#travel across the globe

[navalmaritimeacademy-namac]

Sea , Ship, Seafarer and Maritime Training Institute

Naval Maritime Academy

20+ years of experience at sea followed a decade-long teaching career.

Naval Maritime Academy

Captain  Dhyan Ranjan Subudhi

20 + Years of Sea Experiences as Captain

Faculty In Naval Maritime Academy (NAMAC)

Sea , Ship, Seafarer and Maritime Training Institute

The four words are very important and essential for each and every person which contributes largely to their daily life in this world. The meaning / Definitions of the above are :-

The Sea is defined as “A continuous body of salt water that is contained in an enormous basin on  earth surface ”

The Ship is defined as “A large water craft that travels the world’s oceans and other sufficiently deep waterways carrying #Cargo, Passengers, or in support of specialized missions such as Fishing, Research and Defense”

Meaning of a #Seafarers is “Some one who is employed to serve onboard any type of #Marine #Vessels #ships”.

#Maritime #Training #Institute means “An Educational Institutions recognized by the  Ministry of Shipping and Ministry of Education meeting the requirement of the International Conventions on Education and Instructions.

All the above four words should be linked or connected very well to each other in order to the shipping Industry  workable and Survivable.

A good quality #Seafarers trained in the best #Maritime #Training #Institute will be able to do their Job / Task professionally onboard a ship and keep the Sea (ocean) pollution free.

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

A Look into My Witness/ Destiny Cultural Project!

Greetings!! In order to help organize my cultural project (that I am still working on, so everything here is still malleable as my understandings and drafts change!), I decided to share with you guys what I aim to tackle (warning, I’m not a professional by any means)!

My project is a very causal one that will be used to form discussions with others. My goal is to encourage people of my culture to tell passionate and authentic stories after years of pressure to be docile to Western ideals, using the Witness and its role in Destiny to show that there are universal themes and antagonists we can portray to a worldwide audience!

I’ve been hopping around getting interpretations about Destiny in order to understand how others perceive a story that can be read to resonate deeply with our experiences.

For context, I am using this reading, inspired by my cultural experiences, to compare interpretations against and form this project: the greater story of Destiny is about how the indifference of the universe and its tendency to act in ways people see as cruel paired with the questions left by its silence drive people to seek an answer to it that is objective/perfect out of fear and pain, failing to realize that there is no one way to look at those aspects of the universe spiritually and that the pursuit of enforcing purpose leads to cutting away at beliefs/people that you deem a threat to your paradigm.

That fear of uncertainty and the inability to make the universe act the way you wish it would often leads to individuals forfeiting a personal existential pursuit in favor of assurance within a collective belief system that gives them a sense of safe, objective meaning; a system that can cause long lasting devastation, but can be defeated by choosing to fight alongside others to protect diversity and the right to self autonomy, even if that means living in a world that can cause pain alongside others that can choose to be immoral.

I relate this to an exploration of Caribbean culture against imperialism, specifically religious imperialism, and talk about beliefs/ideas like Myal, Obeah, Vodou, Evangelism, Fundamentalism, and Négritude.

Here’s what I have as categories!

A Silent Universe is One Open to Interpretation for All- Understanding the Traveler/Gardener’s role in Destiny’s narrative and how that leads into creating stories inspired by its dedication to free will as well as our own culture’s interpretations on the roles of the universe’s forces and divinity (with personal additions added from my experiences of focusing on scorning the universe instead of helping others understand their place in it as a partial result of people forcing the narrative of an omnipotent, omnipresent, all knowing God into fitting the white supremacist theory that slavery was earned via the lineage of African individuals to Ham from the Bible)

Don’t Submit to the Indifference of the Cosmos, Work in Spite of It- Understanding the Veil/Winnower’s role in the Destiny narrative and how that can enrich stories involving fighting against Social Darwinism and dogmatic cruelty (discussion of the hive occurs here)

Do You Need Salvation? I Don’t, but You Do- Understanding how the ideas that the Gardener and Winnower represent lead to the creation of the Witness and using that to sympathize and understand the behaviors of “Precursors” in our real world; an argument against the notion that ethics is only for “civilized westerners” and that religions with vertical morality/a “perfect”, blissful afterlife are the objective truth

We Don’t Want the Ends and We Sure as Hell Don’t Want the Means- An analysis on the intentions of the Precursors and how far intentions can be valued in stories that focus on the consequences

We Fight Systems, Not People- An exploration on how the decision to make the Witness it’s own being outside of the Precursors makes it a powerful representation of how individuals can harm themselves to make an oppressive system that is more than their individual actions

It is Beauty Amongst Ugliness- An exploration of how Destiny’s support of fighting for hope and personal freedom against insurmountable odds shows a potential interest from general audiences for Caribbean stories of maintaining hope in desolate conditions; a discussion on how tales of black triumph has a place on the world stage

You Look at the Sands, I Look Beyond the Horizon- A discussion about how more communal groups that are close to their cultural identity might focus on the more societal, large scale implications of a story rather than the more personal implications individually minded people see first, something to be aware of and acknowledge when creating cultural fiction (with observations about Witness interpretations and other pieces of media, like Dev Patel’s movie Monkey Man) (please note I am not demonizing any type of interpretation, I just think it’s important to consider that people have different scopes in order to avoid frustrations in story telling)

Disciples, Taken, Dread, and Zombies- An exploration of “zombification” (as used in the book Myal by Erna Brodber) to explain the treatment of the Witness’ forces and relate it to how imperialistic acts aim to strip people of cultural/religious identity to use for the perpetuation of its ideology

I Hope That’s Dread You’re Feeling - A discussion on how, after years of intimidation from oppressive powers, fiction can be used to cause negative reactions in audiences that move them to take our issues and stories seriously (with pieces of the Witness’ abuses, manipulations, and mutilations described); a discussion on the importance of fostering a Lordean Rage in depictions of abuses as well as the exploitation of black bodies (with additions from Myisha Cherry’s book The Case for Rage)

Leaving Lubrae Won’t Save You- An analysis of how Rhulk can be interpreted as a metaphor for zombification; how imperial powers seek to prey on the vulnerable and frustrated to isolate them, instill in them their ideology, and turn them on people who struggled just like them with promises of salvation (with additions from Derek Walcott’s Dream on Monkey Mountain play and the book The Wretched of the Earth by Frantz Fanon)

You Can Look at it This Way, or That Way, or That Way Too- An overview of some of the historical/mythological/cultural/philosophical/psychological references in Destiny that are key to understanding the world building and how Bungie uses them to enrich the game’s themes; a discussion on how we are not alone in our struggle to prove we have a right to existence and expression

You Should Always Aim to Do Better- A discussion of some of the narrative shortcomings in Destiny, especially involving racial biases (intentional or not), that storytellers should be mindful of when developing narratives or using cultures to inspire antagonistic forces

Is it Human? Male? Female? No, it’s Evil- A general discussion on the design of the Witness paired with more specific observations on how people interpret it’s gender; a detailing of personal observations on how whether the Witness is seen as masculine or feminine often coincides with what traits/interpretations of it are given attention, related to how imperialism is often seen as a masculine force

The Stars Were Made for Us Too- An encouragement to people of my culture to not shy away from implementing our experiences in sci-fi and fantasy settings based on some of the aspects people admire about Destiny (inclusion of varied forms of gender expression and sexualities, poc from different backgrounds being main characters, etc.) (with additions from a visual arts thesis a friend of mine is producing about black mythology and the novel Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston)

If you guys have any questions or want to participate, go to my pinned post and comment on it/Dm me personally! I’m still accepting responses to my questions and lore/references that could help me out, and I thank everyone who shared that post! Thank you for your time and I’m so excited to keep working on this to refine it more!

[urmum-lovesme]

you’ve also reached both sides of the us bc i’m on the east coast!

also i saw your post about 1883 and please i need cowboy rafe so bad

OMGGGG GIRL IM CONQUERING THE WHOLE US

WATCH OUT THE BRITISH ARE COMING

^^^me taking over

BAHAHAHA Im kidding... (😏)

As for Cowboy!Rafe- I've literally already written out a little something for them but its so silly and small idk if i want to post it 🫣

[stupid-jirai]

Vent about people better than me i guess

How about people stop telling me I'm mature for my age!!! I know!!! Its not like I wanted this! Its like my brain sped up and went grew faster than it was supposed to. And Its not like i have anything to prove for it either. Unlike my friend. Shes super smart and pretty and she's in college even though shes a sophmore, she does cool stuff like going to a big fancy student board of Representatives meeting in a different state and im just here being stupid and ugly and depressed. She does so much but its just because shes better than me i guess. She gets to meet nobel peace prize winners and im here on tumblr whining instead of doing anything valuable with my life. Idk It's so weird I'm so weird kill me (T.T)

[blackfem]

To everyone who reblogged this post I offer a call yo action: Can you show up the same way for Palestine? For Congo? For Hawaii? For Sudan? Can you affirm the love you feel for trans women and, without praise or reward or the gratification of knowing, use it in pursuit of uplifting the oppressed peoples of the world on which trans women are included and everywhere?

The injustice that persists in the world is interconnected (that, in part, is what intersectionality is) and we are not free until we are all free. I was going yo highlight some tags I thought really heartwarming in their expression of love for trans women, but instead I ask you if can take that 'love' you proclaim and turn it into something actionable?

This pride month cherish every trans woman you have the privilege of meeting. The bravery and courage I've harnessed to come out and live a life prioritizing my happiness wasn't given to me no. But rather, it was planted in me like seeds, nurtured through showing me the potentiality there is for a future where I could be myself. It is frightening and scary to take that leap but it is oh so worth it.

I would not be here if it weren't for the trans women I've had the pleasure to know. They brighten lives by just existing, bearing the brunt of some of the worst treatment this world and this community has to offer. I have been blessed enough to know community and solidarity with other black trans women, to know in body as well in spirit that I am not alone.

To any fat trans women reading this, never let anyone diminish your beauty with their flawed standards. To any black trans women reading this, your self-worth is inherent, your kindness a gift, and a boon to everyone you meet. To every trans woman reading this: I love you, I love you I love you; you are so much more than your survival and infinitely amazing.

I wouldn't be here without you. And I hope reading this makes you feel less alone.

[tronform]

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[invoncible]

BLUFF ✰ mark grayson & mohawk mark w/ childhood bsf! fem! reader cw. canon compliant themes (ex. distress)

SUMMARY. when mohawk mark doesn't find debbie at his childhood home, he goes after the next best thing: you. he thinks you're together in this world too, and when he realizes you're not... well, how could he possibly give up such a perfect opportunity? / wc. 6k oops

— i started this to train my writing skills but it got out of hand T-T anyways enjoy <3

You didn't even notice your phone ringing. It must've been the third time it buzzed on your kitchen counter but for the life of you, you could not look away from the news. Invincible was laying waste to all the major cities of the globe, seemingly unprovoked.

Your breath caught when the news broke to process new information, senses finally tuning into the whirring behind you. You swiped your phone, barely glancing at the caller ID before answering.

"Hel—"

"Y/N, thank goodness." Debbie gasped on the other end.

You stood rigid. You've known Debbie your whole life. You and Mark were inseparable growing up—it was a rare occurrence to hear her so unnerved. Her unease was contagious, zapping through the wireless connection and taking root in your conscience.

"Are—" You cleared your throat, clutching the phone tighter. You walked over to the window, dragging down the blinds with two fingers and peeking outside. "Are you okay? You sound—"

"Fine, I'm fine." A shaky exhale was what you were met with, along with the sounds of a car starting up. "Honey, have you seen the news? You need to stay safe." A pause followed, too long to be natural. "Do you have anywhere else to go?"

You scrunched your brows in confusion. "Um... no, I don't. But from what they're saying on the news, the Invincibles are only targeting big cities."

"Listen. If you stay there—" Debbie's line crackled as you assumed she was driving away, far away from the neighborhood and fast. “—‘ll come for you.”

“No, you don’t have to do that. I've got my car if something goes wrong.” You pulled away from your phone, glancing at the call screen when you got no response. "Hello?"

"In light of new footage, we have information that—"

The TV fizzled out next, the low drone of cable replacing rowdy chatter of the newsroom. A low-pixel message of NO SIGNAL floated around the screen, bouncing off the edges.

You stared at yourself in the black reflection, wishing it would flip on again so you weren't alone with your thoughts. The paranoia was setting in... you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Mark is—”

beeeeeep.

"Hello?" You whispered over the phone, desperate for Debbie's familiar comfort. “...Debbie? Mark is what?”

A rhythmic beeeep beep met your ears instead. You glanced at your phone once again—CALL FAILED.

"Ohhhkay." You muttered under your breath. This is fine, you soothed yourself.

The electricity in your house died out, gently setting you into darkness. With the TV signal lost and your phone disconnected, the cell towers and power grid were probably down.

This is fine. As long as you stayed inside, you'd be fine.

You pulled down the blinds once more, letting a shred of the sunset glow into your home. Your gaze travelled to Mark's house; across the street, a couple houses down. So easily accessible yet so distant at the same time.

You and Mark were attached at the hip for seventeen years—your entire lives. Separation should have felt strange. But just two years since growing apart, his absence almost felt... normal.

Almost like he was never there to begin with.

You went off to university. You assumed he did, too, but got more reliable intel when you connected with William. He shared that they both got into Upstate, as well as his girlfriend, Amber.

Girlfriend?

You remember the pause you took to process that information—the moment you realized he was moving forward while you remained where he left you. Facing the reality that you were no longer a part of his life.

"Stop fidgeting," You whispered with a little chuckle. "It's high school, not the end of the world."

"High school is where things start to happen." Mark whined as he pulled down the hem of his sweater. "Grades matter, who you hang out with matters, girls matter."

"Uh-huh."

"You think I would make a good jock?"

"You've got the look for it."

"Dumb?"

"Yes."

Mark rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips as you both walked up the steps to the next phase of your life. "That's not very nice."

"You can be anything you want, Mark." You groaned, deciding to be encouraging. "Literally. You're good at everything. You'll fit in wherever you want to."

"Okay. Too nice." He huffed and bumped into your side. "But thanks. I just..."

Your brows furrowed in concern when his head dipped, distress sneaking its way through his cheerful disposition.

"Stuff's supposed to happen this year. Big stuff." He was mumbling, unfocused like he regretted taking the conversation this direction to begin with. "I don't want to mess this up."

You wanted to tell him high school wasn't that deep. There were complete losers that all turned out just fine. Something about his expression, though... it was heavy.

You weren't sure what he was talking about, but you knew what he needed. You always did. "Whatever stuff you're talking about... it's gonna work out. You'll take it one step at a time just like you always have, and you have your parents at your side.... William, me."

He offered you a little smile. "We'll do this together?" He held out his pinky finger.

You giggle and interlocked yours with his. "Together."

He broke that promise pretty quickly. Different classes were the first step apart. From there, it only got harder to see each other.

Family stuff was Mark's favorite excuse—vaguely explaining family stuff had become 90% of your conversations. You figured he didn't want to tell you whatever he was really going through, which was fine. It hurt, but it was fine.

Before you knew it, you stopped talking altogether. You didn't think much of it at first—you were approaching adulthood, obviously you were going to get busy. You just thought you'd get busy together. You didn't even know what he was up to these days.

You drew back from the blinds with a long sigh, hoping that Debbie and Mark were safe. Wherever they were.

You trudged down into the basement to turn the generator on. The wooden stairs of the unfinished space crrrrrreaked under your feet. You waved away the dust, pounding your chest to cough the particles that snuck their way into your airway.

It was cooler down here, much darker without the ambient lighting of the sunset above. With your trusty phone flashlight, you managed to maneuver your way through the storage buckets and old boxes to the backup generator.

You grunted trying to pull the lever down. "Shit..." you cursed in disgust, feeling the grime and dust underneath your palm. i want electricity i want electricity, you repeated over and over to block out the icky sensation.

"Need some help?"

"Ah—!" you shrieked, spinning around in a panic. Your flashlight illuminated the figure in front of you, shadowed by the soft light of open door upstairs. "What—" who—?!

"Damn. Relax."

Vaulting over your initial dread, you grabbed something—a wrench or a hammer, you didn’t know, you didn't care—and swung it with all your might.

They caught it in their fist. Your breath shriveled up in your throat at how stiff they were, intercepting your attack without even budging. Their fingers curled tight around the tool and yanked you close.

"tsk, tsk," Their low voice chuckled. "Thought you'd be happy to see me, pretty girl."

You shone your light into the intruder's face, the tension in your body dissipating when you recognized—

"...Mark?" You squinted in the darkness, the flashlight just barely illuminating his face in a ghastly glow. "Wha... what are you doing here?" You huffed.

Blood was pumping through your system, telling you to get ready to run. Your nerves wouldn't calm their tingle even though you realized it was just Mark. Cuz it was Mark, right?

"Checking on you."

"Where's your mom?"

"Smart enough to leave home."

"Oh, yeah. She called. I thought you'd be with her..." You trailed off, frowning when you heard him laughing. "What?"

"Nothing." He hummed. "You're just so..."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"Okay..." You gave him a weird look. Then your brain caught up to you: Pretty girl? "Aren't you dating Amber?"

He took a moment to think, tossing the wrench aside and grabbing your wrist in his hand instead. "Am I?"

You pursed your lips, eyes narrowing. "I'm... asking you?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

"What—" You exhaled, brows knitted in confusion. You tried to pull away but he held firm; for every step back, he followed. "Mark, wait—"

Your phone clattered to the ground, the ray of light spinning chaotically through the darkness before it fell on its back.

"I missed you." He murmured lowly, almost reverent in the way he boxed you against the cold generator. "Shhh..." He calmed your trembling frame with his strong arms (when'd he get so strong?) wrapped around your shoulders.

He burrowed his nose in your hair. "It's me, bunny. Why're you so scared?"

This isn't Mark. Your heart pounded at your chest, eyes frozen and piercing into the darkness over his shoulder—Wake up, dumbass. This isn't Mark.

When your tremors refused to quiet, he pulled back with what you hoped was concern. That's when you saw his hair...

"Is that..." You whispered. The soft light from the main floor was fading, but reflected off the shiny sides of Mark's head. "Are you bald?"

What was he doing in the two years since you saw each other?

"Aw..." He laughed heartily, leaning further towards you and flattening his palms over the top of the generator. "Not quite."

He leaned to your side, breath fanning over the shell of your ear as he continued to snicker to himself softly. He grabbed the lever of the generator and shoved it down.

Your body jostled into his firm chest as it sprung to life. It went clank-clank-clank-clank, pumping electricity back into your home. You heard the melodic trills from upstairs as devices booted up again.

The light in the basement flipped back on. It didn't reach you. Mark towered over you and kept you in shadow. But you could see him—rather, who he wasn't.

"What?" Mohawk Mark grinned down at you, sadistic and teasing. "Not who you were expecting?"

No, not who you were expecting. He looked like Mark, sounded like Mark, felt like Mark... But your Mark had a kind face.

"You're not..."

"Nope."

You felt the heat drain from your body as you simply stared up at him, wide-eyed. Run. Where? Why the fuck was he dressed like ... Invincible...

A connection snapped together in your head, synapses clicking together like legos. Oh. Invincible. Everything made sense now, and you felt a little stupid for not figuring it out sooner.

And now one of those murderous variants you saw on the news was in your home.

"You're really out of it, huh?" He frowned, waving a gloved hand in front of your face. He sighed and looked away, "I thought you'd—"

You had the itch to burst into a sprint. You snatched your phone off the floor and ducked under his arm, skipping stairs to the main floor. Car. Keys? Where the fuck did you put them?

A shuddered whimper tumbled off your lips. You felt helpless, mind racing with too many things at once to pick one task and get out of there. You snatched your purse from the sofa, rifling through it to make sure your keys were inside before going outside.

"Come on, come on," You whispered, out of breath.

"Don't run from me, Y/N," Mohawk Mark sang teasingly, drawing out the last syllable of your name. "Hey, I'm just playing with you."

You screamed anyway, the sound harsh and high-pitched. He pouted, hand firmly around your arm to prevent you from breaking away.

"C'mon, baby. You're hurting my feelings. We're just having fun, yeah? A little roleplay?"

First off, you wished he'd stop calling you things like that. It felt wrong, but... good. With every pet name, he let butterflies loose in your tummy. Your heart pulsed, sending heat to your cheeks. Your brain reminded you, this isn't Mark... this isn't Mark... this isn't the real Mark...

Second, what kinda freaky ass fuck did he turn into?

You rolled out of his grip, barely making it a step away before his arm circled around your stomach, pulling you back into his chest.

"Get the fuck off me—" You squirmed uselessly, your phone and bag tumbling onto the floor. You yelped when he threw you over his shoulder, patting the small of your back affectionately as if securing cargo. "Mark!"

He just laughed, taking off through the door at a abnormal speed. Your nose smushed into his back under the acceleration, stomach somersaulted twenty times over as you soared up into the clouds.

He stopped in the air. With a hoarse shriek you clung to him as if he was your lifeline. He was, in this moment, despite everything. Your legs immediately latched around his waist, and he supported you with hands under your thighs.

"Oh, come on, now." He chuckled with a shake of his head. He easily held you and brought a hand to wipe your cheeks. "I'm just playing around. If I'd known you were this sensitive, I would've taken it a little bit easier on you..."

You hadn't even realized you started crying.

He stared at you, eyes trailing over your face. He laughed softly to himself. "Who am I kidding. No, I wouldn't have. You know how cute you are when you cry?"

You glared at him but his grin only grew wider. "What? M'not gonna hurt you! Haven't I shown you that?"

You stared at him incredulously, finally finding your voice and blowing up at him. Your fists curled, pounding at his chest and jabbing a finger in his face. "You broke into my home and have me hanging 100ft in the air?!"

"So? I'm not dropping you, am I?" You felt his fingers tap against your thigh.

"That—" Your cheeks burned. but from being embarrassed or flustered, you couldn't quite place.

"This world's Mark is the biggest piece of shit for leaving girlfriend all alone."

You blinked, "Girlfriend?"

"Yeah, you're..." Mark's head tilted, sharp eyes acutely aware of your confusion. "Ohhh. Don't tell me that fucker didn't lock you down."

You didn't even know what to say. Things were being thrown at you left and right and you were still on the fact that Mark was Invincible. Your mind rifled through all the headlines that had his name... all that pain, death, and destruction... and how you weren't there for him.

He clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Well. I'm a better version, anyway."

[]

The sun finally set on day 2 the war with no hope in sight. Mark just admitted Eve into the hospital—she stubbornly decided to help him with two of his variants and paid the price. Her broken leg was under construction, and she was unconscious.

Mark sighed as he closed the door behind him, looking up to see Cecil waiting for him in the hallway.

"You can't be here, kid."

Mark scowled. "The other Invincibles know about this place. They could kill her to get at me. I... can't lose another friend. I won't."

After Amber, Mark wanted to be with Eve. It was the next logical step, right? Both superheroes, went through a lot together, understood each other... But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not even under Future Eve's advice.

Not when he still held space for you in his heart.

He was an asshole for it, he knew that. He couldn't put a date to the last time you spoke and he selfishly held onto your memory. Were you pining for him like he was pining for you?

His time with Amber taught him a lot. He wasn't going to make you suffer like she did. He wasn't going to ruin the friendship he had with you just because he selfishly wanted your love.

"We're losing this, Mark." Cecil sighed, snapping Mark out of his thoughts. The bruise on his face throbbed with every word. "The world needs you."

"You got every superhero on the planet fighting for you right now." Mark shot back angrily, shutting his eyes only to see you behind his lids.

"Mark. Oliver's out there. Your mother's out there." Cecil pressed, pulling out his phone. "Which reminds me. She left a voicemail."

With his interest successfully piqued, Mark listened as his mother's panicked voice played over Cecil's device.

"I can't reach Mark—if you see him, tell him I'm at Paul's. Oliver insisted on going out there, and I let him on the condition he finds his big brother."

Mark's gaze dropped down to the floor guiltily, a war of emotions swirling inside him.

"I couldn't stop him if I tried. He was going to sneak out anyway, but..." A sharp inhale. "I'm worried. I know they're strong, I know that. But these other versions... they're nothing like Mark." Seconds of silence passed as she collected her thoughts. "Can you check on someone for me? If all these Marks grew up the same, there's a childhood friend on our street that he was never without. I tried to reach her but service went down. Please."

Cecil pulled back his phone. "I already sent agents to her home—"

Mark's head snapped up, gritting his teeth in annoyance. "What did I say about going near my family?"

"I wasn't aware she was family." Cecil raised an eyebrow, pocketing his device and pulling down his cuffs.

"They're my responsibility. She's my responsibility." Mark retorted, running a anxious hand through his hair.

"A thank you would be nice." Cecil mumbled, unperturbed by the boy's argument. "Seeing as you are currently shirking said responsibility."

"Don't—" Mark lurched forward, a threat on his tongue. Cecil flinched backwards, his hand firmly in his pocket finding his controller.

Mark pulled back, dropping his fist. "...Just shut the fuck up, Cecil." He blasted off through the halls.

Cecil watched him leave with bated breath, exhaling slowly when he got the intel that Mark was off the grounds. At least he was out there.

[]

"I killed the Guardians, yeah."

"All of them?"

"Yeah. No big deal."

You raised your eyes in surprise but the notion wasn't as gruesome as you thought it would be. Blinded by love, maybe? Or were you just happy to be talking to Mark again, regardless of the version?

Hours ago, you couldn't imagine sitting in your bedroom with the man who invaded your home. But, genuinely, what were you supposed to do? Pick a fight and lose? Worse, die? You weren't so stupid to waste the goodwill he held for you.

"What happened to me in your world?" You asked, your voice quieter now.

Mark tilted his head, exhaling through his nose. His jaw flexed, like the memory alone was an irritation.

"The resistance killed you to get at me," he muttered, his voice dark, laced with something sharp and unhinged. The crazed gleam in his eye flickered under the dim lighting, like a fire burning just beneath the surface. Then, with an almost amused sigh, he shifted his weight, offering you a small, self-satisfied smile. "Don't worry. I made them pay for it."

You didn’t bother asking how.

Mark’s arm stretched behind you, draping lazily across the back of the pillows, his fingers idly toying with the fabric of your sleeve. Every casual brush of his fingertips sent a ripple of goosebumps across your skin.

"We were a good thing, you know," he mused, voice lower now, softer. gentle. "You didn’t fight me. You didn’t run. You loved me." There was a teasing lilt in his voice that you recognized.

That’s not so different here, you swallowed the thought, masking it with a roll of your eyes. "Did you love me?"

That made him pause. His gaze flicked to yours, brows furrowing slightly, like the question had caught him off guard. Then a slow smirk tugged at his lips, amusement flashing in his expression before he let out a low chuckle.

He leaned in so close you could feel his breath ghost over your lips. "Let me show you," he murmured, voice dark and filled with intent.

The air between you tightened as his hand trailed from your sleeve, fingers dragging along the bare skin of your arm, slow and deliberate. His touch was light, teasing, like he was waiting for you to react—to pull away or lean in.

You offered him nothing but a careful stare and the slow rise and fall of your chest.

His eyes narrowed, delighting in the challenge. His nose brushed against yours, his lips lingering just shy of touching.

Pull away, your brain screamed at you, ringing every warning bell it had in the book. This isn't right.

But his other hand came up, grazing along your jaw... and his fingers slid beneath your chin, tilting your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes... all of it felt so familiar, like something out of a dream. And it'd been so long since you saw his brown wells, you couldn't tear your gaze away.

Your daze was broken when you heard him laugh again. He adored the way you frowned in confusion, the moonlight twinkling in the reflection of your eyes.

“Aww,” he cooed, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “look at you. So easy. This world’s Mark has left you all alone, hasn’t he?”

Your chest rose and fell with uneven breaths as he tilted his head, watching you squirm.

“S'like you’ve been waiting for this," he hummed. His hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes darkened at whatever he saw.

“I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, brushing his lips over yours—you could feel him smiling. “Since he won’t.”

Stop, stop, stop. You wanted Mark, wanted him desperately, but not like this. Not with him.

You released the breath you were holding when he paused his fixation on your lips, head turning minutely to the side as if he was hearing something.

"For fuck's sake..." Mark scoffed, a low chuckle passing through his lips. "Speak of the devil."

What?

Mohawk Mark heard the whistle of air before you did, only clueing in when it grew louder. It reached a peak when a projectile CRASHED through your window—

You scrambled backwards on your mattress as splinters flew everywhere. Mark caught you before you tumbled off the bed, shielding you from the broken glass and wood.

"What's—" You began to ask, but over Mark's shoulder you saw him—the real Mark.

You just stared at each other for a moment, though you couldn't see much past his tinted goggles. But the slow scowl growing on his lips communicated all you needed to know.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Mark—the real one—growled. "Get off her."

Mohawk Mark laughed into your shoulder, turning to face him. "Why? She's not yours, is she?"

Mark's eyes twitched behind his goggles, abandoning his inhibitions and diving at him, grabbing his variant's hair and yanking him off of you—

"Mark..." you warned, fear bubbling in your gut.

—your caution fell on deaf ears; Mark threw him up and drove him through the floor.

"Mark!" you yelled behind him, feeling the air whip past your face, following him as he crashed into the living room below. "Shit—"

Squeaking as you fought against the slope of the cavity, your feet, only clad in socks, provided the worst possible grip and you began slipping down the gap. Your breath caught in your chest as you felt yourself plummeting—

"Hey." His voice was urgent yet comforting, his arms tightening around your body in seconds, pulling you back from the edge. "I got you."

Your hand instinctively gripped his shoulder, grounding yourself as you realized you were suspended in his embrace. As he gently descended to the floor, your eyes moved quickly, scanning the outline of his goggles.

"You... I guess you know now, then." His voice was low, heavier than usual, like a weight he’d been carrying finally released.

The moment your feet met the ground, you stepped back, your heart pounding. Across the room, Mohawk Mark was sprawled on the floor, blood leaking from his nose, unconscious for now. Your gaze flicked back to your Mark, heart still racing.

"Yeah, I know." You snapped, the anger rushing through you, the frustration and confusion bubbling up.

His expression faltered, something unreadable flashing across his face before he sighed, almost too quietly, as if he were disappointed in himself.

"You’re angry," he observed, his voice tinged with regret.

"No shit, I’m angry!" Your hand shot out, slapping against his chest before it balled into a fist at your side. Every inch of you was yelling at him, every question, every unspoken feeling, everything that had been left unsaid for the past two years. "The first time I've seen you in two years and it's—it's not even you?"

"I know, I know," Mark’s hands moved to his mask, tearing it off with an impatience that only grew when it caught on his nose. He grimaced as he yanked it free, tossing it to the side. The dim light of the room revealed the exhaustion etched into his face, but even through that, you could see him—the real him, just... different. Worn down, tired.

"I can explain."

"You better fuckin start."

"Be mad at me all you want, but look at this." His arms gestured wildly around your place. "I was right to not tell you! It could've been way worse, way sooner if you knew anything about what I was really up to. Why didn't you leave when Mom called you?!"

"The phone cut off, asshole, I didn't hear everything she said, and I certainly wasn't aware that you were the one behind Invincible—"

He shook his head, dismissing the topic. He stepped into your space and held onto your arms. "Did he touch you?"

"Get off me."

"Did he touch you?" He pressed, shaking you slightly as his grip tightened around your biceps.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the urgent crack in his voice. "Yes, but I let him."

He pulled away from you as if burnt. A heavy silence hung in the air, nothing but the clattering of broken floorboards crashing down from above.

"...He's a murderer, Y/N." He whispered, eyes narrowed.

You knew that. You knew he was right. "I was... vulnerable."

"He killed people—"

"Shut up," You snapped, cutting him off. "Don't lecture me; this is a nonissue. What was I supposed to do? Hm? Want me to pick up my fists and come out swinging like you did—"

"I thought he was hurting you!"

"My hero." You rolled your eyes, the words dripping with bitter sarcasm. You knew you were being unfair, maybe a little cruel, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You were exhausted from the many near death experiences you've somehow survived in the last few hours. Strung so tight you felt like you might snap.

Every inch of you was begging to cry and let him hug you like you both so clearly wanted... but the fact that it took something this bad to get him to show up? That hurt more than anything.

Mark stared at you, his face an amalgamation of emotions, like he couldn’t decide on one.

Should he be angry at you for being difficult, for making him work for this moment when all he wanted was to explain? Should he feel pain, the sharp ache in his chest that another Mark got to hold you before he did? Or was it jealousy, searing heat into his face, that another version of himself had been the one to touch you, to be close to you before he had the chance? Maybe... maybe it was the bittersweet happiness, the relief that he was finally standing here in front of you.

He didn’t even care that you were glaring daggers at him—he missed staring into your eyes, albeit hardened and displeased, making his heart race; the way you’d furrow your brow when you were frustrated, the way your voice would call out to him.

Mark’s hand twitched at his side, wanting to reach out, but he held himself back. Would you even allow it? The distance between you was far more than physical. He had a thousand things to say but in that moment, words felt hollow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he finally muttered, his voice quieter, more vulnerable than he intended.

Childish.

You scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes again. "All that time and that's all you have to—"

Before you could finish, your world spun. The floor tilted beneath you as Mohawk Mark launched himself into you, sweeping you off your feet and through the door.

[]

"Y/N!" Mark yelled after you, breathing heavy in a panic. "No, no, no, no—" He launched himself from your home, bursting through the roof after you.

You barely heard him over the rushing wind. You clawed at Mohawk Mark's back, the height siphoning the air from your lungs. "Stop..." You ordered weakly.

"Changed your mind already?" He laughed, cradling you in his arms. Your head lolled against his chest. "Don't tell me you buy his bullshit."

"Mm..." The sharp ascent from ground level to the clouds made your head spin, vision darkening as you grew dizzier.

"You're fucking dead!" Your Mark came out of nowhere, shooting up beside Mohawk Mark and bashing his nose in. With a pained groan, he dropped you. "Shit—"

"Look what you made me do, dipshit!" Mohawk Mark snarled, shoving Invincible away and bolting after you.

"Don't—" Mark growled in frustration, racing against time. He watched as your limp body dropped helplessly against gravity.

It never changed. Whether he told you or not, you would end up in these perilous situations regardless. He cursed under his breath, catching Mohawk Mark's ankle and catapulting him into the night sky before pushing forward.

He collected you in his arms before it was too late, wasting no time as he shifted his direction and carried you off to GDA's hospital.

[]

The steady beep... beep... beep of your heart monitor was the first thing you tuned into upon waking up.

"Oh, good."

Your eyes fluttered open, slowly drifting towards Mark. He was bent over your cot, his hand on your forehead while staring down at you with stars in his eyes.

"You just passed out. Nothing serious, but I wanted to make sure." He mumbled, pulling back.

Your eyes drifted back to the ceiling, unfocused and hollow. There was too much—too much to process, too much to feel, too much weighing down on your chest all at once. It pressed against your ribs, thick and suffocating, a tidal wave crashing over you before you could even take a breath. Every nerve in your body screamed with something—fear, exhaustion, embarrassment, confusion—but it all blended together into one overwhelming, crushing force. Your mind was shutting down for its own sake.

The sounds around you dulled into distant echoes, the weight of your own limbs barely registering. Your chest rose and fell, but it felt mechanical.

"Y/N?" Mark whispered, brows furrowing in concern. "Hey." he poked your shoulder.

You shook your head, turning away from him as tears pooled in your eyes. God, you felt so embarrassed.

Mark frowned when you shifted away from him, any comfort he planned to offer dying in his throat. "I'm... sorry." was all he could say.

Nothing.

His leg bounced nervously, chewing at his lip as he fought with his own emotions. "I want to kill him for putting hands on you."

Your brows tightened. Not what you wanted to hear either.

He sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair. "M'sorry for blowing up at you. It's not your fault—"

"It is." You sniffled. "I missed you... so much, that I pretended that he was you..." you choked on the words, turning your back to him and burying your face into the pillow. "How pathetic is that?"

Mark's heart squeezed, kicking off his shoes and climbing onto the bed next to you. "Stop. Not your fault." He reiterated.

You scoffed and shook your head, laughing wryly. He frowned, and pulled you to face him. He saw your tears and felt his own pile up behind his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I told my.... uh, last relationship that I was Invincible. It didn't end well for her, and I didn't want to put you in that same position. Always unsure, always in danger, always waiting..."

"I'm not her, Mark." You muttered.

"I know." He pursed his lips. "I was gone for months at a time—"

"I waited two years for you, didn't I?" You pushed away from him and sunk back into the cot. "You didn't even give me a chance."

Childish. That’s how you sounded. Because in the end, that’s all you two were—two kids who once grew up side by side finding each other once more, with all the petulant hurt coming through the surface.

A beat of silence passed between you, with nothing but your heart monitor to keep the time.

"You said he touched you." He started.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "...don't bring that up."

"No, I want to know." He shifted his weight, hovering over you. His face was painted with something foreign, green-eyed and greedy. "Show me."

Heat blossomed on your face as you lay in his shadow. "Mark..." You laughed nervously. "It was barely anything."

"You missed me so much you had to settle for that." Mark didn't look away from you for a second. "I want to give you the real thing."

You screwed your face up. Again, the thought passed through your mind: you wanted Mark, but not like this. "I don't want this to be a pity thing."

"No," Mark shook his head firmly. "not pity. Everything I feel for you has been there since... since I can remember. And it fucking boils my blood that a different version of me got to you before I had the balls to do it myself. Please," he whispered. "I need this."

"Need what?"

"You." He answered, like the answer was obvious. To him, it was. "I'm done waiting around."

You blinked at him before a soft smile spread across your face. "Me too."

Mark's lips brushed against yours with a gentleness that made your heart ache. He cupped your face in his hands, and you melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck.

You let out a soft sigh when his lips parted slightly, allowing you both to breathe. You pressed forward, kissing him harder, feeling the intensity of everything that had been building between you over the years—years of longing, of waiting, of wanting something more.

Mark responded with equal hunger, his hands sliding down your back, pulling you closer. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his heart pounding against yours.

Where had he touched you? Mark didn't care anymore. By the time he was done with you, you'd know his touch and his alone, and he'd know every inch of you like the back of his hand. He wasn't leaving this room without it. He was allowing himself to be selfish for once; for you, it was worth it.

He sat back on his haunches, tugging his gloves off by his teeth before diving back into you, sliding his bare fingers underneath your shirt, sighing into your mouth as he squeezed your skin in his palm.

"You'll never need anyone ever again," He nosed your cheek, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. "Promise."

This time, you believed him.

— wayyy too self indulgent lmk if it was boring at places :)

© invoncible

[earlgreylatte]

Hello, You

(Invincible Variants x Reader) Of course he would come to see you. You’re the reason he’s here, after all.

After hearing the news to stay inside as the attack of Invincible copycats decimated cities across the globe, you hid under your blanket, the light from your phone illuminating your face as you watched the broadcast for any sign of your Mark.

You could only hope that he was alright, that he wasn’t blaming himself, that he knew you were waiting for him to come back safe. He already has enough problems as is.

Your distress is momentarily tempered when you hear your window slide open and your floorboards creek. When you don’t hear Mark immediately greet you or tease you for being bundled up, any concern you felt for Mark becomes overshadowed by fear for yourself as you hear footsteps near your prone form.

You can only tremble, clutching your blanket close to your body until the room goes silent. You shakily exhale, becoming confused when another quiet beat passes. When your breath returns to normal, the blanket is ripped off of you, eliciting a scared yelp.

For a moment you only stare in confusion at the sight of your boyfriend’s estranged father before realizing it’s not Nolan Grayson that stands before you, but Mark clad in a costume similar to his father’s. His face is impassive, mouth a firm line, so unlike the expressive nature of your Mark.

He calls your name. Quietly, yet there was something heavy in his tone. Something you could almost delude yourself into thinking was longing.

His hand brushes against your cheek, moving down your face before resting on your shoulder, a finger pressed against your pulse.

“You sound healthy,” he comments, deceptively neutral in his delivery, but even behind his goggles, you could feel his gaze burning into your face, ��In my world, you had cancer. By the time the Viltrumites reinforcements had arrived, it was too late. All that talk about life changing technology and medicine, but it ended up being utterly useless to me.”

Your breath hitches, but he continues, “But here there’s a me that rebelled and an you that never got sick. That got to live past high school. That’s just the way it goes, I suppose.”

His hand travels lower, brushing past your collarbone before resting on your breast, your heart hammering beneath his palm.

“Do you know why I came here?” He wonders, his free hand planting itself on your bed, as he moves his body to hover above yours until the only thing you can see is him.

“No,” you whisper, staring into black lenses.

“Because even after all these years, the only heart I wish to know, to hold, and to cherish is yours. I was willing to play human for you, to tolerate the presence of the idiots that breathed the same air as us, but then they all had the audacity to outlive you. And I can’t move on. So the selfish man that I am, I’m here to take you. To have you by my side again, no matter how much blood I have to spill,” He declares before pressing his lips against yours, muffling your gasp and cries, gripping your wrist when you try to shove at him.

He only pulls away when you start to feel lighthearted, looking down at you as you struggle to catch your breath.

“You can cry and protest all you want. You loved me once, you can do it again,” he asserts, bring your wrist to his mouth, leaving a kiss against your pulse point. “This world was doomed the moment your Mark decided to rebel. I won’t let you die because of his delusions.”

“…I’m not her,” you speak up. “I don’t know you, not really.”

“I know,” he responds, “but every inch of my body is crying out to you, and I’d rather kill everyone on this planet before I let you go again.”

He releases your wrist, instead sliding both hands under your shirt, gloved hands savouring the feel of your skin, your warmth seeping through the fabric.

“…you’re shaking,” he notes, throwing a glance at your discarded blanket on the ground, “I’m sorry, I’ll warm you up. I promise.”

“Mark,” you say, out of instinct more than anything else, your mind coming to a blank.

“Shh,” he hushes you, voice gentle but firm, “Let me take care of you. Like I always do.”

A part of you is relieved that he hasn’t taken off his cowl because you knew you’d crumble under the emotion that would undoubtedly be in his eyes. The same eyes that always held so much love and adoration towards you.

His lips press against yours again, more demanding and heated, as hands travel higher and higher until—

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one that thought to come here,” an amused but familiar voice drawls out, the Mark on top of you pulling away, body covering yours protectively.

Another Invincible sat at your window ledge, black and yellow costume starkly contrasting the rest of your room. He smiles at you when you peak around Mark’s arm.

“Honestly, you were acting so high and mighty earlier, but you’re pretty desperate, huh?” He mocks as the other Mark’s face becomes stonier. “But, really, you should fuck off somewhere else because that’s my girl you’re feeling up right now.”

Before he can respond, another voice interrupts him as you notice yet another Mark, floating behind the one at your window.

“Fucking seriously? How did you even get here before me? I bet you halfassed your locations,” The Mark with a mohawk that has you raising your eyebrow complains, “I literally called dibs on this one! Find someone else!”

Feeling the tension build up, you only hope that Mark checks in and saves you from the bullshit you’re witnessing as they begin to snarl and yap at each other like feral dogs.

Why me, you lament.

Shiesty Mark: hey, babe, it’s Big Dick Friday—why the fuck are you all here??

Why is there no Omni Mark content, he and that shiesty mark were my favourite…

I feel like omni mark is the definition of ‘quite literally hates everyone but you’

Masterlist

[usurpator]

Man I can't believe this relatively niche foreign artist only gives concerts in major cities in their country and doesn't go on world tour to visit my city on another continent

[luv-lies]

cw. 18+ mdni, fem!reader, dom!nanami, established relationship, unprotected, 𝓂issio𝓃ar𝓎, 𝒹ogg𝓎 style, lots of praise, pet names sum. it’s your honeymoon and kento can’t wait to have his newly-wed wife all to himself

your honeymoon in kuantan has been nothing short of perfect. most days were spent relaxing on pristine beaches, where the sun kissed your skin and the waves lapped at your feet. the weather was beautiful, and the food was delicious, each bite blissfully savored. and then there was the sex—insatiable. more accurately, it’s kento who’s insatiable.

“come on, push back against me. that’s it, that’s it. . . good girl.” kento groans, your pussy squelching wetly with each deep thrust of his hips.

it’s been a couple of hours since the both of you started, the sunlight only just peeking above the ocean waves now that it’s beginning to set into dusk. he’d made his intentions clear long before you returned to the hotel. the lingering touches on your lower back, fingers teasingly rubbing the front of your panties under a table, never going further than flicking the bud of nerves. the hand squeezing your jaw brought you back to him, fingers pushing deep into your skin and tilting your head back until your eyes meet his.

his thrusts never give up, his other hand gripping your hip tightly as he drew you back into him over and over and over. “my perfect wife,” kento grunts lowly, your gummy walls squeezing and swallowing his cock so deliciously good, his length so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach. “so good f’me.”

if it wasn’t for his grip on you, you’re sure you would’ve collapsed onto the bed by now. your thighs tremble, clit twitching with need as his heavy, full balls slap against it. as much as it was exhilarating, it also felt so overwhelming. “ken, too much—” you whine, reaching back with your hands, weakly pushing at his abdomen where the muscles strained and tensed with each movement of his hips. you feel him lean over you, forcing your back into a nasty arch, hands on either side of your head, face squishing into the pillow as his pelvis smacks into the fat of your ass.

kento’s eyes remain locked on yours, each breath escaping his lips in heated puffs. his eyes travel down to where your hands push at him, briefly flickering to where the globes of your ass cheeks flatten against him before glancing back up at your fingers. he takes in the sight of your gleaming wedding ring, the one he placed on your finger. his pace slows considerably, reduced to toe curling, slow, deep thrusts inside.

you watch in slight confusion, his gaze making your stomach flutter in anticipation. it doesn’t take long until he’s grabbing at either side of your hips, briefly kneading the skin there. with an effortless motion, he flips you onto your back. “so gorgeous ‘nd needy,” he makes a point to roll his hips into yours, his dick plowing into you repeatedly, molding your greedy pussy to the shape of him with each unmerciful thrust. “and all for me.”

“kento!” you cry out lewdly. his calloused hands find yours, intertwining your fingers and kissing your wedding ring. you can’t help the moan that leaves your lips when he rolls his hips. “you’re taking me so well, sweetheart.” he whispers hoarsely into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin, peppering kisses across your jaw and down your throat. finally, he presses a soothing kiss to your lips, swiping the drool on the corner of your lips with his tongue.

kento always ensures sure you know how much he loves you. always making sure you can feel the depth of his love. whether it be gliding his hands over your skin to soothe your aching muscles or losing himself in you until the early light of the morning pours into the room. he belongs to you as completely as you belong to him. his lovely wife.

you moan softly into the kiss, his fingers quickly finding your clit, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers before using his thumb to tenderly caress it. he spells his name, intimately slow, k-e-n-t-o. he repeats this until you’re writhing, briefly pulling away from your love-bitten lips where a string of saliva stretches between your sodden tongues.

kento thought you looked absolutely beautiful beneath him, your tight walls spasming around his throbbing cock whilst his name fell from your lips oh so prettily. with another push into your slick cunt, he’s leaning down to kiss you again—sloppily, length dragging across your walls and allowing you to feel each vein as he fucks you.

you can feel your breath being knocked out of your chest, hips desperately bucking up to meet his hips. “please, i-i’m so close, i’m so close!” you can tell kento’s getting close too, his forehead resting against yours with deep grunts and shaky huffs of breath. his pace is unforgiving, a contradiction to the words of praise he unabashedly lavishes.

“come for me, darling.”

with a final thrust of his hips, your eyes roll back, lips parting with a silent scream. your pussy greedily sucks him in as you gush around his twitching length. the way you envelope him tightly, glistening juices dripping, creating a milky ring on his cock is the cherry on top. kento clenches his jaw with a groan, burying himself to the hilt. his cum bursts deep inside you, filling you up to the brim with a warmth you feel you can’t possibly live without.

he presses a kiss to your swollen lips, which you return almost instinctively. his hand moves to gently brush aside the damp strands of hair from your forehead. “are you okay, sweetheart? i didn’t go too hard, did i?” he asks gently, delicately caressing your cheek as he gradually softens inside you.

with a tired yet affectionate smile, you nod, allowing yourself to relax into his familiar touch. “i’m okay, ken.” you assure him, soft and pliable in the comfort of his presence.

kento reciprocates your smile, pulling you closer as he carefully rolled the both of you over so that you were laying on his chest. when he shifts, the tip of his cock nudges your spongey nerves. your hips jerk a little, the addictive feeling of pleasure never wavering.

he lets out a low chuckle when he notices your cheeky smile. “still needy, are you?” you sit up and rest your hands on his chest, thighs on either side of him, framing his hips. you teasingly drag your hands down to his abs, feeling the ridges of the taut muscles beneath your palms and fingers.

maybe you were insatiable too. kento certainly isn’t complaining. how could he say no to his wife?

a/n. sorry if this is all really rushed !! i finished this early in the morning & vry vry quickly read over it before putting it in my queue. bare with me here ꒰ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ꒱ ‘m thinking this could be a prequel for this nanami fic

© 2024 LUV-LIES do not plagiarize, steal, translate or repost my works on any platforms!

[cryptotheism]

“Radical diffusionism” is the idea that everything was invented by one culture, which then spread across the globe. This idea was very popular during the Victorian era, especially in Europe and the United States, all of whom were playing a game of “who can have the biggest globe-spanning empire.” The idea of Radical Diffusionism is, needless to say, very racist, but that is not how the Victorian era British Empire saw themselves. They were traveling to far off places, bringing culture, education, and technology to barbarous and underdeveloped lands and backwards peoples. A thought begins to emerge: What if this has happened before? What if, a long long time ago, there was an empire just like us who brought culture and technology to everyone on earth? Only to fall one day as all empires do. 

Enter Atlantis! The ancient, enlightened civilization of philosopher kings who were swallowed by the waves! Plato wrote about them, so therefore they must be real. Atlantis was a quick and easy shorthand for “The ancient culture responsible for everything cool.” What was Atlantis like? Well, it depends on the writer. Atlantis has a curious way of resembling the exact political system a given writer supports. Atlantis is a vessel, a big jar labeled “the ideal civilization” which a writer could fill with whatever they liked. 

Blavatsky filled Atlantis with two important things: Anticolonialism, and established understandings of European race science, read: She wanted to keep the concept of an Aristocracy, and Antisemitism. 

The Final Years of Mme. Helena Blavatsky, today on Patreon.

[goodstuffhappenedtoday]

‘Bigger than the Oscars’: Blackfeet Nation honors Lily Gladstone with stand-up headdress

BROWNING — Wearing a white sequin shawl and matching ribbon skirt, esteemed actress Lily Gladstone kneeled on the floor of the new arbor on the Blackfeet Reservation as tribal elders placed a stand-up headdress atop her head. 

Thousands of people who traveled across the country — and from Canada — to honor Gladstone watched in silence. 

Gladstone stood and embraced tribal leaders. Then, with one hand over her heart and the other holding onto Charlene Plume, the elder who made her headdress, Gladstone danced in a circle around the arbor. Members of the Women’s Stand-Up Headdress Society, tribal leaders, dignitaries, students, teachers and children followed behind.

The sound of drums boomed, and the crowd erupted. 

Gladstone, who grew up in Browning and East Glacier, recently rose to worldwide fame after starring in Martin Scorsese’s “Killers of the Flower Moon” alongside Robert De Niro and Leonardo DiCaprio. 

She made history, becoming the first Indigenous person to win a Golden Globe award for best actress and the first to be nominated for best actress at the Oscars. 

At Tuesday’s event — which included a grand entry, flag song, prayer, speeches from dignitaries, honor song and round dance — leaders thanked Gladstone for representing the Blackfeet Nation on the world stage and for being a role model for young people.

“Because of you, rez kids on every reservation here and in Canada can chase their dreams,” Councilman Everett Armstrong said at the event. “Students, take a look at this accomplishment — it’s possible.”

Councilman Robert DesRosier delighted in the fact that Gladstone “is just like us.”

“She’s us,” he told the crowd before turning to Gladstone. “Lily, welcome home.”

More than 50 members of the Women’s Stand-Up Headdress Society — a group of contemporary Blackfoot women in the U.S. and Canada who own such headdresses — traveled to Browning to celebrate Gladstone. Theda New Breast, a member of the society, said Tuesday marked the largest gathering of stand-up headdress members to date. (BEN ALLAN SMITH, Missoulian)

more at the link

[frownyalfred]

actually I think a lot of people whisper their confessions to Superman because they know there’s a — greater than average — chance he might be listening after all. wishes, secrets they take to their death bed, things they don’t want to be judged for but need to say.

and Clark takes it all on his shoulders with the grace he exhibits in the rest of his life. until one day that voice in his ear is familiar. there’s a heart, racing but beginning to slow. and it’s Bruce’s words that come to him, choked out between the sound of his lungs filling with blood.

and it doesn’t matter that Clark shatters the sound barrier traveling across the globe to a random alley in Gotham. by the time he arrives, it’s already too late. Bruce had chosen the last few seconds, knowing Clark would hear him. knowing he’d pass those words along to his children. knowing he would burden his closest friend with his last words, and still trusting (cursing?) him with them anyway.

[teapartyprincess4two]

On Stream- M. Sturniolo

pairing: gf!reader x bf!Matt

classification: fluff

warnings: use of y/n, short, slight cursing, some suggestive comments

summary: Matt mentions you on stream, causing the chat to go crazy.

—

Nowadays it seems that Matt and Chris have an abnormal amount of free time.

The pair have spent the past few days running errands, catching up on chores, spending quality time together, and unwinding. But two energetic young men can only do so much relaxing before it becomes unbearably boring, especially without you and Nick around.

Nick’s somewhere across the globe, relishing in the perks of having good friends. He’s experiencing the world with a sense of individuality, having been apart from his triplet brothers for over a week.

Without Nick around the house is quiet and boring enough, but Chris and Matt can usually count on you to keep them company. But it seems that they see you less and less every day.

You aren’t somewhere far away, not physically at least, you’re just very, very busy. As you enter the fall semester, you’re juggling a multitude of responsibilities including school, work, your social life, and your relationship. But as you adjust to your crazy hectic schedule, you spend less time at home with Matt and more time nose deep in a book.

So, just as the brothers grow accustomed to the eerie silence that haunts the halls of their home and the boredom that settles into their everyday lives, they decide enough is enough and take up a new hobby. Streaming.

Today, as Matt anchors himself in his rolling chair, his eyes skim through the endless chats that flood his screen. Chris sits next to him, a vibrant and excited smile adorning his features.

This is their third consecutive day going live on Twitch. At first they went live to entertain and chat with their fans, but now they’re doing it to occupy their bored minds.

Chris’s eyes skim the chat, fixating on one message in particular. He subconsciously reads it aloud, “Is Y/n on tour with Nick? We miss her.”

After reading the comment, the chat was flooded with similar messages asking for you. Matt slumps into his chair, the mention of your name reminding him that it’s been a week since he’s seen you.

“Nah, she’s just busy with school right now,” Chris replies mindlessly, skimming for another comment to read.

A lot of the viewers noticed Matt’s mood shift. They noticed the way his eyes drooped and the way the corners of his mouth turned into a frown. They especially noticed the disassociated look he wore, mind traveling to a place only you could bring him out of.

“Matt,” Chris says, waving a hand in front of his brother’s face. No response. “Matt!” He tries again, louder this time. Matt still doesn’t respond, only coming back into reality when Chris violently shakes his shoulders.

“What, dude? What?!” Matt asks, annoyance evident in his tone.

“Your phone’s ringing.” Chris replies with an eye roll and a small scoff.

Suddenly the blaring ring registers in Matt’s mind as he pats his pockets in search of his phone. When he finally finds it, your name illuminated the screen.

“Who’s calling?” Chris asks, stretching out his neck in hopes of catching a nosy glimpse at the caller ID.

“Umm be right back chat. Y/n’s calling,” Matt says, words spewing out a mile a minute. He disappears from the room faster than ever, immediately pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.” Your voice is music to Matt’s ears. It feels like forever since he’s last heard it.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “everything okay?”

You hum in response, followed by a soft yawn.

“You sound tired. When are you coming home?” Matt asks, softly leaning against the wall. You’ve been at school all day stuck in lectures and studying, so Matt knows you need some well deserved rest.

“I’m on my way now. That’s why I called, wanted to see if you guys were hungry so I could pick up something to eat.”

The excitement that courses through Matt’s veins is unreal, winding him up with enough energy to last until tomorrow. He can’t wait to see you, hold you, kiss you, and make up for all the lost time.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he replies, pausing for a second to compose himself, “I just wanna see you.”

A warm smile graces your features and if Matt could see it he’d mirror your expression.

“I’ll be home soon don’t worry. How’s the stream going?”

“Huh?” For a second Matt forgot that he and his brother were live streaming for thousands of people.

“The stream. Aren’t you live with Chris right now?”

“Ohhh. It’s going… it’s going good.” Matt replies with a soft sigh.

Your smile is momentarily replaced with a frown. “It doesn’t sound like it’s going good. What’s wrong?”

Matt’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose before gliding across his eyelids and massaging the tense nerves and muscles on his face. “It’s going fine. I just can’t focus. The chat keeps asking about you and it’s honestly making me really sad.”

A small chuckle escapes your lips. “Aww my poor baby. Can’t focus on Fortnite?”

“Not Fortnite.”

“Oops, sorry. Fall Guys?

“Y/n.” Matt warns, though he finds it slightly funny too.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. I’ll be home soon with some good food and open arms. We can cuddle and watch a movie, or do anything else you wanna do. Okay?”

Matt feels his spirit lighten up again, a cheeky smirk forming on his face. “Anything?”

“Don’t push it,” you laugh.

Just as Matt’s about to respond, he’s cut short by Chris calling his name from inside the room.

“Get back to your stream. I’ll be home soon, handsome.”

Matt’s lips form a silly pout you can’t even see as he replies, “But I wanna keep talking to you. Miss you so much.”

“MATT!” Chris calls again, this time much louder than the last.

“We’ll talk all you want when I get home. Now go! I have the stream pulled up on my computer and I think Chris is gonna start twerking,” you say, trying your best not to laugh.

“Holy fuck this kid,” Matt groans, face palming. “Alright baby, I love you. Drive safe.”

“I love you too,” you say through small giggles before hanging up.

When Matt renters the room, he’s not surprised to find Chris dancing for the camera. He pushes past him and settles back into his rolling chair wearing a huge, toothy smile.

“What did Y/n want?” Chris asks, briefly glancing at Matt as he switches from doing the griddy to shuffling across the room.

“Just asked if we were hungry,” Matt shrugs, attempting to act nonchalant, but there’s no hiding the newfound pep in his step.

“And it took you that long?”

“I was catching up with my girl. —Why the fuck are you still dancing?”

“Someone gifted,” Chris says, slightly breathless as he bops from corner to corner.

“Alright…” Matt shifts towards the computer, “What did I miss?”

He reads comments, expecting most of them to be about Chris and his absurd dancing skills, but he’s surprised to find that they’re all about you.

Some fans ask where you are, others ask what you’re doing, some speculate on the conversation you and Matt had, and others simply comment on how much happier Matt seems since talking to you.

All Matt can do is smile and patiently wait for you to arrive, ready to bombard you with kisses as soon as you step through the door.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: hi babies! Hope you enjoy this short oneshot! I know I haven’t updated or posted much in a longggg time but I honestly had writers block :P I’m trying to get into the habit of writing again, so bear with me pls. I have a lotttt of drafts (some that just need to be edited) so be expecting that soon! Luv you all 😚

- L.A.M.B🪽💝

—

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[astrophyta]

alright, I’m applying for another job when I get home from work tomorrow.

[elitheaceofalltrades]

Drabble - Leaving Home (145 words)

There's such a dichotomy in leaving home.

I miss so much. I miss the beach, the boardwalks, the food, nippy sunsets and hot days with an idle breeze. I ache at their lost.

I gained so much. I gained acceptance, safe midnight walks, no traffic, self-awareness and closer friendships. My soul overflows.

Lost and gain are part of the ebbs and flow of life. Though some days the loses aches like a phantom limb, the gains can numb the pain. And unlike a limb, I can always find what has been lost.

I can regain sunsets that are nippy but not freezing and hot days with an idle breeze. I can find beaches and boardwalks. I can both find and cook food.

Aches can heal, lost pieces found but all that I've gained, all I've grown, wouldn’t have been possible if I had stayed.

~Eli

Ace of All Trades, Pro at None😆

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