.”

you sigh, “shouto. i love you and all— but it’s really just a saying. it’s not literal, and it’s only implying that your world stopping good looks and superb attractiveness that doesn’t end on a physical level is enough to cause not-so-normal heart palpitations, and you know how else you can get those? getting flustered, seeing something romantic and stuff similar to that— i have a feeling you’re aware of that.”

you slap a hand over your mouth when your ramble came to a full stop. superb attractiveness? world stopping good looks?? why did you actually say that out loud? you can’t say you take those words back, they do hold truth.

for some reason, you couldn’t muster up the courage meet his gaze— which felt hotter and intenser than his, and endeavor’s left side combined. so much for being honest and direct.

but the fact that you actually used words, and that you placed your inner and unfiltered thoughts into existence is, well— embarrassing. you won’t sugarcoat that.

his response only rubbed the salt into the wound, “so, do i make you feel that way?”

you finally look at him, only to find out that shouto’s much closer than you’ve recalled. you can really get a look at his face— his beauty, and you just don’t know how shouto doesn’t see what you’re seeing— what everyone with eyes and a functioning common sense is seeing.

gorgeous is an understatement, for sure.

you try to read his expression as best as you can— but it’s to no avail. he’s unreadable.

“yeah.” you admit rather quickly, and something like satisfaction crosses shouto’s features. you hope he can’t feel the heat of your cheeks.

you cough, “i hope that makes sense. it’s just a saying— you won’t harm anyone.”

suddenly, shouto steps forward— and you would’ve tripped on your own feet like a fool, if it weren’t for shouto’s fast reflexes.

shouto helps you regain proper balance— his hold not faltering, and his hands never leaving yours.

he gives you a small smile, which causes your heart to kick back into overdrive.

“we wouldn’t want that.” he mumbles, before squeezing your hands gently.

»»————-　♡　————-««

[astaroth1357]

Demon Brothers Getting Possessive at the Club

… I can explain. Or, well, no I can't. But this exists now anyway so enjoy?

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Yandere-ish, Violence

Intro: The MC and their favorite demon were just trying to have a fun night out at The Fall. The lights were going, the music was blaring, and the two of them were by the bar but there was a problem. Their demon noticed a sketchy creep who'd been eyeing their human all night long… and that simply won't do. So when their human left to use the bathroom…

It was time to take care of the problem.

Lucifer

Though Lucifer was usually less than into the club scene, the MC wanted a change of pace from their usual dates and he did so want to make them happy… At first, he thought he'd just be dealing with the loud noise and crowded atmosphere but then he noticed something else…

A demon had been following them through most of the night, always keeping his distance but staring at the MC far too much for his liking…

This put Lucifer in a bit of an odd position. He didn't exactly want to leave the club because the MC didn't look tired yet, but he also didn't like seeing that cretin following them around…

Yet, of course, it also rubbed his pride the wrong way to go tell him to stop directly. Lucifer would never admit to feeling bothered by some pitiful lesser demon… Never.

But by the time the MC left him to use the restroom, he was at his wit's end. He could see the man had taken a seat at the other end of the bar just to watch them and he was growing irritated… So he had to devise a new strategy.

It's unusual for demons to walk around in their true forms. It's not that it's frowned upon or anything, it's just that it's normally something reserved for big events… or for displays of dominance and control.

So when Lucifer slipped into his demon form in the middle of The Fall, it turned quite a few heads. Truthfully, there was only one head in particular that he wanted his way, and once he got it, he stared the guy down…

It was a taste of the lowlife's own medicine, but so much worse coming from him… The feel of Lucifer's bloody-onyx eyes and chillingly cold smile from across the bar could have made even the strongest men run for the hills…

Needless to say, the demon didn't last very long under the eldest brother's gaze. In fact, he wilted almost immediately before slinking away as quickly as he could… 

A guy not even able to stomach the firstborn's stare? Truly a pathetic coward if Lucifer ever saw one.

He was totally back to normal by the time the MC returned and went back to dancing with them like nothing ever happened… Though his human couldn't help but notice the crowd kept their distance from them for the rest of the night... 

Eh, Hell is just weird sometimes isn't it?

Mammon

Look, Mammon had been trying to have some fun the whole night and for the most part he'd been succeeding except for one thing…

He could sense that asshole still hadn't left them alone. He'd just hover near him and his MC like a hellhound stalking prey… It was annoying. It was creepy…

And it was reeeaaallly getting on his nerves.

When the MC left for the restroom, he was leaning back against the bar scanning the room for their abhorrent admirer while using the tint of his sunglasses to hide his eyes.

It didn't take him long to see the gross fuck sitting alone at a table. Who knew what he was planning... following them home? Taking candid shots of MC? Either way, he wanted to sock him in the jaw…

But, of course, Mammon knew he had to play it just a little smoother than that to stay in the club.

Mammon sauntered over to the man's table and invited himself to sit, kicking his feet up to look casual but knocking his boots against the surface so roughly it made the guy jump... Pathetic.

"Oi, so I've seen ya lookin at my human… Real work of art, eh?" He flashed the guy a fanged grin and watched him sweat for a second before cutting off any answer.

"-'course they are. Don't need to tell me. But I gotta say, you're really ticking me off, bud… We're just tryin to enjoy ourselves but I keep seeing your ugly mug wherever we're at."

He pulled his legs back from the table and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a deck of playing cards.

"Tell ya what, I'm feelin oddly generous so let's play a game. You and me. If ya win, I'll let ya have a night with'em…" He fought the urge to punch the guy when he saw his eyes light up, "but if I win…"

Mammon put the deck on the table then leaned in real close, "I'll flay your skin off and gild ya skeleton in the 4th circle myself… Gold skulls are selling like hotcakes right now." He put every bit of malice he could into the threat, even barring his increasingly sharpening fangs.

The guy must of had a good head on him because he paled immediately before getting up and running from the table. If there's one thing everybody knows about Mammon, it's never play cards with him if he can make even a single Grimm… Chances are, you're gonna lose.

When the MC came back, Mammon flagged them down to their new table and pulled them onto his lap for a little chat before getting more drinks. They're his human. His.

Leviathan

Of course Levi noticed this creep the second that they walked in. He's Envy. He had been hyper-vigilant of all the attention the MC had been receiving since their first step inside. But this guy was… persistent.

He'd been tailing them all night, always finding spots with good vantage points, which of course was sketch as hell but...

Honestly? Levi just didn't like him looking at them. Not at all. In fact, he'd hazard to say he truly hated this complete stranger for how much real estate his eyes were taking up of his precious MC… What gave him the right??

By the time the MC had to use the restroom, he was sitting at the bar seriously contemplating whether or not to just carry them home… He didn't like night clubs anyway, but they seemed to be having fun and they always looked so cute while dancing…

No. He couldn't just take them home. But once they left, he had a much better idea.

It was easy for Levi to slip away from the bar. The asshole was leaned back against a nearby wall and pretty much pulled his phone out the second the MC was out of sight. From there, Levi only had to do what he did best, blend into the background, until he was right next to the guy...

He didn't say anything. He didn't give him any warning or threat. No, no he was far too ticked to be that charitable…

The only indication the man got of how royally he fucked up was the searing pain of Levi's fangs digging into his shoulder, the thirdborn's gloved hand muffling his screams until the venom took hold of his prey.

The last thing that man ever saw, propped up and paralyzed against the wall, was the MC coming back to their docile otaku, who now pulled them into his arms… still shooting the occasional smirk in his victim's direction.

And the last thing he ever heard was the same word his killer whispered to him after his throat became too tight to scream… "Mine."

Satan

This always seemed to happen whenever he took the MC places… They could be walking together in the park and he'd still see lesser demon eyes following them around...

Frankly, it did piss him off to a degree. He knew they never asked to be stared at like a piece of meat, but if he'd go on a rampage every time it happened then they'd never have a quiet date again. So he learned to put up with it… to an extent.

The demon that had been following them that night was really testing his notoriously short patience...

He had tried several tactics to shake the guy as they were dancing but he'd always come right back. He even got more handsy than normal to show, "Hey, this one is mine!" but that had gotten him equally dismal results… It was bordering the line of disrespect now.

He did his best to keep up a friendly face while the MC was with him, but they must have noticed he'd gotten tense. They told him to try and relax a bit before they left for the bathroom…

Oh, he was going to relax alright.

The second they were out of sight, Satan's smile broke into a glare he leveled right at the offending scumbag's table. Of course, seeing the MC had left put the guy's attention elsewhere, but that was his funeral.

Satan knew his time was limited, so he skipped the pleasantries and marched right over to him, slamming his foot down onto the edge of the table with such force it threatened to tip it over then grabbed him by the neck.

"Back. OFF."

It really didn't take much, his reputation preceded him. He felt the guy's pulse skyrocket between his fingers before he let him go.

It was hard not to get a little satisfaction when watching the worthless creep scramble away from him like his life depended on it (as it very much did). He almost considered giving chase just to amp up the fun, but the MC returned sooner than he expected…

A pair of arms around his waist and lips against his cheek were enough to evaporate his anger right then… but it didn't settle his sudden need to mark them in the slightest.

Ultimately, the real question was whether he could wait until they got home to show the world that they were his or if they needed to find somewhere… quieter. No promises, MC.

Asmodeus 

Asmo had dealt with his fair share of admirers, the stalking kind included. Fortunately, dealing with them had always been relatively easy for him (he is a ruler of Hell after all) but one targeting his beloved human…? That was far less acceptable in his eyes.

He caught sight of the beady eyes of the creep while he was dancing with the MC. At first, he thought the guy was looking at him (who wouldn't?) but then he followed his eyeline right to his lovely human companion…

Though he couldn't exactly blame him for staring, he and MC made a fantastic looking pair, he definitely couldn't sit idly by either. People like this are usually bad news and he refused to let any harm come to his MC…!

He was as tactful as ever, though. He liked The Fall and would rather not be banned from returning… He waited patiently for the MC to go to the bathroom before making his way over to the creep, his perfect smile still sitting on his face.

"Excuse me, cutie." He waited for the stalker's eyes to leave his phone and settle on Asmo's own. "Ah, there you are! Good. I had a question for you, I think… oh no, I must have forgotten it! Silly me."

Though he could see the demon was growing annoyed, Asmo stalled for just a few moments longer… just long enough for his bewitching charm to set into his victim's mind.

"Ah! Now I remember. Do you like dogs?" He smiled in satisfaction to see the creeper's head nod slowly. "Oh good! Because I know a very hungry dog right now… Cerberus is his name and I don't think he's had a meal today. Would you be a doll and go feed him for me? He lives in the cave behind the House of Lamentation. You can't miss him."

The demon's head nodded slowly yet again as he rose from his chair and walked out of the club quietly. Quick, painless, and with no messy cleanup!

Well… none that Cerberus wouldn't clean up for him anyway. Asmo returned to the bar with a newly giddy grin on his face... His MC wouldn't be seeing that man ever again~!

Beelzebub 

Beel is very patient. Beel is very kind. Beel is very forgiving. Beel is… really not about this right now...

Unlike his brothers, Beel's easygoing nature made him less quick to pick up on the lingering glances that the MC gets from others. Even when he does notice, he can usually let it slide if looking is all they do (he's the only one who can touch after all).

But even he couldn't miss how wolfishly that demon was staring at them… It made him uncomfortable and the guy just refused to leave them alone…

By the time the MC left Beel at the bar to use the restroom, he was on a level of irritated usually only reserved for when someone denied him food… It was like that jerk had taken a cheese grater to his patience and it was wearing thin…

As much as he knew he could deck him, he didn't want to get them kicked out… The MC was having such a good time, despite the creep's ogling, so he used a different approach…

Being so high up in Hell had its perks and one was that anywhere in town that offered food also had a secret menu… A Beelzebub Only menu (as a precaution so that he wouldn't wreck the place whenever he stopped by). Anything on his menu always had huge portions and The Fall was no exception.

The bartender didn't seem too surprised when he ordered a Drakon Leg, but he was very surprised when he asked to get the full bone too… Not with the meat on it. Just the bone.

Fun Fact: the bones of Drakons are supremely thick and strong enough to be used as clubs.

Even More Fun Fact: it takes an incredible amount of force to snap these bones…

...which Beel did without breaking a sweat… and maintaining eye contact with the creep The. Entire. Time. The sound of the bone snapping in two was almost as deafening as a gunshot and he didn't even flinch.

The demon went running out of the club with his tail between his legs and quickly got swapped out for the MC running back, worried about what made such a loud noise…

Of course, by that time Beel had the bone thrown away and was chowing down on the meat like nothing ever happened so they dropped the subject soon enough...

He may not be as open about when he claims someone as the rest of his family but that's because when push comes to shove, who in their right mind would want to challenge Beel anyway...?

Belphegor 

Nope. Nope. Nope nope nope, he's not having this. Not one bit.

Belphie lacks a lot of the good-natured patience of his twin... Chances are if there's something happening and he's not stopping it, it's just because putting up with it is the path of least resistance…

But there are always exceptions and those are usually reserved for the MC.

Strangers trying to get close or even imagining themselves being with MC really makes his blood boil… He knew them the most. He loved them the most. On just what grounds did some random moron think he could take his place?? Wishful thinking? Keep dreaming, buddy.

So, of course, he wasn't happy when he noticed some asshole staring at the MC like Beel does when he sees a havoc roast...

He kept his poker face up while he was with the MC, but he was devising a plan to take care of him the entire time… One he finally got the chance to enact once the MC went to the bathroom.

He's even better at going unnoticed than Levi, so sneaking his way over to the asshole was a piece of cake. He didn't notice until Belphie casually draped his arm around the guy's neck, hanging his clawed hand dangerously close to the scumbag's heart...

"Having a good time…?"

He could feel a shallow swallow against his arm as he began to slowly apply pressure to his trachea.

"I bet you were… and I was too until I saw you following us… Care to explain yourself?"

"I-I uh-Gah!" 

The guy's voice gets cut off by Belphie's arm getting even tighter, the sharp tips of his claws drumming directly over the man's thundering heart.

"Ugh, that's what you actually sound like? Never mind, it's not worth knowing…" His fingers stopped drumming and slowly began to dig into his skin...

"I'm only going to say this once… If I ever see you tailing my human again, you won't be needing this-" his claws drilled a little deeper into his chest, "-anymore. Am I clear?"

The demon's head nodded as much as his strangled throat would allow and Belphie finally retracted his claws, wiping the blood off on the guy's shirt before letting him go. He fell forward onto all fours before attempting to scramble away as fast as he could...

Belphie watched him go with disinterest on his face, but satisfaction in his heart. Yet another threat to his human dealt with… And they could go back to enjoying their evening together. Alone. Just where his human belonged...

[stormbreaker101]

Downfall

It’s the end. Dirk and their crew have made it to Kane’s Machine. Subodai had once vowed to help Dirk win their destiny. Now it is time to prove it, to fight by his captain’s side until either Kane falls, or they fall.

Will this be their final battle? It is a good day to die...

Yeah, this would probably fit better for Day 31, but if you pair the prompts Mooshu and Horse together I will write about my boy Su. It’s my birthday today; I can do what I want.

Content Warnings: Canon violence, canon-atypical gore.

Word Count: 5633

The Machine towers over us. Your destiny. Everything you’ve ever done since we first met, and perhaps even before then, leads now to this. A history of epic proportions, contained in but a few months. There will be a great and terrible battle here; all epics end so.

 Will this be our final battle?, I cannot help but wonder. This will be either the end of the Armada, or the end of us. It is a good day to die…

“Su-” Your face holds pain. The earring I gave you glints almost as bright as your eyes. You look like you might cry. I realize that I’d spoken my thoughts aloud. Shit, I didn’t mean to.

“There’s the elevator,” Gracie cuts in, pointing ahead. “Let’s get to the top of this thing!”

We rush ahead and all step into the lift at once. The lift is crammed. I press myself against the walls so I don’t crush anybody else with my armor. The wall scrapes my armor. The constant rumble and creaking of wood and metal, and the closeness of the space, reminds me of the prison ship we’d escaped. I struggle to breathe.

The lift reaches its peak, rising into the heart of the Machine, an overwhelmingly large room with a grand platform in the middle. I vault over the metal railing around the lift’s platform. You follow me. Fan and Monkey King do too. Everybody else walks off the platform normally. 

“Look at this thing,” Gracie gasps. “I can’t believe it!” Her tail swishes like she’s mad, but her voice is one of wonder.

Old Scratch taps your shoulder. “Captain! There be the crystals from the Gold Monkey Valley!” He points up to the structure in the middle of the room, and I see what he sees. The crystals are small and glow with energy stark against the Machine’s metal. “Kane brought them here,” Old Scratch continues, “but why?”

You say nothing. You don’t even look up at what Old Scratch points out.

“There be bad mojo in this place, Captain. Believe it!” Old Scratch insisted. He’s noticing your unresponsiveness.

Gazpaccio steps forward, holding the Golden Heart in his hand. “Kane!” he calls, his voice barely sounding over the Machine’s constant noise. I hear Monkey King let out a low tsk-tsk-tsk. I cannot help but agree with the old trickster. Charing upfront into battle is one thing. Stepping out and calling for the enemy to reveal himself is suicide. “The time has come, my son, for all of this madness to end! I-I come to repair your soul; to bring you into the light!”

Hesitation.

“Kane?” Gazpaccio asks again. “Where are you?”

I hear Kane before he speaks. He steps up to the edge of the central platform. “Here.” He takes aim and shoots the Golden Heart. Gazpaccio didn’t react in time; he couldn’t.

“The Heart! No!” Gazpaccio yelps.

“Yes, that’s finally out of the way,” Kane said. His voice is level and cold as any leader’s. It’s chilling. “Thank you for bringing the Heart into the open. But why stop at only one heart?” He takes aim at the other heart Gazpaccio holds; his beating human heart.

Nobody makes any move to stop it. We are all frozen in shock, or something.

Gazpaccio falls to the ground. “My son… how could you…?” His voice peters out. I’m familiar with the sound of men taking their last breaths and uttering their last words. He is dead.

The crew erupts in panic. “NO!” “YOU FIEND!” But you are silent as a corpse. You watch, unreacting. There’s a distant stare in your eyes. I recognize it. My father had the same distant stare before he was shot in the throat. The horrors you see around you are so deafening you cannot hear them anymore. The white snow turns red as strawberries in the summertime and you cannot see the spilt blood anymore.

Have you seen this before?

Kane begins to monologue. Proud and haughty. He reminds me of Toghon. “Children are meant to replace their fathers,” I hear him say clearly. That sentence weighs so heavy on my mind that it sinks before I can think about it. No doubt, that sentence will resurface when I try to sleep. 

He keeps talking. He reveals his dark plans, to rush to El Dorado with the map he remade from scratch and then to ‘perfect’ the Spiral.

I look to you again. You don’t seem to even care. This isn’t like you. What’s going on?

A group of four Armada soldiers appear, blocking the stairs leading up to the central platform. Where had they come from? Kane snaps his fingers. “Destroy the intruders,” he orders the soldiers. Then he sneers to you, “Goodbye, pirate.”

You look at the soldiers. “Mob fight. Tío, Fan, Bon, to me.”

I’m not surprised that you call them forth. They’re not surprised either. You’ve fought with Fan and Bonnie at your side ever since it was just the four of us on your crew, and El Toro is a strong fighter too, good in quicker fights. You expect this scuffle to go by quickly, then.

And it does. You all leap into battle. I never understand what keeps the rest of us from getting involved and outnumbering the enemies you fight, but those details don’t matter now. Bonnie gets hurt but you heal her with a touch of your magic. I’ve learned a long while ago not to question where your magic comes from; you’ve always insisted you’re a typical child who just got their hands on some knives, but you’re neither typical nor a child. Extraordinary in too many ways for me to count right now. I must stay focused; we all do.

As the last soldier, a Battle Angel, buckles under your strike, Ratbeard cheers, “Now there’s none left. None but the king!” He gives the center platform a stink-eye. I take a step back. I see Kane standing on the platform. He hadn’t retreated after killing his creator; he had kept fiddling with this monster of a machine as we were distracted by the fight!

“Yes, and now he is in danger. Check!” El Toro quips.

I feel the beginnings of a headache build in me. Now is no time for chess puns!

You lead the way up onto the central platform. Your gaze is sharp and you hold your finger up as you walk, as if you’re pointing at something only you can see.

Kane stands on the platform, waiting for us. “My, but you have grown stronger,” he says. From any other person, it would’ve been a compliment. “Your victory was highly unlikely-” as if; we can take on the Armada’s soldiers any time! What the fuck kind of weaklings does he think we are!? “- but I’ve accounted for it.”

Words echo from nowhere and everywhere at once: “Preparations complete.” It must be the Machine itself speaking. We are truly within the belly of the beast, now. “Deconstruction fleet ready to launch.”

“Hold launch,” Kane commanded the Machine. “This was the least favorable scenario, but still acceptable. Prepare my escape craft and destroy this chamber.”

I can feel everyone start to panic. The tensing of muscles and short gasp of breath, as they get ready to fight or flee. I look to the lift; it’s a fair dash away. Would we make it before the entire room is destroyed? Even if we get onto it, would we be safe or would we still die? I don’t want to die like this, caught within the Machine’s destruction. If I am to die, it will be by another’s blade or arrow or gun or magic!

I sneak a glance back at you. You are still reactionless. You fear this less than I. Do you know something nobody else does? Is Kane bluffing? Will we not be destroyed helplessly?

“No,” says the Machine.

Against all odds and dying hope, we are spared a helpless death. How did you know?

Not even Kane seems to expect it. He acts like any other person, flinching at words. “What?” he demands of his creation.

“Destroying this chamber will render me inoperative,” the Machine speaks. “My purpose must be fulfilled. Any delay is unacceptable.”

Oho, Kane is pissed! It warms my heart to see his steel-cold demeanor snap into brittle shards. “I have given you an order! You will obey!” he barks at the Machine.

“No,” says the Machine again. “My purpose is all that matters. I am ready to achieve it. You are no longer required.”

El Toro laughs. “Children are meant to replace their fathers, eh? How does it feel, you monster?” There is a slight growl in his voice, more than his accent normally gives. Of course he would take that quote of Kane’s and twist it into a witty one-liner. His taunts will be the death of him, I swear to God.

The Machine’s voice booms once more: “Initiating defensive sequence. Beginning launch of Deconstructor Fleet.”

Kane storms to a lift on the platform and ascends to some other room. He is running away, delaying his inevitable. The coward! My hunger for the chase burns hot enough to melt metal, but we have other issues. Like, the entire Machine being about to explode.

“NO! We’ve gotta stop it!” Gracie shouts. She grabs your arm and points out three boxy devices rooted into the platform. “Destroy the main mechanism- hurry!”

El Toro, Fan, and Bonnie Anne step up. You hold a finger up as Bon approaches. “Take a breather, Bonnie. Sarah, you up?”

“Of course,” Sarah Steele says.

The four of you step forward, staying close to each other. As the clockworks approach (wait, where did they come from? They just spawned out of thin air!), you all brace yourselves. You cloak yourself (I must wonder, why is it that sometimes you can bring everybody into your invisibility, and other times you can only summon your fog over yourself? Is it strategy, or are you randomly hindered?) Two of the robots charge at Toro and Sarah, the other two hang back. It seems they will strike later; a semblance of strategy from these mindless machines.

You direct your crew before darting to the furthest of the Machine’s mechanisms. Fan destroys another of the mechanisms on her own. A Dragoon thrashes her badly but she holds on and does some damage to it as well. El Toro and Sarah rush towards the third- they’re intercepted! A marine restrains Sarah, and a battle angel, blasted thing, swoops down on Toro. They trade blows, but he’s cut down. You cry out.

I want to rush into the fight to avenge Toro. No doubt I’m not alone in the thought. But something holds me back. What’s holding me back!?

You destroy the second part of the Machine. Sarah gets closer to the last mechanism, attacking a clockwork Marine first. Fan runs around the Machine’s center column, getting closer to you and Sarah. The Marine targets Fan. It knows she’s weak. I shout at her to watch out but even with my warning she’s taken down. You enact vengeance upon the Marine. You and Sarah destroy the last of the Machine’s mechanisms.

The Machine’s voice thrums one last time, its voice petering out. “Core mechanism… compromised… Can not…” The constant creaking of gears quiets down, as if the Machine sighed its last breath. A lamentation of the moment.

You rush to Fan and helped her stand. She leans against you. Sarah and Bon help El Toro rise. He’s extra shaky from bleeding out. His white cape and pants are stained red with his blood. “Y-You did it,” he gasps as he gathers his bearings. “The Spiral is saved.”

“Wait, isn’t this place gonna explode or somethin’?” Ratbeard asks. That was still a possibility? I thought destroying the Machine would keep it from self-destructing.

“I think not,” Gracie promises. “Evil strongholds don’t automatically do that, you know.”

“Excuse me, what happened to Kane?” Monkey King asks. He points to the lift that Kane had risen up on earlier.

Kane’s voice rings through the Machine, overwhelming as the Machine’s voice itself. “You think you’ve won!? This is only a delay! I can rebuild my machine- that’s a trivial matter!” It really doesn’t seem like it, with how pissed he sounds. We are really striking him where it hurts! He can’t run anymore. “But first I must become perfect in El Dorado. Come try to stop me, pirate! Come to your doom!”

“After him, capitane! For the Spiral-!” El Toro encourages. He takes a step forward. His leg buckles under him. 

Bonnie Anne catches him. “Careful!”

“I’ll be fine, I promise you, Bonnie.”

You sigh, “I’m not bringing you into the final fight, Toro.” Your gaze lands on him, then goes distant again. Your finger moves, again as if pointing to something only you can see. “I’m not bringing you either, Fan. You both deserve rest.”

“Bring?” I finally ask. I can’t keep my questions inside anymore. “We’ll all fight alongside you, Dirk. You don’t have to fight with just your three best.”

You give me an expression that I cannot read. It’s… melancholic and pained and distant and serene all at once. Am I wrong? Are you forced to fight with only three of us at a time? Why? What restrains you? “Come on. Let’s get this run over with, once and for all.”

We step onto the second lift. Somehow it feels even smaller than the first. I can’t let my discomfort show. We have a war to win.

The lift makes it to the final room. The floor is made of black-and-white marble, in a chessboard pattern. A massive Valencia-centric map of the Spiral is on the far wall, stone inlaid with gold. This is the closest to a throne room that Kane would construct for himself.

The last time we stood in a throne room was Duomo hall. A painful memory. I still bear the wounds from the guards, I think. I should still have them. Is adrenaline driving me to ignore the pain?

Kane watches us ascend. By his side are all of his elites, including the ones we’ve destroyed. I blink. This can’t be real, can it? I’d kicked Deacon’s broken body down into the waters in the mines of Cool Ranch! And Rooke was left to burn and fall in the Trafalgar vortex!

It’s real.

“We’ve played a long chess game, you and I,” Kane taunts, “and you’ve done far better than I expected. But now it’s time I was rid of you.” He sounds so fucking smug. I want to bash his goddamn face in. “How about one final match? To be sporting, I’ll only use half my pieces.” He laughs. Cocky piece of shit. I’ll make him eat those words! He’s not even physically capable of eating! “Is that not generous?”

“Deacon! Rooke! But how!?” El Toro asks. It seems the wounds from the last fight are addling him, if he’s only noticing the rest of the elites after Kane’s opening speech.

“They’re only machines,” Kane explains dismissively. “It was expensive to replace the children you destroyed, but I managed.” More children. That’s all they are to him. Children. Not even tools, respectable and useful in their department. Children. What the fuck is wrong with him!?

More like what the fuck isn’t wrong with him.

“Bishop, of course, you already know,” Kane keeps explaining. I wonder what’s stopping Bon from just shooting Kane right now, while he’s distracted by his own ego and desire to narrate. It’d be a real asshole move, but this is Kane we’re talking about! He doesn’t deserve anything but the worst. “Allow me to introduce Queen, greatest of my creations!”

Queen, the clockwork next to him, with a sword in one hand and her mask held by a stick in another and a dress far too long to be practical, chuckles, “You flatter me, darling.” Her voice is what you would call sweet. An insult. Sickly like sap, with no real love behind it, no matter what petname she uses for her creator. 

“Not at all,” Kane deflects. He raises his sword. “Kill them, my children. Kill them all.”

We all look to you. You said it yourself, you are restrained to only fight with three of us. So the question stands; who?

“Subodai. Scratch. Gracie.” Your voice is certain. You are fearless. You have been so unflinchingly fearless, it amazes and baffles me.

We step to the chessboard. We all have the same thought, to stand in front of you. If you die, then we are doomed. We cannot let that happen.

“Right. Slow techniques,” you command as your magic surrounds us. “Su, Gracie, hold back. Scratch, mojo flows.”

Old Scratch’s magic doesn’t feel at all like yours. Your magic settles on my skin and armor like snow. His flows through my veins like ice water. I cannot even use magic, but standing next to him I can still feel it.

We are hidden, and the Elites know it. So instead of charging towards us, making swings in the dark, they simply try to get a positional advantage. Kane retreats to the edge of the battlefield. Queen rushes along the edge, standing towards your left. Rooke follows, but only makes half the distance between us. A pair of Marines that had appeared alongside the Elites take a few steps forward, with Deacon and Bishop behind them.

“Steady…” you say. “One more turn of buffing.” You adjust your stance, shaking out any tension you can, and Scratch raises more magic.

Kane takes a step forward. Queen takes a step back, keeping her eyes trained on us like a falcon. Rooke stands next to her. Deacon and Bishop go against the edge of the board, and their marines go with them, flanking them in an L shape almost.

“Su. Can you 1v1 Rooke?” you ask me.

I would rather target Queen; we don’t know how she fights, which makes her more dangerous to me. But that doesn’t mean I can’t attack Rooke. Whether I can take him on alone… it would be a spar for the ages. “Yes.”

“Go for it.” Each of the tiles of the chessboard is large enough for one person to comfortably stand in while also small enough for one person to comfortably attack a person adjacent to them. You point me to one of the tiles. Adjacent to Rooke, diagonal to Queen. “Scratch, last mojo. Gracie, mine up.” You point her towards the tile next to the one I’ll stand on.  “I’m gonna work on the Marines,” you finish explaining before darting off.

I swallow my fear, seeing you run into enemy lines. You know what you’re doing. I trust you.

I rush to Rooke. Thanks to your hide, I can get to his weaker spots without him able to defend against it.

I hear the whispers of magic. With a flash of light, Kane appears next to Rooke! Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK- In a bit of a blind panic I attack Kane. My blade cuts up his robe, revealing metal. He strikes back in vengeance. His blade glances off the armor on my shoulder and up at my chin. I kick him in the chest and slash at his robe again, exposing more of his metal guts. 

Rooke attacks me at once. I try my best to fend against him. I feel regrets bubble in me. I cannot 1v1 Rooke. I was cocky. I made a mistake. I should’ve said no. But I didn’t. And now I’m here.

Gracie’s mine appears next to me. I hope that by some miracle, when it goes off, it doesn’t hurt me. That makes no sense, of course Gracie’s mine will damage everything around it. Including me. But I want to trust you, and all of your planning.

Looking away for too long was a mistake. Left me vulnerable. Kane attacks me, pulling me away from one source of panic and directly into another. He’s relentless. I try to strike back when I can, when there’s an opening, but he’s in a mad frenzy! He’s ruthless!

The pain piles up. I feel the blood welling from my wounds. 

He kicks me in the chest. I feel something crack. Bone? Armor? I don’t have the time to tell which. He leaps with a twirl. I try to raise my sword against him but my arm is too heavy. 

He cuts me down.

My hand goes to my neck. I feel the blood. I see it. Red. I fall. I hear you scream my name. Fearful, mournful.

My head is turned away from the battlefield as I collapse. My hand is pinned between my neck and the floor. The blood is sticky, clotting. I struggle to breathe.

Wait. I’m still breathing?

I try to get up. My armor is too heavy and I am in too much pain. I’m as good as dead. But I’m not dead. Yet.

Queen and Rooke step around me. I can hear another clockwork approach. Gracie’s mine explodes as it gets near me, but the clockwork hasn't fallen.

I hear you curse. “Shit- Gracie! Get that marine! Scratch, your summon!”

Gracie runs next to where I lie. She attacks, and the marine collapses. Its body slumps over and pins my leg. The weight is a bother, but nowhere near the pain I’m already feeling.

Kane steps over by body. I think my heart’s stopped from the panic. Don’t move don’t move don’t fucking move if he notices me move I am SO FUCKING DEAD. He’s attacking Gracie! Damn my torpor! If I were stronger, I’d perhaps be able to prevent this. Somehow. I wouldn’t be on the floor and trying to play dead for my survival, at least. That would have to count for something! If I were weaker, then I’d be entirely dead and unaware of everything happening around me. But I’m in the middle. Alive, weak, helpless, unable to do fucking ANYTHING! It’s more agony than my wounds themselves! Gracie falls with a pained whimper.

You shout her name in fear and mourning.

Rooke walks to his right. I can’t see him anymore. 

I hear a sparkthrower shot, and the other marine falls somewhere on the board.

Scratch does some magic. It’s cold and deathly and it makes my fur prickle. It hurts the Elites, I hear them all wince. Kane’s weight disappears off of me. I want to sigh in relief, but I can’t. They’re all still so close to me. If one of them even thinks they hear me…

I hear Rooke attack Scratch. Scratch grimaces. I hear dry bones clatter against the floor, but I don’t hear Scratch’s voice cry out as he falls. Scratch lives. The minion he summoned must’ve been the one to be destroyed.

“Attack Deacon,” you command Scratch. “He’s low!” I hear you running. You jump over my body. I look at you. You don’t look at me. Do you think I’m already dead? I promise, I’m not! I’m still here! I’m still alive! I will still fight! I just… can’t. Not yet. Not now. I’m sorry.

I hear you weave some magic. It entangles Queen and Rooke. Scratch slings spells at Deacon.

I hear Scratch fall.

It’s just you now. Oh fuck.

The battle becomes strangely silent. You must be hidden. That’s the only way they’re not ganging up on you right now. They wouldn’t be able to aim at you. So they bide their time. You bide your time. I hope you know what you’re doing. What are you planning? What are you preparing?

I see Rooke and Deacon and Bishop gather in the corner of the battlefield. Deacon’s body convulses, twitching mechanically as something invisible overtakes him. Probably more of your magic, I think. He falls flat onto the floor. I am so glad to see him fall gain, even if I wasn’t the one to deal the final blow this time.

Queen stands over Deacon’s remains. Bishop walks to the space right above my head. I can barely see him from the corner of my eye. Rooke walks past my head, beyond what I can see.

You step over me, and I see Bishop flinch away from your attack! Your blades tear into him, then glance off into Rooke. He attacks you. I hear you laugh. You’re dodging his strikes!

Kane teleports on top of me. I stiffen. I’m getting real fucking annoyed of him standing on my fucking body. I’m not strong enough to try and stand and knock him off his feet without the rest of the Elite swooping down on me like a pack of bloodthirsty falcons. I just have to fucking grit my teeth and bear it.

That motto has helped me survive the slavery I suffered for some years, and the great khan game that I was made a pawn in back when we were in Mooshu a few weeks ago. I hoped to never have to rely on that motto again. But it seems my hopes and dreams and all my other sentimental bullshit are just made to die. Sucks.

Your shout pulls me from my thoughts. You go from laughing to panting quick and heavy. You’re scared. Queen is standing over Bishop’s corpse now, holding her bloodied. sword at the ready. Wait shit that’s your blood. That’s a Good Fucking Reason to be scared actually I’m not fucking judging you holy SHIT. I feel some of your blood drip onto my face. 

“Oh fuck oh god I only have 33 HP shit shit shit-” I hear you panic. What the fuck does that even mean? 33 HP? What does HP stand for? How do you have 33 of these things? Where are you getting that number from?! Are you saying random shit to try and calm down!? Come on, pull yourself together! “AND NO HIDES ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” you screech. What the fuck does THAT mean!? 

You run for your life. Queen runs after you. I hear Queen cry out in pain. You laugh in victory and relief. It’s the sweetest sound I’ve heard today.

You quiet down. You’re calming down. I hear you barely chuckle and say something. It vaguely sounds like “Found a hide”, but that doesn’t make any sense. In any case, are things suddenly under control? It’s just you versus Rooke and Kane. Can you 2v1 them? With your agility and magic and resilience, can you outlast them better than I?

I first hear, then see Rooke retreat into the same corner Deacon died in. I am so confused. He seems very confused too. Wait. You’re hidden and biding your time again, are you? Rooke wouldn’t know where you are, or where you’ll end up, so he’s just lying in wait it seems.

You rush to him, a cloaked blur. Your knives catch the light. You tear into Rooke’s inner workings. He shudders and collapses. Kane teleports to the square in front of me.

You smile. You attack him. He doesn’t go down. He kicks you in the chest. I hear a loud crack. Bone? Armor? Wait, you don’t wear heavy armor that can crack.

My eyes widen. He’s going to strike you with the same move he cut me down with!

He leaps with a twirl. You try to raise your knives against him.

I reach with my left arm. I grab his leg. I pull him down. “NOW, DIRK!” You don’t even need the command; I just want to shout.

You plunge your knives down at Kane. The blades land in his mask, crumpling the metal and nicking something important. He lets out a tortured scream and drops his sword. “No!” Kane shouts. His voice dwindles, breaking down. “Not like this…! I must… not…”

“Checkmate, you devil. Check. Mate,” someone else spits. I think it’s Bonnie Anne, but my head is still spinning from the adrenaline and blood loss, I really can’t tell.

Kane falls flat onto the floor, with only his left leg held up by me.

Our breaths are tense and ragged. You laugh heartily and swoop down to hug me. I let go of Kane’s leg. “We did it,” you gasp, a laugh bubbling in your throat. “G.G.”

You rush over to Gracie and Scratch. I pick up my sword and try to stand. It’s hard, with one hand still holding a wound shut. The rest of the crew come in and help the three of us stand. I lean against Ratbeard. Sarah lends a shoulder to Gracie. You pick up Scratch’s bones and reassemble him. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how he works, physically. I don’t have to, though. He’s as much a friend and crewmate as anybody else, and that’s all that matters, in the end.

As we all gather and help each other up, I hear the Machine begin to creak and groan. A bright purple bolt of electricity and magic strikes from the roof to Kane’s broken body. It pulls him up. I strain my eyes and neck to watch this next bit. The bolt pulls him almost to the ceiling. His mask falls off his face and onto the floor with a painful rattling loud thud. The bolt takes something from his head: the Golden Brain. The rest of his body falls, even louder than his mask, and the Brain disappears in the light. Or something. I stop looking. My neck hurts.

“What the devil’s going on here?” Bonnie asks, her voice low.

“Kane’s Golden Brain, something take it far away from here,” Old Scratch answers. His voice sounds a bit rougher and quieter than normal. He’s weak from the fight too. “I an’ I cannot see where it gone. Mighty mojo indeed…” He then tilts his head to the side, like he’s hearing something nobody else can. “Captain! The crystals!”

You look at the corners of the room. I look too. I see more of the magic crystals mounted on… devices or something in the corners. I didn’t notice them initially. You walk over to them, without a lick of hesitation… or curiosity. You don’t even have your arm outstretched.

The crystals light up as you approach. How were you so certain that just approaching them would make them react? A voice we haven’t heard in a long time echoes around the room. “Kin, hear me!” It’s your mother’s voice. Her voice is faint. I can’t hear her too clearly. She may have said something else.

“Hear us!” your father’s voice echoes.

“Bless my soul!” Milo exclaims. He brings his hand to his heart. “Your parents’ ghosts have come back!” He walks up to you and puts his arm around your shoulders. The rest of us approach too, though slower.

“El Dorado… let it go, my child,” your mother begs you. “Gold is nothing. The Spiral is everything. You have saved it.”

“We are so proud of you. Now, we shall know peace…” Your father’s voice fades.

“Oh Captain my Captain it be true,” Old Scratch vows. “The ghosts of your parents, they be home.”

“I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” Milo cries. He pulls you even closer. He wipes some tears from his eyes.. He knew your parents before they died too. Of course this is an emotional moment for him. I give him space. “I’m proud of you too.”

“They may be gone, but you’ll always have a family,” Sarah promises. She rests her tail on your shoulder. You bring your hand to her tail.

“Arr… it’s true,” Ratbeard says. His tail wraps around you and Sarah and Milo. “Cap’n, you’re the best… the best… the best…” I hear him sniffle. He’s crying too. All the sentimentality is starting to get to me.

“Aw, take heart, ye old rascal,” Bonnie Anne chuckles. She elbows Ratbeard lighty in the side. “Captain, I don’t know about you, but I’m getting tired of Valencia. It’s time to go home. What say we tell Avery the good news?”

You sigh and let your shoulders hang. “Yeah, let’s get outta here.”

We slowly make our way out of the Machine. I notice Gazpaccio’s corpse on the way out. Are none of us going to take him with us?

You say nothing about it. And none of us are in the mood to carry dead bodies, so we do nothing about it. 

At least it makes the lift ride down a little less cramped, with one less person. I’m trying to hold onto the little things. I’m still reeling from the fight. We did that! I did that! The Armada fell! The war is won. Your destiny is won.

We stagger to the ship. Monkey King lends his staff to Gracie to brace herself against.

I look to you. Your gaze is distant. Your blood stains your shirt. “Just hold on, Dirk, we can wrap our wounds onboard,” I try to reassure you.

You nod. You grab onto the rope ladder hanging off the side of our ship. You climb up. The ladder sways with the wind.

You miss a step! I reach with my left arm. I try to grab you. Between the swaying and the panic, I miss. The rest of the crew try to help too. But we can’t reach. We can’t get on the ladder at the same time as you. It can’t hold the weight of two people. It would only break.

Your aim gets even shakier until your hands let go of the ladder. You-

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You fell.

Off of the docks and into the cloudy skies below.

I screamed. We all screamed. But there was nothing we could do.

[sk-lumen]

Hey Lumen,

Is it normal to outgrow people when you’re ”leveling up”? Because I feel like my current friendships don’t align with me anymore and at this point I’m kinda holding on just because I’ve known them forever and see them often...

And if this is normal how could I distance myself from them without causing any drama? Thank you!

Hi love,

The answer is yes! It’s completely normal to outgrow people when you’re improving every aspect of your life.

The truth is, you cannot holistically level up, if something as foundational as your circle of friends or acquaintances is a group of people that are scarcity-oriented, bitter and unsupportive. They will inevitably only bring you down and hold you back from evolving, instead of the opposite - lifting you up as any friends should!

I know because I struggled with this for many years. I was stuck in an environment that had this exact effect on me. Because things were complicated at the time, I had no choice but be exposed to such groups of people, and I thought that by pure will or self discipline I could minimize or alter the effects it had on me. And it was a fool's errand, because you can’t! We’re human, and our peers are inevitably the most influential on our wellbeing, daily habits and success.

Change your environment, and your mindset will follow along.

Remember when some while back I wrote that you cannot bloom in a toxic soil? That’s it. You need a healthy, fruitful foundation in order to really start thriving and blooming, and part of that healthy foundation is having people around you that at least have a neutral, if not positive effect. Otherwise, it’s like trying to climb a mountain while carrying the unnecessary baggage of “doubt, judgement, evil eye, misunderstanding” and whatever else results from having the wrong people around you. Why fight against gravity, when you could just let go of the unnecessary baggage?

It’s okay to ougrow people. Nobody says you have to be indiscreet and just cut people off. You can part ways in a classy and diplomatic way where everybody is all the better for it. You, because you’ve made more space in your life for equal-minded people who are ambitious, open minded, with a growth/abundance mindset, eager to become a better person and happy to support those around you, your loved ones doing the same. And the people you leave behind, with values that don’t match yours, will likewise be better off because they can find more people that align with their views. It’s a win-win situation.

By staying in the wrong circles, you’re doing yourself a disservice.

It’s the same with staying in an unhappy relationship where you don’t feel seen, or even worse, is a toxic one. By staying in it, you’re not giving yourself the opportunity of actually finding the right one, the healthy one, one that makes you actually happy.

When you let go of the old, you’re creating space to let in the new. It’s a universal law.

Darling, I know this step can be hard — letting go of people. But you should be honest with yourself and ask, are these people really your friends? Do you feel supported, seen, loved, understood? Do they bring light into your life? Or is it just an “acquaintanceship”, where they use you for their benefit, or you hang out simply out of habit because you see each other every day (circumstantial)? Outside of those circumstances, does the connection actually hold up? Only you can decide, but once you do, let your life goals reflect your friendships as well.

As for your last question, you can move on in an elegant way, and it depends on you entirely how you go about it. For easily triggered people, you can be diplomatic by saying you’re busy and have a lot of tasks/projects going on. For the rest, you can be honest and say you want to focus on improving yourself so you have other priorities right now — and they can either join you on the journey, or you can gently part ways.

Hope this helps, and I wish you the best. 💖🥂

-Lumen

[existslikepristin]

Please, No Virginity Puns

The most recent thing I posted before tumblr. It was on Choerry's birthday, and I am proud of that.

Tags: TheLounge, Loona, Choerry, male reader insert, it's her birthday!, 100% butt stuff, I ate a thesaurus

~~~~~

It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you get there?

Well, moments prior, you were sitting next to Choerry at your small dinner table. She’s always insisted on sitting as close to you as possible in order to enable near-constant snuggling. It’s gotten a little annoying here and there, but you can’t help but concede to her innocent demands whenever she smiles.

Of course, and not that you’ve ever complained about this, that’s not to say that her demands aren’t always entirely innocent. Most of the time they are, but not always.

That day, for example, you woke her up with breakfast in bed. It wasn’t tradition, but you were just getting her back for the last time she did it for you. And what better day to present her, prone, with a pancake, pulverized potato, and porridge parfait platter… with toppings… than her birthday?!

It can be hard to tell if Choerry is acting or not at times, but you’d like to think that her cartoonish level of enthusiasm for the treat was entirely real. She carried that sunshine throughout the rest of your day, skipping through the park, greeting everybody on the way to, inside, and on the way out of The Lounge, at the surprise party that you helped all of her members get her with, and when she dragged you to her room.

Not a drop of alcohol had touched her lips that night, so it was all the more surprising when she shoved you onto her bed and stated matter-of-factly-but-also-vaguely that she wanted you to put a thing in her butt. Her words came out of her mouth like shimmery soap bubbles.

You had to pause for a moment to process her words. You were certainly up for some sexy times with Choerry. You had anticipated it was going to happen when she put your hand down her pants near the end of the birthday party with no attempt at subtlety. But her exact word choices had you rubbing your temples out of exasperation, even as she stripped herself down to her ridiculously cherry red lingerie.

Your chance to admire that rare view was lost to history, however. She removed the lingerie from her body while she claimed your lips. Your disappointment at not getting the opportunity to remove it yourself quickly faded when she popped back up though.

Her breasts were as perky as her attitude, and also your dick. She was quick to notice the latter and made quick work of your clothes too. She sighed satisfactorily at the sight of your sword and stooped to supply it with a suck and some slickening slobber, so you suspected the sex was starting summarily; more swiftly than standard, it seemed.

Concerned for her well being, you made sure to ask if she had lube available. Again, you weren’t going to complain about her gusto, but she lacked the anal experience that some of your mutual friends had, at least you assumed. Sure enough, there was a bottle mere feet from her reach in her drawer. She grabbed it and jumped back on top of you, pouring it generously over her ass crack and your cock with surprising accuracy for someone so engaged with a hot and heavy kiss.

You were sure you had something to say on the matter. Perhaps some additional words of caution, maybe some other words of encouragement. It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you-- come back around to the exact same thought that the story began with?

“It’s okay, right?”

You attempted to blink away your stupefaction. “O-okay?”

“Mhm! For me to… you know!” She leaned in and whispered directly into your ear, “Put your penis in my butt.”

Ah, yes. The demand that you had nearly forgotten in her flurry of kisses, now slightly reworded to include your dick in the equation. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just checking!”

“We’ve… done this before.”

“I know!” Choerry swooped back in to continue kissing you, implying that she had no intention of expounding further. Her fingers wrapped around your cock, massaging the whole length to ensure that the lube had maximum coverage.

Your breath caught as you felt her readjusting you, tapping you around between her legs as she tried to match you up with her intended target purely via exploration. Your cock was ground between her ass cheeks, the tip slid over her clit, and dipped briefly into her pussy. A groan was the only complaint you could give to only being given a half second of her fantastic heat.

You didn’t have to wait long to get it back. Her ass opened up to the pressure she applied against it with your dick, but exceptionally slowly. Choerry released a series of little exclamations into your mouth as she pushed. She tossed the lube bottle to the side and snatched your hand, curling her fingers into your palm.

Finally, the last pop came, and was followed by a short slide. With no more manual guidance necessary, she grabbed your other hand as well, which promptly slipped out of her grip considering the amount of lube present.

Choerry released you from your kissy bliss to look at her slippery hand, a mixture of anger and amusement on her face. She tried a couple more times to hold your hand with it, but you liked this look. You easily slithered your hand out from under hers every time she slapped down. It was like watching a cat trying to catch a laser pointer.

It was just another reminder that no matter how deep inside Choerry you may physically be, she’ll never stop bringing a goofy-ass smile to your face.

Finally, you relented and entwined your fingers with hers, locking your knuckles together so you wouldn’t fall apart. She glared down into your eyes, but a grin still crept through. “Thank you,” she said, lips tight and nose scrunched up.

With you fully in her grasp, Choerry straightened herself up, allowing you the opportunity to look up and down her sublime figure. Though her movement caused her to cause you to penetrate her a bit further which caused her to flinch slightly, she kept herself aloft on her knees to not go too far all at once. She closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths there, as calmly as if she was meditating.

As much as you wanted to go ham on her ham, you didn’t want to hurt her, so you contented yourself with watching her chest rise and fall. “Happy birthday…” you whispered.

“You’ve already told me that today,” Choerry intoned, eyes still closed like she was drifting off into her own little world.

You laughed. “I was saying it to myself! Have you seen you?”

She smiled again, and said three words in a voice that made it seem like she was speaking to an audience on the edge of their seats, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Her fingers constricted around yours, so you questioned if she was, in fact, ready. But you wouldn’t be the one to stop her.

Choerry’s tight tush trucked its way toward the top of your tower twice to tighten her take on the task at the time, before torturously trending testicle-ward. She temporized without taking your entire tool.

So hypnotized were you with her graceful movement that you didn’t even notice the frustrated moan coming up your throat until it was too late.

Her eyes popped open. “I’m sorry!” She sounded like she meant it, too. “This is… tough.”

“Take your time,” you said, straining your voice for comic effect.

“Could have used that four paragraphs ago,” she said, continuing her extremely slow descent down your shaft.

The odd statement distracted you just long enough for Choerry to finish her drop. No longer did space separate your pelvises. You grew concerned again when she winced and bit her lip from the inside.

“Choerry, we really can do something else. Don’t hurt yourself please.”

She gave you an exaggerated, indignant gander. “Rhetorical question: Who gets to choose the cake on her birthday?”

You held in your “cake” joke.

“It’s me,” Choerry’s voice was far too chipper to make this talking-to sound as stern as you were sure she wanted it to come across as. “As birthday lady, I get to pick the cake, and I get to feed it to you if I want to.”

You held in your “cake feeding” joke.

“And tonight, the cake I pick is my bum.”

You opened your mouth to comment on her most excellent selection of the word “bum” in the midst of a scenario where your cock is fully inside of said bum, but you instead gasped a sharp breath.

Choerry ground forward, pulling your dick with her and anointing the lowermost part of your stomach with the juices being lightly sprinkled from her clit.

“Besiiides,” she continued, re-angling her hands to she could tickle the backs of yours, “We have all the lube! Even some that’s got a certain special flavor to it!”

“Just some?”

“Yeah, ooh,” she crooned, apparently quite enjoying the grind back down your pelvis, “I didn’t get it all at once. Now guess the flavor!”

You waited for her grinding to pause again to be able to think straight, “Does it start with a ‘C?’”

Her smile grew. “Yes!”

“Is it a fruit?”

“Yes!”

“Is it… cherry?”

“Failure!”

“Wha--”

“It’s coconut!”

If you weren’t so established in your hand holding with Choerry, you’d have palmed your face. Thankfully, thoughts of how she could have possibly expected you to guess that were pushed to the back of your mind as she resumed her removal of your breath with a series of fanciful body rolls.

Finally fucking her fanny felt fictional. For while not the first foray there, far-fetched was the philosophy that it was fielded often, the front being the favored fornication fissure for the foreseeable future. Unless, of course, you could make this an especially special session.

But woe was unto you. Choerry had the upper hand(s) figuratively as well as literally. But, perhaps, you thought, this was exactly what she wanted and you could wait your damn turn to take control.

And you liked letting her anally probe herself this way, so, you know, what were you to do but enjoy the ride?

Over the course of her self-imposed ravaging, Choerry’s meditative breaths became ragged. Her eyelids fluttered at regular intervals. Through it all, she held her phantasmagorical demeanor. A couple of times she reached for the lube bottle and shotgunned it somewhat inaccurately between her legs, but it did the job. You were happy to see that she was still considering her own comfort.

In fact, to your surprise, her mouth opened wide in a silent shout. Her core trembled anticipatorily. Her hands held yours with a colossally increased lewdness. And those two mystical words trickled from her tongue with a high-pitched susurration, “I’m… cumming…”

Choerry’s grinding came to a grinding halt. Her body jerked and she fell onto you. Your cock sprang free of her ass in, and as a result of, the same motion.

You untangled one of your hands to stroke her back in the most adoring fashion you could muster. After chewing on a thesaurus for the prior hour, you were sure neither of you really needed any more words.

She stayed there for a spell, and you were happy to let her. It was so late it was nearly no longer her birthday, but her birthday it still was. She deserved the rest, along with the rest of your undivided attention.

Her whole movement consisted of her back going up and down as her lungs attempted to revive her fighting spirit, and her thumb lovingly shifting over the divinatory lines on your palm. You wished she would do something about her hair plastered on your chin, but ninety-nine percent of paradise is paradise enough.

You were disappointed when Choerry rose once more, slimily straddling your stomach. She detached her hands from yours to give the hair on either side of her face a good backward flick over her shoulders, and she sighed with contentment.

It was a shock to hear her speak again after such a prolonged reticence, but her unerringly cheerful voice was entirely welcome nonetheless.

“More please.”

You couldn’t then, and you still can’t help but concede to her innocent demands. Her smile just touched the corner of her lips. Sure, some of her demands aren’t so innocent, but… How did you get here again?