#god i have had no time or energy to draw recently ..

[soyb3anz]

a qiqi for my friend

[johnbrand]

Fathering Normality

“And then I just shoved it right in!”

Luke grunted as he thrust forward, drawing a laugh out of his friend Colton. Luke had been recounting the entire night before to him, going over every detail. How it started as a boner, how that boner led him to a bar, how that bar led him to rubbing up against some girl, and how that girl led him to shooting multiple loads directly into her tight pussy.

“It was exhilarating!” Luke recalled, the natural masculinity giving his voice a gruff, dense texture. “And all I can think about now is…doing it again…and again!”

Luke thrusted once more, trying to relieve the pressure building up in his thick cock. Colton could not help but happily smile along with his friend, very familiar with the experience of breeding a woman himself. In fact, his girlfriend had recently found out she was pregnant. When Colton had first received the news, he had been ecstatic. When Luke had received the news from Colton days later, he had not been.

Just a week ago, Colton and Luke had been in the same positions; Luke dramatically recounting some tale while Colton laid back and listened. Although, that time had been more violent. “What do you mean she’s pregnant?” Luke cried. “What are you two going to do? You’re too young, neither of you have secured jobs. We all just barely graduated from college a few years ago!”

Argument after argument flew by, but eventually Colton could not handle it anymore. His friend was supposed to be supportive, happy for the couple as they were with the situation. Then a strange thought came to Colton’s head–maybe Luke would be more supportive if he was able to see his side of things. 

Colton had shot the bullet directly into Luke’s head without hesitation. There was no way his gay friend could have understood the joy of breeding, fertilizing, and bearing fruit other than by being converted to try it himself. Of course, Luke did not remember the sound of the gun firing, dropping to the floor, or his limp body being handed over to local enforcement. Colton did not even think Luke remembered the past version of himself. And now that Colton had met the new model, he hoped he would soon forget too.

Gay Luke had been fun. A little bit on the shorter, skinnier side, but still a ball of energy. He always had a theatrical flair, and he kept himself well-maintained, but he had commitment issues and terrible spending habits. This Straight Luke though, had nearly made the equally heterosexual Colton blush. He was now much taller, more muscular, with that ball of energy transformed into sheer masculine confidence. Luke still held that capacity to put on a performance, but now it was powerful and captivating. 

Colton had contacted Luke at the end of the incubation period, not knowing what to expect. Yet he would have never predicted the stacked body-builder in a plain, short-sleeved button-up and dirty jeans appearing at his door. Sure, there were some things Colton felt a little guilty about. Luke’s former luscious locks had thinned out and shortened into a tiny quiff afflicted by male pattern baldness. His hygiene had definitely taken a hit; Colton had smelt the new funk as soon as those massive shoes had come off at the door. But the conversion affected everyone differently, so because Luke appeared obliviously overjoyed with heterosexuality, Colton felt that he could be too.

“So I just started countin’ as I rammed in. ‘One, two,’” Luke continually thrusted to display his point. “And eventually, it had to be like on 15 or 16, I felt that first burst of ecstasy. After that I lost count, I just went into hyper-mode.”

Colton chuckled, getting up to grab us some beers. He tossed one to Luke.

“Thanks bro,” Luke cracked his cold one open. “By the way, what did you call me over for anyway?”

“Oh man, I thought I already told you,” Colton half-lied. “My girl’s pregnant: I’m gonna be a dad.”

Luke’s eyes lit up, “DUDE! That’s awesome! Congratulations!! God, if only I could be so lucky, right?” 

Colton cheered to that, smirking at the possibility. He had been right when he had chosen to father normality. Thanks to him, one could metaphorically say he would soon be fathering twice the amount of children as a result of Luke’s conversion.

[catslvrr]

you know all my dreams (you were one)

danielle marsh x fem!reader | one shot

Synopsis: Being a superhero involves a lot of saving, like saving people from burning buildings, saving cats stuck in trees, and even saving yourself from being evicted from your apartment. There’s one thing that you haven’t saved yet, and that’s your relationship with Danielle.

Contains: cursing, blood, violence, death, cliche hero stuff

You would like to believe that you are a good roommate.

But when you come tumbling through the window, landing with a raucous thud, all you have the strength to do is squeeze your eyes shut and pray to the heavens that your roommate graciously ignores you. Again.

This is the fourth time in a week that you have managed to enter your room in such a manner. You rely on the fact that your roommate is abnormally nocturnal and is most likely asleep by now.

You grimace as you remember that one time you accidentally crashed through her window, blacked out, and woke up to her grim face as she poked you with her foot. It wasn’t that far off from how she originally found out you were Spider-Woman two years ago.

It had been a rough day. You didn’t leave exactly scot-free after fending off the attempted escape of some maximum security prisoners at the Raft. 

This attempt may have been catalyzed by the recent blackout that you may have caused by fighting off another escape attempt, but who’s to say that’s the case?

Regardless, all escapees were given a scenic swing, free of charge, straight back to prison—a temporary one anyway. Now all you had to worry about was making it home in one piece.

By the time you reach home, the muscles in your arms giving in from the endless web-slinging, you don’t have enough energy in you to ease your landing (which really just meant trying to land on cool superhero poses). You swoop right onto the floor, face-down and limbs sprawled out like a measly bug helplessly trapped in a web.

You’re not entirely sure of the full extent of your injuries in the moment—mostly because of the way your whole body is burning, reminiscent of the building you were thrown into, but you’re pretty confident you have at least multiple bruised ribs, a black eye, and a mild concussion. 

“So, all things considered,” you say half-heartedly to no one in particular. “Not too bad.”

(Future note: You actually also had one fractured toe.)

You’re happily drifting off into unconsciousness, with nothing but the belated, slightly panicked thought of whether you locked your door or not, when three sudden strikes at your door jolt you awake.

Suppressing a groan, you roll over and pull yourself up as best as possible, ignoring the way your ribs scream at you. God, you were in so much pain. You let out a breathy exhale and even muster a crooked smile, even though you know your roommate can’t see you.

“Roomie! What’s up?”

A pause. 

You cringe. Seriously, ‘Roomie’? You should’ve gone with the name you saw on the leasing contract.

(When you first saw it, you thought that the lease was some sort of scam, because your roommate’s signature looked like someone trying to draw Australia from memory. Upon further questioning of the landlord, you were left with the information that your new roommate, Haerin, was indeed real.)

Before you can even apologize for your lame attempt at a greeting, Haerin’s response comes curtly.

“There was a crash.”

You pick up on a slight inflection of curiosity in Haerin’s tone—is glad that despite her nosiness, she didn’t decide to barge in and see you in your full Spider-suit glory. You force out a chuckle, hoping your roommate doesn’t notice the strain.

“Oh—right. I just fell. Tripped over my own feet. I mean, while dancing. Well. Trying to, you know?” 

Your embarrassment grows with every word that bumbles out of your mouth, and when the heat in your cheeks is too much to bear, you manage out a simple:

“Yep,” to eloquently finish it all off. You cross your fingers and hope your roommate doesn’t question the fact that there is no music playing at all.

You barely hear a non-committal hum over the pounding in your ears, and only release your breath when you hear the familiar obnoxious typing of keys, finding your heartbeat in tandem with its rhythm.

There are some things you can always depend on, and one of those things is Haerin’s perpetual typing as she attempts to finish her journalism assignments at the last minute. The incessant clicking of the keyboard gradually becomes soothing, almost therapeutic. You pass out before you can even register any sliver of drowsiness.

And then you wake up to a deafening bang and splinters of your doors ricocheting toward you. 

Reflexively, you flick your wrist, effectively webbing any stray pieces of your door to the ceiling. But you also web your roommate’s face. There are a few seconds of silence as you both just stare at each other.

“Funny how you find me in my Spider-Woman cosplay,” you chuckle awkwardly. “Because I’m not, you know, Spider-Woman.”

Haerin slowly peels the web off her face, face wholly impassive, still menacingly holding the ax. “I’m hungry. Buy me Wingstop.”

It takes you an hour to get the Wingstop back home. Ten minutes was dedicated to a mini meet-and-greet.

“What the fuck, Haerin,” you say with a mouth full of lemon pepper fries. “You broke my door down with an ax.”

“I was hungry,” she replies matter-of-factly, as if that’s a reasonable justification for the insane property damage she just inflicted. “But you were also not responding for sixteen hours.”

“I was out for sixteen hours?”

“A bit of an exaggeration. Maybe around 10.”

“Why do you even have an ax anyway?”

“Look at where we live,” Haerin clicks her tongue. “And you being Spider-Woman just slaps a big target on our backs.”

“Pause,” you raise your hand and stop chewing. “I’m not Spider-Woman. I’m just… a huge fan.”

Haerin’s exasperated eyes flicker to yours.

“I’m serious!”

“Yeah right,” she scoffs. “You make way too many spider puns.”

“Like what?”

“Like ‘I’ll swing by’, or ‘I’m kinda tangled up in something right now’,” she explains with air quotes.

You noisily take a sip of a lemonade you bought from a random stall. “Huh.”

“So,” you chew thoughtfully. “Hypothetically, if I was Spider-Woman, how would you react? Would you tell anyone?”

Haerin scans you, still wearing the Spider-suit, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, ungracefully shoving chicken tenders in your mouth with ranch dribbling down your chin. “I’ve known for, like, three months.”

You almost knock the ranch cup over in shock. “What?”

You swallow the chicken tender too quickly, and have to take a breather because you almost choke on it. “How—I mean, why would you think that?”

“You discarded one of your broken web-shooters in my room.”

“Oh. That’s where it went,” you scratch your cheek. “So… you won’t tell anyone, right?”

Haerin smiles. “Only if you pay for the door.”

You hear the screeching of a chair against the floor, hear the imposing footsteps headed toward your room. You feel something poke you. It’s probably the handle of that stupid ax she’s so attached to.

“You good?”

You respond with an unintelligible noise.

Another poke. “Rent’s due soon, you know.”

You roll over with a groan and pull off your mask. “Spare me some sympathy, I’m dying.”

“No you’re not. You’ve had worse.”

Haerin squats down to your level and dabs a cut on your forehead, leaving a burning sting. “Ow!”

You stay mum as Haerin wipes your face free of grime and blood. It’s rare, but when Haerin patches you up, there’s a tinge of gratefulness that twists your heart, and you know it’s better to leave it unspoken. That’s just how you two are.

You break the silence after a while. “I really need to find a job, don’t I?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Haerin replies. “I think you should start your own business: Spider-Eats.”

“Like… Uber Eats?”

“Exactly,” Haerin nods proudly. “But you don’t need to pay for gas, because you just swing over. And I’m sure people will tip you because you’re Spider-Woman.”

“Huh. That’s actually a really good idea.”

As you shuffle out of your Spider-suit and wince at the way your bloody clothes stick to yourself, you make a mental note to start designing and coding a Spider-Eats app. And to also do laundry again. You languidly stretch your limbs, trying to ignore the aches and pains.

“Thanks, doc,” you grin at Haerin. “I feel better already.”

Haerin nods and walks out to the living room. You hear some faint rustling, and the smell reaches you first: pepperoni pizza. You can practically hear an orchestra of trumpets and horns and trombones sing as Haerin re-enters your room, like an angel from heaven, holding three boxes of pizza. It’s even from the same parlor joint the two of you always loiter around.

“Wait,” you pull a can of grape Fanta out of her hand and toward you with a web. “I’ve always wanted to try something.”

Haerin watches as you dangle from the ceiling upside-down and crack open the can. You bring it to your mouth and attempt to drink it, only for you to choke and spill it on your floor.

“Oops.”

After that sad display, you both find yourselves in a familiar position: sitting cross-legged on the floor across from each other, absolutely devouring the food you’ve chosen to be a victim to your outrageous appetite. It comes with being a superhero.

“Seriously, Haerin,” you sigh in satisfaction. “I love you so much.”

You and Haerin mostly eat in silence and scroll on your phones until all three boxes are demolished. You pack up all the boxes and push them to the side, flopping into a starfish position and feeling bloated already.

“You know,” Haerin starts, her voice surprisingly sincere. “Tomorrow’s the day.”

You slowly exhale. “Yeah.”

She flops down beside you. The two of you stare at the LED strips (set to red and blue) that you both went to hell and back trying to tape on the edges of the ceiling.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

You offer a small smile. “Nah. You know how it is.”

The two of you lie there for a while until you both fall asleep.

Unfortunately, being a superhero is not all glitz and glamor. You find yourself to be quite the average Joe, living an ordinary life. At the end of the day, you’re just an engineering college student with no job. Well, besides the occasional side gig of being a masked vigilante.

You tend to relish the mundane moments these days, and maybe it’s the age. (Haerin would roll her eyes if she heard you say this.) Those fleeting moments where you can bask in the serenity of a night without any pings from the local police database you hacked into, although often only lasting several minutes, are valuable to you. Sitting on rooftops and indulging in the view that is the city skyline at night—you never get sick of it.

You used to hate this—being human, that is. After the bite all those years ago, being Spider-Woman was riveting. The novelty of your superpowers made you feel competent. Made you feel like someone. (Only after you persevered through the beginner's clumsiness.) Of course, there are the not so great parts of still being human. Like attending mandatory labs, dealing with group project partners who go M.I.A., and the exorbitant rental rates. Regardless, you believe the good still outweighs the bad.

But like most good things in your life, they never stay. How foolish of you, to think that your newfound powers could somehow transcend the inevitability of pain and loss. If anything, you face it more now. 

That youthful naivety led to more trouble than you can handle. That night when you swung past that robbery at the bodega, without a care in the world, unwittingly sealing the fate of your aunt. Any last connection you had to your family was violently torn from your grasp.

It was your fault. And nothing can change that. It haunts you every waking hour of the day, manifests itself as a wicked virus, and its suffocating tendrils latch onto you on the nights when you’ve delved too deep into your own thoughts.

You try to block it out now, but the best you can do is repeat to yourself that it’s a reminder. A reminder of who Spider-Woman has to be and what she means to the city. An unwavering hero who stands for justice and protects everyone. A hero who does the right thing.

You hum to yourself as you push the door open with your shoulder, exiting the shop with a bouquet of pale purple forget-me-nots. You shove your hands into the front pocket of your hoodie after adjusting your backpack, slightly shivering at the crisp chill of the early morning.

You greet the local store owners as you pass by, even giving a hand in moving crates or supplies to help set up shop. It would be so much easier to just swing to the cemetery, but there’s a sense of reverence you feel you need to uphold, and the only way to do that is just to visit as yourself. No mask, no secret identity. Just you.

You’ve just crossed the threshold to the cemetery with one step when there’s a prickling sensation on your skin. As you get closer to her grave, the discomfort only grows, and so you swing to the nearest tree and perch yourself there.

And then you see her. In the flesh.

“Danielle?” You whisper to yourself, dumbfounded. What was she doing back here, after all these years?

Danielle stills for a moment, and so do you. She turns around and eyes the surroundings as if she heard your voice. You duck and burrow yourself deeper within the leaves.

You observe her quietly, donning her own bouquet of roses, and you smile wryly at the sight of them. Of course, she remembers her favorite flowers. Danielle sits at the grave for a while, her lips moving as if talking, but the music blasting in your headphones blocks it out. You don’t try to eavesdrop.

She’s dyed her hair blonde now, and you didn’t think it possible, but she stands out even more. The color suits her—it matches her personality, akin to a warm and inviting sunflower. Seeing her treat the grave with such care and tenderness makes your heart pang. You grip the tree branches tighter to try to steel yourself, swallowing the guilt and heartache that arises. You don’t expect anything less from her. She’s still so kind and loving even after what you did.

She takes out a small pouch, eventually settling down and crocheting. You’re surprised for some reason, but you also make yourself comfortable in the tree. Even though you’re a hundred feet apart, being in the same vicinity of her fills your body with a sense of repose. You allow yourself to believe that you’re sitting next to each other, still friends, grieving together, and you think that helps you heal a bit.

Half an hour passes before you feel a droplet hit your face. And then another. You and Danielle look up at the same time, only to see the billowing clouds roll in.

Without a second thought, you slip your mask on and shimmy out of your clothes, fishing an umbrella out of your backpack before webbing it to the tree. You clear your throat as you land behind her, as gently as possible so as to not scare her.

“Need this, Miss?” You forcefully deepen your voice, holding out the umbrella above Danielle’s head.

She turns around, lips slightly parted in shock, and it takes all your willpower to not visibly tremble.

“Thank you,” she smiles sweetly. You wonder if she would greet you like this if she knew who you really were. “Let me give you something in return.”

Danielle hands you a crochet ribbed beanie, a bright red just like the roses she brought, with a white pom pom on top.

“This one took me a few days.”

It’s incredibly endearing, but you’re panicking at her presence so you can only express your gratitude with an awkward, “Thanks!”, voice crack included, before slinging to the nearest building. 

You make sure to wear it on the way home.

Haerin notices it as soon as you return.

“What’s with the new look?” She asks, not looking away from her laptop.

You set an iced Americano for her on the coffee table, and then proceed to drape yourself on the sofa, feet nudging Haerin’s side to annoy her. She chooses to ignore you rather than resort to violence only because you bought her coffee. She also chooses to ignore how your suit is still wet from the rain outside, droplets of water permeating the sofa. You take off the beanie, making sure to gently lay it on the table before slipping your mask off.

You rest your head against the arm of the sofa and close your eyes, but all you can think about is Danielle. The sincerity in her eyes as she gifted you the beanie and her saccharine voice rings out in your mind. You lay there and reminisce in silence for a while. You end up falling asleep for a few minutes.

Then Haerin wakes you up.

“Hey.” She slaps your foot. “Answer my question.”

“What—oh.” You mumble in confusion, trying to regain your senses. “I saw… someone at the cemetery.”

She finally turns to give you a deadpan expression. “Be more specific. A ghost? One of your many archnemeses?”

“Worse,” you rub your face tiredly. “Danielle.”

Her typing pauses. “Wait, the childhood best friend you told me about?”

“Yeah.”

“The one you ghosted?”

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“The one you pitifully pine over?”

“Well—yeah.”

Haerin lets out a low whistle. “She gave you that?”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “She didn’t know it was me.”

“You should keep it that way,” Haerin says. “It’d suck to open up old wounds after so long.”

“I know.” You puff your cheeks out. “And that’s not even the end of it. I spent forty bucks on flowers just to leave it to rot in a backpack in a tree.”

She glances at the wet puddle you created on the couch. “We can go back tomorrow and get it?”

“It’s okay,” you reply, opening your eyes to the pouring rain outside. You hope Danielle made it home okay. “I’m gonna wait for the rain to die out a bit and then head out again to investigate that weird case. I’ll put the flowers where they belong on the way there.”

“Is there a new lead?” You can practically hear Haerin’s ears perk up.

“Yeah, all the reports of the disappearances seem to pop up in the same area. I just checked for a location that shares an equal distance to all of them and came up with an abandoned warehouse.”

Haerin sits in thought for a second before asking, “Can I come with? You know how the college blog always relies on me for Spider-Woman content.”

“Fine.” You begrudgingly acquiesce. “Only if you get a cool shot of me.”

Haerin takes out her camera and snaps a quick photo of you.

“How about this?” She turns the camera around to show you the result.

You scoff in offense. “Seriously?”

“Is it not flattering enough?” Haerin teases, wrestling the camera away from you.

“I look like a wet dog!”

You web the camera to yourself and delete the photo.

“Stop abusing your powers.” Haerin clicks her tongue. “Go web a towel to clean this mess up.”

“What a coincidence,” you cheerfully ignore her. “The rain’s stopped.”

Like a miracle, the rain has cleared out, the darker clouds making way for the sun. You web a towel to dry your suit (but not the couch or floor) and slip your mask back on again.

“Alright,” you step out onto the balcony and turn to Haerin. “You want a ride there? Uber? Spuber…?”

“Let’s just stick to Spider-Eats.”

“Yeah.”

“And, no thanks,” she winces. “You almost swung into a pole last time.”

“Oops,” you say with no sign of regret. “Anyway, I texted you the coords. Meet you there.” 

You hop on the balcony railing and salute Haerin before proceeding to fall backwards with your hands behind your head. The rush as you swing through the city is unmatchable. You savor the wind rushing against you, the boisterous noise of cars honking and mindless chatter zooming in and out of your ears.

You’re back at the cemetery in no time, and after checking if anyone’s around, you stand before your aunt’s grave once again. Danielle’s roses are still lying there. You wipe some raindrops off the headstone before laying your bouquet down. Then, you’re off again. There’ll be time for that later.

The abandoned warehouse is not too far from the docks, a very typical location for people who are up to no good. You perch on the roof of a building opposite it, where Haerin is already squatting and taking photos. You can spot her motorcycle stationed in the parking lot behind the building. She barely flinches as you tap her shoulder.

“How did you get up here?”

“A good journalist never reveals her secrets.”

“Isn’t it ‘sources’?”

Haerin shrugs. “Same thing.”

You squat next to her. “So… did you notice anything before I came?”

“I did some research. Think this warehouse is registered under the name of just Jace.”

“Just Jace? That’s such a sick name.”

Haerin doesn’t bother to correct you.

“Name doesn’t ring a bell though.” You squint and scan the seemingly innocuous warehouse. “And I’m not picking up any heat signals… looks like nobody’s home.”

“How are we getting in?”

“This is a job for Spider-Woman!” 

You leap off the roof and swing around the warehouse, sweeping the perimeter to search for a way in. 

“There’s always an entrance when you can climb walls,” you muse to yourself.

You open up a voice channel as you crawl up the side of the warehouse, eventually reaching the roof where there is a conveniently open skylight. “Bingo!”

“Psst, Haerin,” you say. “There’s an open window on the roof.”

“Awesome,” she replies, although you note that her tone lacks excitement. “Can you get in and open the door for me?”

“The door?” You peer inside the open skylight. “You mean the gigantic sliding doors?”

“Don’t tell me you’re too weak to open those.”

“No,” you huff. “It’s just that… wouldn’t it be too loud?”

Haerin’s response is reluctant. “I guess.”

“You know what that means,” you sing-song. “It’s time for a Spuber ride!”

There’s some silence followed by a long sigh.

“I thought we agreed to not use that anymore,” she grumbles. “Hurry up and get back here.”

Haerin’s pick up and drop off is quick and easy, much to both of your satisfaction. You asked her to give you a five star rating, to which she replied, “That took literally less than thirty seconds.”

Inside the warehouse is dark, with only some dim flickering lights providing you with a shadowed view of the interior. The warehouse is stocked with looming cargo containers.

“Seems pretty filled for an abandoned warehouse,” Haerin muses, her voice echoing in the void. The silence feels foreboding, which makes you glad that Haerin asked to come, not that you would ever admit that.

“There’s gotta be something here,” you run your hand over the undulating surface of the steel containers. “A secret room, or some complicated contraption.”

“What about that?” Haerin points at a scrape mark on the floor in front of one of the containers, which coincidentally matches the circumference of a quarter circle.

“Oh. That was fast.”

You walk over and tug on the latch, before pulling the door open.

“No worries,” you strain out. It’s heavier than you thought. “Leave it all to me.”

“If you say so,” Haerin says with a smug smile on her face, standing there with no care in the world.

Once you finally get it open, inside the container is a set of stairs that lead downwards to an ominous tunnel.

“Totally not creepy,” you laugh nervously and gesture to Haerin. “Ladies first?”

She rolls her eyes before making her way down. The tunnel is fairly well-kept and it’s not long before you find yourselves in the secret room. It’s a lab, wires running hazardously on the ground, bits and pieces of machinery scattered on tables and filling up boxes, and computer screens displaying complex data and research.

“Okay,” you drawl. “Kinda getting evil mastermind vibes.”

You ruffle through some papers lying around. It seems to be sketches of some cylinder machine with cogs and complicated wiring in it. After inspecting the lab for a bit longer, you both come to the same conclusion.

“He’s trying to time travel,” Haerin notes as she snaps some shots of the lab.

You nod. “His experiments are probably what’s causing all those people to disappear into thin air.”

“What were the statements of the witnesses again?”

“Like the victims were just sucked into an invisible portal.”

Haerin pulls up some files on one of the computers. “It makes sense. It looks like he’s trying to time travel to the year his daughter died.”

You both are silent at this information. Until that silence is broken by a screeching sound outside, one that oddly sounds like the gigantic sliding doors opening.

The two of you immediately break out into a sprint and up the stairs. You don’t hesitate to scoop up Haerin once you’re out of the container and soar up to the roof with a web.

“He’ll know someone was here,” Haerin whispers.

“I know,” you sigh. “Hopefully it won’t lead to anything. We’ll have to come back later.”

Like the true neighborhood-friendly Spider-Woman you are, you give Haerin a Spuber ride back to her motorcycle. She revs the engine once to get your attention, then bids you farewell with a teasing “Race you home!” as she accelerates into the distance.

“So not fair!” You shout out at her retreating figure, swinging to catch up. You’re straining your arms to keep up with Haerin’s motorcycle, but a police car passes by with sirens on, and you know what you need to do. At the last second, you snap your left wrist to make a breakneck turn. Haerin will understand.

You can barely keep your eyes open as Minji nudges you with her elbow.

“Late nights playing 2K again?” The image of her stupid grin floats by in your mind.

“Something like that,” you whine, flicking your head up so your lab goggles fall on your nose. “I should’ve skipped today.”

Minji pulls up the DXF files you made for the project and resumes with the task of readjusting the ratio of some gears. “You don’t even need your lab goggles for today.”

“I look smarter with them on.”

“Yeah, right.” Minji peeks at your rough outlines of the gearbox transmission on paper. Some edges are ripped and it’s crinkled under your folded arms. “Damn. When are you gonna digitize that and render it?”

You slump back in your chair and close your eyes. “When I get a good night’s rest.”

“So, never.”

“Yeah.”

“The assignment’s due next week.”

“Yeah.”

“I hate you.” But she doesn’t. Because the two of you have been lab partners ever since you tripped on her lab coat in class a year ago and knocked over a bunch of her circuits and wires, which, to this day, she still blames you for, which is ridiculous, because who on earth owns a lab coat long enough to the point where it spills on the floor? But, you digress. Her lab coat is now properly tailored.

You’re half a second from drooling and snoring when there’s that prickling sensation on your skin again, and the hairs on the back of your neck shoot up, leaving you with that sinking feeling in your stomach. You sit up so abruptly that you almost slam your forehead onto the table.

Minji’s arm flies in front of your chest to steady you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you stammer. “I just… need to go to the bathroom.”

You grab your backpack and sprint out of the lab, navigating yourself to the nearest exit. You’re on the roof of the building in no time, in your suit, and you immediately see what’s wrong. There’s a man in the middle of campus, floating above the ground, and whatever objects are around seem to be gravitating toward him. The objects begin to orbit around him, creating a mini tornado.

You try to call Haerin, but she doesn’t pick up. You try to call Minji too, but no luck. Your stomach coils with anxiety. You don’t have long to dwell on it though.

As objects slam into one another, students begin to file out of class and understandably panic. Campus security is screaming and directing people to emergency exits, but the whirlwind only gets worse and things are smashing into windows and buildings.

“This isn’t good,” you mutter, immediately diving into action. You web benches, bicycles, poles, and trees in all sorts of directions to disrupt their trajectory toward anyone. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a blur of orange amidst green, and hear a very distinct meow.

“Tiko!”

You hurtle yourself toward the flying tree and narrowly shoot through the branches, successfully grabbing Tiko. You were going to plop him down somewhere safe, but it seems he had other plans, because he crawls into your backpack and nestles inside it, sticking his head out.

“Hang tight, Tiko,” you scream, swinging toward the mystery man. “I’m going to stop this!”

The man now stands on a rooftop, the debris around him thrashing against the building which is threatening to fall apart. You land not too far from him.

“Hi!” You yell over the deafening winds.

He whips his head around, raising his palm to hurl a rock at you. “Stay away!”

“Wait!” It narrowly misses you as you skillfully duck just in time. “You’re Just Jace, right?”

“How do you know my name?” He falters for a second, taking a step back. “…And it’s just Jace.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” You mumble to yourself in confusion.

You shake your head to focus on the situation at hand. “Please stop this, Just Jace. You’re hurting others!”

“I… I know!” Jace’s hands tightly grip his hair in frustration. “I don’t know why it’s not working.”

As his ire flames up, so do the winds, dust and small rocks starting to obscure your vision.

“Please, calm down!” You desperately yell, slowly making your way toward him with arms raised as a sign of peace. “Let me help you!”

The sound of police sirens grows louder, and you can hear the whirring of helicopter blades behind you. The police helicopter sways in the midst of the tornado, and you fear for both Jace and the police.

“No, no, no!” You try to wave the police away, knowing their presence would only distress Jace more.

“Police! Hands in the air!”

Police officers begin to rappel down from the helicopter, guns aimed at Jace. He scrambles in fear, sending rubble hurling at them in defense. Bullets fly out immediately after.

The sound of gunshots rings through your ear as you expertly maneuver through the ricochets and try to keep everyone safe. You burst through the combat and tackle Jace whilst he’s busy with the officers, trying to Spuber him to somewhere safe.

He wrestles in your grasp, screaming at you to let him go. Tiko gives him a few smacks in response. As you swing through a window, you release your hold on him, both of you rolling over to catch your balance. 

You lean against the wall, taking a moment to catch your breath. You’re rubbing your head that’s throbbing in pain, not noticing Jace’s sudden silence.

“The police really have the worst timing, am I right?” You awkwardly laugh.

You look up to see Jace stalking toward you, like a predator to prey, a dark intensity in his eyes. Any trace of the Jace you encountered before is gone. You bounce on your feet immediately.

“Jace?” You say hesitantly, walking backward. “We can talk about this…”

“You broke it,” he snarls. That’s when you notice what he’s clasping onto so stiffly. It looks awfully similar to those sketches you and Haerin saw in that secret lab. He lets it go and it clatters on the floor.

“I didn’t mean to,” you try to ameliorate the situation. “I was trying to save you.”

Your pleas don’t seem to reach his ears. He just simply repeats, “You broke it.”

“No need to get so upset,” you laugh sheepishly, hands in the air, discreetly scanning for the nearest exit. “I know a really good tech support guy.”

Your skin tingles. Jace then lunges at you, and out of instinct, you web onto the broken device and you swing it around to slam it into the space between you and him. The device makes contact with the concrete and shatters into pieces, shards of glass flying everywhere. For a moment, you feel as if time has slowed down, and everything sounds muffled, like you’re sinking deeper and deeper into the ocean.

And then everything goes black.

You wake up with a gasp, cold sweat sticking to your body. Haerin steps back, surprised. She’s holding her beloved ax, its handle hovering dangerously close to your cheek.

“You’re awake.”

“What?” You look around frantically, hands squeezing the sofa. “How am I back here?”

“What do you mean?” Haerin frowns. “You fell asleep.”

You stand up and squish your face against the window. The college campus is untouched. “What happened to Just Jace? Is Tiko alright?”

Her eyebrow furrows. “Who’s Just Jace? And Tiko the campus cat?”

You don’t respond, still lost in your own thoughts.

“Did you get a concussion on the way to the cemetery?”

You stop pacing and look down, and sure enough, you’re still in your suit, wet from the rain just like two days ago, and the beanie Danielle crocheted is lying on the table.

Then it dawns on you.

“Oh my god, Haerin.” Your jaw is slack. “I just traveled back in time.”

“What.”

It takes you fifteen minutes to sum everything up.

“But the weird thing is that the device didn’t seem to be done when we were in the secret lab.” You bite your cheek in thought. “I don’t know how he would’ve been able to get it working in the next two days.”

“He probably knew someone was onto him when we left the door open,” Haerin says, searching up ‘If you travel back in time, will you break time and space if you get into contact with someone?’ on Google. Most of the results are fruitless.

“That makes sense,” you nod. “But I wonder why he would end up at our college campus out of all places.”

“Maybe it’s the college his daughter went to?”

“Right,” you nod again. You prop your laptop on your lap as you start scouring through the map of the area around the college. “I need to know where he first appears so I can stop him before he gets to campus.”

Haerin ponders for a second. “You mentioned that there was some research on nuclear fusion, right?”

“Yeah… hold on.” You zoom into a nuclear power plant just a few miles from the college. “The device must need a lot of energy to work. He probably got it from here.”

“So,” Haerin hums. “What’s the plan?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Haerin’s voice is unimpressed over the static. “This was your plan?”

“You know me,” you quip ironically while weaving in between the blasts of energy that Jace is throwing at you. “My plan was to come up with a plan now.”

“And have you thought of one?”

“Not really!” You coolly avoid his punches and slide in between his legs. “I’ll call you back!”

When you manage to catch Jace off guard with a roundhouse kick, he stumbles and you use the opportunity to swoop into a vent to hide. You did not expect this alternate version of Jace to be so hostile. You tried to talk to him, really.

(You lower your web bit by bit as you dangle upside-down behind Jace. His back is facing you, clearly focused on wiring his device to the generator.

You tap his back. “Hey.”

He swivels around so fast he almost loses his balance, but immediately regains it and squares up. “Stay away!”

“No, no.” You plop on the floor. “I’m not here to hurt you. I know you’re trying to time travel. I’m from the future, actually.”

There’s an air of hope in Jace’s voice. “The device worked?”

“About that,” you rub your nape and flash an embarrassed smile under the mask. “I kinda had to smash it onto the ground for it to work. You were kind of trying to kill me. But no biggie, I forgive easily!”

Jace narrows his eyes. You stiffen as you feel dread trickle into your stomach. His fist jerks out and you jump back just in time, feeling the wind from the blow brush against your face.

“What the hell, man?” You pout. “I literally just forgave you.”

He doesn’t waste time and continues with a flurry of punches. “I must’ve been attacking you for a reason.”

You shake your head as you roll to the side. “Don’t say I didn’t try to be nice.”)

“Come out and face me!” Jace yells, his voice reverberating throughout the power plant. “You’re nothing but a pest.”

You silently crawl out of the vent and onto a supporting beam. Once you’re positioned right above him, you web him up, landing a nasty uppercut. You don’t have time to celebrate though, because on the way down, he grabs your ankles and pulls you down back to Earth.

“Oof!”

“This ends now.” He hisses, blood dripping from his mouth. He charges toward you, bearing a metal rod in his hand.

“Really getting into the villain role now, huh?” You joke, voice strained as you leap off the ground and kick him square in the face. “Give me some time to think of a name for you.”

You side step another one of his tackle attempts. “Oh! How about Prime Time?”

The only response you get is Jace surging forward with more punches and kicks. “You could just say you don’t like it!”

Jace doesn’t deign you with an answer. He unexpectedly throws a crate toward you, and just as you duck to avoid it, he gets his revenge with a successful blow to your chest with the metal rod.

You slam against the wall, slumping as the wind is knocked out of you.

“Like I said,” Jace says with heavy breaths, towering over you and looking down with a sneer. “This ends now.”

You can only see his silhouette because of the light shining through from the entrance to the power plant behind him, and this gives you an idea. You muster up any remaining willpower and web onto two pillars, pulling yourself toward it and using the momentum to swing kick Jace.

You both fly through the air and outside the power plant, crashing on the roof of a passing car. You wince as you feel the dent in the car. Jace rolls down to the hood of the car. Logically, the driver starts steering off course because the windshield is blocked and they’re probably freaking out at the fact that there are two injured people on their car.

Your body moves before your mind processes what’s going on—you’re webbing people out of the way of the speeding car, even though you’re still lying on your side. But the car spins out of control too fast for you to react. It ends up ramming into the front of a cafe. The impact of the crash sends you flying into the glass wall and into the cafe. You’re getting deja vu: glass is shattered and people start screaming and running away. 

“Oh no,” you groan, trying to ignore the burning pain. “This will not look good in the press release.”

What’s also burning is the car that you’re pinned under—the heat from the crackling fire licking at you, so hot that you can feel it through the spandex. All you can see is the thick smoke that blankets the cafe. From the shadows emerges Jace.

“Please,” you wheeze, feeling like you’ve been hit by a train. Which actually happened once, an experience you wouldn’t recommend to anyone. “This isn’t what your daughter would’ve wanted.”

“Don’t mention her again.” He digs his boot into the car, forcing pressure on you, and you’re exerting all your muscles in your arms to hold the car up. “And some superhero you are. Look at what’s left of this place.”

You strain your neck to stare at the inside of the cafe, and the sight horrifies you. It’s a complete wreckage. Your eyes zero on blonde hair that peeks out under a table that’s been flipped over. Your blood runs cold and there’s a sharp pain in your gut, like a knife sickly twisting itself over and over again. 

Jace chuckles cruelly at your silence. “What, no more snarky remarks?”

She can’t be dead. It’s all your fault—you were too busy slinging people out of the way to notice where the car was headed. How did she not get out in time?

“No,” you choke out. Your lip trembles pathetically. “Turn back time. Please.”

He follows your gaze and smirks. “See someone you know? I guess now you know how it feels.”

Any empathy you felt for him is overridden by the sheer anger that engulfs you. Your body shakes with rage. What comes out next is guttural and raw.

“I’ll kill you,” you spit. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

Jace turns around and cackles, and you wonder how everything went to hell so fast. You wonder how he changed so fast. He’s walking out of the cafe, to the college campus probably, and as much as you want to grab him and beat him until he’s blue, there’s something more important. Or rather, someone.

The adrenaline from the rage earlier is still coursing through your veins and you use your remaining strength to push the car off you. (You wanted to hurl it at him too but your arms were failing). You know exactly what you need to do. You sling a web to the device he’s holding loosely, then repeat that same swinging motion that you did the other timeline, slamming it so hard on the ground you almost feel like your arm will rip off.

Time slows again, and you find yourself in a familiar position, deep in the abyss. The world goes black.

It takes you three times before you realize you’re stuck in a time loop. You don’t know why, but you only get sent back a few hours to the nuclear power plant. You try everything, anything to keep Danielle safe. You know it’s selfish, that you should be caring about everyone else too, but you can’t stand the thought of her dying. You’ve already lost her once, back then when you left her. You can’t be the reason for the world losing her.

In the first loop, you spray the wheels of the car with webs to prevent it from crashing in the first place, but the car stopping in the middle of the road only causes another car to veer off the streets and into the cafe. In the second loop, Jace hurls a boulder mid fight and despite you redirecting it to the building next to the cafe, that building ends up collapsing… on top of the cafe. Everytime, you saving other people leads to Danielle dying in some way.

It’s the third loop. You’re at the nuclear power plant again, head in your hands, and Jace hasn’t noticed your presence yet. You want to cry. Nothing is working. Maybe this is karma for ghosting Danielle all those years ago. Being a superhero is all about sacrifices—is this the sacrifice you have to make? You thought you would be better at letting go by now.

Haerin’s voice is soft in your ear. “Have we had this conversation before?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “This is the fourth time.”

“I’m sorry I can’t remember. And that our solutions didn’t work out.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re the only thing keeping me sane right now.” You bite your lip. “And it’s my fault anyway.”

There’s some faint rustling of paper and typing.

“Nuclear fusion,” Haerin says after a while. “Have you tried slamming the device into the generator? The sheer energy might just break the loop.”

“I might as well.” Your voice is thick with fatigue. “I have nothing else to lose.”

You don’t even bother to greet Jace this time, just immediately pulling the device toward you and slamming it onto the generator. The reaction is instantaneous—the device explodes and the generator rumbles, sparks flying. Waves of energy start pulsing out in irregular patterns. It’s so strong that you’re knocked off your feet and your back hits a railing.

You’re knocked out again. Maybe you’re setting a new world record.

Hidden under the knitted quilt, you stir, the thin web of strands barely stifling the bite of the morning cold. Someone is sweetly humming a melody that’s on the tip of your tongue. The constant hum finds its way into you, it softens your bones and eases your heart. The constant hum sings, enveloping you, lulling you back into the solace of the darkness. 

This tranquility is swiftly broken by you remembering. You launch out of bed, blinking your eyes to gain a hold of your surroundings. You’re in a campervan. Nostalgia washes over you as you realize that this is the campervan Danielle’s family used to take on road trips. You wearily eye the photo frame stuck to the rustic fridge. Gleeful smiles and sand-covered faces adorn the frame, reminding you of what you left behind. 

You were known as that quiet kid who had no parents. Any attention you received would consist of pitied stares and hushed whispers. You didn’t mind the loneliness—you were used to it. And your aunt took care of you and showed you love. That was enough. You didn’t think you needed any more love until Danielle moved in next door and changed your life.

She was the first to approach you, holding out a four-leaf clover with a bright smile, saying “Hi! I’m Danielle, you look like you need some good luck!”. It only took you a few months to warm up to her, not that it was hard, because she was so understanding and cheery. She never cared about what other people said at school. She cared about what you had to say, and that’s something you never thought you needed, let alone deserved, until her.

Danielle’s family is equally as sweet, and they welcomed you with open arms. Every few months, they would go on a road trip and you and Danielle would always say farewell with teary eyes and lingering hugs. Until Danielle insisted you tag along, and that’s how it became a tradition.

Lightly caressing miscellaneous decorations as you make your way outside, you take it all in. The gentle twinkle of fairy lights shyly shines through the tinted windows that are littered with stickers and magnets. This caravan was your second home. Inextricably imbued with memories with Danielle, the two of you left no inch of this van unexplored and untouched. Outside, the fresh smell of subdued smoke (bacon and eggs) wafts to you, beckoning you. Your stomach growls. You forget about the ravenous appetite of a superhero.

But you’re not a superhero right now. You’re twelve, not yet bitten, meant to be blissfully unaware of the terrors that await you as you grow up. You run outside to find Danielle. She’s preparing a plate of breakfast for you.

“Danielle!” You rush toward her and tackle her in a hug, tears subconsciously spilling onto your cheeks. She steadies herself so that the plate of food isn’t knocked over.

She gasps out your name, concern etched in her eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head and nuzzle her neck, sniffling like a baby. “I’m just glad you’re my best friend.”

Your voice is so high and prepubescent, which makes you burst into laughter out of nowhere. Danielle laughs with you. “I’m glad you’re mine, too.”

“Where’s your parents?”

You lean back as she tilts her head to the barbeque grill a few yards away. “Cooking up their breakfast.”

You eventually let go, quite reluctantly, and take a moment to admire her. You’re smitten. Her hair is brown, bangs slightly ruffled, and she’s sporting a toothy grin. You’re so overwhelmed with love you can’t even speak, but this is soon overshadowed by guilt. This is the girl whose heart you broke.

Nothing about you gets past Danielle, so she immediately notices your wavering.

“You okay?” She intertwines your fingers together “Let’s eat breakfast.”

‘I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling a wave of nausea hit you. “I feel a bit dizzy.”

She quickly sets down the plate of bacon and eggs, her hands instantly finding their place on your waist.

“Maybe you should get some more rest,” she pouts, gently squeezing your waist. You try to suppress the shiver that this causes.

“Yeah,” you agree without a sliver of resistance. “Come with me?”

Danielle sends you a knowing smile. “Okay.”

You both make your way back into the van, ditching breakfast. You climb into the comfort of the bed, lifting the same knitted quilt so that it hugs both of you. Your body relaxes, for the first time in a very long time, and you bask in the heat radiating off Danielle.

As your eyes involuntarily close, you can hear the faint sound of ticking. You’re unsure of what is to come, but the curl in your stomach unfolds and pardons you, allowing you to feel Danielle’s love. For just one more time.

–

There’s a brief moment where you regain a shred of consciousness at the nuclear power plant, but everything is too bright and you have to squeeze your eyes shut. You only feel another wave of energy vibrate against your skin before your vision’s black again. Definitely a world record.

Someone’s playing with your hair. Deft fingers weave through strands of your hair and twirl it, lightly pulling on it before letting go and repeating. You blink your eyes open and are met with Danielle already staring at you. She’s older than the last time-travel episode, but younger than the current her. You’re still smitten.

You’re laying in her bed, in her room, in her house. You surmise it’s probably a sleepover night. She’s wearing those glasses with a clear frame, so it must be midway through senior year. You smile to yourself as you remember that she breaks it just before graduation by sitting on it. (She forgot that she put it on her seat.)

“What are you smiling about?” Danielle pokes your nose. “Are you thinking about how that one kid fell off his chair while falling asleep in class?”

“No,” you giggle as you sit up, nostalgia pervading your chest. “But that was funny though. Thanks for reminding me.”

She’s playing with your fingers now, head tilted with that starry look in her eyes that always leaves you dumbfounded. Your smile slowly fades. You feel like a kid again, even though this was only the two of you from three years ago.

“Danielle,” you say shakily, eyes locked onto your entwined fingers. “Would you believe me if I said I’m from the future?”

She considers your question for a second. “What happens in the future?”

You swallow a lump. Where do you even start? ‘Well, I’m actually gonna ghost you in a few months and we’ll never speak again, but then we meet, well not really—it’s more like I see you, and then you die in a cafe because of me. Oh, and I’m Spider-Woman.’

“You dye your hair blonde,” you continue, voice barely above a whisper. You’re holding back tears. “And you go to college overseas to study.”

Danielle’s face shifts into something sadder, half sympathetic. “That doesn’t sound too far-fetched.”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” your voice cracks. “I do some really bad things in the future, and I’m really sorry.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Danielle tries to lift the mood. “Can’t be worse than the time when you spilled orange juice all over my biology assignment the morning it was due.”

Your rambling teeters on the line of coherence. “I push you away—and I’m such an asshole. But I had to, you have to believe me. I can’t tell you why because it hasn’t happened yet and it will probably break some rule of time-traveling, but I just want you to know that I’m so–”

“Hey,” she cradles your face like you're something delicate. Like you’re not the person who will leave her behind with no explanation. “It’s okay.”

“I miss you so much, Danielle.” It’s all you can say. “I miss you so much.”

Her thumb tenderly swipes away any tears that fall. “I’m right here.”

But she’s not.

You’re sobbing pathetically into her hand. You can’t remember the last time you cried. It must’ve been at your aunt’s funeral. Your head is pounding and even though you’re in the body of your younger self, you can still feel the phantom repercussions of fights with Jace. Danielle continues softly, “I could never hate you, no matter what. All you need to do is talk to me—the me in your world.”

“I love you,” you hiccup, lip quivering. “I never got to say it in my timeline. I hope you know that.”

“You know I do too,” Danielle smiles, bitter-sweet. “Promise me you’ll say it to the other me.”

You nod, looping your pinky finger with hers.

She seems satisfied. “You’ve been through a lot. Let’s get some rest.” She guides you back onto the pillow and onto your side, nestling behind you, arms wrapped around your waist and clasped on your stomach.

The ticking sounds again, and it slowly floods your mind as your vision fades to black.

“Please tell me it’s over,” you plead weakly as you wake up to the sight of peeling plaster on the ceiling. You force your body up, and you see an unconscious Jace collapsed against the wall. The broken device is just a fingertip away from you. This is the room you Spubered him into while distancing him from the police. You’re back. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Tiko hops out of your backpack and rubs his face against yours.

“Hey, buddy,” you coo, scratching his chin. “Thanks for the help. I’ll see you around campus.”

You pick yourself up, shaking stray shards of glass off you. You web Jace against the wall, and make sure to add extra to ensure he doesn’t escape. You briefly notice the wrinkles on his face and his calloused hands.

“Some things we have to let go,” you say softly to him, even though he can’t hear you. “I need to take this to find the missing victims.”

You leave a space in your heart to mourn for Jace’s daughter, and genuinely wish the best for him. Tiko’s already run off somewhere. You take the device and stretch your limbs, preparing for the long journey home. 

Actually, you have two stops before you go home. First stop is a safe place to change out of your suit and temporarily hide the device.

Second stop. You run to find Danielle. You think that this has been a long time coming, considering that you’ve been running away from her for the past three years.

You’re standing like an idiot outside the cafe, hands in your pockets, just staring at Danielle through the glass wall. She seems to feel the weight of your gaze though, because she eventually looks up and her eyes widen at the sight of you. You wave awkwardly, to which she starts packing up her things in a hurry.

You breath hitches as she says your name. It rolls off her tongue in a way that is so familiar.

“Care to join me on a walk?” You rock back and forth on your heels, avoiding eye contact with her.

Her face is passive. It scares you more than it should. But she complies without any questions. “Okay.”

It takes around twenty minutes to reach your aunt’s grave. You pat the space in front of you as a gesture for Danielle to sit down, and she does.

“Before I start,” you say. “I just wanted to say thank you for visiting my aunt. You didn’t have to.”

But she did. Because that’s what she always does—go above and beyond. You take a deep breath before releasing it. “I’m sorry.”

She nods, showing that she’s listening, but doesn’t respond.

“I… was an asshole,” you clench your jaw and close your eyes. “I said some hurtful things.”

(“Are you avoiding me?” Danielle asks, eyebrows furrowed.

It’s another morning of a school day.

“No,” you exhale deeply. You don’t spare her a glance. “I’ve just been really busy.”

“We’ve both been busy for a while,” she counters, frustration laced in her voice. “But the difference is that we still made time for each other.”

You slam your locker door shut. The spider bite thrums with pain. “Take the hint. I don’t have space for you in my life anymore.”)

“And even after I said those things, you still tried to reach out to me.”

(More unread texts from Danielle. Can we talk? I’m sorry about the other day. 

Hey, I’ve been trying to give you space, but I just wanted to check in.

Why are you ignoring me?)

“There’s a reason I ghosted you. Not that I’m trying to justify it, but I just wanted to let you know it wasn’t because of you or anything.”

The other Danielle’s words flash through your mind.

“I love you,” you finally say, and it feels as though there’s this weight lifted off your chest. “I have, for a long time. And I needed to leave you because I love you. Because I was scared.”

Her eyebrows crease in thought. “Because you were scared I didn’t love you back?”

“No—well, not no! Of course I care about that. But that wasn’t my main concern.”

“How do I say this,” you scratch your head. “Oh. You gifted me a beanie the other day. Crocheted by you, red with a white pom pom.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Oh.”

You fiddle with the grass that you’re sitting on. “I accepted a long time ago that anyone close to me will be in danger because of, well, who I am. And being Spider-Woman… it’s a responsibility that I have to commit to. I can’t just fall in love.”

A pause. “Who said you can’t?”

“Well,” you stutter. “It’ll put you in danger. And I have to put my Spider responsibilities first.”

She shifts closer to you. “And what if I’m okay with that?”

“You’d… you’d have to actually like me back anyway.”

Danielle punches you on the shoulder.

“Ow!” You frown. “What was that for?”

“For being an asshole.”

“Oh.”

“You should’ve just talked to me.”

“I know,” you admit. “But I just felt like I couldn’t.”

“I never stopped thinking about you all these years,” Danielle shakes her head. “I was a mess. I wanted to hate you so much, but I just couldn’t. And I hated that even more.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Danielle says, and the look in her eyes tells you that she really does mean it.

You hesitantly reach out toward her. She grabs your hand and moves it to her face. It’s your turn to cradle her, making sure that she’s really here and that this is real. Her smile is teary. 

“I love you,” you breathe out. And that’s the only thing you want to say for the rest of your life. To make up for all the times that you didn’t. 

“I love you, too.” Her smile is so enchanting and you want to lean in and kiss her.

But gunshots ring out nearby and there’s shouting. You turn to Danielle, distraught. She grabs your phone from your pocket and adds herself as a contact.

“Go,” she nods softly, handing you back your phone. “Call me when you’re done. I’ll tend to your wounds.”

Your eyes flit over to your aunt’s grave. You hope you’ve become a hero she can be proud of. And you thank her for everything. You slip on your mask and stuff your clothes in a backpack.

Being a superhero isn’t all that easy, but you’re glad you have people you love to lean on to relieve the burden. You leap off the ground with confidence, swinging toward the chaos.

Dedicated to user phamphamz... happy early birthday!

Title is from Autumn by Niki :]

[robobarbie]

Hello hellooooooo! We recently had a banner contest in the discord server, and I wanted to show y'all the awesome entries that didn't win. They're all really cool in their own ways, so I wanted to give them each a lil moment.

(by @/jestie)

Love the focus on xyx!! He reminds me almost of what I'd think teenage him would look like. Very chill, sporty, and out with friends on a beautiful spring day. The linework in this feels really soft as well -- especially on those hat details. AND THERE'S CAT!! CAT!!!

All other submissions under the cut!

(by @/hunddenseje)

I like the details in the flowers a lot for this one. The way people draw roses and how they choose those inner patterns is always neat. And the little plants and mushrooms on his shoulders are fun!! They go well with that striped shirt pattern!!!

(by @/stintsy)

The way this artist circled the boys with that pink rosy pattern will stick in my brain for a while. It's v pretty, and it's like they opened a bush and found us in there for some reason. "Hello! Happy Spring!" Thanks boys please close it back up!!! It's my cry hour in the bush!!!!

(by @/emmascient)

This person's artstyle is so unique and full of life. The little spots of light coming through the trees just adds to whole thing, too. And I really like seeing fanart of owl with textured hair!!! Also check out xyx's fucking biceps holy fucking sh-

(by @/.mewo.)

Just a bunch of bros on their lunch break bayBEEEEEEEEEE!!! I like the detail of toast's coat tied around their waist and the fucking anti-societyboy shirt quest is wearing LMFAO. Also cat is ADORABLE in this. God. More cat art. Always need more cat art!!

(by @/c1nnadoll)

Every time nightowl is drawn in a croptop, two months is added to my life. I just know it's true. God bless that cute ass flower crown and the perfect little peace sign. Man looks so stable and happy. I hope he had a nice day after this picture!!!

(by @/fluffydeer21)

Toast and Quest look so content and cute with their flowers. And there's another neat rose with a lil interior pattern! Held, of course, by this artist's fave LI. Xyx looks pretty good with gold jewelry, I cannot lie. I have no idea why I made them green in game. LMFAO

(by @/noneivly)

I like how this feels like a painting. Like those brush strokes and even the palette choice just look like something you'd see hung on a wall? It's really cool. Also the little detail of the chibi picnic boys in the background makes me giggle. Small!!!!! So fucking small!!!

(by @/kiki_221)

The energy in this is excellent. You can almost hear them laughing together at Toast's expense (deserved I'm sure). I'd like to imagine they're all relaxing at a park after a big lunch. I hope they got to discuss all the good things that happened to them this week.

(by @/01noxxie10)

Another excellent chillin in the grass pic! Purple actually looks really good on Quest. I don't think I've ever drawn him in that color before? So this image made me think about that a LOT. Also look at fuckin chill ass xyx. Calm beautiful motherfucker. Fuck you!!! Fuck you!!!

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

There's two more images, but those are the discord banner winner and the one I chose for my twitter! If you want to see those excellent drawings, check out my twitter here or join the discord server here!

Thank you everyone for all the submissions! I treasure them deeply!!

[pedge-page]

You know how Romana recently did a fic where guarddog!Joel met puppy!reader? Would you ever do a little drabble where himbo!Joel meets plushie!reader? 🥹💖

I love Guard!Dog and PuppyReader from @romana-after-dark !!!! And I know exactly what you are talking about (because I may have been the anon who requested it 🫢.)

Here we go!

Plush-Bo: Himbo!Joel x Plushies!Reader Crossover

Warnings: im writing this at work on my phone and mentally cannot compute. There's sex. Inappropriate stuff. Language. MOMMY. Plushies. Oral. The weird ass freaky shit you expect from me.

Notes: Everything is written in 3rd person to not confuse reader!characters. plushies!Reader, Himbo!Joel/Himbo, plushies!Joel, and Mommy/Himbo Joel's reader.

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Himbo!Joel would be rutting into her like a rabbit In heat. Exactly how Plushies!Reader likes it, the horny little fucks they are.

"Mommy," he gasps, his voice wrecked. "Mommy Shes so...so s-soft--uuggghhaaaahhhh!" He buries his face into plushies!reader hair to cover his groan.

Pleasure fills his stomach, twisting in ways he's not quite used to. Having something so so so incredible sweet, cottony and pliant, from the scent of her shampoo to the silken draw of her skin. Stuffed animals toppling all over only further the stimulation. Soft,soft,soft, all of her softness tickles his brain in just the right way to have him pounding her sopping pussy deep, flush into the matress with no intuition to slow down.

"Yeah? You like soft things?" Himbo's Mommy coos, stroking his sweaty locks that are covering his beautiful eyes from all that exercise.

He hums with a shy nod. "Not as much as Mommy's pussy--!"

She laugh. "Its okay, it's okay to like other things. Especially something as soft as this." She glides her knuckles across plushies!reader skin, admiring the glow. Especially how himbo!Joel doesn't know what to do with all that softness. All delicate to the touch, when he likes to get his nails in and mark up his Mommy, unintentionally of course. He can't hold back most times. But this? Its laughable how much he just doesn't know what to do with himself except fuck like it's his only directive in life.

Plushies!Reader can barely see straight. Though her Joel is a rough fuck, he's pretty calculated about his sex. But this? Himbo is driving into her at such an incessant, sloppy, high energy rate that her vision is blurring in the back of her skill. She's unable to do anything but drool and moan into the sheets.

It's shocking when he finally howls he's gonna cum, despite plushies!reader had already done so 12 times.

"I-inside!" she squeaks from below. His hands are etched into her pretty hips with his body draped over , low hanging tummy smashed against the curve of her back.

"I-ca-cant" he huffs, managing to pull free of her sweet, dripping pussy. He grips the base of his cock harshly to edge himself. "My cum is only for Mommy." He smirks over to her. "We're gonna breed and have another baby soon."

"How adorable!" Plushies gal beams, catching her breath and hugging her stuffed badger in her arms to cool her heart rate. "Joel. When are you gonna put a baby in me?"

Plushies!Joel wipes the precum from his leaking cock on his jeans. "When ya get on that teddy and show me what a good breeding slut you can be."

Plushies!Reader guides Himbo!Joel excitedly to show off her giant Teddy Plushie. She knows a humper when she sees one.  Despite the tough activity, both of them are immediately ready for more cums.

Mounting Teddy's Face with her messy cunt, Himbo!Joel straddles it's lower belly. He whimpers when he cock is suffocated by a wave of cottony fluff.

"Isn't he nice?" She hums, rolling her hips into the button nose of Teddy. She gasps, doing it again to catch her Plushies!Joel ramping up his pervertedness and jerking off to the scene before him.

Himbo!Joel nods, wide eyed and smiling below. God. Everything in this ROOM is soft and cuddly and humpable and...

Plushies!gal giggles and leans forward to kiss Himbo, and the two of them start rocking with spread legs on the shared Bear.

Himbo Joel hesitates for a moment, looking back towards his lady.

She nods encouragingly. "Go ahead! Have fun with your new toy. Mommy's pussy will be here when you need it."

He nods, tossing all worry out the window and fucking his cock against the Bear's crotch. Himbo can't help but sniff the remnants of Plushie!readers remnants pussy juices that seemed to have permanently permeated the stuffed Teddy's fluff. His balls ache: sooooooo much softness he wants to make even prettier with his seed.

Eventually the two of them fall forward in a heap of panting, griding messes. With their cheek smashed into Teddy's chest, arms wrapped desperately around it's thick body,  they sloppily make our between breaths. Tightly drawn brows and sounds of endless cumming fills the walls of the Plushies room.

Mommy and Plushies!Joel sit back and watch their little horny babies have at it together.

Himbo!Joel cums, splattered and sticky between his and Teddy's Belly. He gasps when Plushie! reader leans forward with her tongue out, happily lapping at the creamy mess off Teddy's fur and then from Joel's slightly hairy tummy. He groans, covering his mouth and watching her work contently. So used to cleaning up his own mess from Mommy, he doesn't know how to react when someone else cleans his mess for him. It's OK if she's just eating his cum right? She won't get pregnant from that. Only Mommy can get pregnant from his precious cum. This is okay.

When Himbo Joel and Plushies reader are spent, they curling up against one another surrounded by her stuffies, steadily breathing in each breath and sleeping after an exhausting but fun day.

Mommy!reader quietly finishes swallowing Plushies!Joel's load from the corner of the room. He sighs heavily, closing his eyes in bliss.

"Got your dog on a pretty loose leash, huh Mommy?" He teases.

Like clockwork, the two of them switch places, with Joel on his knees in front of her spread legs. He wastes no time sucking her pearly clit, tongue darking between her folds.

"He's defensive. Probably would break your jaw right now if he saw."

Joel shrugs, kissing the inside of her thigh.

She twirls his hair between her fingers as he gets to work, staring at the bed. "She's pretty, though."

She feels him grin proudly between her pussy lips. "She is."

.While her Himbo!Joel isnt very skilled, he makes up for it in eagerness. Plushies!Joel on the other hand knows how to draw things out, speed it up, edge and push you over exactly when he desires it. She cums hard, shaking on his expert tongue.

He sucks the juices off his fingers and gestures towards the bed, where Himbo!Joel and Plushies!Reader snuggle in their warm nest.

"I wouldn't mind a play date again with them."

"I think that would be great for them."

- - - -

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel

[lil-tachyon]

For the last couple weeks I've been drawing logos / designs for local-ish (mostly NJ, some PA and NY) bands as warmups in the morning. Here's what I've come up with! Massive post below the break explaining each logo + where to find each band and listen to their music.

Teenage Halloween- a staple of New Jersey basements for probably about a decade now and finally getting wider recognition in the last couple years. Pop punk / power pop with a killer horn section. First time I saw them was in New Brunswick playing with Walter Etc. and Blowout. They played a killer cover "Build Me Up Buttercup" and my wife got a black eye in the pit. Recommended tracks: "Brain Song," "666," "Clarity." Their first EP is on a separate bandcamp page btw, check it out here it's great.

Sweet Pill - They will call themselves a Philly band but in my heart they'll always be from Glassboro. Definitely one of the more recognizable names on this list. Emo revival - early stuff is more twinkly, more recent stuff is heavier. All of it's great. Recommended tracks "Nephew," "High Hopes."

Shark Club - Central Jersey's finest. I'm very biased because I actually know these dudes and they did the music for my wedding. Some of the best pop punk you'll hear and the nicest people you'll meet. Recommended tracks: "Game Theory," "Bill Murray," "Heavens to Betsy."

Rest Ashore - My favorite band for the last (oh God I'm old now) eight years. From gut-wrenching emo ballads to virtuoso math-rock instrumentals they do it all. One time I got to sing vocals on "Lucy's Theme" at a house show- thank you Erica! Recommended tracks: "Hjarta," "Chinese Opera," "Devotion," "Soyuz Sweetheart." Too many bangers to name honestly, just deep dive their discography.

Morus Alba - First band I ever went to see at a house show and still one of my absolute favorites. Their music feels like the bridge between the best pitchfork, /mu/ alt rock bands and high energy basement emo. I mean that as a compliment and I hope it comes off as one lol. I should note that since 2019 Morus Alba has morphed from a band into an experimental hip-hop project so later releases sound radically different and basically disconnected from the earlier stuff. Also my favorite release from them, Live at Isabelle's, has been scrubbed from the internet but if you'd like the files just email me. Recommended tracks: "Skyscraper," "Human Resources," "The Goodnight Waltz."

Have a Good Season - another Jersey mainstay that's still going strong. Emo revival in their earlier releases, now with more 70s power pop influences in their newer stuff. See them live, they put on a fantastic show and usually play some great covers in addition to their original music. HaGS guys if you're reading this, please put your version of "Since You've Been Gone" online, I'm begging you. Recommended tracks: "Joseph / Shel Silverstein," (you have to listen to them together for the drop, so good) , "Gum, "Gleaux / Scab." Also, frontman Nic Palermo interviewed me once.

Elephant Jake - If you see any of these bands live make it EJ, they put on such a damn good show. Electrifying indie punk from the Empire State. Recommended tracks: "F.D.C." "Sarah Moyer," "Goodness to Honest," and of course you gotta learn "Sebastien Bauer" for the singalongs.

Blind Lion - Sadly one of the greats that we lost along the way. Defunct since about 2017. I only got to see them once but it was a great performance. Alongside their own stuff they played some killer covers of "Bad Moon Rising" and "Moonage Daydream." I had trouble doing a logo design for them because I actually really like the composition, if not the "Ed Hardy-ness," of their existing logo so what you see here are two separate attempts, neither of which feels entirely satisfying to me. Frontperson Larry Flately currently plays in Nematode and also handled production of Bradley Gardens joke hiphop group The Breakfast Boiz under the moniker "DJ Ova EZ." Recommended tracks: "Brumous," "Dinner."

Fighting Seasons - A band that I sadly found out about too late (via a sticker under the bridge in my town which has since been painted over). 2010s pop punk that packs a helluva punch, especially considering that I'm pretty sure the members were high schoolers for most of the band's existence. I think some members may have gone on to form Sawce (FFO Chon, Polyphia, that type of music) but I can't remember where I read/heard that so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Recommended tracks: "Fighting Seasons," "Oil on Canvas"

Milkmen- Another fallen giant, officially disbanded in 2019. Like Morus Alba, they played the very first house show I attended and their few releases remain on constant rotation in my home. Used to put on a great show and were one of the bands I always thought would make it big until suddenly they weren't around anymore. Frontman Ben Thieberger contributed guitar and vocals to Covid quarantine project Kin if you're looking for a bit of an extra fix but beyond that I don't know what these guys are up to these days, sadly. Recommended tracks: "Ramus," "Johnny Dangerously," "how sieves catch breeze," "K.O.T.H."

Stand and Wave - New York (now Philly) pop punkers delivering instant dopamine hits with every track. Another great live act, see them with EJ if you can! They often play shows together. Recommended tracks: "Convos," "Mrs. Dash," "Splashton Kutcher," "Michael Collins."

My Chemical Romance - You know who they are. While I was drawing all these other logos I ran a poll on Patreon to decide which famous New Jersey band should also be graced with a drawing from me. MCR won the poll by a hefty margin so unfortunately you won't get to see me do an illegible black metal take on Hoboken's Yo La Tengo. I ended up doing two versions: the one with the halo is the first, the one with the bats was the second. I tried to do something kind of thin and elegant with the first one and I don't think it's terrible but I also wasn't quite satisfied with it. For the 2nd attempt I tried to lean into the kind of pulpy, almost horror punk aesthetic of early MCR and I think that one looks better even if it's less original.

Anyway if you took the time to read through all this, thank you very much! And please support these bands! Also If any of the links aren't working please let me know.

-Logan

[jadelotusflower]

Rewatch: Return to Oz (1985)

I've been on a bit of an Oz kick recently, revisiting the original Baum books and of course anticipating Wicked coming out later this year (which I'm managing expectations for to avoid disappointment).

Return to Oz was a staple (and nightmare fuel) for many a millennial childhood, at the tail end of the "dark fantasy" era popularised by The Neverending Story and The Dark Crystal, the antithesis of the Technicolour, musical world of MGM's The Wizard of Oz - a dystopian future that reflects the fracturing of Dorothy's mind and her inability to reconcile the trauma of her previous Kansas-Oz journey.

Return lives in a sort of mirror world to the 1939 film, taking elements such as the ruby slippers (for which Disney had to pay MGM a hefty fee), but returning to the original illustrations for the character designs, and drawing inspiration from Baum's novels but not explicitly adapting them. It also returns Dorothy to a child rather than Garland's quasi-teenager, which is important as I feel Baum (an advocate of women's suffrage) had a keen interest in the empowerment of girls as the heroes of their own stories.

To evoke that other turn of the century fantasy classic, Dorothy is to early modern American folklore as Alice is to English, and if The Wizard of Oz is Wonderland, Return to Oz is Through the Looking Glass. In fact Return relies heavily on the mirror motif, not only literally, in the mirror that entraps Ozma, but Ozma herself as a mirror to Dorothy. Return also takes the Kansas/Oz dichotomy from the film in reflecting people Dorothy knows in Kansas to characters of Oz (a concept not found in the books), but while in Wizard it’s Dorothy’s trio of friends that are personified in the Scarecrow, Tinman, and Cowardly Lion, in Return it is her trio of antagonists from Kansas who appear in Oz - the Dr Worley/The Nome King, Nurse Wilson/Mombi, and the Orderly/Wheeler.

Her Oz friends in Return are instead pulled from inanimate objects - Ozma gives her a pumpkin that personifies in Jack Pumpkinhead, Tik-Tok resembles the "Electrical Therapy" machine with the face, and the gump...well, I guess they forgot about that one.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Fairuza Balk was just 11 but has a compelling screen presence - her Dorothy is troubled and serious, befitting the overall darker tone of the film. While she would go on to embody "witchy" energy in later roles, here there's a world-weariness yet innate strength to her Dorothy.

Aunt Em helpfully tells us it's been six months since the tornado and Dorothy can't sleep. Her body may be back in Kansas, but her mind remains in Oz.

The film doesn't really pick a lane between the "it was all a dream" of the 1939 film and the "Oz is an actual place" of the books, leaving it for the viewer to decide. We are told the old house was "lost" but that can suit either interpretation, same with the OZ key being either delivered by shooting star or the key to the old house (as Em posits). Dorothy's inability to sleep is either unresolved trauma from the tornado, or longing to return to her friends in Oz and/or sensing that there is trouble in Oz.

I'm much more sympathetic to Em as an adult - she has a husband unable or unwilling to finish building the new house, Dorothy won't stop rabbiting on about nonsense rather than helping with chores, and she has to borrow money from her sister to pay for medical treatment to try and cure Dorothy's insomnia.

Justice for Aunt Em! Played with grace by three-time Oscar nominee Piper Laurie (for The Hustler, Carrie, and Children of a Lesser God respectively).

Poor Toto doesn't get to come on this adventure, but hey, he's still around, guess Mrs Gulch didn't make good on her threat to have him destroyed (or she died in the tornado, which is probably likely given the Witch's fate).

Just a guy patronizing a child that the machine intended to surge electricity through her brain is perfectly safe because it has a face.

But there is a face in the machine - Ozma, stuck in the glass.

Nicol Williamson is our villain, with a fantastic voice. Mostly known for theatre and Shakespeare, you may remember him as Merlin from that other dark fantasy classic Excalibur, or as Little John from Robin and Marian.

Jean Marsh is our witch, complete with black gown and pointed sleeves - to continue our fantasy bingo she was Queen Bavmorda in Willow (which I've actually never seen) and Rose in the original Upstairs Downstairs (which I've never seen either). She'll always be creepy Mombi to me.

We see Ozma in the glass again before she appears in Dorothy's room, ethereal barefoot child gifting her a carved pumpkin because "it's Halloween soon". Okay, whatever you have to do to get there.

On that note, the screenplay was written by Gill Dennis (who would go on to co-write Walk the Line) and Walter Murch, who also directed. Murch was film school friends with George Lucas, and they wrote THX-1138 together - Lucas has a "special thanks" credit on this film. Murch worked steadily in sound design and editing (nominated for 10 Oscars with 4 wins), but after Return was a box office failure he never directed another film, which is a real shame.

Dorothy "combs" the pumpkins hair, which I find very charming.

The growing tension of Dorothy's isolation, being strapped to the gurney, the squeaking wheels, the far-off screaming: this is a horror film for children.

My sister and I used to re-create Ozma and Dorothy's escape on our grandmother's porch all the time.

Because we’re in a mirror, the streaming river of Kansas becomes the deadly desert of Oz - water, of course, also being a mirror and common pathway/doorway between worlds.

Billina the hen also appears, because Dorothy needs an animal companion, who can now talk because she is in Oz. The question is whether Toto could also talk, as all animals can in Oz, and simply chose not to (iirc in the books he didn't because he could "make himself understood" without words or something). The chicken puppetry is really quite good, I'll always prefer puppets/animatronics over cgi.

The voice of Billina is provided by Denise Bryer, who was the "junk lady" in Labyrinth (have we got that bingo yet?).

Another reflection - the packed lunch that was taken from Dorothy at the sanitarium in Kansas is returned to her in the form of a lunch pail tree in Oz, which leans towards the reading that Oz is a projection of Dorothy's mind as a way to cope and resolve/repair the traumas of her Kansas life.

Dorothy comes across her old house that is seemingly not in Munchkinland, the broken remains of the yellow brick road nearby. How much time has passed in Oz? Since everyone was turned to stone it could be hundreds of years and we're in a Narnia situation - at least long enough for a forest to grow where there once was a munchkin town square.

Glinda is conspicuous by her absence - probably because the plot couldn't happen if she was around.

Also absent are any stone munchkins which has very dark implications - the Emerald City still has ruins and stone inhabitants, but Munchkinland has been completely obliterated.

lol, Dorothy runs to the Emerald City in literally minutes, a journey that previously took half a film.

Sleep well, kids!

If we go with the interpretation that Oz is a manifestation of Dorothy's mind (maladaptive daydreaming?), it is interesting how she projects people and objects from her real life into her fantasy life - obviously her threats in the sanitarium become the villains, but the Electric Shock machine becomes Tik-Tok, her erstwhile protector. In this, she transforms a threat into an ally, and yet much is made that he isn't, and cannot be, "alive."

Many of the elements of this film - Billina, the Wheelers, Tik-Tok, the Nome King, and the princess with a hundred heads - came from Ozma of Oz, while Ozma herself, Jack Pumpkinhead, and the witch Mombi (combined in this film with Princess Langwidere) originate in the earlier The Marvellous Land of Oz, with a different backstory.

Oh to be a wicked witch, playing a mandolin, in a gilded, mirrored palace.

I enjoy this costume! Reflective of the high structured sleeves of nurse but sharp to emphasise the danger Mombi poses, and with the same mechanical accents/coloiur scheme as the Wheelers

Those cabinets full of heads are still so creepy. The way they watch Dorothy - are they alive and aware the whole time? Horrifying.

Jack Pumpkinhead was voiced by a young Brian Henson (who also acted as puppeteer).

I always used to fast-forward the scene where Dorothy steals the key and gets chased by headless Mombi as a kid, it was just too tense.

I mean maybe this isn't scary to kids today, but it sure freaked the fuck out of me. Especially with all of those heads screaming in their cabinets.

But how exactly was zombie Mombi snoring without a head?

Interesting that the cabinet with Mombi's original head is the only one without transparent glass, but instead has a mirror. Her original head is also kept in cabinet 31, which was Dorothy's room in the sanitarium. As a kid I was always dead set that Oz was real and Dorothy really went there, but now I'm leaning more towards Oz as a manifestation, or at least a world directly influenced and constantly adapting based on Dorothy's experiences. Was she unable to sleep in Kansas because she knew Oz was in trouble, or was Oz in trouble because of her mental discord?

"If his brain's run down, how can he talk?" "It happens to people all the time Jack!" is a nice callback to "Some people without brains do an awful lot of talking don't they?"

In which we strain the metaphor.

But all these mirrors also serve a story purpose as well as a metaphorical one - the mirror world is where Mombi has trapped Ozma, so she can look on every surface and see her victory. The mirror is also a connection with the real world, and how Ozma can reach Dorothy and draw her back to Oz. Mirrors are reflections, but they are also doorways, as we see in this very scene as Ozma directs Dorothy to the right passage to get back up to the tower.

We also get another Dorothy/Ozma parallel, in which she becomes a surrogate mother to Jack in place of Ozma, his creator.

There's almost some social commentary in the Nome King's grievances: "All the previous stones in the world are made here in my underground dominions...so imagine how I feel when someone from the world above digs down and steals my treasures? All those emeralds in the Emerald City really belong to me. I was just taking back what was mine to begin with." But of course he didn't just take back the emeralds, he turned the populace to stone or into inanimate objects so that does undercut his point a bit.

Her descent visually recalls (deliberate or not) Alice's fall down the rabbit hole in Wonderland. The VFX are pretty rough though.

Dorothy points out that he has so much, implying perhaps he could share, and the Nome King retorts "that's not the point." It is the point in later books, where under Ozma's leadership the Emerald City is essentially a utopian communal living society.

She also points out that the Scarecrow didn't take the emeralds rather they were there when he was made king, but the film is uninterested in exploring the culpability around generational wealth and repatriation of cultural property.

But it's interesting how much the Oz story revolves around powerful objects and theft and/or appropriation of them. Glinda steals the Witch of the East's ruby slippers and gives them to Dorothy, who then steals the Witch of the West's broom to give to the Wizard, Mombi steals Ozma, someone stole the emeralds from the Nome King, who steals them back, Mombi steals heads, Dorothy steals the Powder of Life, etc etc

At this point the Nome King is merely a face in the stone, but when he comforts Dorothy he starts to takes a more humanoid rock form, with a hand to reach out to her.

Is his sympathy genuine or feigned? I'm going with the latter, since he manipulates her into playing the "guessing game" to try and get the Scarecrow back.

Worst production of Starlight Express ever.

When I was a kid I always wanted to try the limestone pie and hot silver drink, but now it looks super gross.

The Gump chose…poorly.

The Nome King making points again - Dorothy and co didn't ask what would happen if they got it wrong, even Tik-Tok only brings it up after the Gump has already gone in. But they press on in order of most expendable, Jack (with Billina hiding in his head) and then Tik-Tok.

As each get turned into ornaments, we see the Nome King become more and more humanised in his rock form - a nice subtle indication that his motives aren't purely spite and he gains power from turning living (or living-adjacent) things into inanimate objects, the opposite (mirror) of Dorothy's power in turning inanimate objects into living things in the journey from Kansas to Oz. If Dorothy had chosen wrong too, he says he would have become completely human - would he have been able to access the path to the human world? Was his goal to eliminate Oz, the fantasy world, in favour of the human world, much like Worley was obsessed with harnessing electricity and the "modern" world?

It's revealed that Chekhov's ruby slippers that Dorothy earlier told Dr Worley had fallen off on her way back to Kansas the first time were found by the Nome King, and their power enabled him to conquer the Emerald City.

It's unclear whether the rubies were first mined from the Nome King's caverns, but Dorothy really can't complain given the shoes were magicked off the feet of a dead woman and onto her own.

I'm actually surprised that they kept the ruby slippers in given the license fee they had to pay, since nothing really turns on their inclusion, other than the Nome King's offer to send her home with them, allowing Dorothy the choice between her own safety and the lives of her friends, of course the parallel to Worley offering the ECT to wipe her mind of Oz. I do like the callback, but it didn't need to be the ruby slippers rather than some other power the Nome King had.

Hee, the Nome King's little stone feet kicking out of his stone robe with the ruby slippers is so camp.

It is interesting through to think about the chain of events - Dorothy, eager to get back home, lets go of the ruby slippers, they fall into the Nome King's hands, he uses them to conquer Oz and install Mombi, who has imprisoned Ozma in the mirror (at some point long in the past). The fracturing of Oz influences Dorothy's mental state which drives her to Worley, where Ozma is able to contact her through the mirror world and bring her back to Oz, depose the Nome King/Mombi, and restore Ozma to her throne. It's quite neat writing.

There's an interesting green/red dichotomy - red seems to represent the witch's power, the ruby slippers that originally belonged to the Witch of the East, Mombi's ruby key, fire/red smoke being used by the Witch of the West, and even pink was the colour associated with Glinda in the 1939 film, while green represents Oz in the ornaments they turn into, the Emerald City, the Gump is green, etc. Both rubies and emeralds are present in the Nome King's costuming, perhaps indicating that the raw items did come from his dominions.

When Dorothy chooses correctly, the Nome King reverts to his claymation rock form, and the room turns red. I don't think it's explicitly green=good and red=bad (the Witch of the West had green screen after all), but both are associated with power.

I always used to fast forward this sequence as well. The Nomes coming out of the walls? *shudder*

The Nome King, felled by a classic egg poisoning.

Dorothy liberates the ruby slippers from another dead body, lol.

At the celebration in Oz, the costuming does lean heavily into either red or green - so maybe that was just standard complementary colour palette and I'm reading too much into things.

We get a nice long pan over the mirrored ceiling of the parade, just to really hit the point home.

Oh hey, the Wheelers are here too! All is forgiven I guess? Except Mombi, she gets to be paraded about in her cage by the woman whose heads she stole. Hey, at least she's able to smirk about her villainy.

Dorothy turns down queenship of Oz but wishes she "could be in both places at the same time" - the ruby slippers grant her wish and Ozma is released from the mirror.

Ozma's backstory: "Her father was king of Oz before the Wizard came. Ozma grew up as Mombi's slave, but when the Nome King promised Mombi thirty beautiful heads if she kept Ozma a secret, she enchanted her into the mirror." The first part is the much the same in the book, although there we get some interesting gender-bending stuff where Mombi transforms her into a boy name Tip and she doesn't discover her true nature until much later.

Dorothy gives Ozma the ruby slippers, combining the power of green and red (I'm just going with it now), therefore healing the kingdom of Oz from the discord first created when the Wizard arrived (in the book he was the one who gave baby Ozma to Mombi), and drawing Ozma's real world counterpart Dorothy to fix it by deposing the Wicked Witches and then the Nome King. But with Ozma returned, there is no need for Dorothy to remain in Oz, the two sides of herself are split and no longer warring inside her.

Billina however remains, to be Ozma's animal counterpart to Dorothy's Toto.

As a kid I coveted this gown, and I still kind of dig the headdress. Well, the OZ circlet anyway.

I also acted out the pulling Ozma from the mirror scene many times.

Although kind of a bitch move on Ozma's part to send Dorothy back before she could give her proper goodbyes. It's like, off you pop, thanks for freeing me but this is my kingdom now.

Dorothy wakes up beside the river (with a close up of a reflective pool of water/Dorothy's eye), and again, this could either be her actually returned by Ozma, or her simply waking from her delirium.

But the real world counterparts have met the same fate as their Oz reflections - Worley died in the fire and Wilson is carried off in a police cart.

Henry, after the shock of almost losing Dorothy, is motivated to finish building the house, and Dorothy is able to look back fondly at Oz through her reflection, but has learned to keep it a secret and not let it consume her life.

Her trauma is resolved, Oz is at peace; Dorothy and Ozma can live contentedly in parallel, with a connection between both worlds.

This is also a nice callback to the books, where Ozma would check in on Dorothy once a day through her magic mirror to see if she needed her assistance.

Maybe it's just my nostalgia goggles, but this film really holds up for me! Yes the effects are a little dated and it's on the darker side for kid's fare, but overall the story and acting is strong, there's meaty subtext around the importance - but necessary limits - of fantasy as escapism, it unequivocally centers girls/women as the heart of the story with their own agency and harnessing their own power. It's well worth the rewatch.

What do you think? Am I blinded by nostalgia? Reading way too much into a kids movie? Am I just rambling into the void here?

[cogneato-inc]

Arthur Morgan x TransMasc!Reader Headcanons

Recently made some Discoveries about myself and in entirely unrelated news found that there is a Severe Lack of Boy Kisser Arthur Morgan

I am now dedicating my life to fixing this issue-

NSFT near the end !

The way he finds out is probably some kind of life or death situation (because of course it is)-

You two are away from camp, on what was supposed to be an easy job - some stagecoach with lackluster security, and apparently quite a bit of cash on board

But of course you weren’t the only ones with your eye on it; a gunfight ensues and long story short you’re injured- bad enough that Arthur notices almost immediately

It’s just your luck that you were hit in the side, you’ll have to take your shirt off to treat it- and as much as you try to protest, begging Arthur to let you handle it alone, he’s insistent that No, you Cannot take a bullet out of your own side, you Goddamn Fool (he’s exaggerating a little, it just grazed you - but he’s so so scared of losing you, why are you being so stubborn ???)

And of course you’re absolutely terrified of how he’s going to react, what’s going to happen to you, will you have to run away ?

But y’all he barely pauses-

You’re a good man, one of his best friends and a hell of a shot - he’s not letting you bleed out just because he’s a little surprised

(+ he’s been all over the place and met all sorts of folks, it’s probably not even his first time knowing someone who’s trans-)

He doesn’t mention it in the moment - doesn’t want to put any more stress on you, or say the wrong thing

But he’s sure not to treat you any different while he’s patching you up, and doesn’t hesitate about your pronouns or name when he talks to you about the injury

Helps you hide anything you need to while you’re healing - if you don’t have a tent he’s offering his own, and snapping at anyone who questions it

When he does eventually approach you to talk about it, he makes sure you know that he doesn’t see you any differently, and that nothing’s changed now that he knows

(Okay he says nothing’s changed but he Absolutely starts calling you ‘boy’ a lot more often-)

‘Atta boy-‘ ‘Good eye, boy.’ ‘Nice shootin’ boy!’

He‘ll stop if you ask, he just wants to make it clear that he doesn’t see you as any less of a man-

If he notices you haven’t had a chance to take off your bindings in a while he’ll tell everyone you’re going hunting together and take you into town to get a bath and hotel room for the night so you can take a break. (He’s a total mother hen when it comes to making sure you’re taking care of yourself)

Arthur didn’t have the best childhood but he’s got a lot of good memories of going fishing with Dutch and Hosea, and he definitely got into all sorts of mischief when he was younger. Roughhousing with John, learning how to shoot, swimming in the creek, etc, etc- as soon as he realizes you probably didn’t get a chance to make memories like that he is On It

He’s always telling you stories about his childhood, and he definitely encourages you to try out whatever you may have missed

If you don’t know how to fish he’s teaching you, End Of

(He pushes you into the water and you end up wrestling him in with you- you both go back to camp soaked to the bone and grinning. Definitely got scolded about all of the mud on your clothes)

Him teaching you how to shave ??? The Proximity,, o ugh

Once you’re together he takes every opportunity to call you His Man <3 <3 <3

On the nsfw side of things,,,

This man has been thinking of you every night for Months and this changes Absolutely None Of That

Of course before he knew you were trans his fantasies were a little different,, anatomy wise-

But he’s still Fucking his Fist thinking of you every night (when he has the energy </3), For Sure

Draws you Naked (whether you’ve been together or not - he has a Great Imagination) and Prays to God you never go through his journal-

Definitely Ogles you while you do chores around camp - Cannot keep his eyes off you

He pretends to be busy with something else so he can watch you chop wood, his eyes drift to your ass every time you bend over to grab anything

He has to physically Look Away anytime you hook your thumbs into your pockets, or stretch, or rest your hands on your belt, or aim a rifle, or haul bales of hay around- it’s torture, replaying in his head on nights when he doesn’t pass out as soon as he lays down.

When you finally get together and find the time to get down and dirty, Absolutely expect some ‘Good Boy’s thrown out -

For one this man has a Massive Praise Kink, giving and receiving - we all know this

But he also wants to give some extra reassurance in the moment, that even fully exposed you’re still a man in his eyes

Him eating you out on his knees in an alley ???

Your back against the wall and one hand in his hair while the other covers your mouth because damn he is GOOD at this but you have to keep quiet-

(Your taste gets him so worked up, he’s absolutely touching himself while he does it - spills on the ground when you cum, his other hand gripping your hip to help you stay upright)

[sunflowersandink]

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

awww man. this is legit an impossible question for me to answer, there are SO many I love for so many different reasons.

I think if I had to pick one artist it would be @silk-scarlet-ribbons - the way they capture movement and character and expression is just absolutely unparalleled to me, every work of hers just slots into its own little spot in my brain that I didn’t realize was empty.

A lot of my favorite works of theirs are discord exclusives that won’t make a lot of sense without an entire AU’s worth of context, but here’s a great one that lives rent-free in my head - featuring Jason dressing up in his old Robin outfit at the request of de-aged/clone baby Dickiebin. The sharp affection in Jason’s face? The absolutely cherubic energy Dickiebin is exuding? The way Dick’s little hands wrap around Jason’s wrist? The pixie boots? Perfect. Showstopping. Incredible. NO one is doing it like Scar is.

I also think I have to include @ky-landfill in here - there’s absolutely no way I can pick one favorite piece (true for every one of these artists tbh), because everything they draw makes my heart ache in the very best of ways, but I have a ton of love for this piece

I’m just so attached to Jason and Cass getting to be siblings. I love how small she is beside him, I love the way his hair curls and the scars on his cheek, I love that he looks like a battered young man and looks so soft at the same time, with his arms held awkwardly like he’s not sure how to respond to being hugged. It’s just so. *ugh.* you know? I could stare at this for hours

And finally I’ve gotta shout out @amorkuku. this was the first work of theirs that I remember seeing, and oh my god I have not stopped cackling about it since

everything about it just catches me right in the funny bone. Kon’s stupid little delighted face and Tim’s entire everything as he gets dropped on his ass. Both of their •_• faces as the adults in their lives stare at them in disappointment. The way Clark looks so concerned and Bruce manages to look so tired with minimal facial expression. It’s a piece of comedic genius, and everything else this artist has ever done, especially a lot of their recent Dami and Jason comics has been an absolute goddamn delight. If I could buy a collection of their works in a physical book like I did with Wayne Family Adventures I would do it in a heartbeat

God there are SO many more works that spark joy but if I keep going we will literally be here all day <333

[thrashkink-coven]

Hey there! I've been looking on Tumblr for someone who is experienced in ritual work with deities and isn't exclusive to Greek or Norse gods/goddesses. I've been practicing for a bit less than 3 years and I'm quite new to Demonolatry, and I don't know anyone who shares knowledge or experience on it, so I wanted to reach out for advice to someone who knows their craft. And I saw that you work with Lucifer so I was hoping you'd know about it?

I recently did a ritual (I practice traditional Demonolatry) and while I meditated I fell into a sudden trance. I've done meditation and rituals before, but this was completely new and I have never experienced this. I suddenly got scared because I didn't know what was happening and my body was moving like on it's own. Or maybe I imagined that?

I wanted to ask if this is normal, if you've ever experienced something like that? Does deep trance happen during ritual? Because I'm a bit uneasy about it and don't know how to go from here since there was a lot of energy that I didn't know where it came from and I just rushed out of the ritual. Do you have any advice or know someone who could help me? Thanks in advance.

Hi, yes! This has definitely happened to me before, most prominently when I was first really getting into my practice with Archangels. What I believe may have happened is that you had your first major "breakthrough" which is naturally unnerving because its so unnatural.

I've made a post in the past about "third eye opening techniques," and mentioned that once you start really falling into your first trance, your brain will usually snap you out of it. You'll get butterflies or feel like you're falling, and your brain will automatically make you "wake up". It may force a thought if only to make sure you can still think because your mind is so abnormally quiet; the only other time you enter this kind of "wavelength" is when you are in deep sleep, or dying. The brain is naturally averted to these things. However, in the right environment, when things align in a peculiar way, you may be more predisposed to accepting a trance. This happens most often to me when I'm seriously focused on meditating on a sigil or enn to the point where I become completely consumed with my intention of channeling a deity or spirt. This is very hard to describe with words, but you feel as though everything has stopped, you're almost a part of the environment whilst simultaneously not being "there". You're inside your body but you're not, and everything is quiet and connected.

What this really is, is a minor ego death. People who take psychedelics probably empathize easily with this feeling. Once you start learning how to counteract the natural abortive instinct, you will enter a trance like state.

The very first time I truly experienced this was with Archangel Jophiel, who has been a massive guide to me in my craft in regards to dealing with my disbelief and skepticism. I remember falling into a deep trance, in which I felt like I was no longer even in my body, but I could feel myself rising from a laying to sitting position, and when Jophiel ordered me to, I extended my hand out to him without controlling it. I immediately snapped out of it, freaked out and questioned my experience for days afterwards.

This isn't actually all that uncommon, especially in regards to deity work, mediumship and necromancy. Automatic writing for example, is a form of divination in which practitioners allow a deity or spirit to move their hand when holding a pencil. The resulting words or drawing are then interpreted by the practitioner when they have returned from the trance state.

These things can happen on accident, but its important that it's not happening unintentionally often, as this can result in developing a dissociative disorder. Grounding exercises that are typically used for things like anxiety and panic attacks can actually help very much with staying planted after a trance or an astral journey.

If you're interested in things like divination, mediumship or astral projection then practicing this skill could be very useful to you. It is a very helpful avenue for me when communicating with Lucifer. However if the idea makes you uncomfortable or distressed, using sensory tools and textures during meditation can help greatly in remaining connected to your body even while in states of deep focus. This experience is usually freaky to anyone who has it, so I wouldn't worry about it too much.

One book that I read that helped me really understand this phenomenon was "The Book of Spirit Communications" by Raymond Buckland. It speaks about the history of Mediumship as well as some techniques to practice entering trance states.

[kafkasgirlhood]

how does soul children work? i’ve been trying to find info but most of it’s saying things like “that’s not possible” and i figured i’d ask you since you are a soul child?

also good luck with your possession.. 🫡 /j

sighs shakily i've made two full-page-length drawings save me... /j

anyway! perfect opportunity for me to make my own post about soul children ^_^

it relates back to the concept of divine families , which is a upg that ... i don't really know how to put into words , i'll be honest ! the easiest way i can explain it is with using myself and hermes as an example .

hermes is my soul father , and i figured this out through tarot and through numerology ! at first i was pretty confused , because i didn't really see much of hermes in me , but then i realised i'm literally like if someone had a desi child of hermes pjo oc . i'm multilingual and have a deep love for linguistics and learning languages , i've travelled a lot in my life and i want to travel more , i cope with humour and i'm the funny friend of every friend group i've been part of , i stress out about getting to places on time , i'm a pretty fast runner and i can get things done quick , i speak fast ... yeah , you get it . it's not necessary that you have to have traits of your soul parents' domains ( in fact , recently i figured out kronos is also my soul father but i have yet to spot similarities between us save for my obsession with history and like i said being places on time ... )

so i guess , it's kind of like patron deities ? except it's like ... a level higher maybe ? i'm not really sure how to explain it , unfortunately :(

but i can tell you how i found my soul parents !

method 1: tarot

whip out that deck , meditate for a while ( pro tip: if you have clear quartz , hold it in your hand or keep it nearby with the intention of allowing it to act as a booster and strengthen your connection to your divine family ) , once you feel ready , instruct any entities you feel ( or don't feel ) that you will be picking the first , middle , and last cards in the deck , and to show identifying cards .

after i do that , i mostly just guess which deity it is while trying to gauge any energy i feel ( little energy work practice ! ) but if you don't wanna do that ( or can't , understandable because i don't always have spoons either ) then i point you to this post , however keep in mind this method usually only works for the hellenic pantheon so look for those gods ! ( unless you're looking for other pantheons then like ... go ahead ! )

then i try to verify whether i'm correct or not with the deity i believe is my soul parent ! you can do this through pendulums , tarot , or any other form of divination ! ( psst , for you i'd suggest that yes/no page ... ) don't be disappointed if it turns out to be a no ! ( psst part 2 , sometimes the deity is part of your divine family but just not your soul parent ! so if you get a no for them being your soul parent , then ask about other divine family connections ! )

method 2: numerology

get out your calculator , c'mon , time for some math . i can't explain this method very well , but @/theic-manic did a wonderful in-depth post about it right here so there you go !

good luck !!! <333

[transgenderenkidu]

ok since i posted about it last night, i might as well finally debut my comicaurora sentinel au, even if my drawings for it are. not fully realized

in this chimerae are a localized disaster event that can spring up anywhere, draining the life energy for a mile around. in response (in accordance with the rule of cool), cities built the sentinel corps, giant robots to fight off chimerae before they destroy the city.

more under the cut

kendal is one of these sentinels, a relatively recently developed mark III whose pilot is vash fairblade, captain of the sentinels. there aren't any city gods in this au, so vash is just a guy. why does he have the same name as the city? bc i didnt want to change it. anyway. after a while, kendal develops something of an active mind instead of just being a giant robot¹, mimicking vash's own mind. and then a wave of chimerae attack the city, destroying it, killing vash, and leaving kendal the only remaining sentinel. in the midst of the destruction, though, he could have sworn he saw a woman, unruffled, just... watching.

the sun is on its way down when alinua finds the corpse. or, more accurately, she finds the sentinel. the pilot is still tangled in the cockpit, sentinel curled around him like it was trying to protect him. the corpse is of course vash, and the sentinel is kendal.

alinua still has the 'chimeric plague' (here hypothesized to be the cause of chimera events), and the only reason she goes with him is that a. hes inorganic (can't be affected by the life outburst) and b. if she does cause a chimera event, hes literally a giant robot designed for the specific purpose of fighting chimerae. and besides, vash the city is destroyed. there won't be any collateral damage.

sidebar, alinua can pilot kendal. it's a team effort - now that ive watched pacific rim, i think its a little like drifting if your jaeger also could think. tbh i also think canon kendal and alinua are drift compatible, but thats another post for another time

dainix is another mech pilot, though not willingly - zuurith's sentinel corps is not Exclusively prison labor, but what does it matter if a few prisoners die of brain hemmhorages while piloting? dainix, piloting the sentinel "champion", is the longest lasting prisoner pilot they've had, and he's brutally effective. there are murmurings that he'll be released and placed in the sentinel corps as a citizen, but if he is ever released he'd fuck off in a heartbeat, so he's still in prison, sentence artificially extended for as long as he's useful.

i'm still a little uncertain as to what kind of roles erin, tess, and falst play, so if anyone's got any ideas i'd be delighted to hear them!!

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

Nice 💛

***

LMAO, "chief of a brothel" 🤣🤣

Madam Wang is brutal. Poor Gu Tingye, he will never shake his poor reputation.

***

Who is she again?

***

Sis, you are so barking up the wrong tree.

No amount of calling Gu Tingye "Second Uncle" and being mad your brothers don't follow suit will make him interested in you.

***

Who the hell are all these new people?

I can't keep up.

***

She really does love making a fool out of herself.

***

Wait, what?

They STOLE it from her?

***

Was the stepmother the one stealing her things?

***

Why are everyone's siblings such assholes in this drama?

I need to call my brother and tell him I love him because he's awesome.

***

Not drunk, just a selfish imbecile.

***

OH MY GOD 😐😐

LIKE, THE SHIT YOU WILL GET HER INTO, DUDE.

***

I know we're supposed to be on her side here, but I'm already sick of her whining. SHE ALLOWED THE PIN TO GET STOLEN AND LOST. AND NOT JUST THE PIN, BUT MULTIPLE ITEMS.

She seems incompetent and dumb and they are making the sister evil just to generate this fake drama. The Sheng siblings are much more nuanced, even when they are bad, we see reasons for their behaviour. This just plays on, "Hurr durr, children of the second wife are mean to the poor orphan!"

It's annoying because the main storyline is already all about that and they are not doing anything new here, they're just regurgitating the same theme, only worse and with a less sympathetic heroine.

***

I mean!!!

Cartoon villain behaviour.

If this was Molan and Rulan being petty and one-upping each other just because, I could buy it, because we have precedent for their bickering that feels realistic, and they are actual rivals because of their mothers' rivalry. They are both equally at each other's throats, they match each other's energy. But this? There is no conflict here. Yanran is such a soggy doormat of a person, she is no threat to the sister, she's just insignificant, so we end up with this situation where the sister seems to be having a one-sided feud with her for no reason except that she can. They are artificially upping the stakes with "But it's her dead mother's heirloom!!" to make us care, but it isn't working because the whole thing feels so contrived. If it had been ANYONE ELSE playing against her for the pin, I would have found it more believable and the tension for the purpose of this whole scene would still have been there, because she can't just go up to a random woman and demand that she surrenders her prize if she wins.

Recently I learned a hilarious Chinese idiom, "draw snake, add feet", which warns against overdoing things. This is a prime example.

***

LMAO, shows how much you know the woman you claim to love.

***

His stupid face 🤣🤣

Go fuck yourself, Qi Heng.

***

This spineless coward.

Also, there is no chance Gu Tingye won't let Minglan win, he's so amused by her and already interested in Yanran. The evil sister set herself up here.

***

LOL, stanning madam Wu!

***

OMG, DUDE, STAY IN YOUR FUCKING LANE

***

SO TAKE A FUCKING HINT!!

Everyone in this episode is being so stupid and annoying, except for Minglan and maybe Tingye (but the jury is still out on him).

***

Oh, fuck all the way off.

***

Oh, Jesus Christ 🙄

I haven't been this annoyed by so many people at the same time since this drama started. I want to stab them all. Gu Tingye is the only one who gets a pass (OK, and Rulan too, because she was the only one there genuinely having fun).

[and-justice-for-zoisite]

𝓣𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓕𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓼 (𝔽𝕦𝕛𝕚𝕟 𝕩 𝕋𝕤𝕦𝕟𝕘! ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣)

Official Masterlist

Summary: Drawn to the mischievous nature of (Y/n) Tsung, a thief - daughter to the infamous sorcerer Shang Tsung, he finds himself intrigued by her unique blend of larceny and charm. She, in turn, cannot resist teasing him, pushing his boundaries, and testing his patience at every turn. As their paths intertwine, an unexpected camaraderie begins to blossom. Fujin, bound by duty, finds himself torn between his commitment to justice and his growing affection for her. Meanwhile, she relishes in the attention she receives from the powerful deity, enjoying the exhilarating game of cat and mouse they play.

Word Count: 2.6K words

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The Earthrealm's Sky Temple, a spectre among the ordinary land, an ancient structure which houses the likes of the storm brothers. Raiden, the god of thunder, and Fujin, the god of wind.

Although their titles are intimidating, they really weren't hard to approach among those who knew of their existence. Sure, Raiden was a little earnest and stubborn at times, but Fujin?

He could be quite ludic at times, when encouraged by others.

Nonetheless, he was still wise and loyal to his realm, and still served his duty as a protector of Earthrealm.

Within the walls of the Sky Temple, Raiden and Fujin found solace and strength. It was their sanctuary, a place where they could reflect, meditate, and draw energy from the very essence of the Earthrealm itself. Their connection with the temple and its ancient power further amplified their abilities, enhancing their already formidable might.

At that moment, he sat in the centre of the Sky Temple's roof, cross legged, levitating on the spot as he meditated. This was a daily activity for him, a moment of serene connection with the elements and his own inner self.

In this state of deep meditation, Fujin sought clarity and guidance. He tapped into the vast knowledge and wisdom that resided within him, inherited from the ancient gods who came before him. The whispers of the wind carried with them ancient secrets, forgotten tales, and hidden truths that he sought to unveil.

Despite his deep concentration, he could always sense an unwelcome presence.

They were silent, impressively silent, and Fujin was certain that had he been an ordinary mortal, that their presence would've gone entirely unnoticed.

Though that's not the case here, is it?

"It's astounding how little noise you've made," Fujin's voice rang out, breaking the stillness of the Sky Temple. "I had almost not noticed you sneaking up on me just now."

He didn't have to open his eyes to know that the person was aware of their discovery.

"...I thought that there was only one deity who lived in these temples," a feminine voice said, her voice not alarmed like he had thought she may be, but instead quite casual as she spoke. "Raiden, the god of thunder. You're not him. Who are you?" "I am his brother, Fujin. I am the god of wind," he answered, his eyes still closed and his back still facing her, "I haven't resided here for a very long time, I used to live among humans. My return was only recent." "Huh. What business would a god have living amongst humans?" the woman asked, sounding astounded at his admission. "Because, I was curious," he told her, quite simply, "I had been watching over them for so long, I wondered what it was like to live as one of them, to experience their triumphs and struggles first-hand."

There was a pause as Fujin's words hung in the air, and then the woman spoke again, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"And what did you learn from your time among humans?"

"I learned that despite their flaws and imperfections, humans possess an incredible resilience and capacity for compassion. They strive for growth, seek connection, and can exhibit acts of great bravery and selflessness," he confided, breathing deeply as he continued to mediate.

"I suppose it's easy to forget that when you're up here, in the realm of gods, detached from the day-to-day lives of mortals," the woman added, and Fujin could feel her thoughtful demeanour.

"Indeed, it is easy to lose sight of their struggles and the intricate tapestry of emotions that colour their existence. That is why I chose to immerse myself among them, to gain a deeper understanding of their experiences and to remind myself of the essence of humanity."

You're not like the other gods I've encountered," she admitted, a hint of admiration in her voice. "There's a warmth and humility about you, despite your divine status."

Fujin's smile widened, touched by her observation.

"I believe that true strength lies not only in power, but also in compassion and empathy. As gods, it is our duty to protect and guide, to uplift those in need and foster a world where all beings can thrive."

There was a short silence, and it was about this time that Fujin decided to address something he had left unsaid for the conversation.

"Although I enjoy our conversations, stranger, I do believe that that does not belong to you."

The woman was stunned for a moment, as the wind god finally stood from his position, turning around to face the woman and take her in for the first time.

She had on some delicately tailored clothes, of a nature that screamed she was accustomed to an extravagant lifestyle. Her eyes told him that he knew her from somewhere, though indirectly, as he didn't recognise her.

In her hand, she held Raiden's beloved Warhammer, which usually sat in it's stand which centred the Sky Temple rooftop.

"I don't see anyone else's name on it," the woman quipped, wielding the hammer with much more ease than should've been possible.

"Your ability to wield the Warhammer with such ease is impressive," Fujin acknowledged, his voice carrying a mix of caution and curiosity. "But it is not just a matter of ownership. The Warhammer possesses great power, and it must be used responsibly and in service of the greater good."

The woman's confident smile widened as she twirled the Warhammer expertly, the wind whistling around her with each motion. "Responsibility is a subjective concept, dear Fujin. Who determines what is truly for the greater good? Perhaps I have my own ideas about how to shape the destiny of the realms."

"The fate of the realms should not be left to the whims of a single individual, no matter how capable or cunning. It is the collective responsibility of the gods to maintain balance and protect all beings within the realms."

The woman laughed, covering her mouth as she cackled.

"I only jest, wind god. I don't wish to rule the realms," she giggled, her laughter charming, "I just like shiny things." "Regardless, I'd appreciate if you returned Raiden's Warhammer," Fujin said, his brows furrowed slightly, "I may be forgiving. But my brother? Not so much."

"Why don't you come catch me then? Dear Fujin," the woman proposed, giving him a playful glare as she became surrounded by green magic before disappearing into thin air.

Naturally, Fujin could track her movement. But she proved to be elusive, her magical abilities keeping her hidden from Fujin's sight. The wind god exerted his senses, feeling the currents of the air, listening to the whispers of the wind, hoping to catch a hint of her presence.

All he needed to hear was a brief scrape before he discovered the thief.

In a quick flash, Fujin travelled to his desired location on the rooftop, grabbing onto thin air as he forced the woman to make herself known again.

She manifested, surprised, as she found herself face to face with the deity. He had a tight grip on her wrist, and his other hand held the upper part of the Warhammer handle, their fingers touching.

As she stared into his milky eyes, she noticed the playful undertone they harboured.

"What is your name, stranger?" Fujin asked. "Why on earth would I tell you?" she scoffed, her grip remaining tight on the handle despite the strong presence of his own hand. "You look familiar to me," Fujin said, tilting his head ever so slightly, "though I think I'd remember if we had met before." "I have a feeling that you don't like my dad," she said vaguely, "if that rings any bells." "That doesn't necessarily mean that I won't like you," Fujin added, his grip tightening a little on her wrist.

The woman raised an eyebrow at Fujin's response, her defiance momentarily faltering as she observed his calm demeanour and the hint of amusement in his eyes. She had expected a more confrontational reaction, but his words seemed to carry a different tone.

"Like me? You're quite an intriguing god, aren't you?" she remarked, a trace of curiosity in her voice.

After she said that, her body turned to black smoke, and she disappeared again, slipping out of Fujin's grip.

He knew that her disappearing act was not an act of defiance or evasion, but rather a playful invitation to continue the chase.

"I see you're determined to keep me on my toes, stranger," Fujin called out, his voice carrying on the wind. "Very well, let the game continue."

With a wave of his hand, Fujin conjured a gust of wind, sensing the direction of her dissipating presence. Relying on his keen senses, he was once again able to track down her whereabouts on the rooftop, the wind drawing her into him as he grabbed onto her once again.

When he touched her, her invisible form would be forced away as she became visible. This time, he grabbed her by the waist, though still, he also grabbed onto the handle of the hammer, though his hand would clasp over hers.

The wind god's touch carried a firmness that demanded attention, yet there was a gentleness to it, as if he sought not to control but to understand.

"Is your father very well known?" Fujin asked, once again tilting his head. "Quite infamous, actually," the woman answered, nodding her head in a thoughtful way. "Would I know him?" he asked again. "That's very likely, yes."

She disappeared again, this time in a plume of green flames.

Fujin's grip tightened momentarily on the empty space where the woman had just been, a mixture of frustration and determination flickering in his eyes. He couldn't help but admire her skill and agility, even as she continued to elude his grasp.

The wind carried her fading presence, and Fujin instinctively followed, traversing the rooftop with graceful strides. He focused his senses, attuning himself to the subtlest disturbances in the air, searching for any trace of her magical energy.

Then, he heard it - an impish laugh which echoed by the entrance to the stairway which lead up to the rooftop.

In one swift movement, he rushed toward the noise, and in a split second, he had the woman pinned to the wall. As he pinned both her wrists to the stone wall behind her, her grip on the hammer loosened, and she dropped it beside them.

"You have quite the knack for disappearing, stranger," Fujin remarked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I must say, it's a pleasure to have you in my grasp, if only for a moment."

The woman's face burned bright red as she felt the god's breath brush across her face, as part of her enjoyed the way his grip on her wrists stung ever so slightly.

Fujin's playful smile widened as he sensed a mix of embarrassment and intrigue in the woman's reaction. He was attuned to the complexities of human emotions and understood the allure of a thrilling chase, even for someone who had been caught.

"I think it's only fair that since I caught you, that you should tell me your name," he told her, watching as she rolled her eyes. "Why do you even care anyways?" she asked, perplexed by his fixation on her identity. "A reference, for later. Maybe one of these days I'll ask you out for dinner," he teased, the red on her face deepening in colour as she scoffed. "Unlikely," she responded bluntly. "Oh, don't be so quick to dismiss the idea," Fujin replied, his tone playful. "You never know what the winds of fate may bring."

The woman's eyes flickered with a mix of annoyance and curiosity. She couldn't deny the captivating presence of the wind god, and his teasing demeanour stirred something within her.

"Fine," she relented, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "My name is (Y/n)." "And may I trouble you for your last name as well, dear (Y/n)?" he pried further. "You may know my dad from the first name 'Shang', darling."

Fujin's eyes widened in surprise at the revelation of her last name. Shang... The name carried weight and significance, resonating with tales of power and darkness. His playful demeanour shifted into a more serious expression, his grip on her wrists tightening involuntarily.

"Shang..." Fujin muttered, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "So you are the daughter of Shang Tsung, the sorcerer."

"You are correct, deity," she sighed, tilting her head ever so slightly, "I don't really like him much though. Not because he's evil or anything, he's just kind of an asshole."

Fujin's gaze never wavered from (Y/n) as he absorbed the weight of her confession. He could sense the burden she carried, the conflicting emotions that swirled within her. There was a vulnerability in her words, and he was never one to ignore such a state.

"So...you're acting out to see if he looks your way to reprimand you?" Fujin asked, trying to understand the situation. "Hm, what? No. This is just a hobby of mine," she demurred, shaking her head. "I'm barely affiliated with my father. At most I live with him, but I don't work for him or anything. I like to think of myself...as a free spirit, I s'pose."

Fujin listened attentively, his eyes softening as he recognized the struggle within her. He understood that being the daughter of someone infamous could be a burden in itself, and her desire to distance herself from her father's influence spoke volumes.

"I see," Fujin replied, his voice gentle. "It seems you yearn for independence, to forge your own path separate from your father's shadow."

(Y/n) nodded, a mixture of relief and uncertainty washing over her. She hadn't expected the wind god to grasp her intentions so accurately.

"Exactly," she said, her voice carrying a hint of determination. "I want to be defined by my own actions, not by my lineage."

"Even if those actions are stealing?" Fujin asked, raising a brow.

She chuckled, giving him a mischievous glare.

"It certainly adds an element of excitement to my risky endeavours," (Y/n) replied, a playful glint in her eyes.

Fujin couldn't help but grin at her demeanour, drawn to her magnetic spirit and the thrill that radiated from her. There was a spark between them, undoubtedly.

"Your adventurous nature and sense of humour are quite captivating, (Y/n)," Fujin remarked, his gaze locked with hers. "I must admit, I'm intrigued by the fire that burns within you."

(Y/n) smirked, a mixture of confidence and mischief dancing across her features.

"Well, Fujin, perhaps it's time for you to experience a taste of that fire first-hand," she teased.

He released one of her wrists from his tight grip, and used his hand to draw her chin upward a little more with his pointer finger.

"You may not have succeeded in stealing my brother's prized belonging, though you're welcome to return to keep trying," Fujin avowed, letting go of her other wrist, "I like your company, (Y/n) Tsung."

(Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat as Fujin's touch sent a shiver down her spine. She met his intense gaze, feeling an electric connection between them. The air around them seemed charged with anticipation, and time seemed to stand still.

Though, she wished to match his energy, not wanting him to see how flustered he had made her, and she managed a mischievous smirk of her own.

"I just might take you up on that offer," she told him, giving him a small, joking salute, "until we meet again, my dear Fujin."

Her form seemed to dissolve into a wisp of smoke, as if she were merging with the very essence of the wind itself.

As the wind carried her away, Fujin stood there for a moment, feeling a sense of exhilaration and wonder. He knew their paths would cross again, for the winds of fate were a force that could not be denied.

-

Y'all already know I wanna write a part 2 for this one as well T-T

[syrcus]

FFXIVwrite 2024 Prompt 5: Stamp

Non-WoL OC. Set during Shadowbringers, spoilers for 5.0 story. Either the beginning or middle of the Thancred/Denh ship depending on how hard you squint at it. 1562 words ao3 link

The arrival of the Warrior of Light is rarely a quiet affair.      The Rising Stones' main door slams, their voice bounces seemingly without end off the stone walls, amplifying itself. Denh ignores them. After all, she has a job to do, though it may drain and vex her. Whatever business brings Quoye Mhoros to Mor Dhona can remain their own, as far as she's concerned.

     She retains her focus with intent, channelling aether from the environment around her, into the pit of her heart, turning it over and allowing it to flow down through her arms and to the hand she holds. Her fingers tingle with the warmth of it, and perhaps a little with inactivity, but over the past weeks this particular aetheric manipulation has become a speciality of hers. How many days has she spent, lately, sitting in this chair immobile, doing naught but preserving the empty husks of the people she loves?

     Her gaze glides over her current charge, a knot gathering in her core.  Thancred was once one of her closest friends, almost more, and yet.  And yet, in recent years she has avoided him, treated him with pointed indifference whenever their paths were forced to cross.  She has been cold, she has been immovable, and now that he's gone it shames her.

     "Denh!" Even through the thick wooden door of Dawn's Respite, Quoye's distinctive holler is barely muffled. "Anyone seen Denh? Somebody point me at- Oh, is she? Should've known." And with that, the door bursts open, and the Warrior of Light through it. Denh's breath leaves her in a weary sigh. She doesn't look at them, or even otherwise acknowledge them; she keeps her eyes on Thancred, committing his face carefully to memory. Even the most minor change could bode ill for him, in this state.      Were his eyes always so sunken? she wonders. Is this a worrying sign, or did I simply fail to notice? Gods, when is the last time I truly looked at him? Nobody had expected this, of course. She could never have been expected to know, all those years she spent angry and hurt, how easily the people she loved could be taken from her. She'd thought she had more time.

     Quoye's footsteps echo against the walls, quick and excited, far too upbeat for a room like this. The candle on the dresser by Thancred's cot sputters, flickering in the disturbed air as the Warrior of Light draws to a stop beside her.

     "Hi Denh," they chirp, sounding altogether too pleased with themself. Quoye's energy is infuriating at the best of times, even moreso now. She sets Thancred's hand down atop his chest and turns to them.

     "What do you want, Quoye." What are her odds, she wonders, of successfully setting them on fire? She'd never let it show, of course, but she's considered the question more and more often of late: Hydaelyn's Blessing may protect them from primal influence, they may have bested some of the world's strongest in combat, but surely a fireball to the face would take down even this vaunted hero? Some hero, anyway. What good have they done for Thancred and Shtola and the twins?      Quoye grins impishly back at her and laughs, bright and clear, blissfully unaware of the resentment Denh holds for them. Too bright for a room filled with such stagnant misery.

     "I've got something for you," they reply, in quite possibly the most aggravating singsong tone Denh has ever heard, brandishing a sheet of carefully folded paper and wiggling it above her head. "I think you'll like it." She considers snatching it, but Quoye is considerably taller than she is and could easily pull it from arms reach - which, she realises, is likely exactly what they're hoping for. She squares her shoulders and fixes Quoye with a level gaze. She will not embarrass herself for their amusement.  They can give her the note or not, it makes little difference.

     "Then hand it over and be on your way." She keeps her tone brusque, matter-of-fact, and for added effect extends an open hand. The intent is clear; put it in my hand and get lost. Quoye blinks a couple of times, perhaps surprised she didn't rise to their bait. Her tail flicks with irritation. "Now, Quoye. As you can see, I am busy and I am tired."      Hearing herself speak, she sounds tired. More than she'd expected. When is the last time she held a conversation that wasn't just a brief exchange, updating Krile on the vital signs of her closest friends? Quoye visibly deflates, apparently realising, at last, that this is neither the time nor the place for such gleeful behaviour. What thoughts exist in that empty skull? Denh finds herself thinking.

     Quoye sighs, looking vaguely ashamed, and places the note on a nearby table. "Sorry. Wasn't thinking, see… Everyone's fine, Denh. I was just talking to 'em all and they're fine, so I didn't…" They speak quickly, rubbing awkwardly at the back of their neck as they do. They look around at the lifeless Scions, their ears a little more lowered than usual. "Anyway. You'll want to read that soonish, I've gotta get back and he didn't say as much but I reckon he was mayhaps hoping for a reply- Not to rush you!" They wince. "Slightly to rush you, 'cause like I say I can't loiter long. I'll be out front. Sorry."      And they leave as quickly as they came.

     Alone again, or as alone as one can be in a room filled with empty bodies, Denh regrounds herself. She tries to ignore the note on the table, retrains her focus on Thancred; poor Thancred, sickly and grey in the candlelight. She breathes in deep, closes her eyes, drawing the aether back around her ready for use as she has done so many times.  It's delicate work, sustaining someone's corporeal form without them inside it, with little margin for error, but in recent weeks it has become as natural to her as breathing.      Today, though, when she reopens her eyes, they float unbidden back to that note on the table, and the aether she's so carefully collected fizzles and dissipates.  She tries to draw it back, but the unknown hangs in her mind like a bad omen.  Quoye hadn't mentioned the sender by name; had she imagined it, or had their gaze lingered on Thancred when they'd said 'he' was hoping for a response?  She quickly shakes that thought free.  Hope helps nobody, she learned that one young.  Hope leads to disappointment, hope lets one down.      That settles it.  I have to read that hells-damned letter.

     "Sorry, Thancred," she says quietly, almost a whisper.  "I shan't be away long."      She leaves the room in a few determined paces, grabbing the note and stuffing it into her shirt for safekeeping on her way out.  She passes Krile in the main foyer, hurriedly asks her to take over aether-sustaining duty for a little while without giving any excuse for her own abandonment of it, and skitters off up the stairs.      The dormitory hallway has never felt so long, nor had she ever realised before just how far down it her own room lies.  Try as she might to keep it away, by the time she reaches her door a small, irritating hope has settled in her chest.      She locks the door behind herself, and only once that's done does she pull the paper from her shirt and really look at it.

It's folded neatly, carefully, though now slightly crumpled.  A small drop of wax seals it closed, pressed flat with what looks, from the imprint, to be a one gil coin.  She flips it over, and sees her own name handwritten across the front in spindly, vigorous cursive.  Her breath catches.  That is, without a doubt, Thancred's handwriting.      She sinks to the floor, picking free the wax seal absentmindedly.  What could possibly be so important for Thancred to write to her from across the void, and send the hero of the realm to deliver it?        Perhaps he can offer some insight on his, and the others', condition.

     She unfolds the letter.

          Denh, Truth be told, I am not wholly sure you will welcome this correspondence.  You were, if I recall, not entirely pleased with me when last we spoke.  Would you believe me if I were to tell you that it feels like a lifetime ago? In some ways, I suppose it has been.  I have had more time to think since my... "collapse" than one may imagine, and it is my - perhaps vain - hope that you might wish to become acquainted with the man I have found myself to be. I am deeply sorry.  For all I've had you endure. If you are not averse, I should very much like to hear back!  How are things at the Rising Stones?           Sincerely,           Thancred. p.s.  You may wish to employ a wax seal of your own, should you choose to reply.  Quoye showed an unnerving degree of interest in the contents of this letter when I asked them to deliver it.

     A lone droplet of water lands upon the page as she reads the last line, smudging the ink.  Another quickly follows it.  She blinks, brings a hand to her eyes, and is almost surprised to find that she's begun to cry.

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

As promised a VERY sketchy sketch from anywhere but here- and I mean sketchy cuz I just haven’t had a ton of energy recently, BUT drawing stuff and hanging out here is a welcomed distraction so this was very fun to make :) I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t bring me joy lol

anyways enjoy! I may do more down the road

My biggest fear Is I’ll have spelled something wrong and press send before I catch it. Also shout out to the clips added to Tighnaris hair specifically cuz they show up in the fic to help Cyno pull back his hair and it’s so so cute 😤

AHH I'M SCREAMING!! LOOK AT THIS!!

Omg I love this so much. Cyno's expression is just so distraught, you can see the panic in his eyes. The "oh my god I just threw up, it's everywhere, it's on my boyfriend's shoes, what have I done-"

I'm also?? Insanely in love with how you drew Nari?? HE'S SO CUTE WITH THOSE HAIRCLIPS!! The love and care in his eyes, oh my gosh ahhhhhh!!!

Please stand by while Earthquake collects herself.

I love so SO much, thank you so much for blessing my day with this!! I'm going to be coming back to look at this multiple times, no doubt about it!