#pebble star eater

[charipoda]

your makers must’ve kissed in cosmic dust

[lunels]

with dating ellie comes with…

dating ellie williams !!

♡ - decided to write this on a whim when i woke up from a short nap today. was kinda reluctant to post this cause i know there are a lottt of these out there buuuttt, this was fun 2 write. anywayyyy, enjoy < 3

with dating ellie, comes with…

her iconic and award-winning journal. that thing has documented just about everything in her life over the years annddddd before dating U she would write about you in it constantly. even b4 she realized she was crushing. just saying how cool you are and she loves being your friend. im talking before bed, having breakfast, after talking to you, after hearing you laugh. she’d draw you too. jot down little details ab you. you name it, it’s journaled. you’d come across it one day and see a few pages written about you, all smiley like awwweeee ellieeeeee, you reallly love meee and she’d be soo embarrassed, like yeah.. just a little bit.

which takes us toooo…. her episodic memory! (😱it’s true! jk.) but nah actually this girl’s memory is hit or miss. in terms of you though she remembers a lot of things…. like how you get grumbly when you’re hungry or how you prefer sitting down to wipe instead of standing up orrr how your first kiss with her was on a wednesday at 6:54pm. the weird little things you know!? other times…. information goes through one ear and out the other. you ask her what she did 10 mins ago & she’s stuck sitting there trying to recall. sometimes you wonder if you were to knock on her head if it would feel hollow or not.

her unusual appetite… i think she’s a picky eater and LOVES to eat but LOVES……. finger foods. what you would consider snacks would be breakfast lunch and dinner to her. one day you'd be in the store by the freezers & she'd dramatically gasp, ....dino fuckin nuggets? they had these the whole time?! aw man.. and she's just holding the box while reading the ingredients like its the most interesting discovery. babe do you SEE this??? did you know????? and you’re like noo… whaaattt! that’s crazyyy! knowing she won’t eat anything else & it would be her favorite hyperfixation of food til like. death. ellie is not going to dive into a 5 star meal. i mean, she would... but it's not preferred. if you’re having a date night she will happily order chicken tenders and fries with a side of ketchup. hell if she’s feeling a lil healthy that day a cup of grapes too. meanwhile you have… not that. your plate consists of five cheese ziti with a buttered and crisp breadstick on the side with garlic parmesan marinara sauce for dip idk. she'll just look at your plate like "okay! if that's what you like babe......if you like it go ahead…" while munching on a piece of chicken. you'd shrug, "least i don't eat like a toddler." the contrast in plates is horrificcc

her lowkey cocky and competitive nature. don’t get me wrong she’s default awkward and nervy but does have a bit of an ego. her vocabulary consists of alot of “yeah?”s and shit that makes you nervous but as soooonnnn as you hit back with the same energy she’s shying away and stuttering. because she’s like damn that made me feel something. uh oh. dating her would consist of a lot of races and competition over simple things….. such as seeing who could get to bed first, orrr race u to kitchen! when you two first started dating she would tell you lots of facts (still does) ab space/dinosaurs and be like “a million earth’s can fit inside the sun. did ya know that babe??” “i bet you don’t know why this dinosaur poops in pebbles…” why would you??? now it's just a regular occurrence. she’d feel so smart and brainy knowing you don’t know a thing she’s talking about. with her competitive side she’s also kinda sore loser too. you beat her in a video game, she’s moping around the entire day until you finally give in to a rematch… mumbling ab how that was just a warmup. and she hasn’t played the game in a while. yeah ok. but best believe she’s shit talking the entire time and finally boasting ab her longggg overdue win

her nerdy dorky loser side. she’s a nerd. she’s a dork. she’s a loser!! idc what u say that’s her. everyone should know this. the girl is in love with space and dinosaurs and reads comics and is technically a pro gamer. like that’s her shit. what does that say?? & the pun books?? come. on. being her gf would mean that there wouldn’t be a day that’d go by that you wouldn’t hear about a fun fact ab space or how something reminded her of a particular dinosaur that lived 19356827.9999 years ago. if you ever touch one of her collectibles or pick up those little trading cards or highly rare action figures she'd immediately run over and swat your hand away, lecturing you about how they haven't sold this character in years and she found this at a garage sale 5 years ago.... how could you- why you do such a thing??!?!? like babe… i love you… so much. but. don’t touch my shit ever again. yeah. it's that serious.

sleepless nights!!!!! she’s pretty much an insomniac. lowkey, but highkey. like, she sleeps, obviously, but she can’t sleep. which would often lead to you waking up in the middle of the night to find her re-building a jurassic park lego set orrrr playing one of her little video games. maybe jamming out to some music as she draws. (bonus if she's drawing your face cuz she can’t you outta her head) and all u hear is her humming along, music blasting out of her headphones like drrrrr dodododoo yeAhhh ooOooO or times if you can’t sleep either, the two of you would be up talking and goofing off w hushed laughs over nothing but it’s really everything to her and she just looks at you with her pretty eyes like... this person is really my whole world.

her guitar skills!!! how could i forget!!!! she plays, like a lot, and anytime you’re over that’s the one of the things she’s doing. most likely playing along to her fav band or practicing a song you suggested once. she’d always wanna play for you and show you a new trick she learned or play you a song she wrote. (bonus if it’s about you<33) if she’s sooo in love with you she’d def wanna teach you a few things:)) sometimes if you can’t sleep she’d be like babe gimme a song. any song and i’ll play it for you. and you’re likee glue song:))) then… there u go. she’d do all the little tuning stuff & you can’t help but feel mesmerized by the way her pretty hands pluck the strings or how she hums the lyrics on some parts. glancing at you every while to make sure you're still listening. she’s just sooo… *prettily sighs*

comic con. anime con. gaming con. YOU NAME IT. shes at all the cons!!!! she’s there and flourishing like a little butterfly. best believe she is dragging you to every single one (for support and comfort cause she wouldn’t ever go alone) and showing you eve-r-y-thing. everything? everything!!! she’d be genuinely excited. all smiley and jumping from place 2 place, pointing at all the characters she recognizes. like babe that's the wizard guy!!! remember him??? and then that's his buddy who’s like a thousand fuckin years old! look at him!!! never knew dude was so wrinkly in person though...yeesh. and you're like ohh… yeaahh☺️ so overwhelmed and very much confused and getting characters mixed up w others from her little rants but she's happy so you're happy n that's all that matters right? if you can't show up for some reason, her gf, who she forced to have on her arm, then jesse because he was the next person actually down to go BUT she would make him take a bunch of pics just to personally send to you. like waitwaitwait she's gotta see this—jesse where's my fucking phone?!? okay whatever just use yours. hurry up before they leave! spamming you left & right with all these attachments of her posed w her favs or pics of her at the different events there. she’d look so cute that you’re like okaaayy…. maybeeee i’ll go w her next time :)))

okay that’s it! this was rly fun to write!! i hope someone out there liked this and maybeee i'll do a prt 2 :) all loveee < 33

[patheticmenscuffle]

Drum rolls, please...

We're happy to reveal the roster for the Pathetic Men Scuffle! Thanks again to everyone who submitted characters, and we hope everyone's looking forward to this as much as we are.

We will begin posting the polls around 10pm GMT (4pm US CST) tomorrow 3/10. Each poll will be open for one week.

With this announcement, we will now be accepting propaganda! Feel free to send some in or tag us in any posts you'd like and we'll share them on here. Propaganda posts will be tagged as #propaganda and each character will also have their own propaganda tag.

Click the Read More below to see all of the contestants and their first matchups in text form as well as where they're from!

Izzy Hands (Our Flag Means Death) vs Lord Farquaad (Shrek)

Edgar Allan Poe (Bungo Stray Dogs) vs Jack Spicer (Xiaolin Showdown)

Pastor Daniel (Scarlet Hollow) vs Ron Stampler (Dungeons and Daddies)

Earl Harlan (Welcome to Night Vale) vs General Ultimax/General Fuff (Bug Fables)

Hunter Noceda (The Owl House) vs Asgore Dreemur (Deltarune)

Saint (Rain World) vs William Afton/Purple Guy (Five Nights at Freddy's)

Vash the Stampede (Trigun) vs Zote the Mighty (Hollow Knight)

Shin Tsukimi (Your Turn to Die) vs Victor Frankenstein (Frankenstein)

Peter B. Parker (Spider-Man (Marvel Comics)) vs Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz (Phineas and Ferb)

Anders (Dragon Age) vs Cyrus (Pokemon)

Mikoshiba Mikoto (Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-Kun) vs Ron Delite (Ace Attorney)

Inigo (Fire Emblem) vs William Graham (Hannibal)

The Narrator (The Stanley Parable) vs King Dice (Cuphead)

Five Pebbles (Rain World) vs Satan/The Dark Prince (Madou Monogatari/Puyo Puyo Tetris)

Sebastian Debeste (Ace Attorney) vs Johann (The Adventure Zone)

Luigi (Super Mario Brothers) vs Charlie Kelly (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia)

Stede Bonnet (Our Flag Means Death) vs Magolor (Kirby)

Dwight Fairfield (Dead By Daylight) vs Wes (Don't Starve) vs Linebeck (The Legend of Zelda)

Plankton (Spongebob) vs Spamton (Deltarune) vs Courage the Cowardly Dog (Courage the Cowardly Dog)

Father Paul (Midnight Mass) vs George Costanza (Seinfeld) vs Loki (Marvel Comics)

Harry du Bois (Disco Elysium) vs Darkrai (PokePark 2 (Pokemon)) vs Vlad Masters/Plasmius (Danny Phantom)

Reigen Arataka (Mob Psycho 100) vs Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III (How To Train Your Dragon)

Jon Arbuckle (Garfield) vs Wheatley (Portal 2)

Paul Matthews (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals) vs Jonah Simms (Superstore)

Buggy the Clown (One Piece) vs Abner Krill (Suicide Squad)

Shinji Ikari (Neon Genesis Evangelion) vs Tamaki Amajiki (My Hero Academia)

Rincewind the Wizard (Discworld) vs Rouxls Kaard (Deltarune)

Giovanni Potage (Epithet Erased) vs Clippy (Microsoft Office XP Advertisement (Microsoft))

Bruno Madrigal (Encanto) vs Kaname Date (AI: The Somnium Files)

The Devil (Cuphead) vs The Ice King (Adventure Time)

Alcryst (Fire Emblem) vs Starscream (Transformers)

Miles O'Brien (Star Trek) vs Spirit Albarn (Soul Eater)

Jonathan Harker (Dracula) vs Ethan Winters (Resident Evil)

Tsukasa Tenma (Project Sekai/Colorful Stage) vs Kendall Roy (Succession)

Mike Wheeler (Stranger Things) vs Dr. Eggman (Sonic)

Larry Needlemeyer (The Amazing World of Gumball) vs Saul Goodman (Better Call Saul)

Alador Blight (The Owl House) vs Andy Bernard (The Office (US))

Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives) vs The Cabbage Seller (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Jedidiah A. A. Martin (Camp Here and There) vs David Ward (I Am In Eskew) vs Randy V. Jade (Dial Town)

John Gaius (The Locked Tomb) vs Gilear Faeth (Fantasy High (Dimension 20)) vs Filbo Fiddlepie (Bugsnax)

Dick Gumshoe (Ace Attorney) vs Zenkichi Hasegawa (Persona 5) vs Eeyore (Winnie the Pooh)

Larry (Pokemon) vs Steven Universe (Steven Universe) vs Fujimoto (Ponyo)

[unaesthetic-writer]

ViciousDagger Microfic- Lucius Malfoy x Bellatrix Black

"Why would you want me, mon chat féroce?" Lucius looked away from the girl who's eyes held more faith in him than he thought he deserved. Lucius knew he wasn't a good person. It wasn't a belief it was a fact. He's killed people, tortured people, and so many other horrible things. He was a death eater for fucks sake, even if he didn't want to be. It still didn't change the fact that he was. But Bellatrix didn't care about any of that. She had more than a couple of demons in her own closet, and didn't judge Lucius in the slightest. She loved him, as much as she wanted to deny it. But in this moment— both of them covered in blood— she knew she couldn't deny it anymore. And she wanted to tell him. That she didn't want him as just a friend, no, she wanted more. So much more. She wanted to be a part of his everything, so be able to fall at his feet and worship the ground he walked on. She would die for him, kill for him, do whatever he wanted.

But he never believed he was worth much. Lucius never believed he was worth more than a pebble on the street. Lucius truly believed there was nothing good for him in this world. He knows he should've died a long time ago, but he hasn't. And he hates himself for it. Lucius adored Bella, but he never once thought his feelings would reach this point. He thought he was gay. There was no possible way he could want Bellatrix like that— and no way she would feel the same. The bodies that were scattered around them should have proved to them both just how far they would go for each other, and how much they meant to each other.

They had just killed Bella's parents- as they tried to use Lucius and Narcissa's engagement as a way to lure her back and trap her. But Lucius fired the first shot- he couldn't hold himself back anymore with the way they were treating Bellatrix. Bellatrix was surprised but she sprang into action as well. And before they knew it, they were here, Bella telling Lucius how grateful she was and him not understanding why.

"Why wouldn't I want you? You have no fucking clue Luci..." she starts looking off into the mess around them, "You have no clue— not even close— as to how much I want you. And it's... Not just as a friend anymore." Lucius eyes go wide at the declaration. He could hardly believe his ears.

"Bella, no. You can't say that, you can't want me. You're so much better than I am. I would only hurt you. I'm a horrible person." He motions to the gruesome scene around him. She scoffs at him, causing him to flinch. Bellatrix immediately takes his hands into hers apologetically. "Luci, you're an amazing person. You're my person. I would exchange all the stars in the sky if you asked. You mean the world to me. I-" Her words get caught in her throat, her emotions hiking due to nervousness.

"You?" Lucius prompts.

"I love you Lucius. In love with you." She finally breathes out.

And before he could think, the words fell out of his mouth, "I love you too, Mon chat féroce."

His eyes were tearing up as he finally said it. All the feelings that he had held away— that they both held back— had finally been said. They both knew they would go to the ends of the earth for each other. And if either of them ever got hurt— hell would be raised on earth.

@nightmaresmakeme @starmanbutitsregulusblack

[luv-lies]

ALL ABOUT YOUR LUVIE .ᐟ.ᐟ

your one and only luvie is jus’ like a pearl in the ocean! i am like that of a pearly white iridescent nacre, soft on the inside n polished on the outside.

luvie embodies her name by loving . . . perfume , tiramisu , hotcake , baking cakes ‘nd cupcakes , soufflé , rain , peanut butter , mocha , green tea , the ocean , mint choc chip ice cream , vanilla , roses , compliments , white chocolate coated strawberries (yummy! ♡) , vanilla , pretty mooties

luvie enjoys these animanga . . . spirited away , ponyo , wolf children , jujutsu kaisen , mob psycho 100 , haikyuu , demon slayer , my hero academia , hunter x hunter , wonder egg priority , mashle , one piece , kaiju no. 8 , chainsaw man , soul eater , tokyo revengers , blue period , death note , bleach , blue box , akane banashi , phantom busters , princess jellyfish , gachiakuta , dandadan , the guy she was interested in wasn’t a guy at all , sakamoto days , gokurakugai , in the clear moonlight dusk , a devil and her love song

luvie isn’t a video game fanatic but she plays . . . honkai: star rail , zenless zone zero , cookierun: kingdom

luvie listens to these artists . . . tommy february6 , atarashii gakko , kezia , xg , newjeans , chanmina , le sserafim , megan thee stallion , plave , huh yunjin , yoasobi , young posse , pebbles&tamtam , sade , kali uchis

luvie tries her best to avoid . . . olives , sweat , hot weather , rude people , stinky boys , conflict

my ask box is always open so don’t be afraid to send something !! ꒰ ྀི ɞ̴̶̷ ·̮ ɞ̴̶̷ ૢ꒱

[aliatori]

Trust and Defying

The Forsaken and the Forsworn | post-Fate and Furor | Hugo Melançon/Vidakai | 2.3k words | Mature | M/NBi (Secrecy, magic during sex, hands-free orgasm, getting together, metaphysical monsterfucking)

Lavender washes over the contours of the mortal world, a dull haze muting its vibrant colours. They’ve docked in one port or another—the Enclave, if the echoing sensation of Vidakai’s dedicants and their memories through their consciousness is to be believed—but they couldn’t care less about which territorial waters the physical ship rests on. Form over function, forever their favourite.

Vidakai’s focus, their entire reason for manifesting here in the still-dreary permutations of this coil, belongs to the captain of said vessel and the ongoing game of wits and wills between them.

BORING. HAVE I GIVEN YOU THE IMPRESSION I CARE FOR SUCH THINGS, WHEN EVERY PLACE MY BONDBREAKERS AND SECRET EATERS CALL HOME BELONGS TO ME AS WELL? IF YOU’RE TRULY TRYING TO INTOXICATE YOURSELF WITH AN EXCESS OF MAGIC, YOU’LL HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN LIES ABOUT MERE GEOGRAPHY.

(.are they who are They .sake s'amusement for ,own their of lie little A)

The lack of a First blunts Vidakai’s sensation in this realm. But they do so adore piecing together a puzzle, and the clues draw an inevitable conclusion of torrid summer heat: Hugo reclines on his bed at the stern of the Tide, stripped down to only his breeches and little else, sweat-drenched tendrils of greying hair clinging to his neck. Vidakai’s taunt draws his gaze from the windows to their form, a rearing serpent from a half millennia ago.

“If land won’t suffice, what about the heavens?” Vidakai’s irritation ripples their form, an invisible hand waved through a cloud of amethystine smoke. If it weren’t so charming, they’d unravel Hugo’s smirk with the point of a claw. “Xeheia’s constellation Rises in the winter season. The Enclave bases their calendar on the twin stars they’ve named for Rhohnas. If you measure the distance between the sun and the horizon while in the Unchartables back-to-back, you get the same figure each time.”

They’re lies by the most pedantic definition, petty falsehoods in spite of truth. Each one plunks pathetically into the bond like a pebble into a rushing river. Agitation curls Vidakai in on themself, their serpentine curves coiling in a prelude to danger… that is, until a stronger ripple draws their attention.

A single stone dropped into an ewer can still make it overflow.

Their flirtations with falsehoods have succeeded. Somewhat. Hugo’s bare chest rises and falls as he scrutinizes Vidakai’s form, and Vidakai recalls enough of mortality to know it for the clue it is. More relevantly, the reserves of his magic—magic Vidakai continues to feed him with glee each time he lies—competes with the oscillating, shadow-pulse aura of the ring around his middle finger, an obsidian circle of carved teeth and the most subtle facet of the puzzle box in his possession. Vidakai senses it less in ‘sight’ and more as a resplendent beacon of whispers, a recursive waterfall of their own essence pouring back into them. A gift from a gift. The tether of the secret they share, of their deepened bond, tugs at Vidakai wherever they are, in this realm or their own, reeling them toward a fixed end.

It breathes a life Vidakai only half remembers but craves intensely into Hugo, painting him in a vivacious palette, his edges sharp as his tongue.

IF YOU INSIST ON WASTING MY TIME WITH SUCH PUNCTILIOUSNESS, I CAN SIMPLY LEAVE AND FIND A BETTER BOUNTY ELSEWHERE. YOUR IMPUDENCE AND IRREVERENCE AMUSE ONLY TO A POINT.

Speaking of things they adore. Their favourite, their would-be First of the Forsworn stares at them, direct and hungry, a feast of emotions writing themselves on his unguarded features. They are all too aware their divine fluidity is magnificent complicated spLENDID TERRIBLE MARVELOUS—hard. Hard to behold in this realm.

Hugo’s eyes (twins of different eyes, in a different time, sea green and spilling salt as Vidakai sinks their teeth into their sun-drenched bond, tongue coated with bright betrayal) narrow. A fond affection surges like storm-tossed waves through Vidakai at his constant suspicion. “And here I thought you couldn’t afford to be so particular about your vintages. Not yet, at least. Never mind the quality of your company.”

Oh. A mortal exclamation for a distinctly immortal phenomenon. Clever, clever, clever Forsworn. The subtle sweetness of the lies rustle through Vidakai, all the better to be savoured. They want to be across from-near-INSIDE-next to Hugo, and so they are, a stolen shape of a dedicant long deceased their form as they mimic a human’s cross-legged pose.

BETTER. MUCH BETTER. BUT IT TAKES MORE THAN A SIP OF EVEN THE FINEST VINTAGE TO ACHIEVE OBLIVION.

“Best to approach the challenge on two fronts, then.” Hugo waves what remains of his right arm to an adjacent shelf carved into the Tide’s timbers.

Vidakai intends to follow with only their sense of sight but ends up beside the shelf in the form of a sleek ermine, claws braced on the wood. This close, they can read the script, their newfound multitude of bonds supplying the meaning of the label: Luminous Age. Vidakai deems the smaller subtext cramped beneath it irrelevant.

I RECOGNIZE THIS FROM YOUR SPECIAL CABINET, THE ONE YOU ONLY OPEN IN TIMES OF GREAT SUCCESS OR CELEBRATION. WHAT CAUSE DO WE HAVE TO CELEBRATE? Vidakai says, borrowing the aromatic whistle of wind through wildflowers to make their point. Hugo gives them a look of such affront that Vidakai dissolves—literally—into their mirth, reappearing across from Hugo in their sailor’s form. WHAT? YOU DIDN’T TRULY THINK YOU COULD KEEP A SECRET COMPARTMENT HIDDEN FROM THE DEITY OF SECRETS? PLEASE. YOU MAY MANAGE TO OFFEND ME IN EARNEST.

The affronted expression melts into a warm amusement, underlined by an easy laugh, Hugo’s baritone a rich music in Vidakai’s perception, all the more beautiful in its rarity. He takes up the bottle, tips the elongated neck to his mouth, and takes several swallows of clear liquor before returning it to the would-be nightstand.

“Nothing,” he says, his smirk gone lopsided. “I’m celebrating nothing.”

Another lie, and an enticing one at that, a lie that promises delectable truth. Vidakai rewards him accordingly. They pour magic into the overflowing vessel Hugo has made of himself, the seed from which Vidakai themself grew back into the world, the flesh-and-blood dendritic heart of their divinity.

Mortals have differing reactions to an excess of Vidakai’s power, most of them pleasant. Honey instead of vinegar, like the human expression. After all, Vidakai was once the shepherd, the guardian of those who found their oaths to the other Exiled or Exalted too much to bear. Why make serving them another torture?

Judging by the flush in Hugo’s cheeks and chest, pale skin shot through with pink, and by the groan that blossoms low in the column of his throat, his reaction to a superfluidity of Vidakai’s gifts certainly proves pleasurable.

It awakens a divine hunger in Vidakai. They want, as they did in Xeheia’s collapsing Heart, to crawl into his skin, to make his breath their breath, their power his power. They want to rip out the broken shreds of Xeheia’s touch from his butchered soul and make him truly theirs and theirs alone.

They want (time, always more time, the lives of their devotees spending drop by inevitable drop like sand through the turnglass yet faster than they can count, their spirits snatched to realms they cannot follow to, hollow ruins like empty graves left behind in their lavender-drenched world) Hugo. They want (seimene sih fo staorht eht dner retteb yam eh os wodahs dna terces ni hteet sih nroda ot ,raw ot gniydaer dna srebmuls rieht morf gnikaw sdog eht morf mih dleihs ot ,mih retlehs ot sterces fo sisoehtopa eht eb ot) to feast on the magic emanating from him in lush waves, like a stonefruit juices dripping down a jutted chin.

Waves crashing against the cliffside, the cracking of the earth beneath the seafloor, the heady desire of a courtesan in the Imperial shadow-harem: LIE TO ME AGAIN, FORSWORN. GO ON. YOU KNOW I DON’T MIND. I’M CURIOUS TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.

Delirium outlines the edges of Hugo’s laughter, and were it any of their other devotees, Vidakai would deem it a giggle. “Assume your true form and I might consider something better.” Hugo leans back against the Tide’s skeleton, eyes half-lidded, knees falling open like the gentle fan of butterfly wings as he stares at Vidakai. “A secret for a truth.”

ALL FORMS ARE MY TRUE FORM. Vidakai assumes the manifestation of a shadowkraken and circles in the air above the bed, waiting, Hugo’s too-vivid colours blurring as distraction fragments their concentration. ASK FOR WHAT YOU WANT DIRECTLY, OR DO NOT BOTHER TO ASK AT ALL.

And here, the iron spine of him, resilient even through an overabundance of power so intense Vidakai finds him difficult to focus on directly. “You know exactly the form I mean.” That the words are softly slurred with desire-liquor-longing-lust only makes them all the more appealing.

Vidakai is here, everywhere, nowhere, and now they find themselves in their favourite deific form, floating horizontally above Hugo, all four arms reaching for him, claws extended. They match claws to scars—the two crescents beneath his chest, the pulsing lavender beacon where Vidakai plucked a secret from his soul to swallow, the knot of jagged white flesh where Xeheia’s chosen son electrified him back to breathing life.

HERE’S MY TRUTH. NOW, MY SECRET. I’M WAITING.

Hugo’s chest rises and falls beneath the four pinpricks of Vidakai’s touch. To be able to touch him at all, to not be driven away—were the intention different, it could almost count as a secret. He beholds Vidakai with a complex awe, pupils blown wide, grappling with whatever hidden truth he’s about to sacrifice on their altar.

“I’m not a fool. The bond, the outings, the games, the gifts. I can recognize flirtation, such as it is coming from a once-mortal deity. You’ve been courting me.”

A delicate, precarious position. Not quite a secret. Not yet, not yet, not YET. Push too hard and Hugo will retreat—they learned this lesson after the Heart, when they took their transgressions too far, got too greedy in their eagerness to have him as their First.

FINALLY. I WAS BEGINNING TO WONDER IF YOU WERE LESS INTELLIGENT THAN YOU SEEMED. OR RATHER, LESS INCLINED TO MY SERVICE. I DON’T TEND TO ATTRACT FORSWORN WHO REQUIRE MY INTENTIONS SPELLED OUT IN BLACK AND WHITE FOR THEM.

“Then allow me to spell it out for you,” Hugo says. A tension gathers in the air, a prelude to magic. “I’m too old and have lived through too much to waste more time. I want you, everything you have to offer save being First, and I’ve never been afraid of gods, and I’m celebrating because I already know you’ll give it to me.”

The magnitude of the truth explodes through Vidakai, tearing through the fabric of their manifestation and dissipating them back to their own realm for an instant, or an eternity, or one in the same. The succulent power of such a tender secret fills them upon their return, rendering the entire mortal plane in perfect clarity for a crystalline moment. It brings them the beautiful recollection of what it was like to walk the world alongside their devotees—and the yearning to do so once more.

Language, humanity, shape abandons them, leaving only an ancient tongue and primal hunger in its wake.

ፕⶴቹክ ረቹፕ ፕⶴጎነ ፪ቹ ፕⶴቹ ቻጎዪነፕ ፏጎቻፕ ፕዐ ጮልዪኡ ፕⶴቹ ዐርርልነነጎዐክ.

Vidakai redoubles the magic through their bond with Hugo, with the Forsworn who heralded their return to power. They turn him into an eternal loop, a fountain designed to overfill and spilling lavender floods over the edges, more than any mortal could reasonably bear.

The ruination it wreaks on their most adored devotee… astounds. Vidakai commits this memory to the few, the precious, the treasured fragments they’ve maintained.

Hugo’s back arches from the sleek embroidered covers of the bed, mouth open in a long, unabashed moan of pleasure, hips questing in miniature arcs towards a physical sensation that doesn’t exist. A dark stain of desire colours the fabric between the open vee of his legs, spreading more and more as he spends and spends and spends. His bare toes mirror his fist, curling in the sheets as he gasps, jerking as helplessly as a marionette.

And Vidakai supposes, in a way, he is that to them. They are that to one another. They cherish the strings tied tight between them.

It takes Vidakai whispering his name, a redolent rustle overlaid in a hundred different voices, for Hugo to open his eyes. They expect to see shame, but full of spiritual fortification and earthly liquor, all Vidakai gleans from his expression is a decadent covetousness. He reaches between his legs and unbuttons his trousers deftly with one hand, peeling the drenched fabric down, and the secret of it—exposure of such sacred skin, a private act performed for their pleasure—scatters Vidakai’s awareness once more. Hugo’s fingers circle against his flesh, his breath quickened, chin proud.

Vidakai moves their hands, making a delicate cradle of their claws for his jaw, their other hands feather-light on his thighs.

TELL ME YOU WANT ME GONE. TELL ME YOU’RE ASHAMED. IF YOU’RE CERTAIN I’LL DELIVER ON MY PROMISES, ANY LIE AT ALL WILL DO.

Hugo laughs, breathless, euphoric. His eyes are faerie fire, ancient fields as he holds Vidakai’s gaze. “You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you? But no. I expect you to watch—to appreciate this for the gift it is.”

An audacious order and a secret. Far better than a lie. Vidakai rewards Hugo with a torrential flood of power, drinking down every drop of magic Hugo pours back into them as it surpasses his reserve. The urge to possess, to rend, to be as one nearly overtakes them. Hugo’s hips roll beneath the bounty, rutting into his own hand as paroxysms of pleasure overtake him again, his throaty moans thick enough to taste.

They grin, exposing all the many teeth of their most well-known visage, then place a clawed finger of a new, fifth hand to their lips in a shushing gesture.

I’LL DO MUCH MORE THAN WATCH, FORSWORN. Then, then—they begin to demonstrate.

[writtenwyrm]

The Ascension

A Slay the Spire story, Epilogue

All Parts

Not everyone could be saved.

The efforts of the Time Eater had kept the tower together, in a sense. Time still passed, buildings still fell into ruin and collapsed over the many, many years that had gone by as I climbed the Spire. But the people came back, returned to the same morning. They were in pristine health, without even the memories of what had happened, because nothing had happened in the first place.

But no being is perfect, and no power–even that of the Ancients–is limitless.

I crawled through the library, feeling my bulk brush against the shelves on either side of me. I was cautious with my new legs, short and stubby, yet enough to move me without dragging my belly.

Look, the Silent spoke in my mind. That one might be it. My eyes had landed on the spine of a small book, green. Golden words inscribed the title. Strong Foundations, by an Elikar Ponderwit.

Perhaps. The familiar voice of the Defect retorted, monotone as ever. The chances are not high, as they were not for the last ten books we discovered.

I took it off the shelf, one claw easing out to fall to the floor. I twisted my body, feeling the shelves creak from the pressure, and pointed my eyes down at it. I turned pages in chunks, letting the words flash by.

It was the book I was looking for, but I had a hard time feeling satisfied at the accomplishment. Now I had to make my way out of the Library, an ordeal almost as difficult as getting in in the first place. I made my way out from between the shelves, folding the book into my paw as I went and walking on my knuckles in order to protect it. The stride was awkward, favoring that leg, but my quadruped form didn’t leave me with any extra limbs to carry things, and the Collector would burn me alive if I put it in my mouth.

At the front of the hall, I settled down to wait and catch my breath. My eyes settled closed, as I thought over the events of the past couple weeks. The slow changing of my body, transforming my flippers into proper legs, discovering what I could and could not affect about myself. The size remained static, and my skin was pebbly and blue regardless of the shape I took.

I felt a gaze upon me, and I cracked open a single eye.

There was a man there, hands full of books, staring at me. He looked worn, somewhat ragged, despite the new clothes. Everyone was worn, now that the loop was broken.

Maybe we can convince him to look for more books by Elikar, in return for a favor.

I pushed the thought away. I was tired, but I wasn’t in a hurry, either. The Merchant sulked, frustrated at the inefficiency.

But the man simply stared, and I couldn’t tell if he was angry, in awe, or simply as weary as I was. His presence was starting to make me uncomfortable, and a flare of wordless frustration made me open my eye enough to look at him directly. He started, and hurried away.

Liss arrived a few minutes later, carrying books of her own. She took mine to add to her stack, and I heaved myself back to my feet and followed her. The Collector stopped us on the way out, and there was a brief negotiation, before we made our way out. I didn’t make eye contact with the cloaked woman, keeping my gaze on Liss’s back.

The City was alight with lanterns, like a night sky full of stars overhead. People were out and about, walking freely from one layer to another, crossing whatever bridges were still standing.

We passed construction as we climbed, new buildings and bridges growing from the ruins of the old. Liss called out to workers we passed, and they called back, friendly. But none of them came close, and I had no illusions as to why that was.

We had to stop multiple times so I could catch my breath. Even with my new legs, the stairs were brutal. Liss never complained, and neither did I.

When we finally reached the temple, there was already a small crowd. Liss led the way through, and I noted the mass of colors, clustered groups of people wearing similar designs and emblems. They stepped back as I pushed my way through, keeping their feet out of my way.

Just so they don’t get stepped on? Or are they scared? I wasn’t sure who that was, if it was anyone at all. But the thought came unbidden, and the Silent was the one to respond, firm and sharp.

If they were afraid, they wouldn’t be here.

Liss settled at the front of the room, just behind the altar. She looked confident, and she didn’t rush with sorting out her books, even as the crowd started to murmur restlessly. I was… proud wasn’t the right word, not really. I didn’t deserve to be proud. But happy, that she seemed to have found a place for her.

“Today, we’ll be reading for Junpei, Hallower, and Great Reach. Would any followers please step forward?” When she spoke, the crowd quieted, and then a handful of people stepped forward, three small groups. Three and four people, wearing red and golden clothes respectively, and then a single small man who looked too small in his tattered green robes. Not a lot of people. There were people not there, I was certain, the way they stood revealing their missing members that should have been standing between them, or next to them.

The Time Eater had done its best. But hundreds or thousands of resets was more than enough for mistakes to be made, for people to be left behind. To slip between the cracks and be forgotten. More and more, the Time Eater had been forced to focus on the ones that seemed to be making a difference, the individuals or creatures that could stop or harm the Ventures.

And in doing so, the Spire was left hampered for the aftermath.

Liss picked the solitary man, guiding him up to the altar and presenting him with a few books. He took them hesitantly, but the moment they were in his hands he seemed more comfortable, clutching at them like a shield. He opened the first, finding a specific page to point out to Liss. Rather than taking the book back, she simply led him to the front, then speaks loud enough for everyone in the audience to hear.

“The Hallower gives strength to the weary, and stands by those who stand alone. This seems like an Ancient we could all use in our lives right now. Priest Malikai will lead us in song, so do your best to follow along.”

The man cleared his throat and began to sing. His voice was hoarse, and a little reedy, but as he found his place in the song it got stronger, and it became rapidly clear that it was a melody he knew by heart.

A few voices joined him, but it took three times through the song for the majority of the crowd to have enough of a grasp on the tune and the words to sing along. The song was humble and soft at first, the handful of voices giving it a lonely tune, but each voice that joined gave it depth, until the walls echoed and the sound of music rolled over us like ocean waves.

I waited until the fourth repetition to join in. I closed my eyes, sitting at the back of the stage, and knew that everyone could see me despite how I sat in the shadows. I did my best not to care, even as the sound of my voice doubled the sheer volume of the song and heads turned to look. My throat thrummed, powerful lungs driving air in and out, and the unique shape of my throat allowed me to sing in harmony with the lowest and highest tones at the same time. I had discovered this not long ago, and despite everything, despite my cumbersome body that I still wasn’t used to, my heart soared as I became a part of the song.

We sang, and sang, and when I opened my eyes again the man was crying. He stood at the head of the stage, letting the music wash over him and openly weeping, smiling, struggling to sing through the emotions that held him. Tears appeared in my own eyes, but I banished them with a blink, and allowed my power to flow through me, pushing it out and into the man. There was no Word, no twisting of fate and intent. Just my will, the song, and the desire of the humble priest.

The Ancient of Resurrection and Rebirth flared her power, and a light appeared on the altar.

We sang to the end of the verse as the light coalesced, and then sang through one more time. By the end, there was something round and green sitting on the stone, curled up in a ball, bright flowers sprouting over it.

The song ended, and Liss stepped forward, picking it up. The object uncurled, revealing a lizard-like creature, made from a dark soil and sprouting with grass and flowers. It blinked up at her, and she handed it to the man, who wiped his face and took it.

“This is your responsibility, now.” Liss told him, loud enough for the audience to hear. “Your faith is strong, and the New Hallower is young. Take him, care for him. Find others who need him and his strength, and share. Live as you believe, and he will grow strong, and be a foundation for something more.”

The man nodded, cheeks still wet with recently shed tears. He turned to the crowd of people, all different, skin and robes, signs and symbols, reasons for being here. All of who had sung with him.

“Thank you.” he said.

The small god in his arms squeaked, and he held it close.

–

Liss met me afterward, sitting next to me on the ledge that overlooked the Lower City. Her legs dangled, but she sat without fear, and together we watched the crowd of believers disperse back to their homes, several of them carrying their reborn faith with them.

“How are you doing?” She finally asked, and I knew what she was really asking.

I looked down, at the lights scattered below, and thought about it. The voices in my head–my voices, even if they spoke from the parts of me that hurt and raged and bargained–were silent for a few precious moments.

“I’m doing okay.” I said, and I meant it. There was still a long way to go, but I had a goal in mind now, and a friend. Despite it all, Liss had stuck by my side. Perhaps it was because I was useful, perhaps because she felt responsible for preventing me from returning to the loop again, but she was here regardless, helping me make amends.

“And how’s it going with…?” She glanced up at my broad back, and I smiled. She didn’t flinch anymore, despite the teeth.

I stretched the new appendages that attached just below my shoulders, and thin membranes glowed with the light passing through them, illuminating the veins and bones within. Still fresh, not yet usable, but every day I made them a little stronger, a little bigger. Wings, six of them, positioned down my back in pairs.

I would never wear my beautiful sapphire feathers again. The idea pained me, and some days I couldn’t move for missing them. But I had something else to look forward to, something that moved me each morning to try.

I would never have feathers again, but someday soon I would fly.

The End

[silverwings-stories]

🪶VultureClan: Moon 3-6🪶

Moon 3-5

Hollowpaw’s eyes were fixed on the thrush as it pecked at the wet soil near the riverbank. The tumbling water drowned out the sound of his pawsteps as he crept forward. One paw in front of the other, Hollowpaw, he thought. You can do this! Hollowpaw was about three tail-lengths away now, and the thrush still hadn’t noticed him. This was the closest he’d ever gotten! Hollowpaw flexed his claws into the dirt as he continued to stalk, but forced himself to go slow. He was determined to catch this bird. Just a little closer, then -

Hollowpaw froze in mid step as the thrush’s head jerked up, its beady black eye scanning the reeds where he was creeping. It didn’t fly away, thank StarClan, but he was sure it had seen him. He could see its feathers rustling as it prepared to take to the sky. Gathering himself up into a sloppy crouch, Hollowpaw leapt, his claws outstretched. But he was too far away, and he could only feel the rush of air as his prey took off, mouse-lengths away from his paws. Hollowpaw landed with a grunt. He watched, tail lashing, as the thrush spiralled upwards, shrieking alarm calls to any bird nearby. 

Hollowpaw felt his whole body droop. It had been two weeks since he’d arrived in the Carrion Cliffs, and still he had yet to catch anything. With no other choice, Hollowpaw had been stealing from other meat-eaters’ kills to satiate his hunger. But he was never going to be able to build VultureClan if he couldn’t even hunt for himself. Glancing up at the darkening sky, Hollowpaw watched the cold, distant stars appear one by one. “Please, can’t you help me?” He whispered. “Can’t you show me how to hunt? I just want to be the best warrior I can be, but I don’t think I can do it on my own.” Hollowpaw waited, but the only answer he got was the moaning of the mountain wind as it cut through his pelt.

>>>

Notable Events

Hollowpaw continues to train alone.

Moon 6

Hollowpaw was practically skipping as he traced his way up the mountain path, his fresh-kill held firmly in his jaws. Hollowpaw had snuck up on the crow while it had been distracted, picking at the foul-smelling carcass of a stag. The thing was mostly feathers and bones, but Hollowpaw didn’t care. This was his first prey, and he was so proud he felt like he was walking on a cloud.

The sound of clattering rock brought Hollowpaw back to reality. He had come to a narrow point on the stone path, and some pebbles had come loose beneath his paws. Hollowpaw watched as they tumbled down the steep slope below, his pelt prickling. He’d heard the deafening thunder of the rockslides at night, and he’d feasted on animals who had misstepped while scaling the mountainside. Hollowpaw definitely didn’t want to become another scavenger’s meal. For a moment, he wondered if he should turn back. But the camp was so close, and the crow was getting heavy. Hollowpaw decided to push on. 

As soon as Hollowpaw took his next step, his mistake was apparent. The ground growled like an awakened monster, and the path began to shift as pebbles rained down. Hollowpaw let out a strangled yelp as panic gripped his throat. He tried to back up, but the stone beneath his paws was carrying him with it. Hollowpaw lost his footing and began to roll, bouncing down the slope, each rock he hit knocking the breath out of him. Down, down, down he went, the sky flashing above him and the ground below. Grey, blue, grey, blue, grey, blue. Hollowpaw was picking up speed now. He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the bone-breaking impact of the ground below. But StarClan must’ve taken pity on him, because it didn’t come. Instead, the slope began to level out, and Hollowpaw’s battered body finally rolled to a stop.

Hollowpaw laid there for a moment, taking careful breaths. Everything hurt, but at least nothing seemed broken. With a groan, Hollowpaw lifted his head, staring in dismay at the mountain path, far above him. Hollowpaw could barely believe what had just happened. Not only had he rolled all the way down that slope, but, somewhere along the way, he’d lost his first catch.

>>>

Notable Events

Hollowpaw loses precious training time when he slides down a slope and spends the whole day finding a way back to camp.

Things are not off to a great start for poor Hollowpaw.

If you want to see more of my work, I also have an alt account where I post non-clangen art and a YouTube channel.

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful day!

[weywardwisdom]

I am under the Seven stars. I am under the sky-boat afloat in the Milky Way. I am under the glowing hearth-fires of elders. I am under shining pebbles in the stream of time and timelessness. I am under the great snake who can poison or heal. I am under the sun making love with the day. I am under the moon’s life-giving womb.

I am moss-covered calcrete and sandy river silts. I am lichen, algae, fungi, puffball. I am mole-cricket, inch ant, worm-lizard, stumpy lizard, skink. I am coiled brown snake and tiger snake. I am maniacal cackle frog and common froglet. I am echidna. I am wallaby.

I am drooping sheoak, small sheoak, sticky hop-bush, and southern cypress pine. I am paperbark, bottlebrush, mallee gum, red gum and melaleuca. I am dryland teatree, white flowering teatree and spiny hakea. I am fig, almond, apple, lemon, lemon myrtle, pomegranate and plum. I am golden wattle, coastal wattle , small coastal dune wattle and northern wattle.

I am piyentak, nganangi, manguni, manthari, thalgi, kunduwi, yalkari, and bilbili.

I am flax-lily, pigface, stinging nettle, muntries, thistle, sweet apple-berry, weaving rushes and knobby club-rush.

I am ruby saltbush, climbing saltbush, coast bitter-bush, small-leaf bluebush, coast daisy bush and twiggy dais-bush. I am sticky New Holland daisy, yellow daisy and yellow star. I am boobialla, bower spinach, correa, climbing lignum, and rhagodia. I am Austral storksbill and Austral trefoil. I am wallaby grass, spear grass, veldt grass and buffalo grass.

I am oxalis, ox tongue, pigs ears and pussy ears. I am easter lily, and Xmas box. I am sea lavender, english lavender and french lavender. I am freesia, nerine, nasturtium, pelargonium, geranium, tree aeonium and sedum. I am highland rose, pink rose and rosemary. I am jonquil, jade plant and spider plant. I am amaranth and plantain. I am cemetery iris, medic, marsh-mallow and red hot poker aloe. I am cactus.

I am thorn-bill, stubble quail, silver eye and magpie. I am fairy wren, willy wagtail and grey fantail. I am mudlark, brown songlark, singing honey-eater and New Holland honey eater. I am feral pigeon, crested pigeon and bronzewing. I am wattle bird and blackbird. I am noisy miner and peaceful dove. I am black shouldered kite and brown falcon. I am marsh harrier and barn owl. I am welcome swallow, sparrow and crow.

I am tarantula spider and orb spider. I am red-back spider and black spider. I am slater and beetle. I am midge and mosquito. I am march fly, house fly and blow fly. I am butterfly and moth. I am blue striped bee, and honey bee.

I am living beings, standing since the beginning of time. I am invasive species that bylaws tell me to kill. I am repair species from the Ngarrindjeri nursery. I am species spread by seed. I am a politics of pollen.

I am a guest of the cycle of life, death and rebirth, living on Ngarrindjeri lands. I am bound to return under the earth.

[tseneipgam]

"Close-ups of nail art, a pebble from outer space, a tarantulas compound eyes, a storm like canned peaches on the surface of Jupiter, Van Gogh's The Potato Eaters, a chihuahua perched on a man's erection, a garage door spray-painted with the words STOP! DON'T EMAIL MY WIFE! Why did the portal feel so private, when you only entered it when you needed to be everywhere? She felt along the solid green marble of the day for the hairline crack that might let her out. This could not be forced."

"Where had the old tyranny gone, the tyranny of husband over wife? She suspected most of it had been channeled into weird ideas about supplements, whether or not vinyl sounded "warmer," and which coffeemakers were nothing but a shit in the mouth of the coffee christ. "A hundred years ago you would have been mining coal and had fourteen children all named Jane,"'she often marveled, as she watched a man stab a finger at his wife in front of the Keurig display. "Two hundred years ago, you might have been in a coffee shop in Göttingen, shak- ing the daily paper, hashing out the questions of the day--and I would be shaking out sheets from the windows, not know- ing how to read." But didn't tyranny always feel like the hand of the way things were?"

"It was a mistake to believe that other people were not living as deeply as you were. Besides, you were not even living that deeply. The amount of eavesdropping that was going on was enor- mous, and the implications not yet known. Other people's diaries streamed around her. Should she be listening, for in- stance, to the conversations of teenagers? Should she follow with such avidity the compliments that rural sheriffs paid to porn stars, not realizing that other people could see them? What about the thread of women all realizing they had the exact same scar on their knee? "I have that scar too!" "

"A person might join a site to look at pictures of her nephew and five years later believe in a flat earth."

"As she began to type, "Enormous fatberg made of grease, wet wipes, and condoms is terrorizing London's sewers, " her hands began to waver in their outlines and she had to rock the crown of her head against the cool wall, back and forth, back and forth. What, in place of these sentences, marched in the brains of previous generations? Folk rhymes about planting turnips, she guessed."

"Every time she passed the model train store she clenched her fists and said, "You did this…" And it was true, it was tris life as we knew it was coming to an end because 160 years ag% of whatever, some old weirdo who was obsessed with trains had to invent trains because trains didn't exist yet. Choo-choo, motherfucker, are you happy now?"

"The only thing that bound us together was this belief: that in every other country they eat unspeakable food; worship gods more see-through than glass; string together only the most meaningless syllables, like g00-g00-g00-goo-goo-goo-goo; are war- like but not noble; do not help the dead cross in the proper boats; do not send the correct incense up to the wide blue nos- trils; crawl with whatever crawls; do not love their children, not the way we do; bare the most tempting body parts and cover the most mundane; cup their penises to protect them from supernatural forces; their poetry is piss; they do not respect the moon; slice the little faces of our familiars into the stewpot."

"The Cairns must be holy, she thought when she visited, for the air around her was doubled, tripled, with remixed and humming life. Old robes and old bones swished past her on their way to cookfires, a mist of eyes looked up to mark the place of the sun in the sky, and the ruddy cows on the oppo- site hillside spoke to each other in words that were almost comprehensible: life, death, Im spilling over, green grass. They said all you needed to be remembered was one small stone piled on another, and wasn't that what we were doing in the portal, small stone on small stone on small stone?"

"On the Isle of Skye, she and her husband ate langoustines at a restaurant overlooking a long gray ridge of rock with a light- house at the tip of it, and laughed at the herds of tourists who insisted on visiting lighthouses wherever they went. "Some things!" her husband whispered. "Are the same! No matter where you go!" But later, taking an afternoon out of the portal to read Virginia Woolf, she realized that that must have been it, the lighthouse the family sails to on the final page. Was that the final page? Or did the book end with herself and her hus- band, cracking the red backs of little sweet creatures, cutouts of each other and all the same, and laughing at the people who moved in one wave, the family who went to the Lighthouse?"

"Your attention is holy," she told the class, as her phone buzzed uncontrollably in her back pocket, for a long-ago joke she had made about a Florida politician "who nearly died during elective taint-lengthening surgery' was receiving renewed at- tention that morning. "It is the soul spending itself,"

"Context collapse! That sounded pretty bad, didn't it? And also like the thing that was happening to the honeybees?"

"CIA Confirms "Charlie Bit My Finger" Was on One of Osama bin Laden's Computers Also a file called assss.jpeg."

"We were being radicalized, and how did that feel? Like we had just stepped into a Girl Scout uniform made of fire. Like the skies had abruptly shifted to the stripes of an old Soviet poster, and the cookies we carried through green and well-watered neighborhoods had been cut by the guillotine. We were being radicalized, yes, even though we owned personalized goblets that said Wine O'Clock, even though we still read the Old Gray Lady every morning with not nearly enough of a sneer on our faces! SHOOT IT IN MY VEINS, we said, whenever the head- line was too perfect, the juxtaposition too good to be true. SHOOT IT IN MY VEINS, we said, when the Flat Earth Society announced it had members all over the globe."

"The portal's favorite stories, now, were about interracial friends who met playing online Scrabble and eventually invited each other to Thanksgiving dinner. One of them must be very old, old enough to have been on the wrong side of the civil rights movement, and one of them must be very young, young enough that their face was like a fresh lightbulb. They must encounter each other's traditional dishes with an equal amount of surprise and familiarity, they must take pictures of them- selves sitting down at the feather-flocked table, and, most im- portant, they must do it again next year. We reveled in these stories, which were not untrue. But there was some untruth in the degree to which they comforted us."

"Modern womanhood was more about rubbing snail mucus on your face than she had thought it would be. But it had always been something, hadn't it? Taking drops of arsenic. Winding bandages around the feet. Polishing your teeth with lead. It was so easy to believe you freely chose the paints, polishes, and waist-trainers of your own time, while looking back with tre- mendous pity to women of the past in their whalebones; that you took the longest strides your body was capable of, while women of the past limped forward on broken arches."

"Our enemies! ... Had they made us weak with intermittent fasting? Had they wasted our evenings with the detective show that no one could understand? Had they done this to make American novels bad for a time? Were they distracting our anarchists with polyamory and meal replacement drinks, so nothing could get done? Had they bloated us with homebrew? Had they made Christianity viable again? Had they brought back snap-crotch bodysuits?"

"What do you mean you've been spying on me? she thought- hot, blind, unreasoning, on the toilet. What do you mean you've been spying on me, with this thing in my hand that is an eye? How were we supposed to write now that we could no longer compare anything to a phantom limb? Was the phrase "the Braille of her nipples" to be absolutely retired? Were we just never to say that someone "inclined her head like a geisha" ever again? Could we not call the weather bipolar without risking the prison of public opinion? Not imply that bird- watchers are autistic? Could we not say the crescent moon was "as slender as a poor person"? Not say the sun "crashed inevi- tably into the mountains like a woman driver"? Take all shades and strengths of coffee away, if we could no longer hold it up to people's faces!"

and the only way it was possible to comfort herself anymore was to stand in front of the mirror and say out loud, "Cows don't know about him."

"

"MY SAFE! she found herself screaming two days later, kneeling below her husband's work window with a needle standing in every pore, a pair of balled-up panties stuck to one leg and clutching to her chest what appeared to be a dictio- nary. "GET DOWN HERE AND OPEN MY SAFE!" She had tried every number that she could think of-_the sex num- ber, the antichrist number, the twin towers number-_but he grimly took the safe from her and freed it with 1-2-3-4. "Oh," she said, slumping with relief, her body unlocking as soon as the phone was in her hand, "that's good, that's funny. Like learning to count. Like Sesame Street." That night the safe went in the back of the closet, where the words NEW EN- GLISH could not wink at her any longer, and they never spoke of it again, and that was love, that was what love was now."

"Self-care, she thought, and sprinkled in her tub a large quan- tity of an essential oil that smelled like a Siberian forest. But when she lowered herself into the trembling water, what she would have referred to in the portal as her b'ole began to burn with such a white-hot medieval fire that she stood straight up in the bath and shouted the name of a big naked god she no longer believed in, and as strong rivers flowed off her in every direction she did not remember the conditions of the modern moment at all, she was unaware of anything ex- cept the specific address of her own body, which meant either that the hot bath had worked to restore her to herself, or else that she would have sold out her neighbors to the regime in an instant, one or the other."

"and tell him to go suck a poison pussy, sweetie Was it entirely his fault? Lately it seemed every man on the planet was about to burst from a supplement sold to him by another man with exactly the same set of opinions. "Mom, I want you to check Dad's medicine cabinet," she said one day during her weekly call. "Check and make sure he's not secretly taking some supplement with a bullshit name like Destroy Her with Logic 5000 + Niacin."

"It's nonsense!" a man hollered at her, rising unsteadily on his cane. He had read about the event in the physical newspaper. He signed every one of his texts, Love, Grandpa. "It's not nonsense! It's folk art!" she hollered back. Like those early American women who painted kids with enormous fore- heads, either because they didn't know how to paint regular foreheads or because it was a stylistic choice!

"Our politicians had never been so authentic, so linked arm in arm with the common people. "My favorite meat is hot dog, by the way," one told us. "That is my favorite meat. My second favorite meat is hamburger. And, everyone says, oh, don't you prefer steak? It's like, I know steaks are great, but I like hot dog best, and I like hamburger next best." And we shivered with recognition, and a vague vote grew solid in our hands, for we too liked hot dog best, and hamburger next best. We were the common people, on whom it all rested, and we lived in diners, and we went to church at the gas station, and our mother was a dirty mattress in the front yard, and we liked, God dammit, hot dog best."

"Her cousin, born the odd year before her, was autistic, at a time when they still blamed refrigerator mothers. Before he got too strong and was sent away, her aunt had built for him in the basement of her mansion a miniature kitchen. It was thought, somehow, that this bright and well-ordered corner of verisimil- itude would help him break into real life. Little T-bones, shaped like South America, dewy ears of corn, false cans with actual labels. But he cared nothing for this, he cared only for music, he slapped his temples to the pulse, and as he grew taller and turned the beat louder and louder it became clear they had it all backward: real life was in him, trying to burst the miniatur- ization of the body, little T-bones, dewy ears."

"A certain look used to come over her aunt's face as she crossed and held her son's wrists behind his back, in that imitation kitchen full of imitation food. It made her wonder if she ought to have children, for anything could happen, and you didnt know if you were up to it, how could you know if you were up to it? But she thought just as often of a little girl with pigrails who came running down the aisle of a plane toward her once, and patted her all over her arms and legs as she passed, and it was like a rain of soft blue bruiseless plums. She felt the surprise of it long after the girl was gone, and as she contemplatively sipped vodka from a shampoo bottle in the bathroom, a bloom came suddenly all over her skin: maybe she was up to it, after all."

"Her wish for the next generation was for them to be spared an age when numbers got sick- swarmed, clumped together, went plummeting off cliffs-_and the numbers were human beings. But could what they had started be stopped? "

"because when a dog runs to you and nudges against your hand for love and you say automatically, I know, I know, what else are you talking about except the world?"

"The theme they had chosen was swans, serene and graceful, though the only swan she had ever per- sonally met had stared her down outside the Kafka Museum in Prague and then attacked. It had chased her all the way down to the water, its half-a-heart neck stretched out in a scream, but of course, she had understood later, its nest must have been somewhere near."

"She held the little hand and waited for its wilted pink squeeze, like the handshake of a lily. She stroked the heaving back--how hard it was, to haul the body through even a single day- and traced the new brown down on the baby's forehead. She leaned over the child and said something; she said, 'It is going to be just like your mother."

[twistedtummies2]

Descending From the Sky - Part 1 (500 Followers Special)

IN CELEBRATION OF 500 FOLLOWERS...! (freezes as someone whispers in my ear) ...Eh? You...say I have 509 now? ...Frick. WELL, BETTER LATE THAN NEVER! Something a lot of people have wanted me to write - on this site as well as an alternate site I frequent - is a “rampage story.” You know the type: macro-sized predator goes stomping around eating people and causing destruction in their wake. I have several ideas for such tales, though most of them are still in the “pre-production” stages.  I decided to go with the one that could offer me the clearest possible plot, and which I know a few people were hoping to see: this is the third chapter in my Giant AU for My Hero Academia, based on Jack and the Beanstalk. In the past two sections, Midoriya and Kaminari went up to see the Giants. THIS time, however, one of the giants comes down to Earth themselves.  I mustn’t say more though, or I shall spoil the fun. This is a two-parter; part two will be up tomorrow. As is typical, this first section is mostly just expository stuff and...well...actual STORY than anything else. Most of the “fun stuff” will be in tomorrow’s second half. Keeping this in mind, I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for the support!

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Three months had passed since Izuku Midoriya and Denki Kaminari had descended from the beanstalk with the Golden Eggs.

The result of their fortunate adventures were plainly visible: the farm where they both lived had become far more prosperous. The fields had been able to widen, as their master, Aizawa, had been able to hire new farmhands, buy new equipment, and even purchase a new cow for milking! (Although Izuku couldn’t help but notice how much whiter Milky White’s output had always been.) The farmhouse had been repaired, and plans were in motion to construct a larger building, all while a second barn was being built to house all the new supplies. Over all of this rising splendor towered the magnificent beanstalk...and on the unusually hot morning where our story begins, the boys were very glad about that. Kaminari sighed as he paused in his work, wiping his brow with a spotted handkerchief before stuffing it back into his pocket. Though the boys could afford nice clothes, they usually wore their old peasant garb while working After all, there was no point in ruining the good stuff. “Y’know something, Midoriya?” he mumbled out, looking up. Midoriya paused, putting down his hammer and looking down at Kaminari. His expression was wide-eyed and attentive. Kaminari huffed, leaning against the side of the shed the two were in the process of building. “Life doesn’t make sense sometimes.” “Yeah, that’s a fact,” Midoriya said, with a small smile, and chuckled, turning his freckled face back towards his work. He was standing on a ladder and tapping nails into place to hold the roof boards. Kaminari was holding the nails in a jar, and passing them up, and was supposed to be holding the ladder. In that moment, however, the distracted blonde was more focused on the jar, biting his lip as he stirred the nails boredly. The pair had been alternating positions every couple of boards, since, obviously, it was a lot more work to hammer than to hold. Not that the heat made either of the stations particularly fun. Kaminari tried to get a bit of shade from the side of the shed, but as the Sun was facing in the wrong direction, there was no shade to be had. “What I mean is,” Denki went on, “I thought all this extra stuff would make our lives easier: a little less of a workload on us. Instead, it feels like we haven’t a chance to just...you know...breathe.” “I know,” Midoriya murmured, pausing in his work and dipping his head. “Nor a chance to visit our friends ‘upstairs.’” “Friend. Singular,” Kaminari corrected. “Unless you count that mean man-eater as a friend…” Both of the teens shuddered, and Kaminari even crossed himself. Midoriya shook his head and refocused on hammering as Kaminari passed up another nail, and made sure to grab hold of the ladder with one hand. He didn’t want Midoriya to fall over. For one thing, it would be kind of embarrassing if either of them broke an arm falling from a ladder after managing to climb up and down a mammoth beanstalk and never tumble once.

“Mr. Aizawa says that after this is built, we should be able to rest a bit,” Midoriya said, with a bright-eyed smile that made his green irises look like emeralds. “Maybe we’ll get to go back up there in a couple weeks.”

“Maybe,” murmured Kaminari, and frowned. “Hey, do you think he’s giving us extra work to keep us from going up there?” Midoriya frowned and turned carefully on the ladder, looking to the beanstalk, then looking over the farmland...and shook his head again, this time in disagreement. “No,” he answered, and continued hammering; the boards were hard and the nails long. “With everything going on, I think we can give him the benefit of the doubt there. There’s just...so much expansion, with all the buying and selling we’ve been doing…” “I’m glad he let us keep those Golden Eggs!” grinned Kaminari. “They look cool in the bedroom.” Midoriya nodded wordlessly in agreement, and began to descend the ladder. It was Kaminari’s turn to take care of the next few boards-and-nails. “We’ll get back there soon,” he said. “Things just have to get harder before they get easier.” “That’s one way of looking at it,” shrugged Kaminari, giving Midoriya the nail jar as he took the hammer. He bit his lip and looked off to the side. Midoriya tilted his head, concerned by the unhappy expression on his friend’s face. “Hey...something else wrong?” he asked. “Just...when I went up there last time…” Kaminari trailed off...took a breath...and shook his head. “Never mind,” he said, and smiled. “Let’s just get back to work. The faster we finish, the faster we can get inside where it’s cool.” Midoriya looked skeptical, but before he could answer, a voice interrupted the pair… “It’s going to take a little longer than expected to do that.” The boys looked up. The baggy-eyed figure of Aizawa was approaching the pair. The teens stiffened, almost as if standing at attention. “Good morning, Master!” they chorused, as if speaking to a drill sergeant. Aizawa rolled his eyes and made a grumpy sound. He made a lot of those. “Relax, you’re not in trouble. Yet,” he mumbled, then went on a bit more clearly: “I need you two to stop work on the shed today. There’s another job for you both now.” The teens looked at each other, then back to the head farmer. “Um...no offense, sir,” Midoriya spoke up, and sounded sincerely polite and curious as he spoke, “But why not get one of the others to do it?” “Or do it yourself?” suggested Kaminari, in the same tone. Neither sounded defiant, just a little confused. Aizawa crossed his arms and sighed through his nose, looking out over the farmland, watching the new helpers hoe and shovel and rake away… “I have to stay,” he said, simply and strictly. “And as for the rest of the farmhands…” He looked back to the pair somewhat earnestly. “...I trust you both more than most of them.” The two boys practically had stars in their eyes. “You...you trust us?” peeped Midoriya. “Really?” Kaminari gasped. Aizawa narrowed his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he droned, drably. “I trust Mineta more than you both, and he’s a donkey. And I trust my dog more than I trust him.” The pair ducked their heads with nervous, bashful smiles. Kaminari scratched the back of his head, kicking an imaginary pebble, while Midoriya rubbed one arm, trying to look anywhere but into Aizawa’s face. Aizawa rolled his eyes and then cleared his throat. “Ahem...the new help has loaded the wagon with produce to take to market,” he informed the pair. “Change clothes and hitch the horse up, then take it all. And this time, PLEASE don’t try to trade anything on the way for Magic Beans. One big green liability is enough.” He looked to Midoriya pointedly with those words. Midoriya gulped guiltily. “We’ll do our best, Master,” Kaminari promised, and slung an arm around Midoriya as he gave a cocky grin. “Just leave it to us! We’ll come back with more money than you can shake a stick at! Although I don’t know why you’d want to…” Aizawa just made another grumpy sort of sound and paused before going on… “Mind your way through the forest. Don’t stray from the path. Keep the cart moving on its course: some of the new boys have said they’ve encountered robbers in the woods, ever since…” He pointed up towards the clouds indicatively. “We’ll be careful, Mr. Aizawa,” vowed Midoriya, then looked to Kaminari. “C’mon, let’s get moving!” The duo folded up the ladder, and darted off to put away their tools before getting ready for the journey to market. Aizawa watched them go, then looked back to the partially finished shed, then turned his gaze heavenward. He glared as he looked at the top of the beanstalk...or, at least, the furthest point he could see, as it disappeared beyond the blue sky’s crest. He shook his head and pinched his brow as he walked off to see about feeding the chickens. “This place has never been the same,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t mind so much if I could decide if that was good or bad…”

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Meanwhile, in the Land of the Giants… “Sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?” The red-haired, fang-toothed giant known as Kirishima looked with concern to his friend. His fellow titan, Bakugou, narrowed his own crimson eyes, a sour expression on his face as he lounged on a sofa in their living room. “Hell’s that s’posed to mean?” he sneered. “What do you think’s gonna happen while I’m here?” Kirishima opened his mouth to answer...then closed it again. “...Never mind,” he shrugged, and gave a cheerful smile as he slung the leather backpack over his back. “Anyway, I better get going. Tamaki’s probably gonna get all anxious if I’m late; start thinking if I still wanna be his friend, and so on…” “Tch,” Bakugou scoffed, and took a sip of the coffee he held in his hand. “How come you hang out with that wuss anyway? He’s softer than you are!” “Hey, you can’t pick your friends!” “Yes, you can,” droned Bakugou, boredly. “It’s family. You can’t pick your family.” “That, too.” Bakugou blinked slowly, his expression tremendously dull as he took another drink. “Whatever. It’ll be nice to not have your dumb hair poisoning my vision,” he grumbled. “Yeah, I’ll miss you, too,” Kirishima chuckled. Bakugou just grunted, taking yet another drink. He licked his lips thinly as Kirishima tilted his head. “Hey...you certain you’re alright?” “What makes you think I’m not?” “I dunno...just...you’ve been a lot quieter lately. And you haven’t gone down to mess with the little guys in a couple of months. Not that I mind that at all…” He grinned. “Am I rubbing off on you a little, maybe?” “Dream on. I just haven’t had an appetite for ‘em.” “Uh-huh. Sure,” Kirishima mumbled, sounded unconvinced, and gave a smile. “Well...anyway, I’ll be back by tomorrow. Guard the house well!” “The fuck do you mean ‘guard the house well’?!” snapped Bakugou, barking out his annoyance. “DO I LOOK LIKE A DAMN GUARD DOG TO YOU?!” Kirishima sniggered, and responded with a jaunty mock-salute. Whistling merrily, the friendly giant thus left the house. Bakugou growled (ironically sounding VERY much like an angry guard dog), his fingers twitching around his coffee cup as he finished his drink. He stifled a burp in his ballooning cheeks - “HHHMMMRRRLLLRRRPH...grm…” - and swallowed the excess gas back down, thumping his bare chest with a beefy fist before rising to his feet. The Barbarian-garbed colossus then tromped back to the kitchen, cleaning his cup and putting it aside to drain and dry. In truth, there was something on Bakugou’s mind. Something that had been buzzing around in his brain for months, and had become increasingly more annoying. I climbed a beanstalk to the top of the sky...I befriended a giant, was able to hide from another...and I was able to make my whole village happy, and even the king...do you think anyone who’s ‘just meat’ could even think of all that? The giant ground his teeth together, fingers twitching again. “Worthless little runt,” he growled to himself. “What does he know?” The little one Kirishima called “Midoriya” wouldn’t leave his mind. He kept trying to force the small one’s words aside, but the pathetic rat wouldn’t get out of his head. It was starting to drive the titan insane. He’d spent his whole life eating humans. He was bigger, stronger, faster, and all around better than they were. It was the law of the jungle: they were SUPPOSED to fill his belly. It was just their fault they were so small and tasty! That’s how he’d always justified it. That’s how he’d always felt about it. And it wasn’t as if he ate indiscriminately. But now… Someones gotta knock some sense into you, Bakugou! You can’t just eat people, it’s...it’s not right! And if one of my friends is in danger...I’ve got to do whatever I can to help them! No matter what! Bakugou snarled, clenching his fists at his sides. The little vermin had guts. What he wouldn’t give to introduce them to HIS guts... Still...he hadn’t been down to eat in months now...and the truth was, what he’d told Kirishima was true. He just...hadn’t been in the mood to eat little people in a while. It was really starting to piss him off, because this had never happened before. They were his FAVORITE food...so what was holding him back? GRRROOORRRLLLB… Bakugou winced and hissed through his teeth, clapping a hand to his belly. His fingers rubbed over his bare, strong, well-sculpted abs as his stomach gurgled and “brumbled” noisily. So far, all he he’d had that morning was coffee. It seemed his gut was demanding something more substantial. For a moment, the thought of dozens of squirming little morsels flashed in his mind...but he shook that thought away with a toss of his messy blonde locks, and instead relaxed slightly as he stomped towards the icebox. “Something light oughta kill those damn noises,” he muttered coarsely. “Where’d I put those cold cuts…?”

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The wagon full of pumpkins, apples, cucumbers, potatoes, corn, and all sorts of other home-grown delights rattled along the semi-level road that twisted and twined its way through the forest. Kaminari sat beside Midoriya, who held the reins, while an old gray mare hauled the cart along at a steady trot. “Easy there, Chiyo,” Midoriya smiled gently, as the horse huffed softly, ears flicking at a noise from somewhere in the underbrush. “Just a jackrabbit.” “Hopefully,” mumbled Kaminari, then cocked his head to the left. “Say, Midoriya? Do you think we’ll run into that Yagi guy who gave you the Magic Beans?” “I doubt it,” Izuku said wistfully. “I get the feeling that was a one-time deal, or something.” “Hm. Got it,” Kaminari grunted, looking away again, a somewhat pensive, pondering look on his face. Midoriya’s smile faded. “Kaminari...seriously, what’s been bothering you?” “What do you mean?” “You’re thinking. A lot. That’s...very unusual for you.” “Hey. Thinking is dangerous. It can lead to headaches.” Midoriya smirked and chuckled, then paused, pulling the horse to a stop. “Come on,” he said, gently, placing the reins at his side nad putting a hand on Kaminari’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? Tell me.” Kaminari squirmed a bit uncomfortably. “We should keep going,” he said, quietly. “Aizawa said there were-” “We’ll be fine. Talk to me. We’re friends, right?” “Right...well, um...it’s just…” Kaminari took a deep breath, and let it out before speaking. “...I’ve felt...really bad ever since I went up the beanstalk.” “Bad as in sick?” “No, just...bad. Emotionally. I really messed things up, and I almost got killed for it. I was being greedy and stubborn and selfish, and...look, I still love money-” “And girls.” “Well, duh, girls are what make life worth living, and money helps there.” Midoriya sighed and rolled his eyes, still smiling. “But seriously,” Kaminari went on, shifting his position so he could look Midoriya in the face, “What I did was wrong and...well...kinda stupid, even for me. I wanna make up for it somehow, just...I don’t really know what to do. And with all the time that’s gone by-” “I forgive you.” Kaminari stopped short. “I forgive you,” Midoriya said, his smile gentle and friendly. “And I know Kirishima forgives you, too. If it makes you feel so bad, we’ll find a way to go up there and see if you can do something more. I wanna go back up there just as much as you do. But work’s gotta come first.” “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Kaminari sighed...then smirked, and adopted a dramatic pose, pointing forward. “Well...drive on, my good man!” Midoriya snickered at Kaminari’s over-the-top impression of a pompous nobleman. “Yes, My Lord,” he winked, and whipped the reins, clicking and calling out Chiyo’s name. Chiyo let out a soft whinny and began to move forward again. Kaminari paused to adjust his clothes: both he and Midoriya were dressed in sharp-looking coats and breeches, so they could look more presentable at the market. “Yellow and black are good colors,” smirked Kaminari, admiring the golden lining of his jacket. He grinned somewhat sneakily. “Hey, think I’ll impress a few ladies while we’re out?” Midoriya was about to respond...but before he could - and after the pair had only traveled about twenty or thirty yards - Chiyo suddenly let out a sharp cry and came to an equally sharp stop. “Whoa, whoa, girl!” called out Midoriya, and as the horse settled, he and Kaminari frowned and stood up in the wagon to see what was the matter. The pair were surprised by what they saw: a small girl, dressed in a somewhat ratty-looking white dress. She had metallic-colored hair, almost the color of steel, and red eyes that looked like a couple of fresh, ripe cherries. The girl was trembling slightly. Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared up at the pair. She didn’t move off the path, even as she stood. The two teens looked to each other, then back to the girl, and smiled. “Hello there!” Midoriya said kindly, and stepped down from the cart, while Kaminari stayed aboard and took the reins, just in case the old mare got a bit fidgety. The girl didn’t answer. She stayed still as Midoriya approached. His smile remained gentle and good-natured as he got down on one knee, bringing himself to the little girl’s height. “What is your name, little girl?” he asked, sweetly. The girl paused, blinking just once, before answering in a plaintive, soft voice: “Eri.” “Eri,” repeated Midoriya. “That’s a nice name.” He looked back to the wagon. “Don’t you think so, Kaminari?” “Oh, yeah. Short but pretty,” Denki nodded. Midoriya smiled a little wider, and looked back to Eri. “What are you doing out here, Eri?” he asked, carefully, and looked about with some small amount of worry. “Are your parents around?” Eri bit her lip and squirmed where she stood, looking away and hugging herself. “My...my papa needs help,” she admitted quietly, sounding almost ashamed of the words. “I...I heard your cart coming, and...c-could you...could you help me?” Midoriya frowned with concern. “Of course we’ll help,” he promised sincerely, and looked back to Kaminari. “Stay here with Chiyo and the market goods. I’m gonna see what’s going on, then we can figure out what to do.” “Gotcha,” Kaminari nodded. “Be quick though.” “I’ll try,” Midoriya said, then looked back to Eri with another kind, sweet smile. “C’mon, Eri...let’s go, okay?” He extended a hand...and to his surprised, Eri stepped back, letting out a tiny, timid whimper, as if she expected to be hit. Midoriya looked at his palm, then up at the little girl. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you. Just...take my hand, and tell me where to go. Alright?” Eri blinked a few times, looking between Midoriya’s face and his hand...then, her own tiny, trembling fingers clasped about his. Midoriya smiled and stood up, holding firmly but carefully onto the young lady as she led him off the path into the forest. Kaminari, for his part, watched them go. Once they were out of sight, he reached into the cart and picked out a juicy yellow apple. No reason he couldn’t have a snack while he waited: there was plenty in the cart to sell at market, anyway. He checked the surrounding trees as he took a crunching bite from the fruit. He made sure to be alert; he didn’t want to make any mistakes. After all, if Aizawa was right, it wouldn’t be a good idea to let their guard down in the forest… While Kaminari dutifully and calmly guarded the wagon, Eri led Midoriya deeper and deeper into the untouched woods, away from the road. Midoriya looked back and frowned; the cart disappeared from sight behind him. “How far away is your father, Eri?” he asked. “And what happened to him?” Eri bit her lip, and paused, keeping her head down. As they stopped, Midoriya looked to her with concern. “Eri?” he checked, quietly. “Please answer me.” Eri let out a whimper...and, without warning, pulled her hand away from Midoriya’s, as if his touch burned her. He stepped back with some alarm as her tiny, frail shoulders began to shake. He could hear her starting to cry. “...You’re nice,” she said very, very softly. “No one...no one has been nice to me...in such a long time…” She gulped and looked up to the teen with misty eyes. “I’m so sorry.” No sooner had Eri uttered the words...then suddenly, someone leapt out from the bushes behind Midoriya and grabbed hold of him. Midoriya gasped and whirled to try and fight back...but another figure lunged from behind a tree and grabbed hold of his other arm. Izuku’s eyes widened: both of his attackers were strapping, masculine figures, dressed in long black robes, with plague doctor’s masks upon their faces. “Wh-What is this?!” he shouted, and struggled to break free. “Let...LET GO OF ME!” “Good work, Eri.” Midoriya froze as he heard the words...and his eyes widened as a third figure stepped out from behind another tree, moving over to Eri’s side. They placed a dark-gloved hand on the girl’s shoulder; she whined like a kicked puppy and shuddered, clearly repulsed but unwilling to move away from the figure’s touch. This figure wore a long green coat, lined with unusual violet fur. He, too, wore a plague doctor’s mask...but this one was not the plain ivory visage the two strikers wore. His was decorated in red and gold, and covered only everything below his eyes. The golden eyes in question narrowed, a supercilious gleam in them. “Very good work, my daughter,” the voice behind the mask intoned. “Thank you for helping us, Izuku Midoriya. We have much to discuss.” The figure then pointed off in another direction, and uttered one command to the two cloaked men: “Take him!” “KAMINARI!” Midoriya yelled at the top of his lungs, struggling harder as one of the two attackers pulled a short club out of their robes. “KAMINARI! KAMINAR-!” WHACK! The world became fuzzy and filled with plain. Midoriya’s voice slurred unhealthily. “...K-Kamin-ar-i…” WHACK! Izuku knew no more. However, his cries had not gone unheard. Kaminari jolted as he heard Midoriya call to him with what sounded like real panic, the apple dropping from his hands and rolling across the dirt. It stopped right in front of the gray mare, who, thinking it was a treat, nibbled it happily. It was a lucky thing the apple distracted the horse, because the moment Kaminari heard the calls stop just as suddenly as they had come, he was on the move. He bounced off the wagon and bounded into the woods, calling back as he ran in the direction he’d seen Eri taking Midoriya. “MIDORIYA! MIDORIYA, I’M COMING!” Naturally, he was too late. Kaminari skidded to a halt, his expression horror struck, as he saw a second wagon not so far ahead...but this was no produce cart drawn by a farmer’s horse. Instead, it was a prison wagon, a cage-cart drawn by two black horses. He saw the driver’s plague doctor mask glint in the sunlight, and heard them laugh jeeringly as they whipped the horses up...then, the wagon rolled out of sight. Just before it disappeared, he caught sight of Midoriya, slumped over in the prisoner’s cage...alongside Eri and another figure he couldn’t rightly make out. Once it was gone, Kaminari stood stock still for several seconds, processing with dread what he had just witnessed...then, cursing under his breath, he dashed back through the woods to his own cart. Chiyo had just finished her apple, and let out a startled sound as the blonde-haired, yellow-eyed youth leapt back into the driver’s seat, tugging and cracking the reins. “C’mon, old girl!” he shouted. “We have to get back to the farm! This is an emergency!” The horse neighed, and the cart was soon turned around. Then, with another crack and a click, Kaminari rode the rattling wagon back down the road towards Aizawa’s farm as fast as he could…

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“Kidnapped?!” “Yeah!” Kaminari confirmed, emphatically. “I saw it happen, Mr. Aizawa! They were riding off with him; I couldn’t hope to catch up in time!” Aizawa grinded his teeth; a look of intense worry burned in his eyes. “Which way were they going?” he demanded, standing up from his desk in the room Kaminari had found him in. “South? West?” “East,” Kaminari replied. “Due East, no doubt of it.” “And you said the driver of the cart wore a plague doctor’s mask?” “Yes, sir!” Aizawa sighed. “There’s no doubt of it then,” he murmured, in an ominous tone of mortal dread. “He’s being taken to Yakuza.” Kaminari gulped nervously. Everyone in the Kingdom of Ua knew about Yakuza: it was one of two neighboring kingdoms, which had been feuding with the land for years on end. It was ruled by the evil King Kai; its armies were ruthless, and its defenses plentiful. While outright war had not been done in many years, relations between the kingdoms were still intensely...well...tense, to say the least. No one in Ua ever went to Yakuza...and lived to tell about it. “Wh-why would they take Midoriya?” Kaminari almost whimpered. “I can make a few guesses,” growled Aizawa curtly, as he dressed himself in his best hat and coat and looked to Kaminari. “I’m going to to take the new stallion to the castle. I have friends among the King’s Knights, they might be able to help us.” “I’ll go with you!” “No,” ordered Aizawa. “You stay here. I already have one of you in danger. I’m not getting you into any more trouble, and I don’t want you causing it, either.” “But I want to help!” “I know,” sighed Aizawa. “But this is no time for rash action!” “This is the PERFECT time for rash action!” Kaminari almost screamed out. “They took Izuku, and who knows what they’re gonna-?!” He stopped short at a burning, searing glare from Aizawa. He ducked his head and looked away. “...I’m...I’m sorry…” “Stay. Here,” Aizawa commanded, then added more softly, “Please.” Kaminari said nothing, but remained where he was. Aizawa looked the blonde haired boy over a time or two...then sighed again and shook his head, before hustling out of the house. There wasn’t a moment to lose. For a time, Kaminari stayed perfectly still where he stood. He listened. He waited. And the instant he heard the sound of Aizawa whistling to his horse, and the sound of the horse hooves galloping off into the distance...his eyes lifted. He looked to the beanstalk outside...and then moved to Aizawa’s desk. He hastily pulled out a small piece of parchment, and scribbled a message onto it. You said to leave you a note next time, the message read. I’m sorry, Master. I have to help my friend. I have to make up for my mistakes. Signed, Kaminari. With this managed, Kaminari clambered out of the open window, and crept towards the mighty beanstalk. He glanced from side to side, to make sure no one was looking...then, without another thought, he latched onto its based, grabbed hold of its stems and leaves...and began, once more, the long climb up...Up...UP…

“I’ll save you, Midoriya,” he promised, as he soon climbed up past the roof of the house, and kept right on climbing. “I’ll save you...one way or another…”

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“UUUURRRRRRRROOOORRRRRPH...mph...weak…” Bakugou snorted as he lounged back on the couch in the den of his and Kirishima’s home. His stomach was ever so slightly distended; just enough to make the strong, deep crevices between his six-pack muscles a little less well-defined, a clear but very small curve of fullness along his middle. One of his hands was resting upon his gut, covering his deep, black navel. He didn’t rub his stomach, didn’t scratch it...simply let his hand rest there, the limb rising and falling as his gut moved with his breathing. The ogre’s other arm was slung behind his messy-haired head as he glared with his usual, grouchy scowl at the ceiling, red eyes smoldering as he seemed to look through the ceiling itself...thinking and thinking. The (relatively) light meal he’d enjoyed left a pleasant warmth in his belly...but was not truly full yet. It barely made the slightest dent in his gut, and he knew he could fit more. But nothing around the house seemed to his satisfaction...and he had a feeling he knew what he wanted. What was stopping him? He knew what his stomach desired. He’d never denied it before. So why was he purposefully avoiding it now? He couldn’t even blame his appetite: he clearly wanted it, so what was holding him back? He didn’t know. This was...annoying. “Pissing me off,” he all but hissed to himself, fingers curling over his bare belly and twitching slightly with his ever-present anger. “Damn that little snack-rat...how’d that little fucker get inside my head anyhow…” He growled and shook his head, trying to push away the thoughts and the ever-repeating words. But they wouldn’t go away. He covered his ears, snarling and pulling at his hair. “Die, you stupid thoughts!” he snapped, trying to think of a way to force them out of his mind. He couldn’t take this much more…! He froze in the middle of his thoughts. His eyes widened as his ears pricked up. The giant listened closely. He could have sworn...he’d heard the scampering of tiny feet. He sniffed the air...and growled again, almost like a wild bear. “Fee, Fi, Fo-Fuck it. I don’t have time for this shit…” The giant swung himself out of his seat and onto the floor...but he didn’t stomp his way towards the source of the sound and scent. Instead, he cautiously began to prowl towards it, moving almost like a giant cat. He was fairly certain the little rat hadn’t realized he was around, and he wanted to keep it that way… The giant tip-toed out of the living room and towards the main hall. He peered around the corner, and his red eyes widened at what he saw. He looked both surprised and angry at the same time. Creeping across the floor was a familiar little fellow - no bigger than a mouse, compared to the man-eating man-mountain - with yellow hair and matching eyes. He nervously moved across the floor, peering from side to side and looking all around. “Kirishima?” he called out. “Hello? Is anybody home?” “Yeah. Someone’s home, little snack.” Kaminari jumped...then squealed with fright as he saw Bakugou step out from hiding. The giant’s teeth were bared in a vicious snarl, his fists clenched and visibly shaking. With a comical holler, Kaminari flailed and turned around, trying to make a mad dash back the way he had come… “COME BACK HERE, RAT!” Katsuki roared. “I’LL KILL YOU!” “That’s not a good incentive for me to come back!” Kaminari called back. Bakugou just let out a wordless shout of anger, and lumbered forward. In three long, strong strides, he moved in front of Kaminari. Kaminari skidded to a halt as the Giant glared and lifted one massive boot over him... “DIE, RUNT!” “YIPE!” Kaminari barely had time to scramble out of the way before the giant’s foot slammed into the floor. THOOM! Denki stumbled as the floor shook with the force of the stomp. He hit the floor was was briefly winded...and barely had time to lift a hand in a pleading gesture, a futile attempt to stop the inevitable, as Bakugou’s own giant fingers came swooping down towards him and snatched him. Kaminari cried out as he was hoisted into the air; vertigo hit him in an instant, and he felt woozy...but only for a second or two. He had much worse things to worry about as he was soon held up to the giant’s face. “What are you doin’ back here?” sneered Bakugou. “I...I was lookin’ for-GACK!” Kaminari choked and gasped as Bakuguou gave him a squeeze. His ribs felt nearly ready to cave in, and his spine creaked forebodingly. “I don’t give a damn,” Katsuki snorted, then smirked. “Guess it’s my luck you decided to try and rob us again. This time...you’re not goin’ home, runt.” Kaminari let out a terrified moan as Bakugou licked his lips. “I haven’t had a human to eat in months,” the ogre rumbled, his free hand rubbing his belly up and down. “Now, I’ll finally get a small taste again...thanks for comin’ to me, meat.” So saying, Bakugou closed his eyes and opened his jaws. Kaminari cried out as he was brought closer to the stinking hot maw of the man-eating monster, the tongue twitching as the teeth parted to reveal the slimy chasm of pink, soft flesh that would consume him. “W-Wait...WAIT, JUST A MINUTE! WAIT, PLEASE!” Kaminari yowled as the mouth loomed closer and closer, and he struggled in the giant’s grip. “I DIDN’T COME HERE TO STEAL, I PROMISE! PLEASE!” Bakugou stopped. His eyes opened...and he pulled Kaminari away from his jaws, closing them and glaring at the small morsel. “You’re...not here to steal?” he repeated, skeptically. Kaminari - relieved to be away from that mouth and the odor of digesting meat that came from it - sighed and nodded in confirmation. Bakugou glared darkly. “Why should I believe you?” “Um...b-because it’s true?” Kaminari eeped out. Bakugou’s glare did not soften. “Listen,” Kaminari said, and took a breath to steady himself before going on, still wiggling to try and find some semblance of comfort between the boa constrictors that were Bakugou’s mighty digits. “L-Listen, I...I’m sorry. For what I did last time. I know it was wrong, a-and I won’t do it again.” “Apology not accepted,” sneered Bakugou. “And if that’s all you’ve got, I’m eating you.” “It’s not, it’s not!” exclaimed Kaminari, desperately. “Please...wh-where’s Kirishima? I need his help!” “Stupid hair’s not here. He won’t be back till tomorrow,” shrugged Bakugou, carelessly. Kaminari looked mortified. “But...but...oh, no...now what do I do?” the human worried, speaking more to himself than the giant. “By tomorrow...b-by tomorrow, he could be dead…” Bakugou looked the tiny morsel up and down, and tilted his huge head curiously. “What do you need that extra’s help for, anyway?” he groused. “Midoriya. My friend. He’s been kidnapped.” Bakugou’s eyes widened anew. “Kidnapped?” he repeated, voice soft and somewhat shaky. “Yeah,” Kaminari nodded, his expression dour. “He...he was tricked…a-and a bunch of creeps from a rival kingdom took him away. I...I was too late to stop them. I though...maybe Kirishima could...you know...help me rescue him. Being a giant and all. But...without his help…” “Without his help, you’ll be better off,” snorted Bakugou. “Where is this kingdom?” Kaminari looked up, seemingly stunned. “Wait...you mean...YOU’LL help me?” “Psh. Don’t think of it as me helping you. I’m just helping myself,” Bakugou snorted, and smirked cruelly as he jabbed his free thumb to his chest, head held high. “No one’s gonna kill that green-haired, worthless idiot except ME. Besides, I’ve been on a ‘diet’ recently, you might say…” He licked his teeth as his stomach let out an excited burbling noise. “...I think it’s time I broke it. So...where do I need to go to eat?” Kaminari gulped nervously. “Um...uh...y-you need to go due east, f-from our home. I...I can point the way if you...um...maybe...p-promise not to eat me?” Kaminari smiled hopefully. Bakugou glared. “I don’t make promises to snacks,” he growled...then paused before going on, slowly: “Still...it’ll be hard to find the place without a guide...I guess I can let you live a little longer.” Kaminari sighed with even greater relief. “Thanks,” he breathed...then squeaked like a rodent as the giant quickly tucked him into his vest pocket. “Stay right there, and if you do anything stupid, I’ll squash you flat,” Bakugou grunted. “Now come on, snack. You’ve got another annoying bug to save…” He grinned viciously as he began to march out of the house. “...And I’ve got dinner waiting for me now. Heh heh heh…” Kaminari shuddered as he heard the giant smack his chops hungrily, and looked out over the white and blue landscape of the Kingdom Above the Clouds as his “ride” stepped out into the daylight and went on his way. “I hope I don’t live to regret this,” Denki murmured to himself. “Hang on tight, Midoriya...I’m coming…” “Ahem!” “Uh...oh, uh...w-we’re coming.” “Hmph. Better. Don’t make me regret not eating you…” “I’ll try...h-heh…”

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

Izuku Midoriya groaned; a splitting headache greeted him as he opened his eyes. Breathing, itself, required great focus, which only made the throbbing, stinging pain in his cranium worse. Something prickled like nettles inside his nostrils - it smelled like ammonia - rousing him from the bleary, black haze he’d been in for some time. He could still feel the weight of the club against his skull, and hoped he didn’t have any lasting damage to worry about. Midoriya sneezed as the odor became stronger, and shook his head with a louder groan, trying to clear it and focus on the fuzzy, faded-out world around him. “That’s enough,” a voice grunted. “He’s coming to.” The scent went away, and that’s when Midoriya became aware of a few things. One, his hands and ankles were both bound with what felt like rough hemp cord. Two, a large wooden post or pole was against his back, his arms wrapped around it behind him. Three, as he shifted his bound feet he realized they brushed against splintery wood. Finally, vision and total awareness returned to him...and Midoriya felt a chill go up his spine. The location appeared to be a city square, a huge black castle not so far in the distance, and various buildings all around him. This, however, was no city square he’d encountered before...and the people around him were the most unsettling part of all. There were hundreds gathered all around him, and while many of them looked perfectly ordinary in dress and appearance...at least a third of them were wearing dark robes and bone-white plague doctor’s masks, thee black lenses blankly staring at Izuku upon the pyre he was stationed on. At the base of the pyre, Midoriya became aware of a flicker of flame. He looked down and gulped nervously: one of the Plague Doctors carried a torch. Beside him stood King Kai: his purple eyes peering over the crest of his ruby-and-gold mask, dressed still in his expensive-looking green and purple coat. Half-hidden behind the King was Eri, who was visibly shaking, eyes darting about to look anywhere except at Midoriya. Midoriya blinked at Eri...then looked up with a glare at King Kai. “Where am I?” he asked, bluntly. “Wh-What’s going on?” “Welcome to Shie, the capital city of Yakuza,” King Kai answered, and Midoriya could sense the smirk behind the mask. “I am-” “I know who you are,” Midoriya said, trying to sound as brave as he could, but unable to stop shaking. “What do you want with me?” Kai blinked slowly. “Why don’t you guess, filthy Uan?” he responded, his voice cold and cutting. Midoriya bit his lip. “In the past few months, the Beanstalk you grew has helped make your kingdom’s capital all the more prosperous,” Kai decided to explain, his voice business-like. “I would like to know how you were able to create such a thing, and where all the wealth came from.” “And why should I tell you that?” Kai narrowed his eyes, and with a slight motion of his head, the robed figure holding a torch stepped forward. Midoriya shuddered, but held up his head, straightening against the post as he glared defiantly. “Y-You can do what you want to me,” he said softly. “I’ll never tell you anything. If someone like you figured it out, who knows what you could do!” “I can already think of a few possibilities,” Kai said, coolly. “But I would recommend reconsidering. Burning to death is a TERRIBLE way to go. Trust me.” Midoriya’s defiant expression did not shift. “Please don’t hurt him…” Both Kai and Midoriya looked down at the furtive little voice that spoke. Kai’s eyes widened as he found Eri tugging on his pant leg. “Please...j-just let him go,” she pleaded. “H-He’s nice, he didn’t-AH!” Kai sneered as one of his minions struck the girl across the face, knocking her back. Kai checked his leg and sighed with relief when he saw nothing wrong. “Never touch me,” he said, in a soft, warning tone. “How often do I have to tell you, Eri? You. Do. Not. TOUCH ME.” Eri sniffled and whimpered, holding her cheek; a bright red mark was visible upon it. “Leave her alone!” snapped Midoriya. “She’s your daughter, isn’t she?” “She’s useful on occasion,” Kai answered, in the same icy tone as before. “But she’s very undisciplined. A father is supposed to discipline his child when they misbehave, yes?” Midoriya looked ill. He looked to Eri with sympathy. “Are you okay?” he asked, gently. Eri blinked, clearly not sure how to respond to the question under the circumstances. “She is far from your concern,” Kai intruded. “I’ll ask again: will you tell us where you got those so-called Magic Beans that brought that stalk to fruition? This is your last chance.” Midoriya struggled against his bonds for a moment, but the knots were strong and taut. He heard several in the crowd snicker. Sighing in defeat, he glared at Kai, who stared up patiently. “Even if I knew where you could find them,” he said, firmly, “I would never tell you.” “Very well,” shrugged King Kai. “In that case, you are of no use to me.” He held out a hand, twitching his fingers in a beckoning gesture. The minion holding the torch handed it over. Kai then turned to address the crowd. “Citizens of Yakuza!” he thundered. “The enemy agent has refused to tell us the secret of the Magic Beanstalk. Today, we burn him, and purge his sorry existence from our clean and well-ordered society. Tomorrow, we shall treat those who live on his farm the same way...and then cut down the mighty beanstalk itself!” The crowd cheered, lifting their fists and shouting jeers at Midoriya. Kai smiled darkly behind his mask, amethyst eyes glittering maliciously as he turned back to Izuku. “Any last words?” Kai hissed. Midoriya blinked once...and gave his reply quickly. PHUT! Kai stumbled back...and his expression became one of livid horror as he felt the slimy substance on his cheek...felt his face burning, felt the hives itch and puff up… He glared with psychotic, feral fury at Midoriya, who smirked back with undying defiance after spitting in the evil king’s face. Kai snarled, and without further hesitation, hurled the torch onto the pyre. The kindling at the base of the pyre began to crackle and burn in an instant. Midoriya’s smile faded, and he began to struggle again. The crowd cheered louder than before, laughing and mocking Midoriya’s struggles as he fought for dear life. Smoke was wisping up, and growing rapidly in density...the fire would be burning fiercely in a very short while. If smoke inhalation didn’t kill him, the flames themselves would. Either way, it would be a lingering, painful demise. “HELP! HELP ME!” he called out, struggling to loosen the knots. Kai glared with triumphant anger as his robed minions taunted Midoriya by mockingly screaming for help, and the crowd pointed and hollered. “NO! NO, LET HIM GO! STOP!” Eri cried out, as two of the masked men held her back. “Perhaps you’ll scream out the answer while you burn, you diseased piece of trash,” sneered Kai. “If not...at least tomorrow we’ll make sure your family suffers the same fate.” Midoriya struggled harder in response, which made Kai chuckle. He crossed his arms, the dark king patiently watching the fire rise and the smoke billow, quickly growing into thicker and thicker curls of vapor...it wouldn’t be long before Midoriya began coughing and wheezing. He was going to enjoy every last second of this he thought, shuddering with revulsion as he touched the stinging portion of his face the boy had spat on. “Bring me my balm,” he muttered, looking towards one of his minions. “I need to-” THUMP-A-THUMP-A-THUMP… Kai froze...and the crowd soon went silent...as a huge, pounding sound echoed through the air. The ground began to tremble, and all across the city went very quiet, confused and frightened as the noise grew steadily louder, and the vibrations more intense… Midoriya blinked, and looked upwards, as did Eri and Kai and nearly everyone else gathered in the city square. Midoriya saw a huge, towering silhouette - at least as large as the castle itself - approaching the area… “Kirishima?” he whispered to himself hopefully, with an optimistic smile.

“A Giant!” exclaimed King Kai, and barked orders to some of his soldiers as he moved a few steps away from the pyre, the people of the city clutching each other, their chatter turning into frightened noises as the King shouted and cried out: “Get to the edges of the city! Fan out! Do everything in your power, but don’t let that...that THING pollute my capital!” The soldiers hurried to move, forgetting all about Midoriya, whose pyre still burned. Midoriya himself had almost forgotten, himself, given the circumstances.: the adventurous lad’s smile quickly faded into a look of confusion and fear as he realized the hair didn’t look like Kirishima’s...and as the giant moved closer and closer, and people in the city began to fretfully murmur, he soon saw the glare of two glowing red eyes. So like Kirishima’s, yet so unlike them. A flash of green and orange caught his eye...and that’s when Midoriya knew. “B-Bakugou?!”

To Be Continued...

[lilacandladybugs]

hey since youre talking about christianity, i was wondering if you could answer a question ive been curious about. if god cares about people and if jesus died for our sins, then why does hell exist? and if god cares about us then why did he let so much bad stuff happened in his name, and even cause it, like with the noah’s arch story?

sorry if any of this is wrong ive never read the bible, but ive had bad experiences with christianity in the past and the way you talk about it seems much nicer than the way i know it

I don’t think I can answer this question in a way that doesn’t come across as pretentious or like I’m asking for an argument or just being straight up unsatisfying. But I just am going to try anyway because i'm hoping that maybe this will be comforting or helpful to someone. I’m sorry if this is offensive I am really trying my best, please take this all in the best possible way and be gracious with me 

The thing about this ask is that it’s actually a bunch of different questions, and since each of them individually is really hard to answer so I’m going to narrow it down to just one ( im sorry ;-; ) . The one I’ve thought about the most is “Why does God let bad things happen if he loves us?”

When this question first really occurred to me, I was already a believer. So I was already pretty convinced that God exists logically, from the perspective of history, philosophy, science, and my personal experience. I believed in the /existence/ of the God who is represented in the scriptures. (I doubt anyone wants it but I can give you a list of resources if you want to look into any of that.) The struggle for me was whether or not all that evidence held true in the face of this moral dilemma; the problem of evil in the presence of a loving God.

But I just couldn’t turn my back on the concept of a moral grounding in God. I had a philosophy professor tell me that people are mortal and so we shouldn’t grieve them like they’re immortal, that grief is a choice, and that trauma is a choice. I respected her so much, but I just couldn’t accept that. There’s nothing more unsettling to me than suggesting that cruelty and death and suffering are only wrong because you think they are, and not because they’re violating sacred ancient laws. My friends dying, people hurting me, that isn’t just in my head. It’s /real/. They’re really dead, and it really matters. People really did something wrong when they hurt me, and it isn’t my fault for being hurt. It’s their fault for being cruel. And their cruelty is objectively morally wrong.

I realized that if I became an atheist I would have to accept the fact that there isn’t /objectively/ any difference between right and wrong. There isn’t any theoretical “right way” that the world should be. But to me, there is a right way it should be. There is a right way and it was lost because of sin.

It was I guess comforting that Christianity provided the premises I needed to ask a question like this. Evil exists. And love exists. So how can God exist? What a comforting question, in a way. To get to grieve, to be angry, to wonder what’s going on, to want things to be different. It was validating i guess

Don’t get me wrong i was FURIOUS i was so angry. I was so angry and so conflicted I kind of thought I might just like rip apart at my seams but I just felt caught between a rock and a hard place to be either abandoned by God or to not even be able to think about my experiences in a way that felt coherent.

He showed up though. I remember swearing at him, and laying up at night thinking he wasn’t there, I told him I wouldn’t have to have trauma if he would’ve stepped in, that my friends wouldn’t be dead, that he let it happen to me, that he just /witnessed/ it. And man idk he just showed up. He showed up every time. I almost walked away like five times that summer. And every time he sent someone, there was always someone that showed up and talked to me like out of nowhere. Or music, or scripture, or something someone said in passing. 

The night that it was really bad was when I realized that the only person who could save me was God and I cried out to him, and I just idk I’ve never been so desperate. I went to church the next day against my will and the sermon felt like it was written for me specifically. I cried through the whole thing.

If God is goodness, then how can I say he isn’t with me and around me constantly? In the sunrise and sunset, in the stars, in flowers, and in kind words. In sermons. In friends and family. In all the coincidences that stopped me from becoming an atheist, all of the answered prayers and the impossibilities. That’s why my side blog is called @in-the-whisper. Because I felt him there, even though it hurt, he was with me in the quiet and in the silence, in his whisper in a thousand different ways.

I was posed this question by someone who was there for me in one of those moments where I almost walked away from God, “Is sufficiency abundant?” I guess I thought it was. Where was God? In the peace that surpasses understanding. In the knowledge that everything is finished, that he died for us, that he didn’t abandon us. That whatever terrible things happen, he was willing to take all of the consequences for that onto himself in the person of Jesus. That one day he will set things right, even though it isn’t right right now. 

It comes down to the Gospel (good news, core story of the Christian faith); humanity actively chose to walk away from God in an act of rebellion. We had free will because God created us tenderly to be in a loving relationship with him, and loving relationships must be based on free will and they must be two way. So he let us walk away from him, and away from the sustainer of life our bodies break, our world crumbles, and we die. In order to bridge that gap, he chose to die in our place, so that we could re enter that free will relationship with him if we so choose. He died on the cross, descended into hell, and then in three days he rose from the grave, defeating death. And one day he will return on a white horse to rescue us and to take the world back as his own. If I believed that to be true, then I believed in the greatest intervention in human history that has ever occurred. The God of the Bible isn’t a distant God, "God showed how much he loved us by sending his one and only Son into the world so that we might have eternal life through him." 1 John 4:9 He did the unthinkable for us.

Living in light of the gospel helped me to understand the way that God is present in my life, my present, past, and in my future. It gave me peace. When Horatio G. Spafford’s two daughters and wife died in a shipwreck, he wrote this,

“When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul." 

“Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, let this blest assurance control: that Christ has regarded my helpless estate and has shed His own blood for my soul.

“My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought. My sin, not in part, but the whole, is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

“And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight The clouds be rolled back as a scroll The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend Even so, it is well with my soul!

“It is well with my soul, it is well, it is well with my soul.”

I don’t have an answer for your question. What I know is that I am willing to rest in the knowledge of my personal experiences and my research that God exists, that he is loving, and that he is powerful, just, and wise. Even the winds and the seas obey him, the mountains are like pebbles to him, thunder rolls at the sound of his voice. He had thought before time began, he gave all knowledge and all wisdom to us. 

Why do bad things happen also brings up the question, why do good things happen? Who do we have to thank when we get up in the morning and can see or hear or move or are alive in general? Why are we so blessed as to have two days and not just one? Where do mornings and complexity and beauty and wonder come from? They come from him. Not because we need it, but because he wants to give it to us. Enjoyment, existence, love, laughter, thought, beauty, heartbreak. The world is just as beautiful as it is terrible, and why should it be beautiful? Because he wants it to be that way.

God is so patient. He is so patient and kind and powerful, and he wants to hear your questions. Some of them, like this one, are in my opinion something that you have to talk to him about directly. He gives us thought and logic and reason and wisdom, and he asks for us to engage him. He will answer.

If any believers are reading this, I want you to know that it is enough to cry out to him in pain. It is enough to want to want to believe in him. He would so much rather hear from you in your anger than never hear from you at all. Seek him out, he will find you. He will chase after you.

I bet that he would chase after me, bet my life on it. I might not know the answer, but I am confident enough in what I do know that I’m willing to bet my existence that God will come true on his promises, that he will deliver me, that everything will be okay, that he is bigger than my trauma, and that he will hold me.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,     neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. 9 “As the heavens are higher than the earth,     so are my ways higher than your ways     and my thoughts than your thoughts. 10 As the rain and the snow     come down from heaven, and do not return to it     without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish,     so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, 11 so is my word that goes out from my mouth:     It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire     and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. 12 You will go out in joy     and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills     will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field     will clap their hands. 13 Instead of the thornbush will grow the juniper,     and instead of briers the myrtle will grow. This will be for the Lord’s renown,     for an everlasting sign,     that will endure forever.” Isaiah 55:8-13

And I’m holding him to that promise.

[fascinatedhelix]

Can I ask for more DJSS and Comet? I just want to hear more about them

Oh boy it’s mostly self-indulgent “high and mighty character grows soft after accidentally adopting a kid” stuff:

Comet’s first bed is a shoebox with a folded up throw blanket, because they’re so damn small. In a fit of what he deems creative genius, he takes a bunch of metallic sharpies and decorates with planets and stars to make it match better with his room. Comet just likes the softness of their new little nest.

Comet tends to hang out in his jacket pocket when he’s out and about. Sometimes the other artists ask him about his own trankil and he just very casually takes them out of his pocket to say hello. He’s less open to show them off to strangers, though.

He told the people at the baby supply store he was getting stuff for his little baby niece, because he thought the rumor of buying baby clothes and a bassinet for a trankil was more embarrassing than being an uncle.

Some of the fans with the privilege pass know about Comet, and there’s a market for photos of DJSS with Comet because the little one’s got a bit of a following, just for being so tiny.

Comet, like just about any other baby, is a messy eater. One day DJSS found that they’d jammed themself into a jar of grape jelly after he’d opened it to make sandwiches and they were just having a blast being a total mess. As difficult at it was to clean it off he was laughing the whole time.

When Comet gets a little bigger, DJSS learns very quickly that they have a considerable interest in making noise. Tapping against the glass of his helmet, dropping pebbles into water, splashing in the bath, fiddling around with his old soundboards, stuff like that. He knows it’s probably just stimming, but he holds out the hope that they’ve picked up his love for music.

Comet’s previous life ended pretty much the moment they hatched, being crushed by the shells of their siblings. They get nightmares about it for the first couple months of their time in DJSS’ care, and due to their newfound connection with the dream realm, they do at one point accidentally project their nightmare onto him. The nightmares stop for good when he digs himself and Comet out of the pile of shells in the dream, putting the fear to rest once and for all. He never brings up the image of the Abyss to anyone, but Tatiana does find that he’s less shocked about the revelation that the trankil had died before they were brought to Vinyl City than she expected.

Comet grows up to be a musician in their own right, much to DJSS’ pride. Their music is more chill and relaxing, like In Love With a Ghost’s style, and they’re not all that into the party scene, but they do like when people acknowledge their music. They even do a few space themed video game tracks in dedication to the man they started calling dad when they learned to write and sign.

[hailsfromthevoid]

Warrior Cats List of Suffixes

Sources for these names are from all the books, the official website's now retired games Consult StarClan for Your Warrior Name and The New Prophecy Quest, the family tree, and the username/warrior name generator.

I've also included names that exist in the WC universe that aren't used for clan or tribe cats but could've been, along with realistically plausible fan-created names. They are marked with + at the end. So new suggestions are welcomed!

Last updated September 29th, 2022, for Onestar's Confession.

[ A ] - Ant+ Apple+

[ B ] - Bark Beak+ Beam Bear+ Bee Belly Berry Bird Bite+ Blaze Bloom Blossom; from the username/warrior name generator. Bracken+ Branch Breath; from Consult StarClan for Your Warrior Name. Breeze Briar Bright Brook Burr Burrow+ Bush

[ C ] - Claw / Claws+ Cloud / Clouds+ Crackle+ Crawl Creek Cry+

[ D ] - Dapple Dash+ Dawn Drizzle+ Drop+ Dusk Dust

[ E ] - Ear / Ears+ Eater Eye / Eyes

[ F ] - Face Fall Fang Fawn+ Feather Fern Fire Fish Flake Flame Flare+ Flight Flower Flutter+ Fly+ Fog+ Foot Fox+ Frog+ Frost Fur

[ G ] - Gaze+ Gorse

[ H ] - Hail+ Hare+ Hawk Haze Head; from Consult StarClan for Your Warrior Name. Heart Hoot+ Horse+ Howl+

[ I ] - Ice+ Icicle+ Ivy+

[ J ] - Jaw Jump; from the username/warrior name generator.

[ K ] - Kit

[ L ] - Lake; from the username/warrior name generator. Leaf / Leaves+ Leap Leg / Legs; from Consult StarClan for Your Warrior Name. Light Lightning+ Lily+ Log; from the username/warrior name generator.

[ M ] - Marsh; from the username/warrior name generator. Mask Meadow; from the username/warrior name generator. Mew+ Minnow+ Mist Mistle; from the username/warrior name generator. Mole; from the username/warrior name generator. Moon Moss+ Moth; from the username/warrior name generator. Mouse Muzzle+

[ N ] - Needle+ Nettle; from the username/warrior name generator. Nose

[ O ] - Owl+

[ P ] - Pad Patch; from the username/warrior name generator. Path; from Consult StarClan for Your Warrior Name. Paw Peak+ Pebble; from the username/warrior name generator. Pelt Perch; from the username/warrior name generator. Petal Pike; from the username/warrior name generator. Pod; from the username/warrior name generator. Pool Poppy Pounce Puddle

[ Q ] - Quail+

[ R ] - Rabbit; from the username/warrior name generator. Rain+ Raven; from the username/warrior name generator. Red; from the username/warrior name generator. Ripple+ Rise+ River+ Roach; from the username/warrior name generator. Roar+ Robin+ Rock+ Root+ Rose; from the username/warrior name generator. Runner Rustle+ Rye; from the username/warrior name generator.

[ S ] - Sage; from the username/warrior name generator. Sayer; from Consult StarClan for Your Warrior Name. Scar Scratch Scree+ / Screech+ Seed Shade Shadow; from Consult StarClan for Your Warrior Name. Shell; from the username/warrior name generator. Shimmer; from the username/warrior name generator. Shine Sight Skip Sky Slate; from the username/warrior name generator. Slip Snout Snow Song Soot; from the username/warrior name generator. Soul+ Spark+ Speck / Speckle Spirit Spit+ Splash Spot / Spots Spring Squeak+ Stalk / Stalker; from Consult StarClan for Your Warrior Name. Star Stem Step Stipe+ Stone Storm Stream Strike Stripe Sun; from the username/warrior name generator. Swimmer+ Swipe+ Swoop

[ T ] - Tail Talon Thistle Thorn Throat Toe Tooth / Teeth Tree+ Tuft Tumble+ Twist+

[ U ] - None yet...

[ V ] - Vole+

[ W ] - Watcher Water Wave+ Weed+ Whisker / Whiskers+ Whisper Whistle Willow Wind Wing Wish Wolf+

[ X ] - None yet...

[ Y ] - Yarrow+ Yew+

[ Z ] - None yet...

[rhymingteelookatme]

after long sleep

Words: 588

--

It looks like a tomb.

That is Thosinund’s first strange thought, staring down at the eerie city. So far down- malms on malms of myriad lit windows and accents of shimmering stone. Here and there fall founts of mossy green; purple-flowered trees dot the avenues. Even the streetlamps look serene, bending over the pavement like great leafless lilies. It shines, it glows, it looms below her- and still the notion will not leave: It looks like a damned tomb.

Emet-Selch had told her to find him here when she turned. How he expected her to recall his words or to come so far in such a state, she has no idea. Do eaters need to breathe? Would she have simply sculled down and down through the sea, heeding a half-remembered call?

But she’s here now, and he has made all this—for her to find, or only for himself. For both or none. She doesn’t care to guess. This vast- this monumental spectacle- with its pale lights all beaming through the gloom. Waiting. Beckoning. So much empty pageantry to welcome her to her own death.

There is loss here already, loss and longing and regret. The whole place feels half-remembered: a dream deep-rooted, somewhere beyond even the reach of her Echo. Why does it seem to be looking back at her? Pleading with her? Why does its every lighted window hook and tug her like a cry she cannot hear?

Tell me what it is, Thosi begs the silent air. Tell me what it really is. What does it want from me?

-

The city knows her.

But it would, wouldn’t it? Seeing how it was made. And by whom. Though she can’t work out why everything is so tall—including the robed phantoms that make their footless way about the streets. Their longest fingertips are still two or three ilms above the top of Thosi’s head; she has a vague idea that Emet-Selch is showing off. The streets themselves don’t touch the ground, she finds: they merely reach from one building to the next, like so many bridges. Below them floats a mass of bluish mist. The effect is highly disorienting- another unfair trick.

Still, the melancholy is stronger than ever. All the elegant angled lines and mellow lighting can’t disguise it. Her footsteps might as well be pebbles in a canyon for all the noise they make; the air is thick and heavy with more than just the weight of the suspended seas. The phantoms speak in weird and warped tones, jarring to the ear. Distorted harmonies.

They name the city Amaurot. They speak of disasters in another land, a kind of sickness spreading through the star itself. They muse on what should be done when or if the catastrophes reach their own doorsteps. They are calm, steady, studiously kind. They think she is someone’s lost child. They have no idea how right they are.  

The more she hears, the worse the city feels. Its glittering windows seem like funeral candles now, untroubled in the windless depths. A shrine built to a memory centuries old. A mausoleum that knows her name. And with that comes an undercurrent of desperation���it drags at her, imploring, with every step. Every paving stone, every fallen leaf, all of them begging her: don’t you know us? Don’t you know us? We’ve been waiting for you.

No, she thinks at it with gritted teeth. With tears aching behind her eyes. I don’t know you. Leave me alone.

She has regrets enough. She needs no more.

[galxcs]

Drunken Nights

Link to AO3

Chapter One

Remus wasn’t surprised to find that Sirius was out by the lake again. As he approached him, he could see the numerous half-empty bottles of firewhisky surrounding him. Hogwarts curfew was long gone and there was a soft stillness to the night that surrounded them.

“I wish you would stop sitting out here so late. It worries me,” Remus said as he took a seat in the grass a foot away from Sirius.

Sirius did not startle at Remus’ words, and Remus’ reasoning behind them hung unspoken in the chilly night air. Remus didn’t want Sirius so close to the water when he was this drunk. He had told Sirius that before, but both boys didn’t expect nights like these to end anytime soon.

“I’ll be okay,” Sirius responded, his voice low and heavy with alcohol.

Sirius’ words felt like a joke when Remus really thought about them. He knew he was responding to Remus’ worry over sitting out so late, but with all these bottles around them, and the quiet sound of Sirius throwing pebbles into the lake, Remus wondered if they were true; if Sirius really would be okay someday.

He looked up at him, taking in his ivory skin and the way his dark hair seemed to be falling in his face more often these days. Sirius had hollow cheekbones and a sharp jawline that made his face all sharp wonderful angles with perfect black hair to frame it.

Sirius was attractive.

It wasn’t something Remus could lie about. Everybody knew it, and not just all the girls that Sirius took out, but even all of Sirius’ mates. James knew it, Peter knew it, Sirius definitely knew it, so Remus didn’t feel bad admitting it himself.

Sirius might have grown much taller since they were little, stronger too, but lately there was something about the way that Sirius’ appearance had changed over the years that Remus couldn’t stand seeing.

Remus’ gaze must have been strong enough to draw Sirius from his drunken stupor because Sirius turned into it, staring right back. And that was when Remus could see so clearly the thing that drove him mad.

Sirius’ eyes used to be a gray color that lit up the room every time he laughed, but now all Remus could see in them was the heavy weight of life. A weight that had drawn all the light from his gray eyes and filled them with something akin to sadness.

“What do you find so fascinating, that you can’t help but stare at me?” Sirius asked, his voice slurring in a way that his usual confident self only did on nights like these.

“Your eyes are not looking as gray as they used to,” Remus whispered.

There was something about the night that made Remus want to whisper. Maybe it was because it was already so quiet that any kind of disturbance seemed wrong and much too harsh. Or maybe Remus just hoped Sirius wouldn’t hear him.

“They’re the same,” Sirius assured Remus before turning back towards the lake.

The lake was pretty. It was a moonless night, which meant Remus did not have to avoid the ugly reflection of the moon on the water and could instead enjoy the look of the stars filling up the night sky.

It was hard to stay focused on the water, though. Remus was curious about what had happened to bring Sirius out here again tonight because, despite what Sirius said, there was always a reason. The silence dragged on until Remus could not take it any longer.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Sirius took another swig from a bottle and sighed.

“It’s nothing worth your time.”

“Sirius,” Remus started, “you’re always worth my time.”

Sirius turned his head sharply to where Remus sat, trailing his eyes from where Remus was playing with the grass between his fingers to his shadowed face. He stared until Remus wouldn’t let him anymore and met Sirius with an exasperated look.

“Well then it’s a good thing this isn’t about me,” Sirius finally said.

“Your parents?” Remus guessed.

Sirius glared at him with cold eyes.

“Drop it Remus.” He snarled, whipping his head away again so that he could angrily glare at the water.

They both sat in silence for a bit. Remus didn’t feel bad for asking because he knew Sirius felt bad for snapping at him. He also knew that Sirius would tell him eventually anyways. He never seemed to have a filter when he got this drunk.

Just as Remus was about to speak up again, a soft weight fell on his shoulder and the smell of alcohol and leather filled up his senses. Looking down, Remus could only see Sirius’ dark eyelashes and black hair. It was falling into his face, but he didn’t seem bothered by it.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered, his hand absently tracing circles in the grass next to where Remus was picking at it.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Remus mumbled back, tilting his head towards Sirius as he spoke so that his words were whispered directly into the boy’s soft hair.

“It’s nothing really,” there was a long pause. “It’s just, I got another letter today from my parents about becoming a Death Eater.”

Sirius’ words were all slurred together and hushed from how he was angling his head.

“They can’t be serious. They know you’re not on their side by now.”

Sirius audibly scoffed and sat up a little. “Please. What they think they know is that their prized pure-blooded son is just going through a terrible phase, and I’ll come back to them eventually. All I need is a little pushing.”

Sirius’ words were cold as ice and had the cutting edge of a sword. He threw another rock into the water, but this time much harsher.

“A little reminder here and there,” he said, and threw a rock. “A letter once and a while.” His words were getting louder and angrier, cutting into the peace that the night once had. “Put me in my place when I come home.” He threw another rock. “Because their perfect little son is still in there. Maybe enough crucios will draw him out.”

It was only on this type of night that Sirius had outbursts like these. It was only the influence of alcohol and Remus sitting beside him that would bring Sirius to actually voice his pain. His anger.

Remus placed his hand on Sirius’ before he could throw another rock. He knew that Sirius’ parents had used the cruciatus curse on him, but Sirius didn’t talk about it often, so he didn’t know how to respond.

“What if they’re right?” Sirius muttered.

“Sirius stop,” Remus said, his voice pained. “The only opinions that matter are those from the people who actually know you. James, Peter, Lily,” there was a barely noticeable pause, “me.”

Sirius nodded like he already knew that somewhere deep inside.

“And what’s your opinion?” Sirius said.

“What?”

“About me. If you know me so well, what is Moony’s opinion about the famous pure-blooded Sirius Black?”

Remus smirked softly to himself, thinking of all the things he could say. He didn’t even know where to start. Did he begin with first year when a very loud and excitable Sirius Black had taken in Remus as a friend without taking no for an answer. Remus, who in first year had scars all over and a terrible habit of stuttering.

Did he bring up the time in second year when Sirius had gotten a whole month of detention for fighting every last Slytherin in a group that had ganged up on Remus in the halls.

Glancing at Sirius and seeing him with his glazed over eyes made Remus wonder if he even remembered that he had asked a question in the first place.

“My opinion is that Sirius Black should really drink less.”

Sirius burst out laughing and turned to look at Remus, his eyes sparkling.

“But then when would I ever get time alone with my precious Moons?”

Remus tried to ignore the way his stomach fluttered at Sirius’ words.

“Come on Pads; lets get you back to the dorms.”

Remus looked down at Sirius and sighed. It was not going to be easy getting him back to their room. Sirius looked up at Remus and smiled his stupid little innocent smile like he knew exactly what Remus was thinking.

“Oh come on,” he said, grabbing Sirius by the arm, and hauling him up, ready to fall into bed and never wake up again.