#beeboo writes

[beeboos-creativecorner]

artefact - an assassin's creed au

For day 2, I uncover an Assassin's Creed Kenway family AU I made back in 2021 for an English creative writing assessment. Everyone was none the wiser hehe. I adore this one for its concept, if anything, because after reading it over recently, I don't like the style it was written in, but that may be due to my skills and tastes changing over the last few years. The whole AU was inspired by fanart of Haytham Kenway in Assassin attire, taking on the role of what could have been if things were different AND the clean version of the song We're Good by Dua Lipa (specifically due to the lyrical difference from the original version of the song). Each character's names were changed, but it's pretty easy to figure out who's who from characterisation alone (a highlight of this piece imo !!) - aside from Avis and Wren, a couple of OCs I entirely made up there and then just because. Let's ignore the fact I copied a section straight from the Forsaken novel, shall we ? I look upon that bit with unmeasurable disdain and disappointment. I've rambled enough. Have at it <3

Fic under the cut x

TW for blood and canon typical violence

Mist curled around his feet as the world constructed before him, a recognisable venue fading into view. The tendrils of mist dissipated, the draught and eerie ambience easing off. An evening chill nipped at the bare fingers of the man scouting the abandoned streets. His breath clouded as he adjusted the faint-coloured tricorne upon his head, collecting his thoughts, preparing his speech wisely. To him, this was a regular occurrence, a meeting pre-planned, messages exchanged to arrange it in secret. So far, it was effective and the opposition hadn’t the foggiest clue of the gathering taking place. To him, this was normal, this was business. To his descendant, however, this was wrong, all wrong. 

—

Descendant: an observer, witnessing only the events that took place through this machine. He shouldn’t be back with this ancestor, he lived out enough of this man’s time. Where was the life he was meant to be reliving? Descendant could not affect space and time, though he could file a complaint to his team outside the machine. And that’s exactly what he did.

        “Guys, what’s going on? What- what’s happening?” he spluttered, refraining a panicked curse, failing to articulate his thoughts. Wait… he could speak now? A rushed response from his female companion, Crane, clarified next to nothing.

        “It seems we have stumbled upon some kind of glitch or something. I’ve done a couple diagnostics and- well… I can’t pull you out of the machine right now. It’s too big of a risk, we need to get back on track with the original timeline, but I gotta do it from the inside. I don’t know why we’re back here, with this ancestor specifically, since we were much further ahead yesterday. Anyway, my advice is to just play this out and see where it goes. I’ll work on repairing and rearranging the data, so we can go back to searching for the artefact.”

        “So what you’re saying is the machine has glitched, and I can’t go back to the previous save state?” Descendant asked, a question too evident now. “Huh, it’s kinda like a video game,” he added to himself, forcing himself to make light of a dim situation.

        “No, this is not like a video game, Des. A video game will glitch and often crash. This, this is more like you’ve suddenly discovered a secret level and you can’t get back to the main game until you complete it,” came another voice, more masculine, more matter-of-fact. Descendant’s other loyal colleague, friend second; his words. They called him Robin, believe it or not. None of these names were particularly inventive, considering being labelled after birds, but it was the best one could do whilst being a fugitive from a technology company that integrated itself so smoothly into society. Nothing was ever easy when one was dubbed as the ‘bad guys,’ despite being anything but.

        “Uh, okay. So, does anyone know how this actually happened?”

        “I don’t know how, but your brain is fighting the machine. I knew this could happen, though not like this. It appears your brain is subconsciously withholding information and is altering events to its preference. Maybe,” replied the technician, sharing her uncertainty and plausible theory.

        “Maybe?” Not all took her words with a grain of salt though. A well-known fact about Robin was that he was quite analytic, making him sound arrogant and pompous at times, which got on everyone’s nerves. Especially now, when everyone was feeling pressured to repair the errors that had mysteriously generated before them. “Even your car is in a better state than your theory, Crane.”

        “I don’t see you handing out any bright ideas,” she snapped, leaving no beat between Robin’s insult and her venomous retort. “Just play the thing out, Des. Hopefully I can get you outta this.” And, as the body of a familiar stranger, Descendant took his first step into a new world.

—

The roads weren’t well lit on this particular night, the only providers being a few oil lamps in the distance and the natural beams of moonlight, casting a soft glow on the cobblestone beneath Griffon’s tan boots. The resplendence of the streets at this hour were immense, considering the lack of bustle in the surroundings, though he hadn’t the time to appreciate such small moments alone. Missions to complete, people to report to. Busy, busy, busy. Much unlike the scene outside the venue.

        His chin tilted up to set his gaze on the building’s sign, cautious about the headpiece he wasn’t accustomed to donning. To Griffon’s distaste, this was a formal gathering, one not appropriate to wear bloodstained robes to. Also not one to bring an arsenal of weapons to, which came as another reason not to be attending the performance. But one man can’t have it all. Fortunately, if the worst case scenario comes into action, he’d be prepared. Besides, he could use the bare minimum - his hands - to disable an enemy. He would kill if need be, if a threat presented itself. He was an adept in the art of death; he was taught to be that way. He took no pleasure in it. Simply, he was good at it. When one was taught swordcraft as soon as one could walk, this was how one would see themselves. This was how Griffon’s brothers-in-arms saw him: a talented death dealer. 

        Anticipating the unexpected, the killer disguised as a nobleman entered a whole new atmosphere.

—

“Father,” Griffon hummed low, eyeing the stage and surreptitiously taking his seat at the booth. “What news on the artefact?” Both his father and sister had arrived at the meeting ahead of time, varied reactions between them. His sister, Branwen, clad in voluminous purple fabric, gave a tight-lipped acknowledgement to her younger sibling. Their father, Corbin, much more forbearing and glad for Griffon to join the party.

        “Your sister and I were wondering the same. How did your previous search fare?” His father’s eyes, flecked with steel, yet held such patience; this was a man that raised a strategic murderer. This was a man who could hide his true intentions behind a smile.

        “Fruitless, I’m afraid.”

        “Ah, no matter. Your sister, in fact, has found a lead.” Branwen smirked, arrogant, not catching her father’s stern eye as she did so. That was deliberately for Griffon’s notice, and hit its target dead on, a rippling effect of envy and fury spreading throughout his body. “Which is why we’re here today,” Corbin finished, setting his hands face down on the table. Griffon repressed a grimace. There it was. If there was one thing he could rely on about his father, it was that. There was never a family get-together without the mention of business. Not anymore, not since he was in his tender years. Corbin gestured towards his daughter and she took the liberty of presenting the information herself.

        “A flock of little birdies told me,” she paused, winking at her own awful pun, “that an influential figure is in possession of the artefact. As luck would have it, they’re said to be attending the performance tonight. Which is exactly why we’re here instead of the chocolate house a few blocks down.” Corbin’s lower lip jutted out at the mention of the chocolate house, his mind set on a hearty tankard of ale, which would never come to be.

        As soon as Griffon opened his mouth to further the conversation, a thunderous applause erupted from the audience, forcing him to cut himself short and turn his head. A woman cantered onstage, the band playing behind her incredible vocals. He was caught gazing upon her figure, though not out of lust. As upon her neck, was the artefact. She had the amulet. 

        This meeting wasn’t a waste of time after all, Griffon relished in that knowledge, bringing his boiling blood to a settled simmer. That brought him a sense of solitude, albeit a temporary one.

        “Oi,” Branwen elbowed her brother to attract his attention. “Does she look familiar to you?” He squinted, as if his eyes could zoom in on the performer, who was busy singing something about feeling distant from an old lover and how they weren’t meant to be. Not that any of this concerned him to any extent, he was trying to determine who this woman was. Squeezing his eyes shut and opening them, he focused in again, using the gift that he was endowed at birth. He could see her now. And then it collided with him head-on. By the Spirited Eagle, it was her.

        In an instant, she wasn’t any performer and these words she was spieling off were no longer meaningless. He cursed himself for how ironic this panned out. It could have been anyone, a wealthy aristocrat perhaps, or a corrupt member of Parliament, but no. It had to be his ex-lover, Avis, reappearing into the world after being declared missing seven years ago. Missing, that eventually concluded to the status of ‘deceased’ when he abandoned the search for her with reluctance. His jaw clenched, how dare she show her face again. His mind refused to register it, she was dead to him. She should be dead. Although, he couldn’t deny the flutter of hope that his heart manifested, that animated feeling he hadn’t felt in an eternity. No, he shoved it to the back of his mind, where the notion was meant to belong. For now, he’ll bide his time, watching, listening to the song that was - upon analysing - written for him. It was a song at the minimum, a message at the maximum. That’s what this was, he gathered: a message. A beckoning. He’d made his decision in a heartbeat. If he was being called, he was going to answer.

—

“Uh, we found it, guys. You can take me out now.” Descendant’s voice wavered, a tone of fatigue hitting his final word.

        “In your wildest fantasies, maybe,” Robin spat over the intercom.

        “You gotta keep going, the end of the memory is close. You’re doing fine, just hang in there a little while longer. I think I almost cracked the code.” Crane, however slight, was more optimistic regarding the conditions. Descendant groaned, throwing aside any composure he had in reserve.

        “Okay, quick question before I keep going: who’s the chick? You know, the one that has the amulet.”

        “From the scrambled data we can gather, she seems to be a past lover of Griffon’s, which doesn’t make sense because- well, his son- we already know the messy details,” Robin reported in a split second. He was in charge of linking these historic events, yet the way he pieced it together was unnatural and expeditious.

        “Maybe this is like the whole ‘memory inside a memory’ thing, except this is more your ancestor’s dream-like state. Basically what I’m saying is that your brain is fighting the programming, but it’s not you who messed up the machine.” Crane pitched in with another theory. Descendant sighed,

        “That’s a relief.”

        “I think this is what Griffon wanted to happen, instead of what really went down.” She sounded sure on that one. Robin grumbled a few profanities under his breath about her speculations. Akin to their first spat, Crane told Robin to shut his mouth, before she sewed it shut for him and bade Descendant to keep moving forward. Which he did, to avoid becoming a part of his friends’ disagreement.

—

“Father, sister, if you’d excuse me-”

        “So you do recognise her?” Branwen interrupted, with the air of a child who was desperate to know a secret. Corbin raised a hand to halt further questions, oblivious to their conversation.

        “Do what you must, son. I give you leave to go. Bring us the honour we deserve.” ‘I give you leave,’ that was a phrase Griffon wasn’t attuned to hearing. Straying away from his superiors for an extended period of time had allowed him to abide by his own laws. He never needed anyone’s permission on what leads to pursue and whose life to put an abrupt end to. For years, Griffon had played the role of ‘lone wolf’, and in that moment he realised, he desired to keep it that way.

        Corbin presented Griffon a discreet gift under the table: a feather-shaped blade that - in spite of the low lighting - winked at its new owner, welcoming the new partnership. The son grappled onto his newly acquired asset, testing its weight. He slipped it beneath his cape, to not arouse suspicion. He hoped that there wouldn’t be the necessary means for his blade to taste blood, nevertheless, it would suffice. Branwen intoned,

        “May the Spirited Eagle guide your hand, brother.” Her prayer fell on deaf ears, as Griffon was passing through the crowds, on the path to success.

        This path steered him down various halls, tracking the footsteps of his target. His advancements reduced the distance between them. Better yet, his prey was unaware of being tailed, giving him the upper hand. A wry smile contorted his features, drawing his hat lower on his face to obscure himself from any potential witnesses. He was able to detect her footfalls, his sharp hearing continued to prove valuable. Then, the rhythmic clapping of steps ceased. 

        Griffon skidded to a stop, scanning the surrounding hall. Everything looked the same in this accursed place. Panic surged through his blood, the pattern of his breathing matching that of a feral beast. I can’t lose her. Damn this interminable labyrinth! Unconsciously, he fumbled with the knobs either side of him, as if either would open and give him resolution. Neither did, as they were locked. On the verge of another outburst, his fit was prevented by a slam of a door in the nearby area. All his senses activated at once, bolting down towards where the sound originated, discovering a door in which the lock was absent. Without a moment to lose, the man shoved it open, coming face-to-face with the one he sought.

        “I suppose you got my message then.” It struck him that it was indeed her. Back from the dead, Avis. Distance couldn’t deceive him anymore.

        “Hmm, quite,” he replied, and he could never be so quick to sour. His sight went wandering from her complexion to the pendant resting on her chest. Her expression relaxed and she laughed, flitting a hand to a sunken-eyed pianist. They played a melodious tune, while Avis opened her arms, leaving herself vulnerable.

        “Once more for old time’s sake?” Griffon was plunged into conflict. Every muscle yearned to hold her again. Still, there was that nagging in the back of his mind, telling him to drive his blade through her heart, to punish her like she did to him. No, he assured himself. Now is not apt. Years ago, he vowed that he wouldn’t be fooled twice. And he was going to stick by it. Stepping into her embrace, he needed no words to affirm that he was to play her little game.

        They swayed to the music, the way they used to do as children. Whatever the pair shared in the past had diminished, nothing was the same. His hands crept upwards to her neck, her breath hitching at the contact. This was not a display of affection, in spite of her response. The dance was a ploy, his fingers were following his crafted method. His nail caught the knot of the amulet, having it within his grasp. The woman was almost distracted enough to dismiss the thievery. Almost, but wasn’t. Griffon’s fist retracted, coming away with his prize. Mission accomplished, or so he thought.

She wormed her way out of his clutch, an evident mark of betrayal etched on her face. The pianist hit a false note and sent a wary glance over at their employer, discontinuing to play once assessing the situation. Griffon passed the amulet through to the inside of his sleeve, putting on a ruse that he hadn’t nicked a thing. She shook her head, she wasn’t ignorant.

        “You’ll regret this,” she said, folding her arms over her chest as if to protect herself.

        “No, I rather think I won’t.” He reversed, exiting the room before overhearing the words:

        “Wren, get the boy.”

        Griffon had himself a new enemy.

—

“I ask for a simple trade, Griffon. Don’t make this difficult for yourself, or for the boy. Come on, where is it? Where is the artefact?” Avis barked, deluded. The wind whipped at her hair on the rooftop, an utter change in scene from inside the theatre. She was trembling, possibly because of the evening air or the young boy struggling against her arm.

        “Father, help! Help me!” The boy began to sob, choking against his words, the lock on him tightening. The child was about four, yet intelligent for his age, much like his father.  Griffon had reached an impasse: sacrifice his son for the artefact, losing the one reminder of genuine, pure love to save the world from being cast into eternal shadow. Or, save his son, surrender the artefact to her and fail his mission to endanger everyone. The kid wailed as his father devised a plan of attack. 

        His child, Corvus, was his treasure; a product from a feeling so broad, so true. His mother wasn’t present, hadn’t been for years and she wasn’t here, on this rooftop. She had remained in her own country whilst Griffon trained their son to fill boots too big for him. Irresolution struck him at point-blank, staring into the glossy eyes of his son to find some solace. What he did discover though, was that same raw strength and defiance that attracted him to his mother. Gathering these memories and feelings, he would use them, or at least try to. As much as he’d want to speculate how his son made it to the theatre, the clock was ticking so it would have to wait. The choice had been finalised, he knew what he had to do.

        “Alright,” he called, keeping his voice level in the circumstances. The amulet was out in the open once again, a pulsating glow spreading over his hand. “Here.” He tossed the artefact to her, watching it skitter across the surface like a skipping stone on a lake. She released the boy at the sight of the pendant, scrabbling at the floor to repossess it. Griffon wanted to laugh: she always used to be his little magpie. Used to.

        “Father!” Corvus scrambled over to his father, clinging to his leg with a leech-like grip. He caressed his son’s head, relief washing over him.

        “Corvus, I want you to go downstairs, back to your grandfather. Can you do that for me?” The lad nodded profusely, already out of view within the passing seconds. He prayed to the Spirited Eagle that Corvus would be seen home safely. Griffon would have followed suit, but he had some unfinished business to attend to. It seemed that Avis did too, as she was facing him again, the cord of the amulet dangling between each of her digits.

        “It’s funny, we’ve been at this for centuries - searching for these artefacts to keep them from the clutch of our enemies, to supposedly ‘save the world’. But, have you noticed, Griffon, that all it’s ever done is caused dispute? Wars that raged for years because either side refused to find common ground with those we deemed wrong for the world. Does it humour you that we insist on repeating history over and over? Or are you just as much of an imbecile as the ones you call brothers?” Griffon composed himself and denied himself the right to speak. “If we had an open mind, if we had it in our hearts to forgive our rivals for the mistakes of the past, would we be better off? Could peace be attained? But no, you and your ilk are the reason why peace cannot endure. You speak often of unity, but do you know its true meaning? Of course not, which leaves me one option left: this.” The amulet left her hand, tossed off the roof and began to plummet. Griffon stood both shock and awe of her action, seeing the glow dissipate and plonk into a stream metres below them. It was gone. Washed away with the flow of the current. He wanted to scream, thrash about violently, dive recklessly after it, but he knew it was hopeless. The sounds never came, nor the movements. He was stuck. More importantly, he had failed his mission, his family, himself.

        “Aren’t you burning with a passion to kill me? Aren’t you furious like your brothers of old that I have demolished your goals? Go on, draw your weapon. Kill me.” She was goading him, that was all too obvious. Then why was it he let the thought in? Why did he consider unsheathing his blade? She wasn’t the woman he grew up with, she wasn’t the one he spent endless nights with. She was a monster. A monster who’s incessant ranting filled his ears.

        “I’ll give you a head start,” she said, stepping closer to him. “Do you remember when we spent an entire night talking on and on about our future? How we vowed to live by each other-”

        “And die by each other,” Griffon finished, the words programmed into his brain by the stain of a memory. “How fitting.”

        “I’ve thought a lot about this day and what it stands for us now. Which is why I said that we’re not meant to be, that’s never going to change. So let’s at least agree to go our separate ways, huh?” It all clicked into place, her song. She had seen this play out beforehand, but how? “The decision is yours to make, but I think I already know which side you lean towards. I’ve played my part in all this, I assume you will honour yours. Let’s end this like we should.” Hunched over, she took a few more steps, being now in close proximity. Griffon’s head hung low as he procured the dagger from his cape, turning it over thrice before asserting himself. The artefact may be lost, but he could still finish the final stage of his mission. Applying pressure with the tip of the blade against her chest, he heard a squelch as he punctured through a vital organ. He was already lowering her to the ground during her dying breaths, focusing in on the crimson blood blooming from the void, his hands slick with it. She had space for her final words.

        “We’re good,” she burbled before the blood spilled from her mouth, and the last of her life ebbed away into infinity.

—

“Wow,” Crane exclaimed, baffled as anyone else about what unfolded. “You’re good now, Des. I can get you out. Welcome back.” The alternative reality dissolved, pulling Descendant back into the present day.

        “Man, that was insane. Does anyone have any idea of why that was so messed up? What kind of happy dream world was that?” Descendant rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of it all. In fact, no one could gather a clear concept.

        “We don’t know, but I’m glad we got you outta there. Robin was worried about you.”

        “I was not!” Robin defended, flapping his arms about like a crazed octopus.

        “Anyway, I’ve rearranged the data and deleted some unusual codes I found while you were in there. We’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”

        “Thanks.” Descendant gave his gratitude to his friends that had worked overtime to save him from another perilous situation. He lay down on a nearby mattress, allowing his aching muscles to relax. “By the way guys-”

        “Yeah?” Crane shot back. The escapee of the machine spoke the words that were at the front of his mind.

        “We’re good.”

[luv-again]

honestly ?? amy in cryptic castle is so funny to me bc she's pretty much her cheery self the whole time but also has the undertone of, 'gee fucking whizz i am sick of this shit'

like ??? the way she talks abt the black arms and eggman's robots and eggman himself when he appears in the egg breaker boss ? hilarious

she is so done

[poems-of-the-anentomologist]

I think some thank you's are in order, but first, a story

I grew up in the south, and while it was never taught to me, I always got clues that being queer or feeling any emotions other than "the norm" was wrong. I was called gay for simply hugging a friend in third grade, and while I didn't know what the word meant I could tell it wasn't good.

All throughout my life I felt as though there was an invisible barrier that separated me from all the people I called friends, and I never knew.

Until I met them.

They were queer and they were open about it, they were happy and playful, and above all THEY WERE PROUD

they were proud of themselves

they were proud of each other

and their pride in turn inspired me to look inward

and I discovered things I didn't know I had kept hidden from myself for so long

and I grew connected and I fell in love and I felt whole and happy and alive for what felt like the first time in my life

and then it ended

they left, and I lost a part of myself

without my fellows, I felt exposed, like half of me had just broken off and left me stranded deep in an inky black sea

for two months I suffered, trying to win back their love, to do anything to try and feel that wholeness again.

and it never came, and I was forced to rebuild instead of recover

I guess you could say this challenge was an attempt to rebuild and an attempt to become proud of myself again.

And I couldn't have done it alone.

@leafgorge, I don't have the words to describe how happy I am to have met you, but the best I can try is to say that I could never had seen this completed without your help

@thecrazyalchemist & @reinagony your support and praise has kept me going through this whole challenge

@totheidiot your words describing what my poems have done to you have been the best things I have ever heard, and I am eternally grateful.

@mr-beeboo, @gay--gh0st, @amorphousprimordia, and so many more, you are wonderful stars in the night sky. Never go out.

@motordyk your post made the Intersex poem possible, and without you I would have been in some very hot water

@thebookshelflord your help on the Aroace poem(s) was invaluable and I can not thank you enough.

I'd like to thank the Children of the Stars, you are loved by so many, never forget that

I'd like to thank the Children of the Dawn, there is much to you and you all are so wonderful

I'd like to thank the Sweet Summer Children, we are all working towards a world where you can love those you love freely

I'd like to thank Cicada.

I'd like to thank everyone I haven't mentioned that deserved mention

and as one last thank you, I'd like to thank you, the reader.

Thank you for reading my work, it means so much to me

When I first told my mom about this she said 30 prompts wasn't really that much.

But it wasn't just 30 prompts

It’s all leafgorge's art, all the poems that others made inspired by me, it’s my thoughts and feelings and memories poured into words, it’s the friendships I’ve strengthened and the friendships I’ve been able to write about cathartically, it’s so much more than 30 days of prompts, so so much more

It's been a wonderful journey and I don't ever intend on stopping anytime soon.

Signed, The Anentomologist

[11queensupreme11]

First of all: Long Live the Queen! Hope you're doing great, your stories are a real delicacy... I first discovered your Tsunami fic when I was in my jjk era, but your Arsenic Blues woke up my inner pjo fan. So eager to see how this all unfold.

But for now, time for the Rankings!

My personnal RoR favorites based on the manga only:

1) Shiva--> Not in the harem, but I had to place him somehow. Was searching for a Shiva fic in the first place. Love the himbo energy. At least it's good to see he's one of the "sane" one in your story.

2) Anubis--> Same, feral himbo doggo energy, can we ask for more?

3) Beelzebub--> Noo don't unalive yourself Bb love u so pretty haha🥺

4) Hadès--> All Hail to the King, here for the BigBro energy

5) Poseidon--> Mytho/Pjo fan here, of course he's one of my favorite gods, but I'm not a fan of his RoR portrayal. He's pretty tho.

6) Apollon--> Too effeminate for my taste, I was rooting for Leonidas anyway.

7) Loki--> U ugly ass, stinky ass, nasty ass bi***

Now, the interesting part, the Ranking based on [Arsenic Blues], as for now, until chapter 31:

1) Beelie Bestie 🤗! It seems you will soon give us reasons to hate him, but for now he's my personal favorite. Hope he will overcome his current difficulties. Fun fact: I tried to translate "Beelie" in my language, tried to find an equivalent nickname, I found "Bébou" (pronounced beeboo, another way to say "baby"). That’s so cute!

2) Loki--> I know it's unlikely but... is this bad that I really want him to take Percy's virginity 😳? Your writing is soooo good, it made me root for him of all people. Everyone loves a good outsider, and since he doesn't want to kill Percy anymore, he climbs up the ranking.

3) Anubis--> Favorite from the manga, I was sooo happy to see that u included the doggo. Didn't appear yet, but I have really high hopes for him. Beware the Allmighty Knot!

4) Poseidon--> This is a dark fic, I understand the appeal, the taboo of the incestual relationship, but since he's already her father, her family, the one who has authority over her, I think he has an unfair advantage compared to the others. This is the reason he's kinda low ranked, but I really loved the relationship he built with our best girl. Embrace Fatherhood (but not too much😰)

5) Hadès--> Same here, too much authority over her, doesn't have the appeal of the gradually evolving relationship. Creepy old  uncle, hope your non-existent liver bursts. For now, he's the one who had the most "action" with Percy, so it seems unlikely that he will have her virginity as well.

6) Apollon--> Well, at least he's funny 😅. I'm sorry, but based on his pathetic simpy behavior, I have to give him the stamp of the "Whiny Little Bitch" of this story. Don't worry tho, there always have to be one in a fic, and he's not as bad as his Tsunami counterpart (Yuuta you nasty motherfucker I had faith in you-).

7) The Seventh--> Seeing the results of the poll, it seems I'm one of the only weirdos who voted for Ahura Mazda. Raa would be awesome too, but I have to say I was disturbed when I first saw that angry buff dude in the spin-off. For me, Raa was still that muscle mommy from the webtoon/manhwa Ennead (read Ennead. Ennead is good for your health). I just want the 7th to not be Cu Chulainn. I know I would still love it if you include him (cause ur writing is golden) but that's just a preference of mine.

I hope I'm understood. That's a big ass message, my thoughts are all over the place and my home country is known for having a shit level in english.

If you're interested I could do the same kind of ranking for Tsunami/Bloodflood. Have a great day, Peace!

A SHIVA LOVER OMG HIIIII

the anime did him sooooo good, he's so hot there, i'm glad they didn't fuck him up like LOOK AT HIM

the bonus chapter for chapter 91 is about shiva AND IM SO PISSED IT HASN'T BEEN TRANSLATED YET, I WANNA READ IT SO BAD I DON'T EVEN CARE IF ITS SUPER SHORT 😭😭

also, YES PLEASE you're free to give me your own bloodflood/tsunami rankings too!!!

[pridepawz]

Welcome to Pride Paws !

For Info:

Pride Paws is a new small business by Fizzy, the founder, Cosmos, the person writing this, and Lolli, who doesn't have a tumblr account.

We will make crochet plushies, whether it be normal, lgbtq, or more!

When we finish, we will publish them on etsy, and the link will be here.

We will not take commissions, though.

We have not officially started, but it will be told when.

-----------------------

Get To Know Us!:

Cosmos:

More Names: Server, Mic/Microphone

Gender: Ask !!

Pronouns: All, but She/It/They preferred !!

Sexuality: ask again lolz

Job: Concept Artist, Freebie Maker

Extra: Neurodivergent, Alterhuman, In a relationship + QPR, Furry, Cosplayer

Acc: @random-artistic-idiot

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Fizzy:

More Names: Winnie, Beeboo

Gender: Demigirl

Pronouns: She/They

Sexuality: Bisexual

Job: Creator, Plushie maker

Extra: ASD, Alterhuman, In a relationship, Furry

Acc: @urfavlollipop

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Lolli:

More Names: Echo

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/All

Sexuality: Omnisexual

Job: Investment Saver

Extra: Possible ADHD + ASD, Alterhuman

Acc: None

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RULES:

No NSFW, we're all minors.

Be respectful of us and others.

Don't rush, it takes quite a bit of time.

-----------------------

DNI: Basic DNI Criteria, Anti-Alterhuman, Anti-Furry, LGBTphobic, etc.

Edited and Written(Mostly) by Cosmos!

[littlepuddingsworld]

Had a dream that u posted a long ass post about u retiring from writing and was no longer gonna have an online presence, deleting all of ur accounts and works, and I woke up in a cold sweat

I swear I've finished hiatus, I'm writing moments again now!!! do not dream of such a thing!!! I've thought about my behavior & i'm going to start all over again soon</3 /neu /gen

my beeboo sent me some novels + recommendations, and also my pies do it, so I'm starting to read and combine, we'll find a new nest soon<3

maybe it wasn't a dream, but an alternate universe... you travel between worlds because I definitely wanted to do that once; but I abandoned the idea because I put too much effort into it and I generally think it's wrong to delete works that have already been published, because I hate it when writers delete my favorite works >:(((

I instantly remembered that message... to be honest, I do not know if I like or scares that you sometimes dream about me but your dreams is about me stopping writing, so I'm coming back urgently, you should not think about this /hj /gen

[llatimeria]

hang on i'm gonna do some pedantic discourse whining for a second. please stand by

this post just came to my dash (via "based on your likes" which i really should just turn off) and it's making me a little bit insane

like. I fully agree with the intent of the post. Aro/Acespec people are not innocent widdle beeboos who simply Don't Get sex and/or romance. that assertion is not my issue here at all. just putting that out there.

what's bothering me is the "an aro/ace person wrote YOUR favorite sex/love stories" which is like. What. I understand that I'm fundamentally failing some kind of reading comprehension test by posting about this (which is why I'm preemptively turning off rbs and keeping this under the cut. I KNOW I'm a little bit in the wrong here).

It's just like. I do actually have a Favorite Smut Story that drives me nuts and it was written explicitly by a lesbian. a human lesbian who must frequently assert their lesbianness because of how dismissive the world is of lesbianness and it feels. Wrong to just be like "no :)" on some level. which is INSANE because I KNOW they aren't pointing to any specific person and saying "you there, lesbian! you're ace now!" in an erasive or derogatory way. it's just like...

idk. stories come from specific people, or specific teams of people, not a nebulous Creator Atmosphere disconnected from us regular folk. you can track down who wrote your favorite sex and love stories and see what they have to say for themselves. and it IS entirely possible for that person to be aspec! Because, like previously established, aspec people really aren't innocent children who know nothing of romance or pornography and they Definitely Can Write Good. it just still feels like "an aspec person definitely wrote your personal favorite piece" is a WILD thing to say. there were SO many other ways to make your point. not even inserting a "could've"? like an aroace person COULDVE made your favorite thing? why would you ever word it like this. i'm befuddled. fuckin befuddled. that's it

[simpingforclaudette]

thanks for tagging me beeboo (:

1. are you named after anyone? no.

2. when was the last time you cried? last night lol.

3. do you have kids? i have two beautiful sons named chewie and bucky.

4. do you use sarcasm a lot? all the time.

5. what sports do you play / have played? soccer.

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people? if we’re talking about people irl, their physical appearance ig. on the internet: the slang they use and the things they say.

7. eye color? blue.

8. scary movies or happy endings? scary movies all the way.

9. any special talent? i can dislocate my thumb at will, sort of.

10. where are you born? st. justine hospital, montreal.

11. what are your hobbies? gaming, writing, reading, watching (horror) movies, listening to music & cuddling my dogs.

12. do you have any pets? two dogs. a labrador (bucky) and a mixed breed (chewie).

13. how tall are you? i’m 5′2 short.

14. fave subject in school? (art) history, literature, learning languages strategies.

15. dream job? being a horror movie character.

not tagging anyone.

was tagged by @tuisong to do this! tysm tūī!!! <33

15 questions for 15 mutuals

1. are you named after anyone? nope

2. when was the last time you cried? mmm one or two weeks ago maybe?

3. do you have kids? no and i dont want them either

4. do you use sarcasm a lot? a little bit sometimes? but not that much i think

5. what sports do you play/have you played? basketball, ice skating and dancing (if that counts)

6. what's the first thing you notice about other people? im terrible at noticing things so ummm their physical appearance ig. especially their face

7. eye color? brown!

8. scary movies or happy endings? happy endings!! besides i cant stand scary movies...

9. any special talents? uhhh idk really... writing maybe?

10. where were you born? spain

11. what are your hobbies? playing video games, reading, writing, drawing, watching anime

12. do you have any pets? unfortunately not but i really want to....

13. how tall are you? around 168 cm

14. fave subject in school? chemistry (liked it so much im actually a chemist now lol) and i also really liked art

15. dream job? honestly just something related to what ive studied, something i like doing, that pays me well enough, isnt too tiring and where there is a good working atmosphere

tagging: @sstrawbearies / @astralx / @raeyginageorge / @skijjiki / @hardboiledteacozy / @skinwalkerbehavior / @distant-snow / @cosmic-opossum / @peach-tia / @solarings / @solarshadow / @spikeyys / @seapasture / @lunarelly / (only if you want no pressure!!)

[apple-bubs]

Because Phil and Techno are always ready to protect their kids the rest of the Syndicate, sometimes Tubbo and Puffy join their little group for a day or two - but always away from the base

[shotgunningtheuniverse]

A very important step in any dsmp fic includes. If you ever have them tweet something. How much will it break Twitter and who’s doing the attempted damage control and how.

And if you want you can include Tumblr breaking if you think they’d check. Or fan art on Instagram. Etc.

[beeboos-creativecorner]

Speed, Shadows & Hijinks — part 1

Day 1, here we go ! I present to you, the beginnings of this mess. These were a series of snippets I wrote last year when I was just getting into the Sonic series (and I got bored during tutorial periods and I wanted something to write lol). Believe it or not, it was Team Sonic Racing that got me here in the first place !! And, here, for the very first time, I'm revealing my one Sonic OC, Jinx the Kea (my little NZ gremlin, shit-for-brains birb). To put it briefly, Jinx is under the tutelage of the racer with the most vehicular expertise - you guessed it, Shadow. Needless to say, it's not going smoothly. At all. I'd hate to go without mentioning, although this is the first snippet written, it is certainly not chronologically first. But I'll clear all that up once we get to it because I'm lazy <3

Fic under the cut !!

Speed, Shadows & Hijinks

Part 1 : Deflation

"Hey, Jinx, if your training with him is stressing you out — you know, you can always learn some driving tips from me. I can pull a few strings and transfer your mentorship, I'm sure they'll allow it if I try." It wasn't only Jinx that didn't understand Shadow's behaviour, evidently. Given that, they couldn't really give Sonic any real commitment to his proposition, and instead let off a bit of steam in the form of dismissal.

"Nah, it's just been a rough day, that's all. I appreciate the offer, though." Their head slumped onto the table, the steaming cup above them serving as a representation of their evaporating spirit. They downplayed the situation to the best of their ability, because it was owed. To Shadow or to themself, they weren't sure.

Not even a child could be fooled by their lies.

"How he's treating you isn't fair!" Amy pitched in. "You're doing your best, believe me, you're great on the track! You're not to blame, he is. He just needs a little more patience and he'd see how good of a racer you are!"

Since their arrival, Amy always had Jinx's six. Her surety and confidence in defending the newcomer was never unwelcome. Amy was good with people. There was an undeniable merit linked to the statement, where it was more fact than simple speculation. The words she exchanged with others were rarely misunderstood. She could pacify even the most wild of beasts — or become the thing she seeks to calm. It was either or with her, and there was some relief in knowing Jinx was on Amy's good side.

Jinx saw value in having Amy as an ally... or a friend. Her and Sonic both. Tails too. There was no animosity in their interactions with Jinx and that, they reckoned, was paving the road for potential friendships. What's obstructing your potential from becoming reality? They wondered exactly that. Shadow had cryptically asked that of them once. Different circumstances, consistent question. The answer was plain as day: spending all their time and energy on a serious mug who wanted nothing to do with them or the development of their skills.

As much as they hated it, there was validity to Shadow's criticism. He was nothing if not brutally honest.

"Thanks, Amy, but... maybe he's right. I'm slow, I hesitate; I don't trust myself to do the right thing. And every moment in that vehicle is a split second decision between life and death. Maybe I'm failing myself because my confidence dictates how I'm driving. Should I apologise to him for that?"

"No!" She was so adamant. Jinx admired that to an unfathomable degree. "He's a grump, his reactions are unkind. Just leave him. Tomorrow is a new day and he'll be over it by then, don't worry. I know Shadow, he doesn't hold a grudge unless it's important to him."

The Speed, Shadows & Hijinks Series :

[ Prev ] — [ Next ]

[luv-again]

about me !

hi, i'm bee, she/they, ace and a timeless creature doomed to be subjected to this confusing modern world

i love coffee, soup, writing, night time, dua lipa, the sims 3 & any chaotic pieces of media i've fell in love with (which primarily consists of sonic the hedgehog at the moment but isn't limited to just that !! - you can find a list of my interests here)

for the most part, i'm beginning my journey here continuing where i left off from my former internet residences (rip), meaning i'll post things here and there when i have general Thoughts* bc i adore rambling above all else. that is, when i'm not too busy reinforcing my ghost-like lifestyle

*i lie. i treat this place like a journal. i yap aimlessly 90% of the time

i'm keen to make some new friends on here, but i am Horribly Introverted and i tend to prefer being approached over being the one that approaches. but i'm first and foremost a positive, kind person and once you get to know me, i'll become your chill, weird, estranged family member-type friend and you won't be able to get rid of me :)

so yeah, i pre much don't know what else to say except come join me in the madness if you like ! love xo

LINK DIRECTORY :

ao3

beeboos-creativecorner blog

sonic love island au blog

[x-whyareyoureadingthis-x]

From the Fall Out Boy Instagram Story, 16.10.2019

[beehivemind200]

Oh my goodness this is so freaking cute!!!!

experiences

summary: ranboo won’t stop making fun of tubbo’s height.

a/n: beeduo meetup real :] basically i love them

—

Knowing Ranboo is certainly… something. Tubbo doesn’t know how to explain it. It’s not bad, not at all. He loves being friends with him.

It’s just an experience, that’s it.

Meeting him is new. Discord calls and texts have never really prepared him for actually being with him. Tubbo can touch him and really look at him and exist around him, and he’s really not much for physical affection but maybe he wouldn’t mind a quick hug from his friend.

It takes a while for it to set in that he’s here, they’re together, but when it does he can’t stop grinning like an idiot.

Now they’re sitting in the studio, and they aren’t saying much, but every time Ranboo looks over at him he bursts into giggles.

Tubbo glares, although the fond smile on his face downplays any signs of malice. “What are you laughing at?”

Ranboo can’t keep the grin off his face as he answers. “Nothing! Ihit’s just— you’re soho short,” he snickers.

“I am not!” Tubbo quickly argues, which only makes Ranboo laugh harder. “Bastard,” he grumbles. It doesn’t help with the blond’s giggle fit.

“I’ll give you something to laugh at!” Tubbo threatens.

“Like what?” Ranboo asks, his laughter finally dying down a bit. “Isn’t your height enough?”

Tubbo makes a mental note: Ranboo is a fucking dick.

“Are you ticklish?”

The remaining smile on his face is wiped away. “No! Wh- why do you ask?” he answers too quickly, the faintest of a blush rising to his cheeks.

Tubbo grins. He’s smart enough to know that kind of reaction means yes.

It’s surprisingly easy to push him down onto the couch, the brunet observes as he perches atop Ranboo’s waist. The latter’s eyes widen, the red tint to his face more visible now.

“W- wahait, Tubbo, you don’t have to— ah!”

Tubbo doesn’t let him finish before he latches onto his sides and squeezes quickly. Ranboo instantly breaks into bubbly laughter, wiggling from side to side to try and escape.

“Noho! Tuhuhubbo!”

Tubbo can’t help but chuckle a bit. “Have I already found a bad spot,” he begins, slowly moving upwards towards his victim’s ribs, “or are you just really ticklish? ‘Cause you’re reacting pretty badly.” He digs into the spaces between Ranboo’s ribs, extracting a yelp. “That can’t be it though, right? Since you told me you’re not ticklish.”

“Tubbo, plehehease—”

“But if you aren’t, then why are you laughing so hard?”

Ranboo shoves at his hands, but Tubbo knows he’s stronger than this. He could easily push him away and make it stop.

Mental note two: suspicious.

“Becahause I lihihied, okahay?” he says, still weakly batting at the tickling fingers. Tubbo knew that already, obviously, but the chance to tease him and watch his steadily growing blush was just too good to pass up.

“You lied to me?” Tubbo gasps in a fake offended tone. “That’s just rude, Boo, I think it deserves punishment.”

“L- lihihike whahat?” asks Ranboo, but the way his giggles grow high pitched in anticipation tells Tubbo that he already knows the answer.

He trails a finger down Ranboo’s ribs and over his side, teasingly getting just too close to his stomach. “Where’s your worst spot?”

Ranboo brings his hands up to cover his face. “I dohon’t know.”

“Guess I’ll have to tickle you until I find it!” Tubbo doesn’t give him time to answer, suddenly moving down to drill into his hips.

Ranboo has a greater response to that, much to Tubbo’s delight. He squeals, his arms crashing down to push at Tubbo’s hands, even though it doesn’t hinder him at all. His laugh is loud and happy, and it only increases when he arches upwards and Tubbo takes the opportunity to scribble on his back. Maybe it’s a little mean to give him nowhere to squirm, but it’s not like he looks too bothered by it.

In fact, he had originally arched his back into the tickles.

Note two and a half: very suspicious.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, big man?” Tubbo asks, but it’s not much of a question.

Ranboo’s face is bright red from laughter (and, Tubbo suspects, a bit of embarrassment), but it somehow gets redder. “Shuhuhut uhUHUP!” he whines, another one of his ways of saying yes.

Tubbo figures he’s reaching his limit and decides to stop, pulling his hands back and resting them on his sides, which makes Ranboo flinch and squeak (and that may or may not be the cutest noise Tubbo has ever heard).

He collapses back onto the couch, gasping for air between his leftover giggles. “Y- yohou’re so mehehean,” he mumbles.

Tubbo lets out a small laugh. “I could tickle you again, if you’d like,” he teases.

Ranboo shuts up. Tubbo pauses.

Mental note number three: oh.

“You want me to keep going.”

The taller of the two doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Tubbo knows what he’d say. Still, as he positions his fingers, he asks, “Is this okay?”

Ranboo nods slowly, his previously fading blush coming back. “Y- you can,” he stammers. “I don’t mind.”

A minute later, as Ranboo is squealing and giggling while the brunet skitters his fingers over his stomach, Tubbo hums. “Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who likes being tickled.”

“Don’t yohou thihIHINK— nohot thehere!— ihit’s weheheird?” Ranboo struggles to get words out through his near-hysterics, but he manages.

“Well, yeah, kinda,” Tubbo says with a shrug. “But not in a bad way, exactly. I’d say it’s kinda endearing.”

Ranboo doesn’t reply, though Tubbo doesn’t know if it’s because he’s laughing too hard or if he just has nothing to say.

He changes spots when Ranboo pleads for him to, studying the boy below him for a moment before he decides where else to try.

Ranboo’s eyes are closed, but they shoot open as soon as Tubbo begins fluttering his fingers at his neck.

“Noho fair!” he protests, turning his head to one side in an attempt to make him stop, but Tubbo just goes for the other side.

This spot doesn’t get any shrieks or loud laughs, but Tubbo loves it nonetheless. Instead it produces high-pitched, squeaky giggles. Tubbo’s never heard this laugh of his before, and he wants to hear more.

“C- cuhut it ohohout!” Ranboo complains, but it’s clear that the wide smile on his face is at least partially genuine.

Tubbo eventually does stop, though, when Ranboo grabs at his wrists and actually tugs him away this time.

“That was fun,” Tubbo says as he climbs off his friend to sit beside him. “We should do it again.”

Ranboo sits up, occasionally hiccuping quietly from how much he was laughing. “Y- yeheah, but I think the roles should be reversed,” he says, his eyes lighting up with something Tubbo can’t place. “Are you ticklish?”

“Don’t even think about it,” Tubbo warns, squeezing his side again to make him jump and curl up. “I’ll just wreck your shit again. Not like you’d mind it,” he adds, ignoring the teen’s immediate sputtering.

Tubbo does end up on the receiving end later, but he finds that he doesn’t exactly dislike it either. They both have lingering grins afterwards that he doesn’t think leave for the rest of the day.

Knowing Ranboo is an experience, indeed. In a positive way.

[18plusroleplayseeker]

18+ nb looking for a Helluva Boss roleplay with another 18+ writer! I've been wanting to try writing for Blitzø, especially after s2 ep 1!! I'd love to write against a Stolas for a romantic rp, but really any canon character (and maybe oc) would be great!! nsfw content is fine considering the ship, but in no way a necessity!! I can also write for Moxxie :)

if interested, please contact me at @spiralbathrooms on here or beeboo#9068 on discord

☆

[thatbassistbitch]

your country gave me asthma...

yknow what? let’s make this a DTIYS! draw this piece in your style using colors from the album cover of Your City Gave Me Asthma by Wilbur Soot. i’ll give this about two weeks, and i’ll write a one-shot dream smp fic for the winner! if there are enough participants, then there will be more than one winner, ranked first to third.

competition will end on march 23, 2021. traditional and digital are both allowed, just stick to the color palette of the original album cover and keep the general theme!

i’ll elaborate on the guidelines below the image ID.

[Image ID: This is a digital drawing depicting Pogtopia-era Wilbur Soot from the Dream SMP in cool grey and magenta tones. Wilbur is wearing his red beanie, a grey jacket, and a tattered white shirt. He is smoking, and the smoke is stylized as a magenta cloud hanging over his head. He is crying a magenta tear. The colors are derived from content creator Wilbur Soot’s album Your City Gave Me Asthma. End ID.]

GUIDELINES:

1. You can variate from the original pose all you want, just try to keep the general theme I was going for. Pogtopia Wilbur, cool grey and magenta, pretty smoke cloud.

2. Don’t trace anyone’s art and pass it off as your own, that’s a dick move.

3. You must post the piece by March 23, 2021.

4. Tag me in it or else I probably won’t see it.

5. You should also tag it as #bassbitch dtiys.

6. If there is only one submission, then that person wins by default.

7. The prize will be a oneshot fanfic of the Dream Smp. Further details about the prize will be specified or even changed if there are enough submissions, but generally speaking I will not write anything nsfw.

8. I will not write nsfw works, I will not write anything shipping minors, I will not write anything shipping content creators who have expressed discomfort with it, and there is a cap on the number of characters. For example, I will write DNF, but I won’t write about Beeboo/Tubboo/Ranbee/whatever the hell it’s called now aside from their platonic marriage.

9. If you post your submission on another platform, it is unlikely that I will see it unless you tell me specifically so that I can find it. I am not on twitter and my instagram is personal. You can post the submission to multiple platforms, I don’t really care tbh it’s your art lol

10. If the chosen winner(s) doesn’t respond within five days of being notified of their winning, then another winner will be chosen in their place. (i don’t have that kind of patience y’all)

GOOD LUCK!! i look forward to seeing what y’all come up with!

please reblog to bring awareness and interaction to this, and feel free to ask any questions you may have! this is my first time hosting one of these, and i’m pretty excited!