Hi please help my mom
Hi! You know me. I'm moderately well-known Tumblr funnyperson Natalie H. Ironside. You may remember me from that one post you saw that made you ask ". . . why does this have notes?" I ask myself that same question every day! But anyways.
My mother-in-law and my father-in-law both work at the same restaurant, and they've just been told out of the blue like that that restaurant will no longer exist after next weekend. This is Extra Bad, because Mom has two other kids she's taking care of and just had to pay $1000 to get her car fixed. While they have lines on other work, it's doubtful they'll have any other sources of income before their rent is due, which is just two weeks away! And if they can't scrape together one thousand dollars to pay rent, they might be fucked!
Mom's paypal is @FaerieCastle and it would really really mean a lot if anybody could help them out b/c these are the people who (1) let my weird ass marry one of their kids, (2) let me crash w/ them when I had nowhere else to go on not one but two different occasions, and (3) started calling me their "bonus daughter" after I transitioned.
Y'all please help my mom be okay
Ok so we talk a lot about wizard hubris, and I'm a big fan of fuck around and find out, BUT
I think the idea of "the Raven Queen was once a mage in the age of arcanum (who, frankly, some of these other wizards we're seeing in Calamity might have known, if they're older elves) and she managed to ascend to godhood, so what does that mean for our understanding of and relationship to godhood?" is actually really interesting and at the very least explains a lot of the wizard hubris and attitude that leads to someone like Vespin foolishly unleashing the Betrayer Gods and causing the Calamity.
Never mind that once the Raven Queen ascended she clearly thought "wow, that was something NO ONE SHOULD EVER DO AGAIN" (and boy isn't she an interesting figure because of that), the mages in places like Avalir and Aeor are now living with the knowledge that that's possible, that people like them could, in fact, gain the power of gods.
(For what it's worth, I think Purvon's perspective on this is very interesting, as he calls the Raven Queen's ascension "knowledge won by her and her alone" and emphasizes that it made sense for the old god of death to die to truly embody the idea, so the Raven Queen's place was intended all along - an interesting religious perspective!)
But Brennan plays the Arcanum wizards so well with Dean Hollow, who says: "She is still one of us though, is she not? She was one of us. She does remember from whence she came. It is not their world any longer. Why would she not welcome us behind her?"
And I love this because from their perspective it makes sense, even as we can see the seeds of hubris and downfall in it. The wizard hubris is grounded in really understandable world-building, I guess, is all I'm saying.
There's this trope in fantasy books (and I think some older sci-fi, too), where whole families of characters all have some same distinct personality trait in some shape or form. I mean yeah they do that with physical appearance too, with everyone from House X being tall and blonde while everyone from Y is dark-haired and skinny, but I started thinking, the reason this happens irl - though to a smaller extent - is because it's hereditary.
Things like ADHD and being on the spectrum appear in families because some compontent to it is inheritted.
Imagine how fucking funny that would be to be put into a fantasy story. A whole family, House or clan of people who all seem to have the same kind of personality, who don't even question that there's anything unusual about the whole family leaving the dinner table halfway through a meal because someone remembered seeing something in the garden and now they have to go check it out right now or everyone will forget
Or a whole family of cautious engineers, artists and handcrafters, who each one have their own career they're more passionately invested in than any other mortal possibly could, famed for being both incredibly blunt but also honest - every client worth their salt knows they're not rude on purpose, you're paying for their work, not good manners.
And then there's some one specific kid who's born into a family like this and Just Does Not Fit In with their siblings and cousins - who doesn't seem to develop absolute fixations on tasks and subjects that they passionately love, and doesn't seem to thrive in either chaos nor require a perfectly predictable and punctual environment to work. The rest of the family does their best to push his buttons to make him work like everyone else, but there is no buttons.
So someone sits this kid down like "look son you're free to do whatever you want in life, anything at all, but you have to want and do something", because the idea of someone not being fuelled by one specific goal and desire - the kind that makes you stay up until 3 am to work on it unless someone comes in and physically stops you - isn't an option anyone in the family has considered.
And this poor mf is like "I don't know what's wrong with me, why can't I be like everyone else ó.ò" and instead of being somehow special or magical, or even have something actually wrong with him, this poor kid is just neurotypical.
Remember that post a few days ago where I groused about not being able to relate anything in a cartoon to reality? I was partially blaming the censors, but as I sit here trying to storyboard a funny children’s cartoon while offering cold comfort to my teacher friends in the midst of this week’s national tragedy, I’m afraid I’m going to have to place most of the blame on reality itself. Or at least the reality we've created for ourselves here in the United States, and which we ship out to the rest of the world as “entertainment”.
If you want cartoons to be good again, you’re going to have to make life better first. The whole point of satire is to hold a mirror to society with a touch of hyperbole, but when you live in a world where there are mass shootings like clockwork, of course you’re never going to be able to address violence in any form on a children’s show. I mean, I’d love to shove some of these uncomfortable truths in some people’s faces, but that’s just not going to happen on children's TV. I can’t come within a million miles of that. It’s radioactive. And I get it.
I think it’s interesting that there’s so much more violence now that we don’t have Elmer Fudd chasing Bugs Bunny around with a shotgun. I wonder sometimes if there isn’t a certain catharsis to seeing bad people punished. Elmer Fudd never won. He was the bad guy and he got his comeuppance. We used to watch people hit KKK members with furniture on Jerry Springer. Maybe that’s where they should’ve stayed; not as boogeymen but as loser clowns; defeated remnants of a failed racist insurrection destined to be beaten soundly with folding chairs for the rest of time. In truth though, I suspect that the problem has much less to do with depictions of violence in the media than it does with forty-plus years of Republicans legislating against education and the resulting entitlement that engendered.
A certain segment of our society is really frightened. Frightened enough that they elect “strong men” who talk tough whether they’re “strong” or not. Frightened enough to hoard guns. Many of these people start off believing that a magic man in the sky will guide their morality, and I think many of them take that as an excuse never to learn or grow or develop any sort of morality of their own. Existential crises (IMO) are what humans use to better themselves. They’re difficult and unpleasant and can really ruin your day/week/month/year. In other words, they are “a real downer”. During an existential crisis, you’ve got to reflect on what you believe and why you believe it, and evaluate how changing those beliefs might ripple through your life. You’re going to have to make changes, and changes take work. But over time, you sort it out and come out the other side better and stronger for the work you’ve done. However, when the greatest crime you can think of is to admit fault, then you will do literally anything to avoid an existential crisis. It’s gotten to the point where a lot of these people have spent their entire lives lying to themselves.
I suspect that most of them know that they’re full of shit. Like, way back in their mushy little goldfish brains there’s a little voice that points out the cognitive dissonance. But listening to that voice will cause an existential crisis that will negate the past thirty-to-sixty years of their lives and leave them a sobbing wreck wondering why they wasted so much time on absolute bullshit. So instead, they keep lying to themselves so that the dam doesn’t break. And then they lie to others to reinforce the dam. With enough reinforcement, they can live together, hermetically sealed in an ignorant dreamland. And god help anyone who starts trying to poke holes. Without ever having experienced an existential crisis, these people would now literally rather kill you than admit fault. “Don’t talk about race. Don’t talk about gender. Don’t talk about gun violence. If you do, we’ll remind you that we have all the guns for the coming civil war our politicians are openly calling for.”
Did any of you watch “Chernobyl”? There’s a part where the lead scientist goes to Moscow to relay his findings to the Kremlin and he gives them the bad news that a real and deadly disaster has already happened. And the Kremlin says no, that sort of stuff doesn’t happen here in Russia. And the scientist says, “Well, no. I’m saying that it’s already happened. I don’t think you understand.” And he’s told, “No you don’t understand. We said that sort of stuff doesn’t happen here in Russia“ And then our hero starts to understand how truly screwed everyone actually is. That’s us now. That’s entertainment reflecting our real world back at us. If we can’t even start by admitting we’re wrong, we are all doomed.
My opinion on what TV animation is for is changing. When I started out as an artist in the animation industry, it was all about “art” and “freedom” and “sticking it to the man”. Now, I think, it’s more about providing an escape from the real world for children. That’s what it was for me growing up as a child so maybe that’s not too surprising, but I think I’d started to forget about that fact (granting that I was just trying to escape standard bullying and my own Aspie brain rather than mis-educated nihilist gun-nuts and their throngs of right-wing murder-fans).
Things will get worse. More killings will happen, and more frequently. And the stuff you’re watching is likely to get even less relatable as networks scramble to cover up our society’s exposed seams. And I guess that’s fine. “Relatable” is fucked. I’ll bet some people stumble across this in a few days or weeks or hours and wonder “but which shooting is he talking about?” Shit, if I hadn’t mentioned kids, we’d have three or four to choose from this week.
So that’s why your cartoons suck. It’s the same reason most things suck now. Because your society is catering to hypocritical, anachronistic, ego-maniacal, cousin-humping racist idiot death-cultists.
Now... if you don’t mind I’ve only got a few hours to craft some silly jokes about corn while thinking about abandoned kids having to smear the blood of their dead friends on their clothes to stay alive.
*Please send all whataboutisms, both-sides-isms, gun facts, and death threats to P.O. Box Gofuckyourself, Cancel Me, CA.
A Broken Promise (Wanda Maximoff x Reader) (Anon Request) (Oneshot)
Summary: Based on this request. When Tommy and Billy gain their abilities, Wanda and R have a difference of opinion on what they should do about their children.
No specific gender for reader
A/N: There are many different ways to protect people and many different ways to get hurt doing so. This is my approach. I hope you like it! I have a feeling this is not at all what you were going for but with my other ideas, a happy ending simply wasn't going to work out haha Enjoy!
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“Tommy! Slow down!” You shout at your son as he uses his abilities to finish the course you had set up for him in the woods. You were trying to teach him how to control his speed so that he could slow down in front of other people whenever he needed to run. It was too risky for him to be out in public ever since his abilities came in. He has no control and he doesn’t want any. He was a ten-year-old boy who could run faster than a car. Of course he was having way too much fun.
Tommy giggles and that’s how you’re able to spot him in his path and stop him by grabbing his arm. “Hey! I didn’t know you could do that!” He complains and tries to struggle out of your grip.
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know, kid,” you say and put special handcuffs on his wrists that stop his powers. “Now, behave or else I’m leaving these on.” You hated having to resort to these measures but it was the only way to get him to listen.
He gets a mischievous glint in his eyes and tries to run away from you again but he isn’t able to move a centimeter. He frowns looking at the cuffs, “This is no fair! I doubt mom is doing this to Billy!”
“I know she isn’t, this is our only pair and unlike you, Billy listens.” You retort, making your boy pout and try to manipulate you into removing the cuffs with his big eyes that mirrored your own. He bats his lashes as he promises to behave and you almost take them off until a voice stops you.
“He’s lying, leave them on,” Pietro walks through the woods and you greet him with a grateful smile and a hug, thanking him for making it out. “Are you kidding? If anyone is going to mentor my nephew in speed, it’s going to be me. No offense, Y/n, but you just don’t have what we do. Ain’t that right, champ?” He holds his fist out for Tommy to bump and the boy does with a wide grin.
“Wait, I get to be taught by Uncle P?” Tommy asks excitedly and you try not to take it to heart. You did have the poor kid in handcuffs because you didn’t know what else to do.
“Yes, but only with my supervision. No funny stuff, Pietro. We don’t need him exposing us to the community because of some silly prank,” you warn your brother-in-law. The two of you pretty much grew up together, you were well aware of his mischievous ways. In truth, it’s why the two of you got along so well but now that you were a parent you couldn’t believe the amount of things the two of you got away with. It kept you up at night worrying that the boys might be just as clever as they got older.
“You know there is a place where he might be safer if you’re so concerned abo–”
“I’m going to stop you right there. Wanda and I already discussed this. We’re not sending our boys to some school where we’ll never see them. We’re not like those other parents. We actually love our kids and what they’re capable of.” You explain further. When you found out that Tommy’s power was similar to Pietro’s, of course you called him, but you wish you hadn’t needed to. He worked at Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters in New York and immediately insisted that you enroll them. It wasn’t more than a train ride away from where you and Wanda lived in Westview, New Jersey, but that was still too far for your liking. “We want them to feel normal.”
Pietro shakes his head at the statement. “The only place they will feel normal is at the school, and you know it. You remember what it was like there, it was the best place for people like us. Without that place how else would you and Wanda have met?” You clench your jaw at his point. He had a fair point. Without that school you wouldn’t have known that there were more people that had abilities and that there was nothing to be afraid of. You might not have found love without it. Or even thought it was possible for someone like you. “Come on, I will personally drive them down here every weekend. How does that sound?” He negotiates.
“Like you need to have this conversation with your sister. Her stance is no, that’s where I’ll stand until she tells me otherwise,” you sternly respond.
This makes him smirk, “You’re so whipped,” he mutters. You’re unable to fire back at him because Tommy complains the handcuffs are itching. “Alright, I suppose I’ll let you out of those things.” Pietro holds his hand out to you and you roll your eyes as you hand him the keys. After Tommy is set free he is asking his uncle a million questions, ready to follow anything the man says to him. You enjoy seeing him so happy and watching how good Pietro is with him.
You began to wonder how many other kids might be just as fast as Tommy and what kinds of friends he might be able to make at the school. You knew that you would never feel comfortable with him or Billy making friends with kids at the school here. They could trust the wrong person and the next thing you knew, you and Wanda would be forced to relocate somewhere safe or go into hiding. As the lesson continues on you start to question if you and Wanda were doing more harm than good by keeping the boys in Westview. You knew how quick they were to turn against any mutant that gets exposed. There have been two other kids that got turned in this year alone.
When the sun begins to lower, you call it a day and the three of you head home. Luckily, Pietro had tired out Tommy so you didn’t have to worry about him accidentally speeding home on the walk back to the car. Once you’re home, you notice something off about the windows. Walking through the door you find Wanda putting out a fire and Billy sitting on the stairs with an apologetic expression. The house was a complete wreck and there was no denying that you and Wanda were in over your heads. “Darn, I was hoping to have this all fixed up before you guys got back,” Wanda says breathlessly.
“Woah, Billy!” Tommy says, impressed by his brother's damage.
“Okay, boys, go get cleaned up for dinner,” you direct as you shoo them up the stairs. They protest but ultimately march in the direction. “Wanda, I think we need to revisit–”
“No! I’m not sending them away, Y/n! After everything it took to become their mother, I’m not going to send my babies away for someone else to raise them,” Wanda shakes her head. “I won’t have them thinking that we gave up on them.” You put your hands on Wanda’s shoulders to keep her from getting worked up. That was something that the both of you struggled with for so long. Feeling like your parents abandoned you because they were ashamed of you and your abilities. Which turned out to be true for your parents. However, it wasn’t completely true for Wanda. But that was a mess of a story for another time.
“Look at this place, love, we don’t have the means to teach them here. What if one of the neighbors stopped by while you were teaching Billy?” You hold Wanda’s hands in yours as you try to reason with her. “It will be okay,” you reassure her but she pulls her hands out of yours. She looks at her brother angrily accusing him for turning you against her. “He didn’t do anything, other than show me that I can’t teach our son because I have no idea how to. I don’t have super speed and he needs more than a few hours on the weekends to learn.”
Wanda chews on the inside of her cheek as she considers your words. She shakes her head and runs her fingers through her hair. “You promised me that you would always protect them,” she says in a low whisper.
“This is me protecting them. Wanda, they are kids who can do really cool things! They’re going to want to show off and what happens then? Things could get nasty and then everyone is in danger. I,” you sigh and try to get her to look at you. When she defiantly refuses to, you decide to put the conversation on hold because her brother is there and the kids are still up. You clear your throat, “I will help you clean up.” She mutters her gratitude.
Pietro whistles low and comments on the tension but offers to make dinner for everyone after Wanda gives him a killer glare. Together, you and Wanda clean up the mess that Billy made. As she fixes the television with her magic she thinks about the nights she spent crying in her bed missing home and the promises you made to her when you were younger.
“When we have kids, I swear, I’m never going to send them away from us. If they have abilities, I’ll protect them no matter what. I never want them to feel the way we do,” you say as you gaze up at the stars from where you lie on the ground. The two of you had snuck out of your rooms and met up in a clearing in the woods to have a moment together. You brought a little picnic basket of desserts and Wanda provided a blanket for the two of you to lay on so that the grass didn’t scratch either of you too much.
Wanda turns on her side to look at you with a blush and a smile, “You think we’ll have kids?” She reaches for your hand to play with your fingers.
You turn your head to look at her, “Of course, you’ve always talked about becoming a mom.”
“And you’ve always hated the idea of raising kids,” she reminds you.
You lick your lips and fight a smile, she wasn’t wrong. For a long time, you despised the idea of ever becoming a parent. But you fell in love with her and it didn’t seem like such a ridiculous concept anymore. You take her hand and mess with one of the many rings on her fingers. “True, but when I gave you this promise ring, I said that I would do everything to make your dreams come true.” You flit your eyes to hers and peck her on the lips, “I meant it.”
Wanda kisses you again, “I love you.”
You and Wanda avoid eye contact throughout dinner. Neither of you says a word to the other and the boys can sense that something is wrong between the two of you. Pietro does his best to entertain and distract the boys but he can tell that they are more concerned about their parents. It wasn’t unusual for you and Wanda to have a spat every now and then. But every time the two of you did, the boys never knew how to behave. They enjoyed it so much better when you and Wanda were mushy and playful.
When you send the boys to bed, neither puts up an argument about the early hour. They rush up the steps after telling everyone goodnight. Wanda lights a spelled candle that prevents anyone from listening in on the private conversation just in case either of the boys get curious.
“I told Charles,” Pietro states. “He already knew, of course, but he is waiting for your call.”
You look to Wanda and wait for her reaction but she doesn’t give much of one. “Well you can tell him not to expect one. We’ve got it covered,” she says and you shake your head. “What? You hated that place as much as I did!”
“I was a kid then,” you respond. “I didn’t have the parents that Tommy and Billy do. I love those kids with every fiber of my being and so do you. My parents hate me, they wanted nothing to do with me then and certainly not now. Of course, I hated the place, fuck I hated myself back then. But looking back on it now, I…” you look away from her while shaking your head. “I just remember the good stuff.” Wanda goes quiet as she continues to avoid looking at you. “I will be calling Charles first thing tomorrow and enrolling them, regardless if you change your mind,” you state. Wanda finally looks at you with the betrayal written all over her face. But you had to put your foot down.
She blows out the candle and stands to leave. You try to stop her but she holds her hand up to quiet you. “I’m going to bed,” she says. “Don’t follow me.” She ascends the stairs and that’s the end of the conversation.
You sigh and put your face into your hands. “I better be doing the right thing here, P.”
He pats you on the back, “Only time will tell.”
You scoff and remove your hands from your face, “Good thing you’re not the guidance counselor, that was terrible.”
A couple weeks later, you and Wanda are driving the boys to their new home. The car ride is silent other than the vehicle noises and the wind. Tommy was excited about the transfer when the two of you told them. But Billy was just as upset as his mother. He was surprisingly being the difficult twin this time. He refused to pack his things and kept trying to negotiate, promising to be a better kid if you would let him stay. You felt awful that he thought that way and tried to reassure him that this wasn’t a punishment but every time you tried to get Wanda to help, she would shrug or walk away. You kept promising Wanda that it wasn’t going to be a bad thing but she would just retort with mentions of your old naive promises.
She was really trying your patience but you had high hopes that after a week or so of the new arrangement she would see that it was the right choice. But it took longer than a week. The first couple were tough because Billy would call every night begging for you or Wanda to pick him up. It killed you to tell him to stick it out a little bit longer and every time you told him that you loved him, he retaliated with, “Then let me come home.”
Wanda wouldn’t let you sleep in the room but she would sneak into the guest room, where you slept, and would crawl in next to you for a few hours. You never said anything because you knew she would stop, so you simply took it at her showing that she still loves you even though she was being stubborn.
After the second month, Billy’s calls consisted of a boy named Teddy. The most you ever heard about Tommy was from Pietro or when they came home for the weekends. It was always updates about his progress or how many friends he was making so quickly. Wanda slowly began to stop punishing you when the boys asked you guys to come to the school to visit them instead of them coming home. She finally saw them with other kids like them and the freedom they had while being there. Back in Westview they would have been miserable trying to hide who they are. She saw that now.
Billy stopped seeing the new school as a punishment and when Wanda asked him how he felt about the school he told her that he loved it and thanked her for making him go. That night, Wanda took your hand and brought you to the bedroom.
One day Pietro calls to tell Wanda that Tommy had a bad fall and broke his arm. Fortunately, his abilities included fast healing but Wanda was upset again. She blamed you. “Wanda, boys fall and break their arms all of the time! He probably would have done it if he was still living here!”
“Yes! But the difference is that we would have been there for him! Not an hour away, finding out when it’s too late to do anything for him!” She argues.
“He is safe, he is fine, you heard him on the phone. He thought it was the coolest thing to ever happen to him. Tommy doesn’t resent us for not being there,” you sigh and put your hands on your hips. “Wanda, I don’t know how much longer I can have you upset with me like this anymore. What do you want from me?” You helplessly ask. Feeling rundown and unbelievably hurt by the way she has been treating you.
Wanda clamps her mouth shut and looks at you. She throws her hands up as she considers what could be done about the situation that would make it better for her. It wouldn’t be easy to take the boys out of the school since they really like it there. If she wasn’t too stubborn to admit it, she would have to agree that it was the right choice to send them there. You sit down on the sofa as you wait for her to answer.
There was only one thing she wanted but you couldn’t necessarily give her. “I need my babies,” she says. “I just need my babies back.” She falls to the loveseat.
You nod slowly, figuring that’s what she would say. “I guess I could talk to Charles and Pietro again. Get the kids–”
“No,” she says. “That’s not what I mean.” You look at her curiously. “I want them to be babies again. I want it back to when the safest place they could be was home with us. I want to be able to hold their entire bodies in my arms. I want them to be my babies again.” She says with watering eyes and a tight voice.
You nod and move to sit next to her. Cautiously, you put your arm around her and when you do, she falls against you as she cries. “I know, love. They grew up so fast.” You do your best to comfort your wife. “I didn’t think it would be this hard,” you admit with tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry that I failed you,” you kiss the top of her head.
Wanda pulls away from you at your words and shakes her head, “No,” she whispers. “No, don’t think that. You didn’t fail me. I’ve just been so mad at the world for putting us in this position where we have to send our boys away to keep them safe. I’m sorry that I’ve been taking it out on you.” She puts her hand around your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. “It’s not your fault,” she says between breaths. You pull her into a tight forgiving hug and suggest that the two of you should plan a fun summer vacation for the family and she agrees.
At some point you ask Charles to keep you and Wanda in mind in case a teaching position ever becomes available. He promises that the two of you will be the first he calls if there ever is. Summer comes around and you and Wanda spoil the boys with going to amusement parks nearby. You take them into the city for sightseeing and then take trips out to other popular family vacation spots. The boys were having way too much fun to question it and they were happy to see you and Wanda getting along again.
Before either of you are ready, school is back in session and the two of you are moving their stuff into their room. It happened to be your old room and you were surprised to find where you had carved your initials with Wanda’s on the desk they hadn’t replaced. Wanda blushed when she saw it, she promised to show you how much she appreciated it later. The boys make grossed out noises when they overhear the comment. You laugh. “I know those sounds from anywhere,” a voice says. “Still grossing others out for your own amusement, Y/n?” Professor Xavier rolls into the room.
“Actually, it was this one over here with her inability to whisper,” you tease.
“I see,” the man chuckles. “I used to speak to Erik with my mind whenever we weren’t alone,” he hints towards Wanda. “One of the benefits of gifts like ours.”
Shocked by the information, you let out a short laugh and Wanda covers her face. “How is the old ball and chain doing?” You ask and he glances at Wanda before he answers. Things were complicated with Wanda and her birth father, Erik Lensherr. She didn’t even know that they were related until a couple years after attending this school. It made her feel so much worse about herself. She was abandoned by parents at birth only to be abandoned years later by the people she thought were her only parents. It took you years for her to trust that you would never abandon her.
“That is a terrible term, you know,” he states and you shrug. “And he is doing just fine, thinking about going into an early retirement. I might join him, I think it’s time we gave others a chance to enrich the young minds that come through here. Don’t you?” You find yourself even more shocked than before. The two of them leaving would mean that there would be space available for both you and Wanda to join the staff.
“Wow, I don’t think I could imagine this place without you in it,” Wanda speaks up. “Who do you think would replace you?”
The man smiles, “No one can replace me. I’m one of a kind.” You agree with him while Wanda gets annoyed by the interaction. “I do, however, have a few people lined up to take my position as headmaster. I will be testing them out through this term. Hopefully, I will find someone suitable before next school year.”
It takes two years before you get the call that Charles and Erik have retired, leaving a few positions open. You inform Wanda and ask if she wants to teach there. She takes a month to come around to the idea of it and another month to make a final decision. The next time that you’re moving the boys into their room, you and Wanda are moving into one yourselves to start a new chapter of your lives.
Taglist: @abimess @sayah13 @princessprudy
Hi Amy, so first of all, hello hope you doing well, I'm a big fan of your blog since long time ago, I'm just a watcher, but i consume everything you post.
B) I have my own larry story, that I have never shared, because for long time I felt like, it was their privet time and honestly i don't know, i just wanted to keep it to myself, but today I woke up like remembering the moment and i was like, mm why not? Is up to people to believe it or not. Ok, so in 2016 when everything was chaos, when L&H were very enemies, I was working at Burberry, i was working for an agency who provide staff such as assistant, security, and cleaning staff, i was working as an assistant in the pent house specific, my job was to provide everything that the personal in the pent house needed, the agency I worked for sign an NDA so we work under that rule, my contract was over long time ago, years ago, so it's ok for me to share this, i don't even live in the states anymore so i think it's fine.
Ok... One day, they asked me to not move from my work place because they were VIP clients coming, they used diferents names, i don't know what names they used but they were not under by L&H, so I was preparing everything at the Pent house (they attend VIP clients there and they rent that space for coctels and stuffs) any way preparing the beverages and that kind of stuff, and then two mans entered the room, for my surprise it was L&H - together- Louis was behind Harry. Harry was very polite, but Louis was very relaxed and just chill, they were there because Louis needed a suit and they were there to tailor his suit, for what event he was buying the suit I don't know, and they didn't share that with me 😅
Ok, back when I saw who there were, i was in shock, i freeze, like I could not move, i just stand there, and i was supposed to just exit the room and be just alert if they needed something, Harry saw me, and with a high tone said Hello, and then Louis said "hello hello" they sit waiting to be attended, i was remove literally like, hey can you please check if Riley is here, Riley was the tailor, of course he was there, i was shaking, i don't know how I walked out, my plane mode was the one who move me. The cute thing was that Harry was always fixing the suit for Louis, like: You should get more tight in here and stuff like that, Louis was very specific, he really care how clothes fits him, it doesn't seems like he cares, but he does. I watched Harry touching Louis hair several times, and when the talked to each other they talked under tone. Harry was very perceptive with me, he was checking what I was seeing and stuffs, very alert but he saw that i was a gargoyle, who can barely move and i can barely breathe and then he just was very smiley with me, Louis was joking with me, the only thing I can remember was that louis asked me, what if i broke this? what would happen? I was like don't know and he was like joking pretending to broke things, And then the staff told me it was ok, for me to leave. Harry approach to me and said: Thank you, ( he just knew that i knew, you know?) I'll leave an autograph for you, Amy at this point tears were coming down my face, i was in tears, the only thing I was able to pronounce was: tell him I love him, he said, just him? And i was yes 😂 and i left, i don't know when they left and i never saw them again. Before I finish my shift one of the girls gave me the autograph, it was Harry's i was hoping it was from Louis haha. So that's it, that's my story, in times were they were very enemies they were buying a suit and being touching.
i have no way of verifying this but cute story.
*MC, Diavolo, and Lucifer in the shared bedroom*
Diavolo: *explaining to MC how sex feels like* It's like a whoosh-whoosh with a little bit of a muscle cramp.
Diavolo: I think that sounds confusing. Hm... Ah! Let's compare it to romantic sense. How does it feel like when you're romantically involve to someone?
MC: Butterflies in the stomach.
Diavolo: Yes! In sex, it's gallons of liquid.
MC: Oh. Is that why Lucifer looks constipated the other day?
Lucifer: *glaring at him*
Diavolo: I hope it was the reason- Ow! *laughs*
Lucifer: *has whacked his head*
Lucifer: MC, let's sleep now. *trying to kick Diavolo out of the bed while hugging MC closer*
Diavolo: Wha- *hugging MC from behind* Don't make me fall to the side!
Lucifer: *clicks tongue* You're dead to me tomorrow. Remember that.
MC: Good night.
Lucifer: Good night. *kisses their forehead*
Diavolo: Good night too, MC. *kissing the back of their head*
MC: *gets up*
Lucifer and Diavolo: ???
MC: *gives them a kiss on their cheek* *then lie down again*
Diavolo: Our sweetheart's trying to be even. Thank you. *smiles*
Is anyone else getting increasingly creeped out by the "conflict in stories is never necessary! Conflict is just a thing Westerners put everywhere in their media because they're so aggressive and individualistic that they can't imagine going through life without antagonizing other people! Look at Asian storytelling, THAT doesn't have conflict!!!" brigade? Because personally, I'm just waiting for them to pull some creepy Noble Savages shit about how Asian people are all so enlightened and peaceful and we should all take up yoga or whatever to get on their level.
... also, I have no fucking idea which "Asian storytelling" they're even talking about. Like, I could definitely see them shun any modern Asian media involving any sort of internal or external conflict because "but that's clearly been influenced by the evil Westerners!!!" or whatever. But even looking at traditional literatures, from what I remember of Genji monogatari, Journey into the West, and the Ramayana, those aren't exactly 100% conflict-free static narratives about people always being perfectly happy and content and effortlessly getting whatever they want the moment they realize they want it, either.
Spoiler: it all comes down to a 2012 tumblr essay by the art collective still eating oranges:
The significance of plot without conflict
Wikipedia’s dramatic structures article comments “It is notable as one of the story structures that emphasizes no conflict.” but then cites only this tumblr essay.
Frankly, it’s bullshit.
Sure, the structure isn’t defined by conflict, but it can certainly accommodate it. The conflictless examples are often poetry, not long-form narrative fiction. Even that dumbass essay is talking about slice of life 4koma.
You know what else has the structure of intro+rambling anecdote+twist+conclusion?
It’s the structure of a fucking joke, guys.
The only thing distinctive here is the way we choose to talk about the plot beats in some long narrative. You can take a novel and apply Western three-act or five-act structure or East Asian 4-act structure. The actual plot beats that make up an exciting adventure tale are the same. It’s the lens you choose to analyze it through that changes.
The big thing facile analyses miss is that these structures are imposed after the fact. They’re a way of taking a thing we already liked and going “Okay, but why does this one work?”
The other big thing it misses is that “conflict” does not mean enemies or violent disagreement. In any plot longer than said slice of life 4koma, there tends to be some kind of unmet need or a choice between things.
Wikipedia’s article on Kishōtenketsu, which does not mention “conflict” or this tumbr essay at all, is far better at explaining the conceptual structure. If you read the examples for fairytales rather than 4-line poetry, it becomes clear that the differences between this and Western structures are at best that it favors a picaresque narrative at the beginning rather than an inciting incident.
And to be perfectly honest, fucktons of East Asian media, including old shit, features a classic inciting incident. Some of it has rambling travelogue parts, but so does older Western literature. Tight, unified plots without digressions are for pulp novels and films in a time of media plenty. Long-ass books with a chapter on the sewers make sense when you have fewer total works and they’re consumed in a different context.
That essay makes sense if you’re a collective of short-form slice of life comics artists from the West.
I do not think it is a good explanation of how East Asia writes long-form narrative fiction.
Four Weeks | T. Holland
Pairing: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader
Summary: Enemies to lovers // Tom's actions are far gone, as his hatred for his co-star pushes him off of the edge. When he goes too far, and Y/n winds up in the hospital, how will he feel once he hears the truth?
Warnings: angsty asf *mentions of anorexia and depression, subtle violence, lots of bullying.
A/N: hope i capured what the requested anon was looking for! I felt like it wasnt angsty enough so i’m sorry in advance :/
keep sending in requests to help me build my masterlist 🌟
Four weeks. It’s been four damn weeks in this house and I honestly don’t think I can handle it anymore.
Hollywood is tough, and climbing through the ranks as an actress is enough as it is, but luckily, I’ve done remarkably well. I’ve been apart of several successful projects to include hits on Netflix, HBO, and films with Paramount, to whom have which have all seemed to receive billions in box offices worldwide.
So when I got offered to star in a rom-com with Tom Holland, I was ecstatic. I'd finally meet one of my little crushes, and life would seem almost perfect at that point -- I'd just need to make sure I wasn't embarassing myself.
I remember being so excited to share a screen with him -- it almost felt like a rare chance I'd never get again.
Oh, boy was I wrong.
To be fair, when I first met Tom Holland on the first day of filming, I still thought he was a dream. Charming, witty, and nothing less than a gentleman. When it was mentioned that we’d be placed in a condo to live with each other for the entirety of filming — something about ‘building on screen chemistry’ — I originally thought it was a smart idea, and it made perfect sense for any type of romance movie.
Although I had thought that I couldn’t ask for a sweeter boy to be my co-star, especially one that i was totally into, I began to see his true colors the first week of moving in with each other, and nothing could’ve prepared me for it.
“Jesus christ, who cares y/n? Bloody hell.” Tom’s voice is calm, yet his attitude bites. “It’s just a damn necklace.”
“It was on the kitchen counter ten minutes ago, how the hell does it just disappear?” I ignore his bratty remarks and continue on.
“And why would I want some cheap necklace?” Tom laughs. “It’s not the prettiest thing on you, anyways.”
I cock my head to the side, the sudden remark almost stinging.
It started off with passive aggressive insults, where I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but one day he had made it more than clear that he was not a fan of me.
We had just gotten back from shooting, and it wasn’t an easy day at all — we had to shoot the same scene about seven times because neither of us could get it right, and the minute we had left the set, he had given me the silent treatment.
He had an emotionless yet smoldering expression on his face the whole way home, and it almost pained him to look at me. All I could do was roll my eyes at his childish behavior, for it was the both of us that had messed up today, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was because of our failing friendship off-set.
Walking into the house just behind him, I had accidentally tripped on the door frame, taking Tom down with me.
We hit the ground with a thud, my chest landing directly on top of his as our faces were only a kiss away. For some odd reason, Tom looks at me momentarily with a strange eye.
“Get the bloody hell off me!” His face soon twists in disgust, and to my dismay, he shoves me off of him.
My body hits the hardwood floor, a sharp pain already sporadically spreading throughout my side as the wind gets knocked out of me, my head landing on the hard surface.
“Would it kill you to try a little harder with our trainer? You’re heavy and clumsy, hell, probably why our takes today were such shit.” Tom gets up, continuously cursing under his breath as he walks over to his room, and I wince as he slams the door shut.
Slowly getting to my feet, I stand. I remember the complete shock I felt, and how empty my stomach was. I didn't know how to react to his sudden actions, yet I felt extremely uneasy, and I had no idea how we'd carry on after what just happened.
Like a puppy that's just been kicked, I hold my abdomen as I shut the front door, and sheepishly retreat back into my room.
That was the first night I didn’t eat.
“Great take, you guys, I just want a little more, just from you Y/n.” The director explains. “Try to give a more lively approach and say it with confidence this time, you looked a little weak and spoke a little too soft, that’s all.”
I sit there on the set of his character’s apartment, where Tom and I are filming one of the more intimate scenes. As I nod to the director, I let out a sigh as Tom and I reposition ourselves on the couch.
The director made a point — over the last week i felt a little weaker, i got dizzy more often, and my motivation to film was waining. I obviously knew why, and I didn’t want to not take care of myself, but the moment I would get home, I’d simply give up.
It’s almost routine — filming for the day would end, Tom and I would share our unpleasantly uncomfortable car ride home, I would shower, then mostly sleep. I wouldn’t leave my room after that god damn shower, and after curling up into a ball in my plush comforters, I didn’t want to leave. It was like stepping on god damn eggshells with Tom, and I hated it.
“Please, for once, try not to royally fuck this up.” Tom mutters it under his breath, to which I cock my head to the side, my eyes wide at his words to me.
He never had taken our problematic affairs to work before.
That night, I had an extreme desire to just collapse into bed, but Tom had made sure to make my day would end with a bang.
“Nice job today, really.” Tom devilishly laughs, almost as if he’d gotten a kick out of humiliating me, regardless of who was around. “Never met an actress who couldn’t act before.”
“What’s your fucking issue?” I snap my head towards him, my arms crossed tightly.
“I don’t have one.” Tom sighs, shrugging, as if he hasn’t been constantly picking on me since the day we moved in.
“That’s a fucking lie and a half.” I scoff, looking outside the passenger window.
You suck at your job.
You’re not the prettiest.
Are you sure you should be wearing that?
Shut up, Y/n.
You’re a mess.
Tom’s recent usual words from the past weeks linger in my mind, and for the first time, my eyes begin to water.
“I don’t lie, darling.” Tom has a cynical smirk on his face, finding enjoyment in getting under my skin.
We had gotten home that night, and I don’t even remember showering, of course I hadn’t been eating, and I don’t even remember falling asleep.
I only remember holding onto one of my throw pillows for dear life as I violently sobbed into it, the fabric wet from soaking up my cries, my stomach wrenching in utter depression as I beg for it to stop.
Why? Why is he like this to me, what did I do to him to make him hate me so much? Am I really that unappealing? Am I that bad of an actress? I — I don’t even bother him, I’ve done remotely nothing to him.
It wasn’t fucking fair. This has gone on for weeks. With every word, every action, and every demeaning look he shot at me, it was like he took a piece from me each time. I couldn't tell if he'd shattered me, or completely took Y/n away from me.
Whatever it was, I wasn't myself anymore.
I was completely broken.
“Honey, are you alright?” My makeup artist, Olivia, looks at me with concern.
“Yeah, why?” I look up to her.
“You look like your about to pass out, did you sleep well last night?” She presses with concern.
“Yeah, probably more than my usual eight hours.” I nod, shrugging.
“Alright, I — Oh, hello Tom.” Olivia nods, to which I turn, finding him now inside my trailer.
“Hello, Olivia.” Tom chirps. “Mind giving us a second?”
“Oh, not at all.” She nods politely.
As Olivia leaves, my eyes narrow at Tom, who places a firm hand on the makeup counter in front of me, his back hand grasping the back of my makeup chair.
“Hello, love.” Tom’s words are laced with poison as he dips down to speak to me, a harsh stare being shot at me through his light curls. “You want to explain to me what you fucking did?”
“I didn’t do anything.” I furrow my brows in confusion at the British boy.
“Don’t play dumb with me, darling.” Tom mocks me. “What in the bloody fuck is this then?”
Tom shows me his phone, which had an article posted about speculations in the media, more so about how Tom and I might be hiding a secret relationship. Photographic evidence that was attached happened to be several paparazzi shots of the incident where Tom and I fell on each other through the front door of our condo, and it did look like we were together.
It looked like we were kissing.
“Why the hell would I leak that?” I say it immediately.
“Because you’re using me.” He concludes, and as angry as he is, he had seemed genuinely hurt under all of his disdain.
His brown eyes are dark, yet they’re full of disappointment. His perfectly tousled brown hair had looked a bit wild, and he had slight bags under his eyes. In all honesty, I didn’t know what to think of him anymore.
“Why would I want to use you, Tom?” I ask in disbelief, my voice soft and full of sadness.
“I —“ He pulls away from me, rubbing his face. “I just want to get one thing straight since you can’t manage to get it through your fucking pea brain. I would rather be caught dead than being seen publicly with you, do you understand?”
As I stare at him uncomfortably, I slowly nod.
“Great. No more bullocks, you are literally a pain in my fucking arse, Y/n.” Tom basically spits before leaving my makeup trailer, my eyes staring aimlessly into the counter in front of me.
“Alright, let’s get back to business.” Olivia says it happily as she walks back into the trailer, returning to her makeup brushes.
While my makeup was getting done, I had nothing but a migraine and a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. I couldn’t comprehend why Tom had hated me so much; however, I had a gut feeling he had some type of misinterpretation of my character, and possibly, he judged me too quickly.
As I might of thought about it too intently, I feel nauseaus, completely sick at the thought of confronting him about this, all of this. My ears begin to ring, my head now light, and dizziness envelops my body again.
The last thing I felt was a single tear escaping my eye.
“Her CT and MRI scans came back alright; her heart ultrasound is stable; her spine imaging shows no injury.”
“Alright, we’re still waiting on blood tests. Keep maintaining that IV.”
My eyes flutter open, white brightness flooding my vision. Shutting them tightly, I try to slowly open them again, letting them adjust to the lights on the ceiling.
My head is pounding, but I felt refreshed. Slowly sitting up, I look down abruptly — am I in a hospital gown.
“Oh good, you’re awake.” An older woman stands in scrubs near the door, a few files in her hand.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice is coarse.
“You fainted.” She looks at me with a gentle type of pity. “Do you have a history of fainting or dizziness? Low blood pressure, or low blood sugar, in either you or your family?”
I look down at the tubes connected to my arms in curiosity, then I answer her. “No.”
“Alright.” She walks up to me, running a few eye tests and memory tests. Soon, she leaves the room, and I’m left empty.
I had some time to check my phone and see what’s going on — I had a million notifications. Most of them were from my family and my manager, but I couldn’t believe that the next person with the most notifications were from Tom.
“Y/n!” My manager bursts through the door before I can read them, her eyes terrified. She hastily walks up to me, inspecting my face. “What happened?!”
“No clue.” I say it genuinely.
“She fainted.” The doctor walks back in, and behind her is my Director and… Tom? “Miss Y/L/N, were you on any diets during your involvement with this movie?”
“I, uh —“ My eyes are on Tom, who looked scared for his life. “I was cutting for my role, and I was just at a maintenance once we started filming.”
“Alright, and are you aware of how much your caloric maintenance is?” The doctor continues to ask as she jots notes down on a clipboard.
“Almost two-thousand calories.” I reply, my voice still rough and coarse.
“Ok. Your blood sugar is incredibly low and your organs have began to shut down. During your maintenance, did you alter carbohydrates or proteins?”
“No.” My voice cracks and my eyes shut, the corners of them stinging with tears as realization hits me like a fucking bus.
I seriously haven’t been eating. I don’t think I’ve been drinking anything, either. For weeks. I already know where this is going.
“Y/n, you’ve been diagnosed with extreme dehydration and acute anorexia.” The doctor explains it, and as she finishes her last word, the entire room goes silent.
“Anorexia? I’m not anorexic.” I say it immediately, my breathing becoming erratic.
“Based off of the tests we've completed in the last couple of hours, your body has been slowly becoming limp, falling into almost... starvation mode." The doctor informs me. "If I were to guess, you haven't been eating, or at least barely, in the last couple of weeks. As for dehydration, it's too soon to determine that since dehydration reacts quickly. Have you been eating?"
"I haven't." I say it after a moment, coming clean to the doctor. A few tears fall down my cheeks, and it took everything in me to not freak out, especially with Tom and the director in front of me.
"It's alright, hun." The doctor smiles warmly at me, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I believe you. You work in a tough industry, you probably lost appetite for a while due to high stress levels and anxiety; however, we still need to complete a psych eval to make sure you're alright."
"Ok." I breathe, my hands begining to shake.
"I'll leave you alone with your visitors for a while. Let that IV run out, and hopefully we can get you to that eval, and get you out of here." The doctor says before quietly exiting.
There's a few moments of silence. The director had his arms crossed, looking at the ground in deep thought, while my manager looks at me with soft concern.
Tom looks like he hasn't slept in days. I've never seen him so distraught -- his chestnut hair is messy, prominant eye bags, and the most evident sad eyes I've ever seen.
"You haven't been eating?" My manager is the first to speak.
"I guess not."
"You guess?!" My manager gasps like a concerned mother. "You fainted unconcious yesterday, Y/n!"
"Yesterday?!" I exclaim, and as I do my head pangs with pain, and i instantly grab my temples.
"Sweetheart, just relax." She inhales before turning to the Director. "C'mon, let's discuss this outside. She's been through enough."
The two begin to exit my room, Tom slowly getting up and walking behind them -- suddenly, he stops, letting the door close. He takes a deep sigh before turning to me.
"Are you ok?" He breathes, defeat in his voice.
"I don't know." I respond quietly, unsure of his behavior.
"Did... did I do this to you?" He asks.
I stay quiet. If I say a single word, I might burst into tears.
"Y/n?" He tries again.
"What..." My voice chokes, water brimming my eyelids. "What do you think, Tom?"
"Y/n I didn't realize... I didn't think..." He pauses, throwing his head in his hands. "I didn't mean to."
"Yeah, well, you did." I give a hopeless laugh as tears continuously stream down my face, my heart numb.
"Y/n I'm sorry. I really am. I'm so, so, so fucking sorry." Tom walks over, sitting at the end of my hospital bed. "I don't even fucking care what I thought of you before, I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
I watch him as his eyes also glisten with tears, his hand now firmly grasping my ankle over the thin blanket. He wipes his tear-stained cheeks, his chest heaving as he breathes.
"It took me being in the hospital for you to care?" I say it absentmindedly, my heart on my sleeve at this point.
"No, I just --" Tom takes a second to calm down. "I need to explain myself, you deserve an explaination."
As I sit there in the hospital bed with my arms crossed and a cocked brow, I nod my head for him to go on. Whatever he was about to say, I wasn't ready for it, but with uncomfort and confusion, I give him a chance to explain himself.
"I, uh -- I really thought you were using me." He says after scooting up towards me, placing a gentle hand on top of mine. "I overheard our managers talking, and it sounded like you only wanted the role because it's with me. I hated that, and I didn't realize how mean I was being to you by knowing that."
"Mean? You were heinous." I shake my head. "It's not even like that, I wanted the role because of the character, and because having a cute co-star would --"
I blink slowly. I take a few breaths. Did I really just say that out loud? "I thought you were cute. I thought having a, uh, cute co-star was a bonus. That's why i wanted you."
Embarassment fills my veins.
"That's --" Tom lets out a half-hearted laugh. "That's insane because it frustrated the bloody hell out of me the more attractive I found you."
"Y/n, I can't even fathom how sorry I am right now." Tom sighs, changing the subject, his gentle voice and soft touch unlike anything else I've seen from him. For the first time, I was seeing a new side of Tom -- a side I thought I was going to meet since the beginning.
"It's alright." I sigh. "I should've told someone. I should've done something before it got this serious."
"Darling, no, no, no." Tom's voice softens even more, his light grin had flatlined as he gently grabs my hand, and and places chaste kisses upon it. "None of this is your fault. This is all me, and I'm going to make it up to you. I promise."
We began to softly talk for a while to make up for the lost time we missed out on due to the misconception, mostly of the things that normal co-stars would have normally shared.
And it was nice. Tom had always been the charming gentleman that I met on day one of filming, and my heart slowly burns due to it. It felt like he was returning all of the pieces he had taken from me, and for that I felt relief.
I felt okay again.
"You really are gorgeous. Even with that hospital gown." Tom begins to lightly joke.
"Hey!" I smack his arm playfully, and he begins to chuckle.
After a short period of us admiring eachother, Tom leans in to plant a long kiss on my forehead. When he begins to pull away, I place a hand on his cheek. Slowly leaning in, his soft lips meet mine.
His cologne fills the air, and it's all I can smell as we share a long, sweet kiss.
"So... what do we do now?"
Gem always loved the moon. If she happened to stay up late, working on some kind of project, she tried to take the time to just look at the moon. This is what a moon was supposed to look and feel like- no gravity issues, no getting bigger, just quietly vibing in the sky.
One night she was helping lug some shulker boxes around with Pearl. As per usual, she stopped briefly to smile up at the dark sky and the bright moon.
“Oh, isn’t it so pretty Pearl?”
“Gem why did you stop?” Pearl came back around a corner, glancing up. “What is?”
“Why, the moon, of course!” Gem replied, jokingly scandalized. “I mean, shouldn’t you love the moon, since you’re named after it?”
“Not really.” Pearl pointed to where the boxes needed to go. “I mean, it’s just a moon. I’m the better moon anyway. The pearlescent type.”
“Gee, I didn’t think you’d have beef with the moon.” Gem said curiously. “I kinda thought you were like related to the moon or something. Oh wait, I know, it’s because you’re an alien!” She giggled.
“Gem, I’m not an alien!” Pearl was not laughing, and in fact Gem could see her flip from her sword to her axe and back again in agitation. “Stop saying that! I’m not kidding.”
“Pearl…” Gem reached for her, but Pearl stormed off before she could say anything else.
Upset, Gem flew over to Impulse’s place. She literally flew into him as he was coming outside onto the bridge.
“Impulse, Pearl just yelled at me.” Gem couldn’t decide if she felt upset or confused. Probably both.
“Oh Gem, I’m sorry.” Impulse looked sad and gave her a hug. “Pearl’s been acting super weird recently. She yelled at me too the other day for talking about the moon from last season.”
“She stormed off because I joked that she was an alien!” Gem sat down on the edge of the bridge. “I mean, if it upsets her, I should stop joking about it, and I will. But she’s also not acting like herself. It’s… does Pearl not seem like the Pearl you remember from Boatem?”
Impulse sat down beside her. “No, yeah, literally, this isn’t my Pearly. I spent all of Boatem and falling through the Boatem hole with her. She loved the moon! She was the only one chill with it, kept insisting it was her cousin coming to visit!”
“She definitely was considering threatening me with something sharp, and not in a fun way.” Gem said, frowning. “It just doesn’t make any sense. I’ve known her even longer then you have, and she’s never been like this.”
“Impulse! Gem! Hello, hello, hello!” A cheery voice interrupted their depressing conversation, and they turned around to see Zedaph clip-clopping up the stairs towards them. He smiled at them, and despite it all, seeing the goofy redstoner made them smile too. “Impulse! Just the dwarf I was looking for, because I came specifically to your house! And Gem, I’m sure your brain would be useful in this as well!”
“What’s up, Zed?” Impulse got to his feet and slapped Zedaph on the back amicably.
“Well, it’s about the moon.” Gem and Impulse froze. Zedaph, obliviously looking at his notes, continued after a long silence. “Sorry, I was reading my notes. Yeah, the moon is acting weird.”
“What do you mean by weird, Zed?” Gem asked cautiously. She could feel a low panic simmering through her body.
Zed looked up and laughed. “Oh my, you two look like you’ve seen a ghost! No, no, not like whatever happened last season- I wasn’t paying attention, I don’t remember that- this is different. The moon patterns are behaving super weirdly.”
“Okay, let me take a look.” Impulse said after several calming breaths. He took the papers in Zed’s hand.
“I’ve been marking the position of the moon since the season started- been thinking of some kind of Zedvancement to do with that big sky orb. But it’s been all over the sky, slowly. Can’t make heads or tails of it.” Zed remarked over Impulse’s shoulder.
“Huh…” Impulse was tracing the moon’s path over time with his finger. “Gem, do you notice anything familiar about these patterns?”
Gem watched Impulse’s finger trace, and then gasped. “It’s letters! H-E-L-P. Help! It’s help.” A chill went through her suddenly, and she looked across the bridge to see Pearl watching the gathered group from on top of her mountain.
“Help?” Impulse murmured, brain clearly whirring. Zed looking at it too, thoughtfully chewing on Impulse’s sleeve.
“Hey Impulse?” Gem asked cautiously.
“Do you remember how we were just talking about how strangely Pearl was acting?”
“Yeah…” Impulse looked up from the document, now studying Gem. “Why?”
“What if… hey Impulse, what if that’s not our Pearl?” Gem had her eye on Pearl on the hill.
“Help…” Impulse murmured. “Gem, if you think that’s not Pearl, then could she be…” He looked up at the sky, at the moon that was just starting to rise.
“Oh my god Pearl’s trapped in the moon!” Gem gasped.
“Pearl is the moon. She said help, oh my god that makes so much sense!” Impulse clutched the papers to his chest.
“Guys?” Zed spit out Impulse’s sleeve. “You do realize how ridiculous you both sound, right? Like, I’m me, Zedaph, and I’m saying this is too much. There is no way a person can be the literal moon!”
“Maybe not…” Impulse muttered. Gem shivered, watching Impulse trace the same word over and over again.
(Uhhh this is a half baked idea I’ll put part two here if I do it)
First base—or homerun?
belated eunseo day quickie?
Loud cheers and shouting filled the stadium once they saw the ball going outside of the field, indicating a home run. “Damn! That was a good hit!” Joon exclaimed. “인정.” You replied, Damn—it’s hot in here. You only agreed to hang out with your friend because you recognized that it’s been a while that you’ve hung out together. Playing League most of the time is a bad idea. You sighed
“Hey, why did we go to a baseball match instead of going to the Han River like we used to do?” You asked, earning a questionable look from Joon, “Don’t you remember that I got a part-time job?”
Ah shit—”Oh yeah-yeah, isn’t it like a photographer or something?”—Oh-thank-goodness. Joon wipes the lens of his camera, “Yeah—a photographer for a fansite.”
“Fansite? For what?” You asked, “Do you know WJSN?” Joon replied while preparing his camera. “WJSN? Is that like LOONA?” Joon looks at you with concern, but then shakes it off. “Eh—probably. I only know Twice, so yeah—I mean, a job is a job right?” Hearing that from your friend, understandable.
After a while, the casters announced that there will be a short break before the following inning. “Hey, it’s about to start~” Joon nudges your arm and points his long-ass camera on the white stage in front of the both of you. “What? What’s gonna star— Would you like? Hello! We are Woojoo Sonyeo!” 9 girls are now on the stage. As you looked at them from left to right, you felt someone staring at you from the middle, “Hey—hey! Joon—who’s that girl in the middle?” You ask Joon, but Joon is pressing the shutter button in intervals, Damn, this is a different Joon. “I don’t know either, I was just given the order to take photos of Luda.” Joon replies, “Luda? Like Ludacris? Anyways—who’s that gir—As you wish~” Music suddenly blasted catching you off-guard, the nine girls started performing. It was good, but why does she keep staring at me?
Ayo—”Dude, did she just wink at me?” Joon kept taking pictures of the girl named Luda. That wink, that wink… As the performance finished, the nine girls got off the stage and all people with cameras started packing their cameras too. “Hey—hey! Where are you going, Joon?” Joon picks up his bag filled with battery packs and extra SD cards. “Sorry, bro. Let’s hang out soon, for real—ok?” Joon runs towards the exit leaving you alone. “Wai—is this what it feels like, huh…” You sat down in defeat.
2 innings have already passed but Joon isn’t still coming back, “I guess he still has things to do for his ‘job’” You said to yourself—”Excuse me, is that seat taken?” A feminine voice asked. “I guess?” You replied, the woman walked in front of you, her ass nearing your face. Ayo—what the fuck? She packin dou. As she sat, you had a chance at catching a glimpse of her but she had this bucket hat and mask on. “Would you like to make a bet?” The woman asks. Honestly, you don’t know what to do, you have no prior knowledge on how to talk with a stranger. “Uhm—ok?”
“The next batter, will he get first base—or a homerun?” The woman asked, “I dunno, maybe second base?”
“What should we bet on~ a kiss?” An innocent kiss wouldn’t hurt right? “Sure.”
The next batter prepares at the home plate
By the sheer luck that you hold, the batter reached second base.
“Yes!-” You jumped, but you forgot about the woman. Oh—fuck.
“I guess you’re pretty excited, huh?” The woman giggles. You sat back down in embarrassment, “Well—a bet is a bet~” The woman took off her mask, Ayo—what? You remember the girl that was staring at you during the performance by WJSN earlier. “E-Eunseo?” Eunseo smirks then places her palms at the side of your head, bringing you close to her. “A bet is a bet—” Eunseo suddenly kisses you with such vigor that the people around you would think that you’re together as a couple. Is this what a kiss feels like? It feels goo—bwoah! Eunseo’s tongue enters your inexperienced mouth and starts playing with your tongue. Woah! This—this feels. Good…
The crowd cheers all of a sudden, bringing you back from that daydream. “O-Oh.” Eunseo breaks off the kiss and puts her mask on again. “Wanna make a bet again?” Enticed by the offer, you accept.
“Ok, again. The next batter, will he get first base—or a homerun?” Eunseo asked.
“Homerun—definitely homerun.” You said with a low voice.
Eunseo sniggers, “Well, what should we bet on?”
“Well, you?” Eunseo giggles lustfully, “Well~ 콜~”
As the next batter comes up to the home plate, you were hoping that you’d be right.
“WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” You jumped from your seat and started hugging the people cheering too, noticing that you’re too hype, you tried to collect yourself once more. Poker face on! “Well—I guess luck is with me today.” Eunseo giggles. “All right-all right, come with me, lucky boy~” As Eunseo stands and walks, you follow along, like a dog.
You follow Eunseo to what seems like an isolated bathroom near the edge of the stadium.
“Ok, lucky boy. Come and get your reward~” Eunseo says as she removes the long coat, revealing the outfit she wore on the stage earlier. Looking at her now with a better point of view, smooth, milky legs and grab-able breasts—Oh my goodness! “Hey, lucky boy. The view is about to be better~” Eunseo takes off her shirt and bra, showing milky white breasts with nipples already in attention. The urge to suck her nipples and play with them clouds your mind. “Go on~ I know what you’re thinking already~” Without a pause, you lunged towards Eunseo and lifted her to sit on the sink. Sucking and nipping her nipples, Eunseo is already feeling the heat course through her body and towards her crotch, as you go up to her neck, leaving marks of lust on the way, Eunseo removes your jogging pants and boxers in one fell swoop motion of her feet, “Well—I guess I’m lucky too~” The both of you giggle.
Now looking at her straight in the eye, so close that you feel each other’s heavy breath. Eunseo’s lips crashed onto yours and started a deep kiss, her legs wrapped around your waist. It’s time to switch. You carried her again and switched your positions, Eunseo, now standing, while you lean on the sink. Eunseo breaks off the kiss and starts removing her skimpy shorts while you take off your shirt. “You’re not so bad yourself~” Eunseo whispers to your ear and starts going down, placing small kisses down your chest going to your crotch.
“Mwah~” Intense sensations rocked your world as she kissed your cock, GAHDAM! “E-Eunseo—” Everything went black as she took you whole.
I see trees of green—
Red roses too~
I see them bloom—
For me and you~
And I think to myself—
What a wonderful wor— “UGH!”
Ah, fuck. That was too good… You thought to yourself, feeling embarrassed as you blew already.
“Gulp—” Goddamn. She swallowed it? A pop echoed around the restroom as she took off the grip of her mouth on your cock. You felt embarrassed as she giggled, “I guess it’s your first time, huh?” Eunseo asks, you replied by nodding in shame. “Well, it’s still hard so maybe you can still make me feel good~” Eunseo makes you sit on the sink as she climbs up the sink and positions herself on top of you. “Want to finally have me?” You nod with vigor, Eunseo teases you by lowering herself slowly, but it backfires as she slips on the sink and lands on your dick, penetrating her instantly. “Nnngh!” Eunseo moans while her back arches, “Hey—hey! Are you ok? Are you—” You pushed your hips forward, going even deeper into her, so that you can stand because Eunseo is about to fall. Your hands on her ass supporting her, while her arms are just clinging to the back of your neck. “Y-you’re s-so deeeep i-in m-me—” Eunseo blurts out weakly. Legs turn into jelly as you feel the warmth and tightness of Eunseo around your hard cock, falling onto your knees, and laying down Eunseo slowly on the ground while still in her. Both of you breathing heavily from that pleasurable mishap, “T-this feels too good.” You weakly say as her walls tighten around you once more, sending you into a lust-filled haze. You started pistoning in and out of her, Eunseo mewling incoherent words due to lust and pleasure filling her head.
“I’m close!” You managed to shout after several attempts, “N-not insid-e! Nngh! It feels too good! Don’t stop—Don’t stop!” Eunseo orders as she is nearing her peak too. A loud grunt emanates from you as you send deep and powerful blasts of cum deep inside Eunseo, possibly filling her womb. Eunseo comes the moment after you finish blasting hot cum deep in her, after a while, you regain your composure. “Oh-no—Ohhhhhhhhh-nooooooo—” The only words that left your mouth as Eunseo is in a post-orgasm haze.
The door opens…
The Luda girl—
“Holy shit! Did you just cum inside Eunseo?!”
Belated Eunseo Day?
always | jjk
summary: in which jungkook is a fleeting bus ride crush.
> word count: 1.5k
> warnings: spiritual crisis !
note: something short . and spontaneous i know i just posted so don’t get sick of me yet 😭 i just randomly thought of this while listening to joon’s always earlier <3
you can’t remember the last time you prayed.
the thought that has been running on your mind for the past ten minutes, floating and freezing on the window seat of the bus. the street lamps illuminate the strangers of the night. sitting, standing, walking, pacing. a little girl crying and pulling at her mother’s dress.
the image of your own young self, kneeling in the church. pure and innocent. with eyes shut closed and hands clasped together, you chant each and every name of the people you love, praying for their health and happiness. a little child breaking down into tears, confused and uncomfortable. incapable of deciphering the complexity of the human emotions. naivety in human form. you believed yourself rich with other people’s good fortunes — you never prayed for your own until your list of loved ones became shorter and shorter and you discovered a space for your own name.
you can’t remember the last time you prayed.
it’s been years, that you are sure of. you never really notice time passing by anymore. you don’t realize unless you force yourself to think hard enough.
you start questioning the reason you stopped praying: when did you become too busy? too tired? too preoccupied? or perhaps, when did you run out of things to pray for? when did you stop thinking there are things in the world worth begging for? when did you stop wanting more?
you think it is what life is all about: wanting. the whole premise of trying hard at anything at all is to get what you want.
do you truly want if you don’t fall to your knees and beg? does it truly matter if someone listens to your prayers or not? a prayer is a petition, is it not?
ah, why do you need to be so negative? maybe, just maybe, you woke up one day and decided to take charge of your own destiny.
the rain starts pouring, heavy clouds looming over the bustling city. you can hear the heavy raindrops colliding with the roof over your head, and they start clouding the glass window you’ve been staring at for the past half hour.
you can already make out the angry faces of people who don’t have an umbrella, one of them being your colleague. you still haven’t returned his umbrella that you borrowed two days ago, and well, his car broke down this afternoon. he clocked out earlier than you, so you weren’t able to give it back to him.
a bolt of lightning brightens up the sky for a few seconds, and your faint reflection on the window copies your startled expression. you bite the inside of your cheek nervously. you think the heavens might’ve heard you. and they aren’t pleased.
your hands are freezing, and rubbing them together feels more uncomfortable instead of warm. hell, even the top of your head is freezing. you glare at the airconditioner above you. you’ve been trying to adjust the direction of the cold air, but alas, it’s stuck. and you’re stuck. because the bus is almost full and there’s no other window seats left.
you sigh heavily, desperately pulling at the sleeves of your jacket but they fail to go past your wrists.
ah, this is what you get.
you can’t remember the last time you prayed. and you feel sick to your stomach.
the bus makes a quick stop, and a boy occupies the seat beside you. his shoulder brushes against you lightly as he makes himself comfortable, putting on his earphones. you lean your head on your seat, unconsciously following his movements. a beautiful distraction. his tattooed hand scrolling through his long list of albums and playlists. his midnight blue sweater (which you are jealous of because he looks all warm and comfy). his black bucket hat hiding half of his face. the earrings that dangle way past it.
not to mention, he smells like flowers. light and sweet. completely contrasting his obvious taste for dark colors in fashion.
he clicks on a song, and he hums softly. he sounds beautiful. calming. the harrowing thoughts causing distress to your body get pushed to the back of your brain. you allow yourself to close your eyes, exhaustion seeping into your bones. just to rest, to float with no purpose or care. sleeping is for the bed.
you feel his movements even with your eyes closed, and you crack one curious eye open slightly to see what he’s doing. he’s reaching up to adjust the airconditioner, struggling as you did earlier. he makes a confused noise, and you suppress a giggle.
he probably thinks you’re asleep because after stealing a brief glance, he plants his nike sneakers clad foot on the cushion under him and exerts more force on the stuck little machine. it finally budges, and he proceeds to make it face the side so that the both of you can enjoy much needed warmth.
he blows a breath from his mouth, carefully sliding back to his seat, wary of ‘waking’ you up.
it’s stand still for five, ten, fifteen minutes. you’re not sure anymore, how long you’ve had your eyes closed. did you fall asleep? maybe. for a few minutes. slipping in and out of consciousness as the bus slid through the slippery road.
as if on cue, a weight falls on your shoulder as soon as you flutter your eyes open. you look over to your side in utter confusion. the boy’s head is leaning on your shoulder, fast asleep as he snores a few decibels above a whisper. he adjusts himself a bit, lightly scratching his cheek before his hand rests over his lap again. his earbud brushes over your shoulder and falls, dangling over your hand. you noticed that his bucket hat is neatly placed on top of his shoulder bag now, too.
from your point of view, he’s a very pretty human, you’ve decided. you like his nose. you rarely find that part of the face attractive, but he’s pretty. that is the only adjective your hazy mind can come up with.
judging by his snoring, you figure he must be tired. this isn’t the first time someone is sleeping on your shoulder in the bus. it has happened a couple times over the past years. it’s a hectic city. people come out of school or work defeated and worn out. you genuinely understand. it’s a small act of kindness, letting the boy rest as long as possible. he did fix your problem with the airconditioner, after all.
your muscles start hurting only after a few minutes, tired and tense from the long day you had. he’s not exactly light too. he looks buff, judging by his arms. yes, only his head is on your shoulder, but he’s leaning his weight on you too. but you endure, distracting yourself with the raindrops rushing down the window. the cake displays in the bake shops. the stranded woman standing outside a restaurant without an umbrella. the blinding red bumper lights.
at some point, the rain makes a complete stop and he starts mumbling in his sleep. you blink at him with a mix of confusion and amusement. his words are too quiet and slurred to be understood, so you give up on listening attentively.
talking in his sleep. how cute. you find yourself hoping he’s having sweet dreams.
an empty feeling punches you in the gut as the view from outside becomes increasingly familiar, and you find yourself only a few minutes away to your stop. your eyes gloss over the boy slumped on your side, memorizing the tattoos on his hand. burning it into your memory. just incase. just incase.
then with a sigh, you shake him awake. he jerks up, lost and sleepy eyes meeting yours. it’s the first time you take a proper look at his face, and you think his doe eyes might be your favorite feature of his. he is pretty, way prettier than you imagined.
against your will, you pull the cord to signal the bus driver that you are ready to get off.
“i’m sorry, this is my stop. i hope you slept well.” you feel like the air got stolen from your lungs, but you manage a soft smile.
he reciprocates, smiling sheepishly as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. “oh- i did, actually. thank you.”
the bus finally stops. you force yourself to stand up, and he pulls up his feet to give you space to move out of the cramped seats. the wide-eyed look he follows you with as you walk out of the bus will haunt you in your sleep, as well as the childlike grin on his face as he waves at you goodbye from the inside. and then the bus gradually disappears from your sight.
ah, life is hilariously strange.
because you stand at the side of deserted road, silently praying to cross paths with the beautiful boy again in this lifetime.
and as you walk home to your apartment, you silently wonder: years and years from now, will this prayer be forgotten too?
taglist! @lolalee24 @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @cramseys @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @yoonqki @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @ameliejeannelaurent @takochelle
sleep pile with bruno and his nieces and nephews!
Thank you for the request 🥺 Somehow this turned out to be over 1,000 words! Here’s the AO3 link!
“But we should—“
“Leave him there. Good idea.”
“Not what I was going to say!”
“Whaddya mean? We’re practically twins! We finish each otherrr’s…”
“Like I’d ever fall for that.”
“Hey. What’re you guys just, standing there for?”
Mirabel and Camilo startle at the voice behind them.
“Luisa! Keep your voice down, okay,” Mirabel hisses. “It’s Tío Bruno.”
The tall young woman crosses the courtyard and gazes in the direction her sister has indicated with a pucker of lips. Her powerful body is immediately tense, ready to spring forward and pluck their tío out of whatever situation he’s landed in. The instant she sees him, she gives a low little laugh.
“Oh, he’s sleeping.”
“Yeah. On the floor. Just. Dead to the world, right there.” Camilo, heaping on the obvious statements.
“Which is why we should move him to the couch!”
“He looks… comfortable?” Luisa shifts from one foot to the other. “Haven’t you seen this before?” The younger kids shake their heads. “He used to do it a lot. Before he, uh, left. I remember seeing him asleep on the floor, or like in a corner somewhere. Mamá said that as long as he wasn’t in danger, wasn’t going to fall or get stepped on or anything, it was okay to let him be. Said he needed the rest.”
She doesn’t mention the part where she’d plunk down in front of Bruno, a doll and stuffed animal in tow, or sometimes blocks. Or that she’d sit with him until he woke up (once or twice prodding him awake herself). Then her tío would blink at her through those ever-sleepless eyes, never upset with her, even if she roused him earlier than he’d wanted. Just a crooked smile and a bleary but tender, “Buenas, Luisita.”
Camilo is gesturing at the man’s form in the center of the living room. “See? I was right. Also, wow, fu—ay! Wh—“
“Shh. I still think we should move him.” Mirabel’s brow is furrowed.
“…What if he wakes up?”
“Yeah. And anyway, he’s probably too heavy for us n–ow! Stop pinching me, Mirabel!”
“He’s not!” Mirabel says, while Luisa crosses her arms, biceps bulging. “And I won’t, because you keep being an—“
“Let him stay there.”
All three of them jump in spite of the sound of a well-practiced whisper beside them. Turning their heads in unison, they see Dolores peeking around the threshold at their passed-out uncle.
“He’s still lighter than you, Camilo.” She adds, humming, lest she squander the opportunity to defend Bruno and jab back at her brother, who simply shrugs, even as he fixes her with a too-wide smirk.
Looking back at Mirabel, he says, “Our majority grows. And our seniority stays!”
Mirabel is familiar enough with their mothers and Bruno’s banter as triplets to know it’s hopeless to argue that Camilo being two months and one week older than her totally does not count as seniority. Still, the words chafe.
“Well, unfortunately for you, primo, brains beat age,” she counters. Smiling at her own private triumph. “You guys, come on! Dolores, don’t worry, we won’t wake him.”
“Oh. No, it’s not that–“
As if on cue, the quiet, piping voice of the youngest Madrigal sends the four bigger bodies shuffling. They watch the boy’s curly head bob toward them—the rest of him is nearly obscured by the thick woolen blanket he’s hugging to his torso—and as he weaves through and on into the room.
Antonio had been the first to stumble upon Bruno like this, after consulting the rats over his whereabouts (“I need to find your mamá,” is how he framed it). It was seeing his tío fast asleep on the floor that made the boy shelve his pursuit of story time in favor of the next most logical thing.
Sure, the kid may have gotten distracted by his toucan friend along the way, but he’s back now! And once he reaches his destination he promptly arranges the blanket in a pile next to Bruno before plopping down on his side and snuggling his cheek against the man’s rounded belly.
The sight makes Dolores and Mirabel grin and Luisa’s lower lip quiver.
“Looks like Toñito’s found a middle way.” Camilo arches an eyebrow.
No one is at all fazed when Mirabel darts away, skirt fluttering. Nor when they hear a few muffled thumps somewhere above them, followed by the sound of her shushing herself. Within moments she’s at the living room entrance again, heaving blankets and pillows at the others (Casita must have helped with the load), and bounding ahead, lightly, with hers. She motions c’mon just as she’s starting to lay out her blanket in order to curl around her little primo, who wiggles his fingers at her.
“Tío Bruno’s tummy keeps making noises,” Antonio whispers, stifling a sleepy giggle.
Mirabel’s mouth forms into an o-shape. To her right, she catches a glimpse of Luisa settling on her quilt above Bruno’s head. “Maybe it’s better not to lie on it, hombrecito…”
“It’s okay,” Dolores says with an unconscious tilt of her head, from where she’s making a spot for herself at the man’s other side. “Tío ate a little over an hour ago. He’s just slow to digest.” A satisfied Antonio buries his whole face into their tío’s soft stomach.
“Hey, save some room for your big brother.”
The teenager has shape-shifted into a… smaller version of himself—a bit smaller than Antonio, even. Nudging in between Dolores and Bruno, he steals the former’s pillow, rolls onto it, and rests his head opposite his brother’s. After a second or two of mild contemplation, he pulls an expression that reads not bad and gives an exaggerated yawn.
Pepa and Félix’s eldest shakes her head. Then her eyes flick to either side… barely catching the shadow moving past the room.
The last things Dolores sees before she lies down beside Bruno are Luisa curved in an arc over him, body completely slumped and a gentle smile playing on her lips; and Mirabel rubbing circles into Antonio’s back as he drifts off, trying to fight the same fate…
In due time, the air turns fragrant with the scent of various wildflowers. Isabela slips into the room, a rolled blanket in the crook of her elbow, and conjures crowns for each of her family members. (No outrageous blooms, though she considers making an exception for Camilo.) When she’s finished putting the final touches on Bruno’s clovers, she claims the space by her youngest sister.
“Duerme bien,” she murmurs, letting her forehead rest against the already-slumbering girl’s shoulder.
Everything falls silent.
Maybe he would have moved earlier, or said something. But, oh, these kids…
Bruno allows one eye to open a crack, then the other. Gingerly, he extracts his rather stiff arm out from under Mirabel, gives it the tiniest stretch and twist before placing his hand on Antonio’s head.
He smiles, and closes his eyes once more.
If you ship davesprite and Jadesprite and crow and Jade because you think it works more if their the same species what do you think of davepeta and Jade does it work more or the same as davesprite and jade
(I just now realize i misunderstood this ask but whatever)
This is a super funny concept! the sprites beeing the same species, making the kids the same kind of hybrid
after thinking about it for a bit i came up with a posible scenario for that to happen in each case
So picture this:
instead of Bequerel, Jade's sprite gets prototiped with one of the many taxidemied animals on the tower, in the middle of the chaos, in this case a seagull (to make it kind of oposite to crow)
we get seagull sprite, pretty useless but asuming Jade could enter the game on her own, in time before the meteor's colision, it works
this gives us seagull-Jadesprite, who then turns into Jade when she godtiers, turning her hair white like a seagull, oposite to Crow
Of course this timeline would be hella doomed without bec noir existing, but it's fun to play with the idea
On the other hand
Picture this scenario, Dave throws his katana down the window to get the crow, instead of just shooting it through the window
All the crows get the atention of a neigthbour's dog
Pow. no more dog
Just like with the Crow, Jade prototipes the poor dead dog, giving us, dogsprite. Dave2 from the doom timeline shows up, and jumps into the sprite
stuff happens like in the au but with dog-davesprite. now we have two dog kids (this kid's name most likely wouldn't be Crow, but who cares)
This timeline would be actually posible i think. i can't remember a canon reason why davesprite needed to specifically be a bird and no other animal, so yeah, i think it could work
as for Davepeta, i think Jade and them could have had something in canon, since they no longer dread their existence and are back to a humanoid form and no longer look like a sad worm on a string
ignore any gramatical mistakes, i don't feel like double checking today
i can't stop making AUs
i can't help but think that some folks were expecting...less humane more hubristic PCs here. not that the hubris isn't present (because it very much is; all of our characters see events in terms of themselves first and foremost and think of how the world affects them; yes, even Zerxus), but i think some were expecting to see the grandiose, sweeping arrogance emblematic of many wizards in d&d.
instead, they're just folk. granted, they're incredibly powerful, inherently magical and wondrous folk, with the equivalent of bottomless money at their fingertips, but still. just...people. who have no idea of what is coming. and why should they? everyone's focus is narrowed to the realm of their own experience and interpretation: Laerryn is cock-a-hoop with glee at the possibility of...doing whatever she's been faffing about with? Loquatius is focused on branding and networking and keeping his monopoly on news locked down. Patia is neck-deep in wizard guild dramacide. Nydas is busy being a hypercapitalist. Cerrit and Zerxus, to be honest, are the only two of the party who can start to see how pieces of this Rube Goldberg Apocalypse Engine go together--but even then, they don't see what we the audience sees (esp those of us who have been picking up on the lil easter eggs laid out). they don't know that they don't have all the pieces, they don't know what they don't know--and why should they? when a catastrophe is unfolding, we only see all the pieces in the aftermath. and we point and say 'o noes how could they not See' well because when you're so close to it, it looks just like any other day. a day with quirks, sure, but just another day ending in -Y.
and we did not expect the families of our players. sure, there's a shared history amongst them all, but families? loved ones? kids? i remember when people were shocked in C2 when Veth revealed she had a husband and a child. suddenly the stakes are more real. actions will have consequences outside of the party.
all of those children bouncing through Avalir will die. all of them. Brennan knows this and is reminding us every chance he gets. that man does not fuck around. he understands the stakes, what can happen in catastrophes and wars, and he sure as shit groks what a god is to a mortal.
i do not think our PCs understand what a god really is--look at how their society views the Matron of Ravens! as if ascension to godhood, divinity, apotheosis is just something you do before afternoon tea! like it ain't no thang! and their society, like it or not, does influence how they perceive things around them: exhibit A, how Purvan was 'welcomed' and treated. i mean--fuck, i am a dyed-in-the-wool Agnostic to hell and back, but if someone came round and was introduced to be a Champion-with-a-capital-C of a god? i might not believe but i sure as shit wouldn't be rude about it! at least have some fucking manners, rich tit wizards! cos that's just tempting fate!
someone else here on tumblr (forgive me, i read much good cronchy meta last night before sleep and i can't remember who wrote it, apologies) mentioned that disconnect between the gods and the citizenry of Avalir. that (and i'm paraphrasing) the gods are just basically seen as...mortal plus. mortal with spice. and i think that person was bang-on accurate in that assessment: there's anthropomorphising your deities in order to make them seem less Awesome, less terrifying; and then there's making them more like us so that we could tear them from the heavens. to make them killable. both aspects can be dangerous. especially in d&d because the gods have teeth (so to speak), and actively participate in the Prime Material plane. member that whole parable about being welcoming to strangers, in case they're an angel or god in disguise? d&d gods are like that but moreso. and i think the citizens of Avalir do not see that. at all.
as for the Betrayer Gods and the whole 'whom were they betraying?' well. we do know that history is indeed written by the winners--or, in this case, those on the ground who survived and had any context whatsoever for what City life was like--and we also know that villains seldom see themselves as the Bad Guys. they might know that others see them as Bad and Not-Good and Big Big Meany Dookyheads--but themselves? seldom. they have reasons, justifications, through-lines of logic to explain why they are doing what they do (monster-logic but logic nonetheless). it doesn't matter if their contemporaries agree with them, much less mortals. i do not think there's going to be a woobification of the Betrayer Gods (and i wouldn't want one, either; sometimes we just need villains who are villains and we don't always need to soften their jagged edges, thanks), but if we get a supplemental narrative for what their angle is on this whole CalamityFest is? i'm down.
i will probably have more pointless rambles as this miniseries progresses, but so far i am enjoying the ever-loving shit out of it. last night was a roller coaster of me being riveted, flapping around like a wounded duck, and screeching gleefully into cushions so as not to wake my partner. and i can't wait for more.
becca mommy and daddy reader and bucky with sub steve is all I’m going to be able to think about for the next week. Wtf I didn’t think I would find it so hot
Why do I think about this all the time?? 🤤 because the thought of subby Stevie who’s mommy and daddy takes such good care of him is so hot
I adore the thought of making him miserably horny though. Maybe you make him watch daddy eating your pretty cunt, only daddy has more control when Steve does when he’s eating you out. Bucky licks with such purpose, sucking on your clit and slurping the slick dripping from your hole so greedily. Steve on the other hand loves feeling your fingers tangle in his hair, fucking yourself against his slutty mouth.
Nothing makes Steve ache like the sight of daddy eating you out, mainly because he doesn't know who he's most jealous of. He wishes he had his tongue buried in mommy's pretty little pussy. He wants to slurp and suck and lick until you're cumming and praising him for being such a good boy.
But at the same time, he wishes he were you, having his daddy go down on him. He loves the feeling of Bucky's scruff scratching his thighs and he loves how his daddy grunts, sucking Steve's thick cock but still making him feel small.
Bucky's mouth is so distracting you almost don't notice how Steve is practically squirming in his seat, palming his cock and whining.
"Stop being slutty, Steve." You chastise and you hear him sob because he knows he's been caught.
"Mommy I need to be fucked. Holy shit, need it mommy. F-fuck please." He groans, not removing his hand from his throbbing bulge. He's totally gone and you almost feel for him.
"Steve, naughty boys who touch themselves don't get to cum." You remind him, playing with your own nipple as Bucky sucks more intently.
"Need it mommy. Need to cum. W-wanna be…. Wanna be spread and fucked. O-oh please mommy." He grunts, taking his cock out but the sound of the zipper is the last straw for Bucky.
You feel him slurp as much of your arousal into his mouth as he can before getting up and pulling Steve over. "Eat mommy out. Don't you dare stop. And just remember; you begged for this."
Bucky's so matter of fact, pulling Steve's pants off and bending him over on the floor. His ass is in the air, his head between your legs and then he feels his daddy spit your arousal over his tight little asshole.
"No working you up this time, Stevie. You better be thankful mommy was so wet. Cause that's all you're getting." Bucky doesn't really mean it but the thought of being taken like a little whore just turns Steve on so much, he doesn't even notice the extra lube dripping over his hole. He's too wrapped up in you anyway, licking you with all he's got and loving every second.
hii can i request headcanons for Leona, Rook and Idia (separately) reacting to finding drawings of them in MC's sketchbook (MC explained that they draw dear to them people so when they come back home they won't forget the boys because they doesn't know if their memories of twisted wonderland will be erased after leaving this universe or not)
English is not my first language but i hope you can understand тт-тт
have a good day ♡
ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤: 𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕆𝕗 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕀𝕟 𝕄ℂ'𝕤 𝕊𝕜𝕖𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕓𝕠𝕠𝕜
𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕠𝕣 ℙ𝕠𝕝𝕪?: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖
Author Note: ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀) Don't worry, I think your English is excellent!! I know what you want so here are your headcanons, hehe. •ω• First time with headcanons, hopefully, I bring justice to it!! ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)
✨ Hm? Now, what's this? The little Herbivore drew him, heh, how cute. Not that he would say that out loud. His pride is too much for that- CoUgH
✨ Leona was quite confused but interested in why you drew him. He must say, you capture his looks. Very well done, herbivore.
✨ You explained to him why you drew him, you wanted to remember him if you ever go back to your world and the memories of you two got erased.
✨ Oh? O H? Leona would just stand there, not knowing what to say after that. You wanted to remember him even after you leave?
✨ He doesn't know how to reply to that? He isn't good with mushy words and all that stuff. But he is touched that you would do that.
🍒 Now, now? His little prey did this for him? Drew his beautiful figure in your sketchbook, but why?
🍒 In most all, Rook would be so flattered to have been drawn by you. Look at him, so gracefully and such. He might even tease you a bit, hehe.
🍒 What's now? You drew him because you don't want to forget him? Oh, oh, how sweet...
🍒 Rook probably be so touched and also sad since you might leave this world and go back to yours. It saddened him deeply but to know you will try to remember him, brings happiness to his heart.
🍒 He really does love you, doesn't he?
🎮 Oh dear! Look at him! You broke him, good job.
🎮 In all seriousness, Idia would die inside to know his Player 2 did this. A shut-in like him being loved?! Oh lord, someone go get Ortho, quickly!
🎮 Idia would def take a photo of the drawing and save it as his wallpaper on his phone, you can't change my mind!
🎮 When you told him why you drew him, his hair would go bright red and pink after hearing what you said. You wanted to remember him? Really?
🎮 Yeah, you probably might have to hold him after that.
Part 16 please 💜
part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16
You don’t remember when you fell asleep again but when you wake up once more, light is already shining into the room. Your body still feels weak, the pain of the wound still prominent, and you feel a presence from beside you. You try your best to turn to the side, to see who it is, and a small groan leaves your lips in doing so, alerting the man.
“You’re awake,” Taehyung says with a hand reaching out to feel your forehead. “The fever has yet to break.”
“Mm…it might not break.” Your voice is raspy this time as you speak so he turns to pour you a cup of water. You take that moment to check on your wound and cringe at the sight of the pool of blood. “The bed’s dirty now.”
“That’s alright. What matters is your health.” Taehyung turns back to help you drink the water and when a few droplets fall from the corner of your mouth, he’s right there to wipe them away. “Though I guess it must be uncomfortable laying on a wet patch, huh?”
“No, don’t apologize,” he lightly shakes his head, eyes gentle as he strokes your head and press a kiss to your temple. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? We’ll have to transfer you somewhere else for the moment, being as the bed’s soaked. Are you okay with that?”
You give him a nod, permitting him to carry you carefully in his arms, and as he walks out of the bedroom after calling for someone to clean up the mess, you let yourself lean on his strength, too weak to do much.
“Are you hurting anywhere else?” He asks after settling you down onto another bed to begin unwrapping your bloody bandages in order to wipe off the excess blood and wrap you in new and clean bandages. When you shake your head, Taehyung narrows his gaze. “You’re not lying, are you? These days, I think you’ve come to understand what it means to not want to worry others, hence you’ll lie your way out of things. It won’t do you any good, Y/N. Why don’t you be a little more truthful with us?”
With a little pout in the way he seems to read through you, you relent. “Um…sometimes my body still aches from..from your pains.”
You try to observe his expressions, wanting to read his thoughts, wanting to understand what it is he’s feeling at this moment, but Taehyung’s good at concealing his emotions, they all are. You guess being in the mafia business makes it easy for them to do so, but it doesn’t really help your case.
You wish you understood what he’s thinking.
“Where does it hurt the most?”
“My shoulder,” you say. “It’s sort of the same spot where you were probably hurt.”
He stares at your wound, pursing his lips. “It is, isn’t it. Can you move your hand?”
He nods and takes your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles, right before returning to dress your wound once more. “So the reason why you were gone for some time was in order to deal with the pain on your own,” he guesses, an assumption that’s right on point. “And then when the pain lessened, or was at least tolerable enough to hide it from everyone, you returned to not gain suspicion.”
“...Something like that.”
He finishes dressing the wound but his hands remain resting on it, gentle touches, careful to not hurt you any more than you already are. “If you were human,” Taehyung begins, his voice a tone of sorrow, “you wouldn’t have to endure such pains and blood wouldn’t have to continuiously bleed out. We’d be able to stop it.” He looks at you, almost a plea as he speaks. “You know we have one wish left, which means we could use it to make you human.”
The way Taehyung effortlessly kisses you when he wants to, the way you still feel Seokjin’s kiss from last night, and how Taehyung treats you so gently and so kindly…perhaps they have accepted your feelings.
Do you still have anything to worry about? You wanted to stay by their sides, to not leave even after your job as a genie was over, and now he’s offering to give us their last remaining wish on you.
What is there to hesitate about?
“Yes, Y/N?” He likes the way you speak his name, the way it rolls on your tongue, how his hearts does things when you call for him.
“I love you,” you say, and his heart skips a beat.
Why are you declaring such a thing, he wonders, but doesn’t ask. “I love you too,” he says instead, reaffirming your thoughts, and a small smile creeps up along your features.
“That’s really nice to hear,” you giggle. “Say it again.”
“I love you,” he obliges.
“I love you.”
Taehyung laughs. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Is that enough?”
“Alright.” So he repeats the words again, until you’re finally satisfied.
They hear the scream loud and clear, as well as the crashing sound that accompanies it, and in just a split second, they’re right on their feet, quick to rush over to the room where you should be.
“What the hell did you do?!”
When they rush in, you’re right on the floor, a hand clutching onto your wound, and Hoseok has his arms wrapped around you in an instant.
“Are you okay? What happened? Haven’t we told you many times to be careful? What were you trying to do?” He bombards you with questions, to which you meekly reply with a mumble.
“I just wanted to try walking..”
“Are you serious?” He lets out a frustrated sigh and you can already hear the scolding before it leaves his lips. Hoseok’s brows are furrowed, his expression a sort of worry mixed with frustration and agitation that leaves you to cower against the tone of his voice. “You can’t keep doing this, Y/N. If you keep putting strain on your body, you��re never going to get better. Why can’t you just let the days roll by and wait until your punishment is over? All you have to do is sit still in bed and wait for your pain to ease. Sooner or later, you’ll—”
He pauses at the sight of your flushed cheeks, the way your lips quiver as they hold in the tears that have welled up along your waterline, and Hoseok takes a moment to calm himself down.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs, bringing his hands to caress your cheeks and brush away the tears that are now falling down. Your tears are his weakness and there’s no way Hoseok can continue his scolding with the state you’re in. He can’t. “I’m sorry, you aren’t hurt, are you? Is your shoulder alright? Did you hit yourself anywhere when you fell?”
When Hoseok begins to check your body, tears spill even more.
“Why’re you crying now?” You feel Namjoon’s hand on your head.
“I’m supposed to be a useful genie but I’m nothing but an inconvenience and keep causing you to worry about me,” you explain through the tears. “I’m worthless.”
Yoongi holds your face in his hands, his thumb brushing against your cheeks. “First of all, you’re not an inconvenience. Second, you aren’t worthless. And third, no matter what you do, we’re always going to worry so you don't have to keep concerning yourself with that.”
“For as long as you live, we will always be overprotective of you.”
He chuckles at the question as if it was quite silly. “Is there a reason you eat when you get hungry?”
You tilt your head to the side upon his odd question, making you look more adorable than you already are. “Um…” Nevertheless, you answer his question. “Because it’s natural?”
“That’s right. Because it’s natural,” Yoongi nods. “Just as we will always care and worry over you.”
“So stop being so reckless all the time.” Jimin ruffles your head and you pout a bit.
“It was getting boring here all alone,” you say, causing him to smirk.
“That’s an odd way to admit you were lonely without us.”
Your cheeks heat up. “I didn't say that.”
“It’s exactly what you meant though, wasn’t it?”
You look off to the side at Jungkook’s teasing, refusing to meet their gaze upon your embarrassment. They’re right, you did feel a bit lonely…maybe a lot, but being called out on it isn’t fun so you resort to silence instead.
“Hey little lamp?” You look towards Namjoon when he calls for you and he reaches out to wipe the remainder of your tears. “What do you think about becoming human?”
This isn't the first time this conversation has been brought up but a part of you feels like facing it now and not running away and avoiding it as if it were the plague. They’ve always allowed you to shift the conversation, change the subject, or completely ignore it, but you guess sooner or later, you’d have to eventually address it.
It scares you a bit, but when you steel your heart, you think you’re ready to answer their question now.
“If I become human…” you begin, a purse in your lips, “would I be allowed to stay by your side..?”
“Of course,” Namjoon nods as if that was obvious from the very beginning. “That's the whole point, isn't it? Since you can’t stay by our sides forever as a genie.”
Yeah. That was your worry, and you guess that was their worry as well.
You feel a strange warmth in your heart when you realize the eight of you feel the same fear bubbling in your chests.
“Mm…but I’m a bit afraid,” you admit and Taehyung strokes your head.
“What are you afraid of?”
“Having to adjust to a solid human form for the rest of my life,” you say, catching them off guard by the strange fear. “I mean what if I just zoom in through a wall expecting to slide right through but instead hurt myself because of the atoms in a human’s body? Or what if I run off a cliff expecting to float but instead my body will follow gravity and I may potentially die? And I also won't be able to become invisible anymore, and when you call, I won't be able to automatically transport to you in an instant, and…”
You trail off on your words, listing minor inconveniences one after the other, and they chuckle at the sight. They guess to you, those fears aren’t strange at all. After all, you’ve lived as a genie for hundreds of years and suddenly becoming human one day won’t automatically allow you to adjust just as quickly. Your habits will haunt you and make things difficult on you.
“And I won’t be able to protect you!”
They stare at the bandage wrapped around your shoulder, then scan your body at the invisible pain you had to endure for days because you broke a very important rule, and they know now that your love language lies in actions.
You care for them without having to say a word, going out of your way to anger your own authorities in order to protect them, crying when they’re in pain, taking their own pains for yourself, and you do all of that in silence.
“That’s alright,” Taehyung tells you gently with a soft, soft smile, “it’s our turn to protect you.”
“Once you become human, you won't have to deal with this pain any longer.” Seokjin runs his hand carefully along your bandage. “Whether it disappears along with your genie form or you’ll be able to get it treated by a doctor, either way, we won't let you hurt for a second longer.”
“So trust us, yeah?” Namjoon takes your hand, giving it a squeeze. “When you want to instinctively run into a wall, we’ll hold you back. When you’re about to walk down a cliff, we’ll pull you back in before you can do so. Whatever it is, we’ll be right there for you.”
“And these tears,” Hoseok presses a kiss against your eye, “I can't promise you you will no longer shed them but I can promise you that we’ll try our best to make you the happiest you can ever be.”
“So whenever you’re ready, we’re right here with open arms.”
You feel your nose thickening, a lump in your throat as tears begin to grow, but this time you hold it in and you swallow through the lump. “Then…please wish for it,” you ask, a smile so transient and pretty. “I’m ready. I…I want to stay by your side.”
You feel their presence all around you; two different hands taking ahold of your hands, one pressed to your right shoulder, another on your left, someone wraps their arms around your waist from behind, another plays with your hair, and you feel a tilt of your chin, a finger lifting it up.
He meets you in a kiss. A sweet, gentle kiss, before he whispers, softly;
“Y/N…I wish for you to become human.”
Like Water - AO3. Season of the Haunted spoilers!
The Guardian is more perturbed by the Nightmare of Uldren Sov than Crow initially thought.
You know… sometimes, if I curl my finger just so… I can feel the pressure of the trigger. Smell the gunpowder. Hear Cayde’s screams.
Uldren Sov’s ghastly voice sounded over the comms—through The Guardian’s comms.
I could’ve done it nice and quick. But… well, you know. Don’t you? The way he laid there, reached out for his Ghost and begged. Like those little shards were going to help him—
Eris interrupted, “Begone, you facile caricature! Your lies have no power here.”
The Guardian was silent on the comms. Stoic as usual. How Crow admired their ability to let words slide over them as easily as water.
The H.E.L.M. was quiet after a long day of capturing Nightmares, more than Crow expected. Commander Zavala in particular had seemed like he was an inch away from fleeing the room as they discussed their next move with Eris Morn, and his blue complexion seemed ghostly. He seemed shaken. Exhausted. They all did. Well, except Eris, and—
The Guardian hadn’t uttered a word before, during, or after the mission. They were on the opposite side of the room, filling out an after-action report by hand. Their Ghost hung in the air over their shoulder, equally silent. Crow almost chuckled a little—they had gone out of their way to get a clipboard so they could remain standing, as if repelled by the concept of sitting down. A workaholic at heart, they were; yet he’d never seen Commander Zavala suggest they take a break. They had probably decided to stand so far away to give him some privacy after—
Perhaps they’ve properly learned to deal with stress, unlike you. Perhaps their performance does not cost lives the moment they are put under pressure.
Crow dared a glance over his shoulder, expecting the blood-red shadow of Uldren Sov there. But there was nothing. His thoughts, Uldren’s voice—his stomach churned, they were too similar.
He looked around frantically for a way to put himself to use. Eventually he approached The Guardian.
“Hey, Guardian.” Crow waved.
They jolted a little, as if snapped out of some kind of trance. He raised his hands. “Easy. Just me. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
That was odd. Crow didn’t think his footsteps were that quiet, and he’d approached from the front.
The Guardian didn’t offer so much as a nod. They hadn’t even taken off their helmet. They were never vocal, but, somehow, their usual quiet felt even quieter, if such a thing was possible.
Their Ghost’s eye was locked on The Guardian before he cleared his throat awkwardly and offered, “Nice to see you, Crow. We were just filling out some after-action reports while the, um,”—his shell tightened anxiously—“memory is still fresh.”
“Ah.” Crow cleared his throat. “Glint and I usually record them and send them to Zavala. If you want, I can take them to his office for you. One less trip.” He couldn’t shake the feeling he was interrupting something. A failure in every regard, it seemed, even when he was trying to help. Uldren had said as much. But he still had to try.
He glanced down at their clipboard. There was almost nothing written on it. The pencil in their hand trembled. Suddenly Crow realized that the final Nightmare of Uldren Sov didn’t belong to him.
He blushed in shame. Oh, he was so, so selfish to think that Uldren Sov was his Nightmare alone. He remembered their silence; he thought they were simply ignoring Uldren. His words were obvious lies, like Eris said. But they were too quiet, and their Ghost hadn’t said a word, either, and—Uldren’s taunts were only obviously untrue to Crow because he had his memories.
How many sleepless nights had they suffered because the ringing of Cayde’s screaming and begging were seared into their mind? Yet they had never once asked him about Uldren’s perspective. If they burned with questions about what happened to Cayde, they hid it too well behind their mask of stone. Why didn’t he think of this sooner?
“Guardian, I…” Crow swallowed. “Glint, could you put in an order for ramen?”
Glint materialized in a gentle swish of light. “Of course. What kind—”
“Just… surprise me.”
“I’ll go too,” The Guardian’s Ghost piped up, shell twirling from nerves. Crow didn’t know it was possible for Ghosts to look hurried as they transmatted out.
With eyes glued to their blank sheet of paperwork, they asked him what he wanted. Their voice cracked, heavy with exhaustion and sorrow.
Crow hated Uldren. He hated everything Uldren did. He hated how he was treated and how he treated others. He wished he could cut his memories out with a scalpel-sharp solar knife. He would rather rejoin Spider’s employ than be dragged through them again. But, maybe, for once in his Traveler-damned existence, maybe having Uldren’s memories could help someone.
“I just wanted you to know that…” He took a deep, shaking breath, dredging up Uldren’s blood-slicked memories. The scream of a hand cannon, a dark whisper in his ear, Cayde’s crackling coughs—“what Uldren said, on the Leviathan. He was lying.”
They looked up at him from their clipboard. Their expression was still concealed by their helmet, but at least they were looking at him.
What do you mean?
“Cayde never screamed. Or begged. He was… calm, not frightened.” Crow took another deep breath. “I remember, he cracked a joke at my—his—expense, I think. But Uldren—the Nightmare—was lying.” He averted his gaze and shuffled his feet. “I just… thought you should know.”
They stepped forward and he winced, expecting them to punch the Light out of him for being so presumptuous. But they threw their arms around him and sank their head into his shoulder.
They didn’t say a word, but they sighed, and he swore he heard a tremor of relief in it. He shut his eyes and squeezed them tighter. I’m here, Old Light. However many nights they spent agonizing over what happened to Cayde… he hoped they could lay those nightmares to rest now.
Uldren’s memories always seemed magnified when he closed his eyes. The scream of a hand cannon, a dark whisper in his ear, Cayde’s crackling coughs… But now they seemed a little more distant, a little more blurred, as if submerged. They did not slide past him as easily as water yet, but they slid past.
At least one thing went right for both of them today.
PERFECT SELF-CONCEPT CHALLENGE
AIM : To get a perfect self-concept within 2 weeks.
MATERIALS REQUIRED : You and your mind. That's it.
What is self-concept?
"an idea of the self constructed from the beliefs one holds about oneself and the responses of others."
Self-concept is basically all the beliefs we have about ourselves. It is a mental picture of who you are as a person and your individual perceptions of your behavior, your abilities and your characteristics. It is the personal knowledge of knowing who you are and considering all your feelings and thoughts about yourselves personally, socially and physically.
Why is it important to have a good self-concept?
Self-concept plays an important role in manifestation. If you have a good self-concept, you will be more confident while manifesting, you'll worry less about your results, you'll start acknowledging your true power, you'll be able to manifest easily and most of all you'll start believing that you're limitless BECAUSE YOU ACTUALLY ARE DUH.
A perfect self-concept will help you build your faith in the law and you'll stop asking useless questions to yourself and to all LOA bloggers. Moreover, you'll be more positive and focused while manifesting and you'll not waste your time moping around that you can't manifest *eye roll*.
Before beginning the challenge, make an affirmation list for your self-concept that you will need to affirm everyday. I have mentioned affirmations but you can also make your own affs AND REMEMBER TO START AFFIRMING WITH A POSITIVE MIND YA'LL.
I am the master of manifestation.
Nothing can interrupt my manifestations.
Manifesting is the easiest thing in the world.
Everyday I get better and better at manifesting.
My mind is powerful and limitless. I AM LIMITLESS.
I already have a perfect self-concept.
I'm free of doubts and limiting beliefs.
I have full faith in myself and my manifesting abilities.
I never obsess over my manifestations.
Why would I worry when I already have everything I want?
My intrusive thoughts never affect my manifestations.
Everyday I get better and better at manifesting.
I already have a perfect self-concept.
Circumstances do not faze me.
The 3D does not affect my manifestation at all.
The 3D always conforms to my desires instantly.
I am always unbothered by the 3D, the 3D cannot change my thoughts.
The 3D is a reflection of all my desires and the 3D always obeys my command.
Everyday I get better and better at manifesting.
I already have a perfect self-concept.
Its so damn easy to persist in the new story.
I am immune from visiting the old story.
The new story is my current reality.
I never doubt my abilities to live in the new story.
Everyday I get better and better at manifesting.
I already have a perfect self-concept.
Persisting comes naturally to me.
No matter what happens, I'm always able to persist and affirm.
Its extremely easy to persist in my desires.
I never give up and keep on persisting in my desires.
Everyday I get better and better at manifesting.
I already have a perfect self-concept.
I have god-tier manifesting skills.
The entire world revolves around me.
I am the God of this fucking world.
Everything happens according to me because I control this world.
Everyday I get better and better at manifesting.
I already have a perfect self-concept.
Somehow, someway, I'm always getting what I want.
I'm the God of this world.
My doubts do not control me and I have zero limiting beliefs.
Its so fucking easy to persist in my assumptions.
The 3D obeys my every command.
I'm amazing because I get everything I want instantly.
Everyday I get better and better at manifesting.
I'm so happy I have a perfect self-concept.
Affirm the same affs for the next week.
Affirm whenever you feel like affirming. You do not have to keep on repeating your affirmations all day, remember manifesting is not a chore, manifesting is fun and easy.
Whenever any doubts enter your mind don't acknowledge it, STOP RIGHT THERE and start affirming and persist and busy yourself with some other activity to distract your mind from the negative thoughts.
Minimize your time on Tumblr, YouTube, Facebook, etc. etc. searching about things related to LOA and start focusing on yourself and your desires because YOU ALREADY KNOW EVERYTHING SO WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED TO START MANIFESTING??
When I first came to know about the Law of Assumption, I thought self-concept was a waste of time and I never really focused on my self-concept, after all it isn't necessary to work on your self-concept because you just need to persist in order to manifest, but I was still struggling to manifest something. I couldn't persist and kept the 3D on a pedestal. I simply couldn't focus on my desires because I used to keep on doubting myself.
However, when I started to work on my self-concept, I noticed I became more confident while manifesting, all my worries and fears vanished quickly and I realized my true power. I started viewing manifestation less like a tedious task and more like a fun game.
Its true that you only need to persist in order to manifest but you need to have a good self-concept in order to manifest confidently without seeking validation from the 3D because you are the validation. If you simply assume and persist in the assumption that you have the perfect self-concept, then you'll automatically get a perfect self-concept.
COME ON BITCH YOU GOT THIS. REMEMBER YOU ARE IN CONTROL BECAUSE YOU'RE THE GOD OF THIS WORLD BRUH.
STOP PROCRASTINATION AND FUCKING START RIGHT NOW.
ARE YOU READY?
THEN WHAT YOU DOING HERE?? LEZ GOO!
[P.S. DON'T FORGET TO SHARE YOUR RESULTS WITH ME!!!]