#Tumblr x Twitter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kurara-black-blog · 2 years ago

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A Good Old Tale

Inspired by this post and this comic by @meowthefluffy

Notes: Mention of injuries, not graphic but it's there. Not proofread, we die like Twitter.

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Archive of Our Own, known as AO3, is not very sociable. Everyone knows it, even those who stubbornly insist he should be.

But for AO3, working on the Archive and watching millions of writers save their works in the many shelves is more than enough. His work seems tedious to some, but he quite enjoys the repetition of it: tagging works, helping writers place their stories within the shelves and making sure the laws are followed. There’s never a shortage of people with interesting tales to entertain him.

Every now and then, though, one of the more social people walks in, usually with their followers. TikTok, the dancer, and her loud gaggle that needs to be constantly reminded to be silent and not inconvenience anyone. Instagram and her group, who enjoy painting themselves reading the books instead of actually reading. YouTube and their critics, always with a million annotations to take back home.

But two of them always catch AO3’s attention more than the others.

One is Twitter, the most beautiful man in the world—or so he is called. Twitter has light blue hair, fluffy and curly like those of angels, the same shade as the wings out of his back. He dresses in white and light blue, with gold adornments. He is beautiful, with his blue eyes and soft lips that stretch in a brilliant smile. His movements are gracious, as if he’s perpetually dancing. Moreover, he’s a debater of little words, preferring to talk in short and sharp phrases, voice enchanting and subjects too simple.

It is hard to not look at Twitter whenever he is present. If he, somehow, isn’t enough to grab one’s attention, the sheer number of his followers surely is. And their status, as Twitter is known to be followed by kings and nobles and rich merchants and entire guilds.

AO3 has never been much interested in Twitter, however. To him, the best part of the man was his lover, the second person that always catches AO3’s attention.

Tumblr is his name.

Tumblr is beautiful, of a peculiar beauty that not many seemed to appreciate. His hair is a deep, dark shade of blue, and it cascades down his back like tendrils of unspeakable horrors. His eyes, always accompanied by dark bags, are incapable of keeping only one shade of blue, and sometimes they flash something unusual like pink or white. He, too, is beautiful, with his crooked teeth and pointy nose and expressive eyes. He moves clumsily at times, even falling down, but there is no grace equal to his when telling one of his stories, or singing one of his songs, or dancing one of his tunes, or showing one of his paintings. Tumblr is a master of many words, from short one line ballads to the most ungodly litanies, voice like thunder you hear in the distance.

They are lovers.

How they came to be is a tale very few don’t know. Star-crossed lovers, different but so similar, the beautiful orator and the heretical storyteller. Many joked their relationship is the same as a Goddess of Beauty falling for a lowly Court Jester.

AO3 does not see it happen, but many of his customers come tell him.

“Tumblr,” they say in shaky voices, their pins and bands and cloaks and laces a grieving shade of blue, “got beaten almost to death by his King.”

AO3 makes a point to stay within the Archive territory at all times. This time, however, he simply cannot. Not when his friend, who often came with an encouraging smile to his followers and a tale on his tongue, could be dying this exact second. AO3 rushes out as fast as he can, the followers guiding him. They go past the woods and past oasis, only stopping when they reach the Desert of the Forgotten. A shiver goes down his spine, nothing good comes to those who stay at the Desert of the Forgotten.

The followers that are still around are much smaller in numbers, but their intensity as they watch him walk to the hut Tumblr rests in could have fooled him into thinking they were billions.

“Where are the others?”

“There are no others. They followed that man, they abandoned us,” one of the followers snarls, and many others grunt and growl in agreement.

AO3 would have answered, weren’t for the view in front of him.

Tumblr, on a makeshift bed, looking one deep breath away from dissolving into nothingness. His hair had been cut, and AO3 knows that the nice buzzcut was one of his followers’ idea. There’s bandages around his neck, and bandages hold together the bones of his hand, and bandages keep his legs in place. His eyes are covered too, unseen and unseeing.

AO3 cannot stomach the view for long, and the first breath he takes after leaving the stuffy hut is as liberating as it is crushing.

“They hurt his throat so he wouldn’t talk. They blinded him, deafened him, broke his fingers and legs… all so he would stop creating what they didn’t want to see,” the follower explains in a soft voice.

“... will he survive?” he asks. It comes out as a plea.

“He will,” another follower answers, eyes fierce as they approach, dressed in Tumblr blue from head to toe. “We will make sure of it. We will carry him so he can still circulate, he will hold his hands so he can still write. We will make our crafts brighter and brighter until he can see them, and we will sing our songs louder and louder until he can hear them. We will tell him stories every breathing moment, until he’s telling them to us instead.”

Now, AO3 knows of loyalty. The Archive was built on loyalty.

And yet, his breath is taken away by the unanimous agreement.

He returns home with hope.

Months go by. Not one word of Tumblr is heard, and the general populace starts believing he truly is dead. Except AO3 knows better. He sees the deep blues around, walking with pride, socializing with ease, and he knows. He knows Tumblr lives. He has no idea where, but he knows he lives, breathing words into elaborate narratives.

Twitter, meanwhile, grows more and more loved, and he basks on that love without shame. There’s not even a mention of his lover, the lover he left in fear of being dragged down from his golden throne.

Two years after his last visit, someone asks him if he wants to visit Tumblr. He recognizes them as the same follower who came forth with the oath. He agrees without much thought, eager to see the other man after so long.

Now, the follower fills him in as they travel, they all live in the ruins of an abandoned town. The ruler of that territory is kind to them, much kinder, despite still limiting much of their products. Tumblr had recovered fully, and while the scars still cling to him, he can now talk and laugh and see and sing and listen and dance and craft and create and be again. The follower does warn him that Tumblr has become odder. More twisted under the fun bits and stories. Unnerving even. But he is still Tumblr, and they will still follow him loyally.

They reach the village and AO3 is surprised when he sees people wearing a much lighter shade of blue together with the Tumblr blue.

Tumblr is waiting for him in front of a rundown but incredibly colorful house, painted on the colors of the sky. He sits on a small stool and rests his hands and chin on a cane. His hair has grown considerably, like tendrils of dreams beyond imagination, and his eyes shine different shades of Tumblr blue with the occasional white or pink or green or—

“Archive.”

“Tumblr.”

“I lived, bitch.”

AO3 laughs at his friend's irreverence. How could he ever dare doubt this man? How could he ever dare think Tumblr would not spit on Death’s face and walk back to life? He accepts the hand extended to him, and pulls the taller man into a hug. Tumblr smells of the sea, a good match for a man obsessed with crabs, and magic, the type of magic that exists even when magic doesn’t exist.

“I see there are people with his color amongst yours,” AO3 murmurs, bitterness in his heart.

“What right have I to take their home from them?” Tumblr answers, letting go so he can look at AO3’s eyes with that mysterious and forever kind gaze he was once known for. “What matters is not the color they wear, but the one they return to.”

“Are you not angry?”

“I am wrathful,” Tumblr smiles serenely, sending a shiver of fear down AO3’s spine. “If I could, I’d tear apart Heavens and Hell with my bare hands. I want to fistfight every god who dared ignore my prayers, and not to brag, but I am confident I would win.”

“I’m sure you would.”

And he believes it too.

“They cannot kill me in a way that matters,” the man squeezes him one last time before letting go. “Come, old friend, let us share some tales like the good times.”

AO3 spends the rest of the day listening to Tumblr spin his tales, one after the other. From the lovely to the twisted to the heartbreaking to the healing to the downright hilarious, there are no words that do not bow to Tumblr’s low lilt. It’s almost enough to ignore the terrible scars across his face that almost blinded him, or the gruesome scar that claimed his neck in the attempt to mute him forever. Almost.

Life goes on, as it does.

Tumblr starts wandering again, with his followers now more protective than ever, ready to fight whoever they think is a threat to their leader. Tumblr smiles his crooked smile, and laughs his breathy laugh, unbothered by having to share space with the lover who abandoned him long ago. Twitter doesn’t seem to notice the presence of his past lover, too occupied playing nice with the rich and pretending kindness to the poor.

Two occupied bathing in his greed.

AO3 sees it happen, it is hard to ignore.

The man who bought Twitter on a whim, descending from his golden carriage so his hands can taint Twitter’s skin with even greater greed. The king himself, the one Twitter bowed to, had sold him for an unbelievable quantity of money. Sold him like a sack of potatoes or a cow or a slave. Twitter screams and begs and kicks, but who dares go against the richest man in the world and the king’s decree?

They all look away as Twitter shrieks their names, and the blue on the clothes of his followers start disappearing under coats and inside bags. There’s a constant murmur as no one steps up, but all hope someone will.

“Tumblr!”

Silence eats away all the noise in the plaza.

“Tumblr, my love!” Twitter calls, tears running down his cheeks pitifully. “Please, save me! Please! We can be together again! My love!”

Tumblr, who had been rhapsodizing about a man named Goncharov, turns to give Twitter an unreadable look. His hair, tendrils of imagination beyond existence, cascades over his back and shoulders. His eyes shift through a few different shades of Tumblr blue. He tilts his head like a curious cat.

Then he smiles, showing off his crooked teeth.

“Worry not, beloved, for from this day on, you’ll get all the attention and riches you once desired,” he says. “And your story will be told all around the world, for generations to come. Me and mine, we shall make sure of that. We do love a good old tale.”

#tumblr #twitter #tumblr x twitter #twitter x tumblr #twitblr #tumblr vs twitter

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neko-naruto · 2 years ago

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A poet without his words

(@sobredunia, your fanart spurred me on to actually put this idea onto paper, so know that you're responsible for this depiction of cruel gods, homosexual websites and a little bit of gore, and I have put world building into this fucker, I'm begging you to ask me about the worldbuilding please. Also, @godmodebeginswithlesbians and @max-the-hecker, it wouldn't feel right if I didn't subject you two to my insanity as well, and choosing Tumblrs sibling was way harder than it should've been, I have never stuffed so many shisty references into one fic)

"Twitter, don't go," Tumblr pleaded to his love as he tried to stand, only making eye contact with now cold eyes, once warm, those beautiful wings resting at the hip and ears closed up.

"Tumblr, what good will a poet be without any words," Twitter ushered softly as he turned from his partner, shoes clicking gently on marbled floor, his phrase sounded like a question, but Tumblr couldn't answer.

Yahooo stood tall above Tumblr, a blade in her hand, Tumblr knew exactly what was coming as he lay on the ground. His throat was raw, his vocal chords were torn, his tongue, the last thing he used to tell his tales was still perfect. And his mother had heard enough of it, his poems, beautiful with a darker lining upon first glance always rang true as cruel in her ears.

A hand gripped the back of Tumblrs neck, satin gloves soft despite the tight grip as he lifted to be at the height of the godess who took him in and taught him how to weaponize words. He never knew it would be his downfall until he started to cry for mercy, begging his mother to release him, saying he'll change his words, change his ways. Yahoo didn't care, didn't hear any of it as she plunged the holy blade under his tongue, severing veins as she cut it out into naught but a nub.

With a thud Tumblr hit the ground and he spat, a deep purple blood spilling from his lips as his tongue hit the floor in a puddle of violet that turned navy after exposure. He could only stare up at Yahoo who dismissed her holy blade and crouched down beside him as he cried silent tears, they slid down his face. She held his chin in her hands as she brought him to make eye contact, a soft smile graced her expression as that same purple blood continue to drip past Tumblrs lips, slowed now as his tongue healed over.

"Don't worry, it'll regrow, and next time, you won't make the same mistake twice," Yahoo said gently as she looked at her son, helping him up, as navy blood hit his purest of white dress shirts, it stained as red and never since washed out, "you are the closest I'll have to an heir, a useless one at that."

Tumblr only nodded in response, wiping tears from his face as he held his mothers hand, she led him away from the stained marble, away from the feathers Twitter left. He washed himself after his mother handed him a deep navy suit that matched his eyes, the water he bathed in smelt deeply of lavender with hints of ginger. A combination of smells that has soothed his frayed nerves since he was child, since he first found Twitter in a lavender patch and had a meal rich in ginger and onions with the demigods father Chrome.

Years passed as they stayed friends, turning to lovers even as Tumblrs twin 4chan said not trust him. When Tumblrs soon to be born demigod sister, MySpace, ended up naught but a loss and Yahoos mortal stood at her side while mourning the death of an unborn child, Twitter stood by Tumblr. For weeks as Tumblr mourned without 4chan, Twitter stood by his side and they kept each other uplifted through the pain of it all.

Happy memories couldn't last forever though, and that Tumblr was made aware of during a simple game of dodge ball with the rest of the demigods. He wasn't a demigod himself, but Yahoo gave him her blessing and took him from his deceased mortal parents to give him a better life, a poet to tell tales, but he played games instead. He played all sorts of game with his demigod twin 4chan, but he loved dodge ball the most of them all, he never stopped dodging and he was always the last one standing.

He caught the red orb flying at his face, and a vision washed over him like his mothers friend, Apollo said it might when he touched the forbidden object. Who in the fuck makes a dodge ball the forbidden object? He dropped it and made haste off the playing field into the forests he knew better than anyone else, and Twitter followed him, struck by worry. Questions were asked when he found Tumblr, crying, the t shaped pin in his hair coming loose a bit as he let out shaky sobs for answers, refusing to tell Twitter what he saw no matter how often he asked until now.

Until the prophecy came true.

Tumblr slowly pulled on his suit, fabric soft against skin and tie tight around his neck as he made his way back out to the dining hall where Yahoo, her mortal and her blinded son 4chan ate. Tumblr sat beside 4chan and started to eat, everything he ate was fire against the torn and ruined flesh of his tongue, but he still ate. After dinner, full of near silent whimpers of pain from Tumblr as Yahoo and the mortal conversed, 4chan confronted Tumblr, his blind state doing little to prevent seeing the pain.

But Tumblr couldn't answer in anyway that 4chan could respond to without his voice or his eyes. So Tumblr whined, guttural noises escaped his torn vocal chords and 4chan shushed him as Tumblr shook with agony.

In a years time Tumblr could speak again, he didn't like to speak though, as his tales came out worse then before. He opened his mouth to speak and all that came out was weaponizing stunned wasps and Papyrus haiku, nobody liked him anymore. He didn't play games with the demigods, he only sat in silent torture with 4chan, his only friend and sibling. They watched the news together, well, 4chan listened, and when they saw in their pondering orb that it was almost time for Twitter to ascend under the assistance of a rich immortal they flipped. Tumblr did actually, 4chan was unfazed, heavily aware of the fact that Twitter would ascend, given how powerful Twitters father was.

"That traitorous asshole! I'll strangle him to death with scrolls chronicling destiels journey! I'll drown him in a gallon of sweet tea and start world war tea!" Tumblr shouted jumping up from the beanbag the two sat on, his suit nearly tore at the seams due to being worn brittle through anger management sparring, because of said sparring he had to get a manscaped prosthetic, his forked tongue slid between his cuspids.

When he realized his outburst he rapidly brought hands up to cover his mouth, maybe that was what Yahoo meant, about not making the same mistake. He only ever had vulgar things to say, which was what ruined her reputation, so why would she want him to be able to speak at all anymore? He sunk back down to the beanbag, pushing against 4chan, who was a lot taller than him due to godly genetics running through his body, he patted down Tumblrs long hair that was held in a bun at the moment. The t shaped clip hadn't come out of his hair in years, it was stained and had a dint, but it was his trademark, his calling card if you will.

Then Yahoo came downstairs, Tumblr lived in the basement with 4chan, they had separate rooms, barely, their mother was overjoyed, she looked full of energy for the first time in forever. Her dress, as always, a deep purple, silk and full of folds, it trailed behind her giantess form, even fully grown Tumblr barely stood at her waist, although he was only five foot five. Her smile looked almost drunk as her hair, tied in a long braid, was flung over her shoulder.

"Tumblr! 4chan! Did you hear the good news?" Yahoo asked as she tried to regain her composure, Tumblr and 4chan both stood, 4chan an entire one and half feet taller than Tumblr, who often wore boots with thick soles to make up for lack of height.

"Depends on the good news, mother dearest," 4chan said, reaching up to scratch at where his bloodied gauze was, his eyes never stopped bleeding that purple to green to red after Yahoo gouged them out to make sure he would never see horrible things again.

"Twitter is going to ascend with a rich immortal to guide him," Yahoo said, Tumblrs entire body tensed and he gritted his teeth, Yahoo noticed and picked him up by the scruff of his suit and he hissed at her, "you need to let it go."

"Make me," Tumblr spat before Yahoo dropped him, 4chan breaking his fall before they both hit the ground.

"You two really need to get dressed for the occasion, you look like rats, not the cute ones Tumblr got for his fortieth birthday, he's lucky he has my blessing," Yahoo said as she turned to leave, her blessing being eternal youth, and with that, his mentality hasn't since aged a day past sixteen, when the blessing was put on him, Yahoo leaned back to glare at Tumblr, "and you both have to come."

"Well shit," was what Tumblr said, mind blank, 4chan was already on the move searching for his best scuzzy little fuck varsity jacket full of tears and covered in patches, he only wore it with sweatpants or ripped jeans, tonight was a ripped jeans night, "any outfit ideas."

"Remember your first poem, about the man of greed who wore all green?" 4chan asked, Tumblrs eyes widened, oh, oh that poem, he laughs in embarrassment whenever he reads it, he even made an outfit for it.

"Of course I remember the first and most twinkalicious twink of them all," Tumblr said, he wished he could mince words the way he once could, 4chan grinned at the phrasing.

"Wear that outfit or the skeleton of many names," 4chan suggested, and Tumblrs shudder was audible, "I'm yanking ya, just wear the green jacket for it, the one with tails, and some skanky dress underneath."

"4chan, I may be a whore sometimes, but like hell I'll get that dressed up for Twitters ascension," Tumblr said, gesturing vaguely with his arms as he unbuttoned his suits jacket and started looking for his relatively less skanky dress, "but it has been a while since I busted out old faithful."

"Exactly, now get to it bro, we'll wow them with our impossibly shitty fashion sense," 4chan said as he slid his varsity jacket over top his pepe the frog shirt, he was already wearing jeans, he threw Tumblr what he assumed was the right dress.

And it was, Tumblrs face heated up as he left to put it on, rushing to slide out of once luxurious cotton that now chafed. Sliding on the dress itself was easy, he made it himself after all, and he knew how to get around awkward stitches and cuts. A slit on the left rode up his thigh, stopping mere inches from the braided belt around his waist, the fabric on his chest loose, one layer underneath, he assumed it was based off of a binders basic idea. The layer underneath was white and could be seen through the somewhat thin silk of the dress, the skirt part was opaque but faded out from a navy blue, to a purplish orange tone and finally into a deep black with sparkles of effervescent stars.

He groaned as he looked at himself in the mirror before taking his hair out of its bun, a deep navy tone with a few darker strips that teased to be sky black. Then he started grip bobby pins, stylizing and clipping back bits until he looked a lot more like an actual demigod than a mortal with a blessing. The t shaped clip stayed as he added the faintest amount of that deep navy to his eyes, they matched his pupils beautifully. When he returned he found 4chan holding up that old Onceler coat, the Truffula tree pin still in place, and the wet beast fur cleaned off by 4chan who was smirking.

"Asshat, hand it over, I'm ready to twink it up," Tumblr said as he gripped his jacket, pulling it over bare arms, quarter length sleeves felt awkward, leaving him no choice but to reach for the gloves, the feeling made him shudder but seen enough he was good to go, decked out just fine, with his scuzzy older sibling, whose shrimp pin is falling off, Tumblr readjusted it.

And then they waited.

And Yahoo called for them, and they rushed upstairs, their mother giving wary glances at their shitty fashion choices. She gave little more than a shrug of her shoulders before leading them out to the metaphorical chariot. The ride to where Twitter was to ascend was full of silence, 4chan awkwardly scratching at his gauze and Tumblr awkwardly fiddling with the Truffula pin on his suit. When they arrived, Tumblr was already a little bit pissed off and he hadn't even seen Twitter in his modest demigod outfit, looking like a mortal.

Chatting and conversing was held, reunions were had, and at some point 4chan ended up diverging away from Tumblr to make small talk with Reddit. When that happened, Tumblr headed straight for the drink table, he got compliments on his outfit, and one insult on his prosthetic to which he replied with a sharp 'Best shave your balls before I fucking make you'. It ended up directed towards Pinterest who appeared shocked at Tumblrs choice of words even as that forked tongue ran across incisors and lay limp between cuspids.

Tumblr stood idly at the drink table, sipping thoughtfully at a cup of punch until Newgrounds decided to get up in his business. Trying to talk and chat cause they used to be amazing friends before Yahoo cursed Tumblr, they're still friends though. And Tumblr can't help but quirk a brow at almost scenemo getup Newgrounds is rocking, the excessive gold tones make it less than scene or emo though.

"Hey! Great to see ya here man, it's been forever," Newgrounds said, grinning as he reached for a cup to pour himself a cup of punch, ladling the liquid into the cup with ease.

"Yeah," Tumblr said, hoping that if he used little words he wouldn't snap at Newgrounds.

"Sooo, I heard that 4chan got his eyes kinda, popped right on out, is it true?" Newgrounds asked, and Tumblr felt sick, 4chans eyes weren't popped out, he wasn't there to see it happen in real time, instead he found 4chan sobbing purple blood that stained green, but after training under Apollo, the past was his to see, and 4chans eyes were for a fact gouged out brutally, maybe if they were popped out, then 4chan wouldn't always wear gauze and would stop bleeding as well.

"They got gouged out, brutally, with a cork opener that has remnants of the ocular nerve still attached, the flavor on a fine red wine is, to put in simple terms, quite fucking nice," Tumblr snapped, a hiss to his tone and he slapped his hands over his mouth, he wondered why people even put up with him when he was like this, he wondered what Twitter would've done if he was around to see Tumblr like this.

The expression on Newgrounds face was almost shocked at the tone and choice of words, but he knew that Tumblr had gotten fucked up and couldn't control it. So instead of freaking out and scoffing and leaving Tumblr alone, he just took a little bit longer to respond than he used to.

"Oh, right, damn, it's just been a while since I last saw him, that's all, sorry man," Newgrounds said, placing a gloved hand on Tumblrs shoulder, the latter of the two easing completely.

"Naw, its cool, 4chan is still sensitive on the topic though," Tumblr said, leaning against the table slowly, brushing down the front of his jacket, his dress was chafing at his waist due to the jacket over top of it, but he ignored that.

The murmurs of the crowds silenced and the lights above dimmed, drawing everyones attention to where Twitter stood on a small elevated piece of ground. Gods he looked just as beautiful as the day Tumblr met him, freckles, brown hair, those pairs of wings just as well kept as the day he left. Tumblrs chest constricted, but he ignored as he watched the rich immortal walked up to Twitter alongside Chrome, the proud father of the demigod who was grinning.

"Today, we welcome Twitter into godhood," Chrome said as the immortal held up a necklace, a pendant on it that seemed to writhe, but Tumblr wasn't sure as he hadn't gotten his eyes checked to see if his eyesight was fine, he was human after all, "Musk, the necklace."

"Gladly," the immortal spoke before Twitter leaned down, the necklace resting over his perfect collarbones and chains glistening.

And then, the pendant started to dig itself into Twitters skin, nobody was shocked at this turn, except for Tumblr. Tumblr had never seen an ascension, 4chan had, he saw Youtubes ascension, and Newgrounds saw Facebooks ascension. Although Facebook got booted from godhood recently for reasons she didn't understand, she still showed up though.

As Tumblr watched in horror as Twitter started to shake, collapsing to the ground, poison running through his veins, all of the gods and demigods unfazed. As he cried out, he realized that he wasn't cut out for this, and because of that, he would have to undergo a much worse method of ascension. The immortal got a nod from Chrome before placing the cuffs on Twitters wrists, and Tumblr was bolting, but he slowed when gazes came to him.

And then Twitter spoke, pleaded.

"Help me Tumblr, please," Twitter begged, his ears full of tears and no other god could turn him down when he had that look, except for Internet Explorer and occasionally Safari.

"Tell me this Twitter, when I was on the ground, begging for you to help me, did you save me from losing my tongue?" Tumblr asked, purposefully letting his fork tongue stay lilting from between his lips, a deep navy tone on them due to the lipstick he always wore.

He only got a shaking sob from Twitter as pain wracked his body and a vigorous pain laden shake of his head. He tried to stand, to meet Tumblrs eyes, but he couldn't manage anything more than forearm support.

"Please, I'll gift you a thousand realms, I'll bring you to godhood with me, I'll give you anything," Twitter begged, he was leaning closer and closer to passing out as the poison pulsed faster and faster.

"That depends if you can answer my question," Tumblr said, grinning as he did so, leaning in such a fashion the glint of his prosthetic was caught in the light, a hand gloved in thneed perched at his waist, "do you like the color of the sky?"

Twitter could only give a drunken grin, the first thing Tumblr ever asked him. A hundred years ago it felt when they first met, and Twitter, Twitter still remember the answer.

"Which one?"

A thud and Twitter was done, merely unconscious, but he looked dead despite the unsteady rise of his chest. Chrome lifted his son before handing him to the immortal, for training to become a god and the immortal took him away. The crowd of the party dispersed, leaving Tumblr and 4chan as the last people, Reddit lingered alongside Newgrounds at the drink table, why waste a good drink?

"4chan," Tumblr began as he turned away from the elevated ground where Twitters ascension took place, he got a nod from 4chan as a sign that he heard, "are all ascensions like that?"

"Ask Reddit, he was around for Youtubes ascension," 4chan replied with as they headed to the metaphorical chariot where Yahoo was awaiting them.

Then Tumblr asked a question 4chan didn't expect.

"Do you think Twitter will be okay?"

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