#Something Catastophic Happened To Me

[todayisafridaynight]

ENTIRE PLAYLIST WORTH EXPERIENCING BUT THE IMPLICATIONS OF THIS ONE ARE DRIVING ME INSANE

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WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘DOES THIS MEAN I LOST YOUR TRUST SOMETIME AGO YOUNG MASTER’ HEY WHAT IF I KILLED MYSELF

LIVE

[protoslacker]

Gunsmoke Blues

Earlier this month there was a shooting at a local store where I sometimes shop, a random bystander was shot. Another random guy rushed to the wounded man. Finding no pulse he began CPR. An off-duty police officer seeing them kicked the fellow performing CPR to the ground who died a few hours later from head injuries. At the time this happened I was shopping at the other nearby branch of the same store chain. That last detail somehow made the shooting catastophe nearer to me than it actually was.

Here are the names of the five people dead--another 18 wounded--in the Club Q mass shooting: Kelly Loving, Daniel Davis Aston, Derrick Rump, Raymond Green Vance, and Ashley Paugh.

The obituaries for a couple of the victims pointed out they were not "members of the LBGTQ community." I understand the point, but also note that being in a loving relationship with a community means a lot. My heart goes out to the army veteran Richard Fierce who subdued the gunman along with other patrons. His daughter's boyfriend, since middle school, was killed. All of this hurts a lot.

In thinking about these victims I was reminded of reading about the victims of the mass shooting at the Tops Friendly Market in Buffalo in May. Thirteen where killed and reading about them I shook my head and whispered: “What nice people.”

I work in a store. If I survive should there be a mass shooting there, I suppose I will read about the lives and accomplishments of those lost. Sometimes customers are cranky, and sometimes I'm just cranky about customers. But something the lives lost to these indecent incidents reminds me is that everyday I am surrounded by people whose stories of life are richer than I expect.

With all that's going haywire, we've got to find ways to love one another.

 Gunsmoke Blues by Buddy Guy

[stewardofningishzida]

Chapter 12: Double Double

Whoo! I know it’s been a while people, but the meta-fic lives! Everyone just needed to do some life stuff, but we’re back! Here’s the latest chapter. Enjoy!

TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of eye injury, mention of depression

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*My sleep is still troubled.  It’ll probably be a while before the nightmares completely subside.  Though at least my legs are a bit better today.  Lab work isn’t as strenuous as scrambling through an abandoned mine.  They’re still aggravated, but it’ll eventually calm down in another day or two.  Trix and Stephen are still making sure that Tear and I are recovering.  Tear, although still recuperating from the shock of her near-death experience, looks a little better today after having some actual sleep.  Stephen has us meditate again after breakfast to help us continue to stabilize.  He stays behind once more to continue his work while Tear and I go to our shifts.  I get back on-time this evening, at least.  Though I’m starving because I had worked through my lunch break to make up for yesterday and catch up.*

Me (tired):  Back.  I finally fixed everything at work.  What a day…How’s everyone else?  *I’m squinting slightly because I have a headache.  So, I wander off to the bathroom to get medication while listening to my friends.*

Tear: *Looks up from her laptop and removes her earphones* Today’s been easier, I guess. The café and bakery are still standing, and I’ve been doing a few ingredient cost corrections. We might have to change providers for our egg supplies and those negotiations are always tiresome.

Trix: I’m doing fine. I’m still on vacation and haven’t heard anything from work about things going catastophic.

*Stephen is quiet and tense.  He seems to be concentrating while staring at his hands.  He gingerly lifts one up to check it for something…It’s trembling.  Not too badly, but ever so slightly.*

Stephen (trying to hide his fear and desperation):  This…This shouldn’t be happening.  My spell isn’t working.  

*He utters the incantation, trying again.  It fails.*

Stephen:  Why isn’t this working?  *He stares at his shaking hands.  His voice gets quiet.*  Shit…

*We’re all fully alert now.*

Tear:  Stephen? *I place my laptop down and uncurl from my position on the couch, eyeing the research he had spread around him to see what had prompted his actions*

Trix: What’s going on?

Me (worried):  Stephen, are you okay?  *I peer out from the medicine cabinet.*

Stephen:  I…I don’t know.  My abilities appear to be fading.  *He pauses for a moment to think before the realization dawns on him.*  I’ve been outside of a non-magical universe with no real mystical sustenance for too long.  Damnit…  *He’s at a loss as to what to do.*

Trix: By magical sustenance…do you mean that the thing about not being able to sustain yourself on just human food is a real thing? Because I don’t read the comics but I heard…things.

Stephen (trying to contain the mounting anxiety and despair):  …I can usually just channel mystical energies from the multiverse around me to cast spells.  Though the more you use magic, the more dependent on it you become.  Eventually, your body starts to require intake of magical substances to maintain your abilities…I have nothing here.  As a human sorcerer, I still need to maintain my normal self through regular food, but to actually use and maintain my abilities, I need to absorb magic from other things.  *He sighs harshly.*

Me:  …Could we do anything for you?  Like, maybe we could each cast the spell that PrettyWitch from the group text used on you?  It could be us taking turns with one of us casting it each day.

Stephen (trying to be patient):  That would only buy me a few days at most and you would all be heavily weakened.  It takes too much out of a normal person and even rotating, you wouldn’t have enough time to fully recover.

Trix: I mean, it’s worth it if it can help get you home. Aren’t there things we could use to, I dunno, boost the power? I’ve always heard of moonlight boosting crystal energy, is there something like that that could help?

Tear: Yeah! Besides, buying you a few days could prove to be pivotal. Out of everyone in this room, you are the one with the highest chance of finding a way back home through your magic. I’d gladly use my energy to give you that extra time.

Stephen:  All of you have already done so much for me.  I can’t let you do that to yourselves.  Especially with multiple people in your group still recovering from the last major incident.

Trix: I guess…but are you sure?

Me:  I’m fine.  Please let us help you.

Tear: Come on. If there’s something superheroes have taught us, is that we must rise to the challenge. We’ll always have time to rest up and recover once the problem has been resolved.

Stephen:  No, ladies.  You’ve all done enough.  Just…I need to be alone right now.  

*He has since grown past outbursts.  Now, he’s on the brink of despair.  Stephen needs some time to himself to think about what’s starting to happen.  To somehow steel his courage and keep looking for some way, any way, to get home.  We let him have some space and time to himself.  A while after Stephen has some time to himself, he gets a text.*

PrettyWitch (text):  Hey. How are you?

Stephen (text):  Not good.  I’m losing my abilities and given the level of energy drain you’ve experienced, the group’s proposal of rotating individuals for the spell would not be sustainable.  Your group has done more than enough for me.

PrettyWitch (text):  Okay. Well we can find some other way of helping you. There has to be one.

Stephen (text):  How?  Your group and I have been tirelessly researching and attempting all possibilities in this forsaken universe…Even to the point of two of you almost dying.

PrettyWitch (text):  I didn’t almost die.

Stephen (text):  No, but Tear and Steward were nearly killed in the last attempt at finding a source of magic a few days ago.  There was a collapse in an abandoned mine and Tear nearly fell down a chasm while Steward suffered a psionic assault from an interdimensional rift.

PrettyWitch (text):  😧Oh my God…

Stephen (text):  I can’t let more of you sacrifice yourselves.

PrettyWitch (text):  So what? You’re just gonna try fixing this all by yourself, now?

Stephen (text):  What choice do I have?  It’s only getting worse.

PrettyWitch (text):  Yes, but if you don’t get help then where will that leave you?  Do you really wanna be stuck here forever?

Stephen (text):  No…I just need to think so I can figure something out.

PrettyWitch (text):  Okay. Let us help you.

Stephen (text):  How?

PrettyWitch (text):  Well, maybe we can start looking through other Wiccan books or books on alchemy, those must have something.

Stephen (text):  Are there any that we’ve missed?  Here is the list of the ones I checked.  *He gives an incredibly long list.*

PrettyWitch (text):  Oh damn! That’s a lot.

Stephen (text):  …Yep.

PrettyWitch (text):  Alright. I’ll just keep sending you protection magic until you find something.  Hell, maybe try manifesting your magic back!

Stephen (text):  No…Teach the others.  Rotate.  The spells you’re doing will keep draining you.  If you keep it up, it’ll start taking years off of your life.

PrettyWitch (text):  Okay. Fine, I’ll do that. In the meantime look into manifestation.

Stephen (text):  …Okay.  Thank you.

PrettyWitch (text):  You’re welcome.😊 but please don’t hesitate to ask for help. You have a bad habit of trying to fix everything yourself so you don’t hurt other people.

Stephen (text):  I know.

PrettyWitch (text):  Yay! 😊🫂Good luck! and don’t hesitate to text me if you need a pick-me-up. Also say hi to Cloakie for me.

Stephen (text):  Will do.

*At this point, the only reason Stephen hasn’t been as stubborn lately is because he feels more and more ground down by his predicament.  There’s only so much willpower that he can continue to muster as his ability to act diminishes further.  Meanwhile, the group members get a ping in the group text.  PrettyWitch has called an emergency meeting via Discord video chat so we can learn the ritual she used to help Stephen.  When people are available, we get online to figure this out.*

Me:  Okay, PrettyWitch.  Let’s see what you got.

Tear: Do we need to get anything ready for this ritual? I’ve no idea how any of this works…

Me:   I have some sage, crystals, salt, essential oils, incense, and a few basics if needed on my end.

Stephen:  I’m here to observe.  *The Cloak is on him as usual.  It seems more clingy than normal.*

Trix: I do more tarot and crystals myself but I’m willing to do more to help.

PrettyWitch: (staring in awe at Stephen…Before she realizes how creepy she seems and snaps out of it.) Sorry. First time seeing you in the flesh.

Stephen (awkward, but no longer as snarky as he once was):  Erm…?  Ah, right.  Well, nice to meet you, PrettyWitch.

Prettywitch: It’s nice to meet you, too.

*I show up on his screen momentarily because I’m hooking his iPad up with the charger*

Me:  Sorry.  Old iPad.  Needs power.

*I go back off his screen and back onto my own on my laptop.*

Stephen:  So, what’s first?

PrettyWitch: Well, the first thing you need to do is imagine yourself conjuring a little ball in the palm of your hands. I usually envision mine as a white, transparent ball.

Me:  Okay.  We’re following you.

Stephen:  One at a time would be better so you don’t all burn yourselves out.  Who wants to try this?  PrettyWitch, not you yet.  You still should take time to recover from your first time.  It’ll take a few days before your energy gets back to normal.

Prettywitch: Okay.

Trix: I can try it first since the rest of these guys did the mine.

Tear: *I cross my arms and slouch back on the couch, pouting* It’s not like we ran out of turns to help though…

Me:  What’s the next step?  *We watch her.*

PrettyWitch: Next step would be to think of the person or object you’re looking to protect and envision them inside the magic ball you’re casting. 

Me:  Okay.

Stephen:  Sounds reasonable.  

Trix: Got it.

Tear: So picture Stephen in a hamster ball, got it. *I immediately close my eyes in regret and pinch the bridge of my nose* Great, now that’s one image I won’t be able to get out of my head.

*We await further instructions.*

PrettyWitch: Then you say the phrase, “Protect [insert person’s name], who I deem needing. As I say it, so mote it be.” Then you can just cast the spell out into the ether. That’s what I do. Then to get rid of excess magic energy, just brush your hands off to the side, like you’re sweeping away dust.

Me:  Huh…That’s pretty straightforward.

Stephen:  Effective, though.  I’ll admit that.

Trix: Well, some of the most effective things are simple to keep its potency. *follows PrettyWitch’s instructions* Protect Stephen Strange, who I deem needing. As I say it, so mote it be. *brushes hands off to the side as instructed*

Tear: *Watches Trix cautiously* …Well, at least you didn’t combust or anything.

Me:  Anything else we should know or is that it?

PrettyWitch: (shrugs) Not really. Magic, the way I understand it, basically works if you visualize it in your mind, first. Though incantations still exist.

Stephen:  Depends on the type of magic, yes.  Though in your universe, it seems that this is the only way to make it work.  Even then, with mixed results.

Trix: Well, I think it worked! *slightly swaying*

Stephen: Thank you, PrettyWitch, for teaching us this spell…and thank you, Trix, for providing me with energy.  *He’s sincere.*

PrettyWitch: You’re most welcome. Anything to help my Marvel Boy.

*Stephen turns slightly red and coughs.*

Stephen:  Haven’t heard THAT nickname before…

Prettywitch: Eh, when you’re terminally online, you tend to pick up the lingo.

Me:  Any other news from anyone or should we call it an evening?  It kinda looks like Trix is about to pass out…Are you okay?

Trix: It feels like college when I was too stubborn to sleep and forgot to eat at the same time. Or one of my ocular migraines because I cannot see properly.

PrettyWitch: Oh dear. It’s probably cause she’s not used to it.

Stephen:  We should probably call it a night so Trix can rest.  I’ll check on her.  *He’s genuinely concerned.*

Me:  Yeesh.  Okay.  So, let’s note when each person does it so we can rotate and not burn ourselves out.

Tear: That would be smart. It can also help us ensure Stephen always has a constant flow of energy, small as it may be.

*Stephen has gone onto Trix’s screen and is checking on her.  He’s being quite gentle.*

Trix: I’ll be good eventually! You’d be annoyed with how often I get like this on a normal day with no magic! *tries to make light of the situation*

Stephen:  Take it easy for a while, okay?  

Me:  I noted the dates that PrettyWitch and Trix did the spell.  I’ll go next when it’s time to do it again.  Tear can go after me.  Are you okay with this, Tear?

Tear: *I bite my lip and eye Steward carefully* Maybe I should go first. I didn’t have such close contact to the negative energies within the cave. You could use a few extra days to replenish properly.

Me:  Are you sure, Tear?  You got rattled pretty badly too…

Tear: Physically, for sure. But not mentally…spiritually? I should be fine to send Stephen some good vibes.

Me:  Okay.  If that’s everything, we’ll say good night for now.  Thanks, PrettyWitch.  You’re a lifesaver.

PrettyWitch: No problem, love.

Tear: We’ll text you and ask for help if Trix doesn’t get better or has other odd side effects.

Stephen (carefully helping Trix to the couch):  Good night.

Trix: Night! *Attempts to wave but kinda flops her arm around*

*I wave before ending the call.*

*Over the next few days, we rotate through performing the spell to sustain Stephen while the research continues.  Tear heads back home and we both continue juggling our work with helping Stephen. Though unfortunately, another wrench in the gears shows itself on Sunday.  The Cloak, it seems, is becoming more and more sluggish.  It doesn’t leave Stephen at all now and it moves ever so slowly and slightly.*

Stephen (worried):  Not you too, Levi…

*He looks the relic over, concerned.  It gives him a small, reassuring wave.  The Cloak unfortunately requires magical energy to sustain itself too.  So, in a desperate attempt at self-preservation, it has been siphoning whatever remaining dregs it can from Stephen when he isn’t using magic.  Stephen’s hands continue to tremble.  Though he can still somewhat control it when he needs to.  We do what we can to comfort him.  He flatly refuses to let us double our energy donations.*

Stephen (protective of us):  This is risky enough as it is.  Plus, you have jobs and lives outside of this.  Please.  I want you all to be healthy and safe.

Me:  You have a life too, Stephen.

Stephen:  Yes, but you’re all doing more than enough for me.  Just get to work safely and do your best, okay?

*I look at him for a moment before nodding sadly and heading off to the lab for some experimental data collection.  A few hours later, there’s a text on the university’s safety alerts.*

Text:  ***Incident in the Biological Sciences Dept.  2 injured.  Labs closed for the rest of the day.***

*There’s a scrambled text from me on the group thread.*

Me (text):  Need ride.  Eyes huer.  Burmt.  Gas.

*Stephen reads it over and over, anxiety starting to flood him.*

Tear (text): Anyone else with a car can go pick up Steward? I can’t leave the bakery yet.

Prettywitch (text): I can. I will pick up Stephen too. *A few minutes later, I arrive in the driveway and ring the doorbell.* 

*Stephen answers*  

Stephen:  Okay.  Let’s go.  *He’s already ready to go.* 

*PrettyWitch nods and helps him pick me up. When I get into the car, I stink of ether gas and am half-conscious.  The smell eventually fades.  A few minutes later, we get to the hospital.*

*Stephen is pacing.  He’s frustrated that he can’t do anything here.  He doesn’t have an MD in this universe.  So, no authority here.  After being checked and treated, unfortunately, my eyes and the skin around them have been burnt by a UV sterilization lamp.  I’m currently blind, but since the cornea heals relatively quickly, I should regain my eyesight in a few days.  I still need to take medicated eye drops to ensure the healing process works properly.  Stephen goes to lead me to the car and we get back to my house.  I’m sitting in my chair.*

Me (voice shaking):  I…Oh God…I-I know it’s temporary, but it could have gone so much worse…*I’m trying to stay composed.*

Prettywitch: It’s alright, love. Just go with the flow. It’s okay to feel scared, even if it’s temporary. I know I’d be freaked, too if I were you.

Me:  How am I supposed to help now?  I can’t work either…*I’m trying to calm down.  Hundreds of thoughts are swirling around in my head right now.*

Prettywitch: You can still help. My magic requires visualization in your mind.

Stephen:  She needs to conserve her energy to heal more quickly.

Me (protesting):  Stephen!

Stephen:  No buts.

Prettywitch: No, he’s right. You need to conserve energy.

*I sigh*

Me:  Fine…Just…What do I do now?

Prettywitch: Just relax for awhile, we’ll keep an eye on Stephen and Cloakie.

Stephen:  I’ll help you when you need it, Steward, okay?

Me:  Okay…

Stephen:  You’ve lost a bit of weight, PrettyWitch.  Eat something while you’re here.  *He’s making sure she’s okay too.*

Prettywitch: Okay. I’ll have some cheesecake, then.

Me:  It’s in the freezer.  Just microwave it for like 30 seconds.

*He sits with me and PrettyWitch, keeping us company.*

*PrettyWitch is uncertain of what to say as she eats her cheesecake. She thinks of things to say, but she always feels like any questions she has for the Good Doctor would seem inappropriate at this time and she doesn’t want him humoring her when he’s pretty bummed, too.*

*I fiddle around with the edge of the tablecloth.  It seems to be a sort of soothing action so I can at least sense something near me since I can’t see.*

Stephen:  I’ll let the rest of the group know that we’ve sorted everything out.  

*He pulls out his phone and dictates the text.  His hands are shaking worse than ever right now.*

Prettywitch: Do you need help?

Stephen (getting slightly frustrated with autocorrect):  *sighs*  …That would be nice, yes.  *He reluctantly hands his phone over to PrettyWitch.*

*She quickly types in a message and holds Stephen’s phone out to him.*

Prettywitch: Here.

Stephen (grateful):  Thank you.

Prettywitch: You’re welcome…

Tear (text): Thank you for the update and getting Steward! I’m finishing a meeting with the accountants and then I’m heading over to help. Be there in a bit.

*Trix comes to the house to check on the situation, but she’s a bit drained because she just finished donating energy to Stephen.  So, she stumbles as she enters the house.  The sorcerer helps her get to a chair so we can all hang out together.*

Prettywitch: Are you going to be okay, Stephen?

Stephen:  Honestly, I don’t know.  I’m losing my abilities, albeit more slowly thanks to your help, and we’re running out of ideas to get me home.  That and more of you are getting burnt out or hurt as this continues.  It seems as though things keep getting worse.

*He’s tired of his usual confident guise and teetering on the brink of severe depression.*

Prettywitch: *Gently places her hand on one of his wrists to avoid hurting his hands.* Hey. We’ll get through this, you’ll see. You can’t give up now.

*He accepts the comfort and lets her get close.*

Stephen:  I know…I don’t know what more to do yet, but I’ll have to keep looking…

*He looks tired and wracked with guilt and helplessness.*

Prettywitch: Look, if there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re one stubborn son of a bitch. You never give up. Even if it’s at risk to yourself.

Stephen (small chuckle):  That, I’ll admit.

Prettywitch: Good. Then use that to your advantage. If the multiverse exists and you can perform magic here, then there’s no reason to assume that you can’t find a way to contact Wong.

Stephen:  Just a matter of figuring out how, yeah.  If your manifestation spell can work here, then there HAS to be something…

*Trix and I have just been listening quietly the entire time.  Honestly, hearing other people nearby is comforting.*

Prettywitch: (With sparkly eyes) Yes! There’s the Stephen I know and love!...Umm…sorry, I’m kinda weird like that. The important thing is that you don’t give up…Uh, you too, Steward…

*She feels bad for not talking to Steward much.

*I grunt.  I’m kind of in my own thoughts at the moment anyway.*

Trix: We’re just chillin’ there’s no prob! *she tends to get pretty loopy after donating energy and is camped out next to Steward*

*I can feel Trix close by and lean slightly towards her, appreciating the company.*

Me (grim, but staying strong as best I can):  We can’t give up anyway.  There’s no other way but forward whether we like it or not.  So, we have to work with what we’ve got.  It’s a hard lesson to learn, but it can get you through tough stuff.

Stephen:  You’re a better sport than me.

Me (sincere):  Admittedly, I’m only as calm as I am because this condition is temporary.  If this were permanent, I probably would have broken down by now.  However, one thing I always try to keep in mind regardless of what’s happening to me is that we’ve all got something going on.  It’s more a matter of making an effort to try and make things suck a bit less for everyone by being there for each other.

Trix: *slightly more serious* One of the best things I learned in college was that there will always be something that doesn’t go as planned and you just gotta be ready to troubleshoot. Running weekly live tv shows for your degree really hammers that in hard. We’ll all be okay, we just gotta figure out the newest puzzle!

*Tear arrives from her work then, carrying bags of groceries and a tray full of hot drinks for everyone gathered.*

Tear: I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier, but I thought I could help lessen the load around the house. I got you a few extra groceries to ensure you wouldn’t have to go out while you heal, Steward. And I wasn’t sure if you could drink caffeine with your new meds so I brought some fruit tisanes for everyone instead. *I place the hot drink cups in the middle of the table where everyone can go through the flavor labels before I proceed to put away the groceries* Are there any new advancements I missed?

Me:  Thanks, Tear.  *I’m genuinely grateful for her and my other friends being here.*

Stephen:  Well, there’s one last thing I saw in one of the books your group found.  Something about harmonic resonances of different metals used as conduits for cosmic energy…It sounds very similar to how certain relics work.  Maybe…Hmmm…Seeing as you guys are fans of movie props, do any of you happen to have a replica of a Sling Ring?

Tear: Sorry, I do but the size would be too small for you…

Trix: *flops hand almost drunkenly around but makes sure not to hit Steward* I am a sucker for merch!

Stephen:  So, that’s a yes?

Trix: *grins goofily* Yup! I can’t walk right now but it is in my office in my house!

Stephen:  What is it made of?

Trix: Mine isn’t one of the real props so it’s a base metal so it’s a bunch of random scrap metals mixed together. It’s what most fashion jewelry is made of. You either need to make a mold of that and get whatever metal you need or we need one of the actual props from the movies~

Stephen:  Hm.  The best ones for resonance are a mix of silver, copper, and gold.  

Me:  I’ve got some souvenir 24 karat gold from an old class field trip to Sacramento.  Could donate that to be melted down.  It’s not much, though.  Maybe we can get some gold leaf from a craft store to get more?  Silver, I’m allergic to nickel and such.  So, most of my jewelry is made with silver or at least plated with it or gold.  Copper, I can probably buy some off of the chemistry lab.  They use it as a reagent sometimes.  So, that’s the metals covered.  

Trix: Fuck, my boss and the goldsmith at work like me enough. If I send you with the sling ring to get a gold one custom made we could get the gold at cost. 14k would probably be the sturdiest as 18k might be too soft. If you make it in 14k rose gold, that would bring the copper into the mixture and would leave out other impurities. I’ll just pay him back when we’re not trying to send Stephen home. Shouldn’t be over $800 at least…I think. Just say you’re my brother in law and you came over to help while I’m injured.

Stephen:  All right.  Is there anything else you want or need me to do?  *He’s being nice and genuinely wants to repay us for our kindness.*

Me:  I’m good for now, but might need help with the burn medication later on.  I don’t want to fumble around and spill it everywhere.

Trix: Snaaaaaacks *back to being unfocused because blood sugar is low*

Stephen (gentle):  Will do.  In the meantime, here.  *He offers Trix some fruit.*

Trix: *grins* Thank you~ Key to my place is in my mini backpack near the door. Ignore the fact that it’s Marvel themed. Go forth sorcerer on your side quest!

Stephen:  Wait a minute, I don’t have a license here.  PrettyWitch, could you please drive me to the jewelry store after I get the replica from Trix’s house?

PrettyWitch: (Salutes) You got it!

Me:  Please be safe, you two.  

Stephen:  For now, since we don’t have the money or all of the metals yet, I’m just grabbing the replica and requesting a mold.  Trix, you may need to call your boss and the goldsmith to confirm so they don’t get suspicious of me.

Trix: *holds up phone* Way ahead of youuuuu~ Texted my boss already and said I’m sending you his way for a special project. They won’t question making a ring like this because they know all about how I’m a marvel nerd and wouldn’t question ‘family members’ being the same. If they ask, my migraines are worse than normal and that’s why I can’t stop by with you.

Stephen:  Okay.  Will do. Tear, please look after Trix and Steward while PrettyWitch and I are out.

Tear: *Salutes playfully* You can count on me, Cap’n. I had laser eye surgery last year, so I’ve got all sorts of ideas to make sure Steward rests and doesn’t get bored. I’ll make something to eat for when you guys come back, as well.

Trix: *grins* Godspeed! 

*He goes to change into normal clothes, grabs Trix’s key, and heads out with PrettyWitch.*

***To be Continued***

[deadmunds-ghostbee]

Ohhh can you tell what your wip is about??

Hmm I spose I’ll be pretty vague about it because typing the details might make it seem like something it’s not?

Modern au, we rotate between ‘Now’ and ‘Then’ (7 years in the past). I’d say the fic is heavier on the ‘then’ part but what I still have left is more the ‘now’ so probably a 60/40 split. Probably also a 60/40 Kate to Anthony pov split. Kate has more going on than him atm.

Obviously it starts off on Anthony’s birthday and he sees Kate for the first time again in a long time. Then we cut back to the first time they ever talk and follow a pretty short but intense period of time when they knew each other while in college. It’s clear that they had a falling out and it leads up to that while the threaded ‘now’ storyline is about them purposefully drawing back together and trying to decide whether it’s worth it to be in each other’s lives in some way. I’ll also say that it’s very internally driven rather than plot driven.

It also probably sounds really angst lol and there’s a lot I didn’t say that would make it sound eternally more angst but I definitely think I preserve some comedic energy. Ofc I’ll tag appropriately but I don’t think anyone should expect the eternal good times and sunshine of summers a knife

We get a happy ending though, don’t worry! And the past has its good parts too!

I’m a bit nervous about my foray into some topics and about some positions I take on their relationship, but the fics happening regardless so we’ll see 🥴

idk I might be catastophizing. with the new season coming I’m a little worried about it being buried in new content but also about an influx of new fans who might be looking for something entirely different. Maybe I just hope the homies like it and everyone else ignores. I’m writing it for me anyway 😌

[murasakispace]

Sam Wilson/the Falcon x Neutral Gender Reader.

Warnings : none.

Summary : Just chilling and Sam is not far away from you.

Sam and you had a common point. And not a little one.

You were both human.

Something quite obvious I know.

But besides, there are witches, men able to run very fastly, super soldiers, philantropic billionaires wearing suits gods...

So yes. Sometimes, it was good to see someone who is not like all of them

And, as much for Sam as you, it was important to see and to be aware that, yes, you were heroes but you didn't need to be mutants to be as powerful as them.

You didn't have the same abilities and fighting styles. That was good news because it allowed your eclectic group to handle any type of threat.

You were just with your little ship, sheltered in there, and crushing your enemies without any mistake.

And Sam liked that in you.

You looked like him.

He was strong and powerful with the sort of suit he was wearing. Also agile and doing everything he was able to WITH his humanity.

You liked the others. A lot. But it seemed that a whole universe was separating you. Something that neither Steve or Tony or whoever could correct.

Clint, Natasha, Sam, sometimes Bucky, surprisingly Vision, because on how he was thinking, and you living next to all the others.

They would say to you that you are not so different because once they were humans and they remained human, or even them could suffer like a human. With their thoughts, their memories and their night terrors.

Certainly one of the biggest issues in the Avengers.

It seemed that only catastophes are holding them together. Or evil. Or anything else that is not really good for humanity.

These thoughts suddenly crossing your mind put aside, you were just chilling in the compound.

You heard Sam's footsteps across the living room. Bruce Banner was in the corner, busy. And the others in training room.

You would practice your own moves later. When no one would watch you.

Not that you didn't want to train with them but you weren't ready to fight against Steve and his shield. Even if he promises not to hurt you badly.

You heard Sam sitting next to you. You were busy by your thoughts and your phone.

"Hey" he greeted quietly.

"Hey" you barely responded with your eyes stuck on the screen in front of your eyes.

A few seconds after, you wondered what was happening to the man on the couch.

Your eyes crossed his and you saw that something was really disturbing him.

He didn't say anything.

Alright. You figured out that was big.

Because nothing was able to make him so silent.

You were watching him during long seconds to try to define what bothered him by observing his features.

He seemed completely shut.

"What's this about, Wilson?" you finally asked.

He didn't answer immediately as he always does with a sarcastic tone, making you smile every time.

"Sam?" you insisted

He finally turned his gaze at you

You didn't need more than a few seconds to make him have again this nice happy expression on his face.

You were both lightly laughing.

"See, Wilson? Better" you said with a half-smile.

"Thanks Y/N"

"You're welcome I suppose. Even if I didn't do anything particular"

"You are who you are. You probably don't know how reassuring it is"

"Because the great Sam Wilson feels unsteady sometimes? That's news"

Sam didn't talk back. He just puts his head on your lap and looks at you from below.

He mumbles something about a safe place that you didn't hear correctly and stares at you much longer than what would be innocent.

"Wait... You called me great, right?"

"Maybe".

A smile made its way onto Sam's face.

And you spent the next two hours joking and talking about anything.

Both of you cherished your relationship. It was special, natural, warm and sometimes, you couldn't help but flirt a little.

The time when you would be more than just friends wasn't so far

[eisforeidolon]

Lol, that last anon needs to chill. This is what happened -> nothingidputbeforeyou*tumblr*com/post/189277744514/i-havent-watched-the-j2-panels-from-this-con-yet

Thanks for that!  I’ve also seen that there’s at least one video up, which I’m planning on getting to in a bit. 

I kind of understand the temptation to catastophize, because the hellers are so damn loud and it can almost seem convincing through sheer pervasiveness? Except we know what they’re like. 

If a ‘heller told me the sky outside was blue, I would find a fucking window to check before believing it.  Add in something more complicated, like an assertion that requires the person making it to have a decent ability to understand context, expressions, and tone of voice?  Which we have seen over and over and OVER again they are hilariously bad at, blinded by their shipping goggles far past the point of absurdity?

It really doesn’t make sense to take anything they say seriously before or unless you can verify - or, far more often, disprove - it yourself. 

[prince-peter-patton-blog]

Have Pride

TW: bullying, homophobia, slurs, and this post talks about being outed.

I'm Peter. I'm 20 years old, and I'm transgender and pansexual. When I was 15 years old, I had my first girlfriend. My best friend told me she was in love with me. Her name is Dee. At this point, I still identified as a girl, and for me, this was my first gay relationship.

We went to a public secondary school that was fairly diverse. I was, admittedly, an emo kid. Introverted, full of anger issues and unresolved angst. My girlfriend was too. We already knew each other so well, and being in a relationship made sense to us both. For those first two days, we were so happy. But we had to have the talk. The talk about coming out. I was terrified. I had been bullied all through primary school, and I was already being bullied badly enough during secondary school. I had only recently discovered that I was something other than straight, and I hadn't even told my mum yet. So my girlfriend and I agreed that we would tell only our closest friends and we would swear them to secrecy.

So we did.

Now, at my secondary school, there was a girl. In truth, she was the reason I was angry a lot. I saw her and I felt an untameable rage that made me shake and burn with fury. We'll call her K. K had been in my primary school, you see. She was one of only three people (besides me) in my entire secondary school that had gone to the same primary school as me. So almost nobody else knew what she was like. When I was a child, K decided that she and I were friends. I had no choice in the matter. Every day, K would drag me around by the hood of my coat, punch me, kick me, bite me, pull my hair, push me over, or embarrass me in some way or another. And I lied for her. Because she told me not to tell on her or she would do something worse. I was trapped in this toxic, evil friendship with K for years and years until finally my mum helped me escape. To secondary school. For a full year, I was safe. And then in my second year, K transferred to my school. Outright, I was honest with my friends about everything K put me through, and how much I hated her and didn't want her near me. In that one year of freedom, I had grown so much, and I was doing so much better. And then K came back into my life. And the people I loved and cared about met her.

And they didn't believe me.

So for two days, Dee and I were happy. We kissed. We held hands. We hugged. All in private, of course. We told our very closest friends and told them not to tell anyone.

On the third day, we came to school, and all hell broke loose. People we didn't even know, kids in the years above and below us were shouting "lesbian" at us like it was some evil slur. I heard them all that day. Dyke, queer, lesbo, someone even called me a tranny simply because I had short hair. Boys came up to us and told us to prove it, demanded that we kiss in front of them to prove that we actually liked each other. Some boys even told us they could change our mind, or asked us for a threesome. We were 15. Girls avoided us or scowled at us. Some girls even told me to keep my eyes off. We were 15. We didn't like any of these people, we liked each other. These people didn't like us even before we were outed, and now it was ten times worse. And then, hesitantly, I asked someone where they even heard this from.

"Oh, K's been telling everybody."

But how did she know? Someone we loved, someone we cared about betrayed our trust. And they never came forward. They never admitted that they told K. To this day, I have no idea who told her about us.

In the time that followed, three boys took up a personal mission to make me as miserable as possible with as much homophobia as possible. My biology teacher was homophobic towards me and Dee. People we thought we loved stopped talking to us. Or worse, people we still loved talked about us behind our back. In the time that followed, homophobia tore Dee and I apart.

I broke up with her.

Fast forward, five years later. I am an out and proud transgender pansexual. And my gender-questioning pansexual partner of now almost five years? Their name is Dee. And they love me. And I love them. And we haven't thought about K for a long time. And we're planning to live happily ever after.

Regardless of what happens, when you come out (or are forcibly outed, like me and Dee), regardless of how catastrophic and terrible it all seems to be. Please, have pride. Have pride in yourself. Rise above them. Because in the long run, they won't matter. The right people will stay in your life, and the wrong ones will weed themselves out.

Have pride. And know that I love you.

In the face of adversity, no matter who you are, no matter your identity, no matter whether you're out or not, have pride. Because you're amazing. And your story does not end in catastophe. It's just a chapter. I promise.

🌈Happy Pride🌈

[torannosaurusrexy]

For that dialogue thingy? "Why's there cat fur on my couch?" Yoongi 😂💜

A Simple Misunderstanding

The one where there’s something white on the couch and Yoongi hates cats.

“Jungkook!” Yoongi screams, his voice ringing through the apartment and most definitely reaching beyond the cushions of Jungkooks gaming headset.

“What?!” The young boy yells back, clearly not wanting to leave his fourteenth round of Overwatch to deal with whatever his hyung wants.

Yoongi chooses to take the ‘angry mom’ approach and refuses to answer. By doing so, Jungkook will be forced to get up from his seat, pause his game, and explain why the fuck there’s a large lump of white cat hair on his brand new fifteen thousand dollar couch.

A groan and angry footsteps are produced from behind Jungkooks closed bedroom door before it swings open with a vicious vigor. “I’m sorry I forgot to put toilet paper on the stand thingy again, I just feel like it likes being free and I happen to think that–” Jungkook shuts his mouth when he spots Yoongi standing a good five feet from the couch and pointing at its surface. 

“What is that?” He asks, putting emphasis on the last word through clenched teeth.

Jungkook shrugs, not seeing anything. “What is…what?”

“That!” 

Jungkook works his way around the sofa, inspecting it as he moves. Its then that he spots the CATastophe Yoongi’s pointing at. On top of their new couch is a big clump of white hair. Jungkook picks it up slowly. “Damn hyung, I didn’t know you were getting this old.”

Yoongi massages the side of his nose, “Jungkook please for the love of god tell me you did not bring a cat home!”

“What? No! I’ve thought about it but…no! I would’ve asked you first!”

“Then why is there cat fur all over my–”

The creaking door to Jimin’s bedroom opens, and from inside steps a hungover Jimin carrying something small and white in his arms. “Goodmorning.” He whispers groggily. The word is followed by a faint meow and both Jungkook and Yoongi are awestruck: mouths open and eyes wide.

Jimin places the cat down gently before stroking its head and heading for the kitchen to brew himself a nice cup of energy and take something for his pounding head. The cat scampers towards the two frozen men with its tail up in the sky.

“Jungkook?” 

“Yes hyung?”

“Its touching me.”

I had way too much fun with that ^-^

What this is from

Send Me An Idea –> Here

[shanie-the-toyaddict]

In response to conversations:

If it seems like I'm constantly going off on "Oh god, I'm gonna die..."

This is what I look liked without the fancy camera angles.

At least, it was. Over a year ago. I'm heavier now.

Also, this is with shapewear. And a binder. I'm so tucked and squished in here that IIRC I had to go take it all off almost immediately afterwards because I couldn't breathe.

I am really REALLY big and unhealthy. You know, the type of unhealthy big that you can't do anything ever without feeling like dying. So whenever something bad happens to me, be it COVID or chest pain or a blood pressure spike, or whatever, it's being dealt with by someone who society (and most of my doctors) is telling should have dropped dead 100 pounds ago.

I've tried doing stuff about it. Nothing has worked. In the past 3 years I've been diagnosed with so many co-morbidities for shit that, yeah. I'm terrified every time something goes wrong because I have this addiction to breathing and I get panic attacks anytime I think it might have the potential of stopping.

Which it does a bunch because I have asthma. Anyway, so anyone who is worried about me? Sorry. I am too. And anyone who is sick of me catastophizing over every single health scare? Screw you, live in this body for a few months, see how scared you get the next time your chest hurts.

[turquoisedragonmaster]

“Cher, stop! This isn’t going to fix anything!”

Cataclysm grabbed his brother’s shoulder, only to get shoved away. Getaway looked like he was going to melt into a puddle, or least he would If Chernobyl’s servo wasn’t around his neck. The white and dark blue mech was shaking with anger, and his yellow and light blue sibling looked p in total shame and panic. Cher blinked, optics focusing, and his faceplates shifting from anger to horror.

“Cat…”

“No. No. Leave me alone.”

As soon as they were on Necroworld, Cat had avoided Cher like Red Rust. Their creators were too busy dealing with impending doom to worry about their sparklings. Cat was currently talking with Velocity, his wings at a stiff angle that radiated ‘leave me alone’. Cher wandered off. Alone.

He sulked for a while, before a white frame sat down next to him.

“Sulking before you die. Smart.”

“I’m gonna die with my brother hating me too. Fitting.”

Cher said bitterly. Drift sighed, looking over at the young flier.

“You probably know what went down with Rodimus and me.”

“Yeah.”

“I forgave him.”

“I… I know. But Cat and me, we’re a team. Catastrophe can’t exist unless we’re in sync. If I wasn’t a stupid slaghead, then he wouldn’t be mad.”

The younger mech hugged his legs close, pushing his faceplates close to his knees. Drift set a servo on his shoulder, rubbing gently.

“Cataclysm will forgive you. You two aren’t twins, but you have something special.”

Cher glanced up at Drift, who was smiling down at him.

“Everyone deserves their second chance.”

“Except Tarn.”

“Except him.”

Cat was perched on a medical berth, staring at his pedes. Who knew where his creators were. Not that he wanted their craziness right now.  Eventually, Ratchet picked up on the nagging discomfort and anger in the youngster’s field.

“You going to sit there until you rust kid?”

The young jet looked up, his wings twitching in a sign of mild exposure.

“Probably. That’s what Rodimus is saying. We’re all gonna die.”

Ratchet looked at the yellow optics, dull and unfocused.

“You and Cher got into a fight.”

“How can you tell?”

The old medic chuckled.

“Kid, I was there when you two emerged. Tighter than some sparktwins, you are. You’re never this sullen. Unless something serious happened back on the Lost Light.”

Cat nodded, and Ratchet sat down beside the jet.

“You gonna tell me or do I have to guess?”

“He tried to kill Getaway.”

That made Ratchet startle. Trying to kill Getaway, he wouldn’t put that past Whirl. But Chernobyl was young, the kid probably wasn’t allowed to touch a gun.

“How?”

“I dunno. We don’t breathe, but he was acting like he was gonna strangle him.”

“Hm.”

“He shoved me. He hurt me, Cher does all kinda of dumb things but he doesn’t hurt me, never.”

Cat said frantically, gripping his arms.

“We never hurt each other.”

Ratchet set a servo on one of the jet’s shoulders, and the two sat there for a while, just thinking.

Eventually, time ran out. It was do or die, and Chernobyl wasn’t going to die without making up with his brother. They were facing the door, both planning on immediately disobeying the order of ‘STAY INSIDE’ from Ultra Magnus.

“Hey Cher?”

“Yeah Cat?”

The jet smiled at his helicopter sibling.

“I forgive you.”

“I forgive you too bro.”

The two grabbed hands, even if Chernobyl’s left servo was missing a digit and it was kinda clumsy.

Catastophe had gotten split up mid battle, and the two had rolled away from each other, and then Cher heard his brother scream. He didn’t hear anything else, he only heard Cat, and it made him angry. Catacylsm was hunched over, a servo to his optic, energon leaking out from under his palm. The decepticon standing over was getting ready to fire again. And then he was attacked by a very angry helicopter.

Ratchet was surprised, than alarmed when Chernobyl dragged in his sibling, Cataclysm bleeding heavily from a blast mark directly where his left optic should have been.

“Slag slag slaggit. Get him on the table.”

Cat was groaning and Cher was panicking.

“Cat, please be okay. I’m here, I’m not leaving. I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Promise.”

Skids and Ravage were dead. But Cataclysm was clinging to life. Brainstorm was panicking, and Whirl was trying to hide the fact that he was too. Chernobyl was sitting to the side, looking over with a desperate look in his optics. Ratchet swore.

Cataclysm woke up short one optic. He was confused, then he felt over where it should have been. A sheet of metal covered it, welded into place, and dread filled him.

“Holy slag.”

He was ambushed. It was Cher.

“Hey… don’t ever act dead on me ever again.”

His brother said crossly.  Cat chuckled.

“Looks like we’re both short one body part now.”

[vanillatalc]

reading a mildly interesting article on what will happen when the queen dies

i particularly like the section on how light radio would let listeners know

When the news breaks, [obit lights indicating an ongoing catastophe) will start flashing, to alert DJs to switch to the news in the next few minutes and to play inoffensive music in the meantime. Every station, down to hospital radio, has prepared music lists made up of “Mood 2” (sad) or “Mood 1” (saddest) songs to reach for in times of sudden mourning. “If you ever hear Haunted Dancehall (Nursery Remix) by Sabres of Paradise on daytime Radio 1, turn the TV on,” wrote Chris Price, a BBC radio producer, for the Huffington Post in 2011. “Something terrible has just happened.”

i put on the song and the comments were entirely made up of people who had done the same as me which was fun (’who else is here from the london bridge article?’ ‘even more terrifying than this song is the thought that WW3 could be announced by nick grimshaw’) 

also

These well-laid plans have not always helped. In 2002, when the Queen Mother died, the obit lights didn’t come on because someone failed to push the button down properly.

lol!

also

The second Elizabethan age is likely to be remembered as a reign of uninterrupted national decline

lovely!