#mine is atom eve

[ezzakennebba]

regular high school students with normal paternal relationships ⚡️

[anakinism]

Cecil doesn't. So prove him wrong. INVINCIBLE (2021 - )

[chrysanthemore]

invincible yuri

[dnguyen80]

invincible: samantha ann wilkens, atom eve 🧬

[peridammit]

Ok so spoilers for the invincible atom eve special

love how her whole storyline is about how she's weird and not normal and then they make her the NORMALEST girl possible, like how do they make her THAT autistic as a child and then have her?? grow? out of it??? how do you fumble a neurodivergency allegory that hard??

[robocops-a-christ-allegory]

I thought it’d be fun to compare the Whos Who pages for the charlton characters they got in 1986 just when they were first introduced into DC vs. the 1987/1988 update pages they got after they’d all been around for a second and started getting some actual appearances.

Note that these are all either outdated or were written at the very Start of the DC version of these characters history (Question 1987 and Captain Atom 1987 both like Just Started). I know Peacemaker’s gets some stuff straight up wrong. I just thought it’d be fun to compare them side by side

[officialgleamstar]

I love but also hate watching a media and just feeling like. Oh God. I am 100% going to be abnormal about this going forward

[niconiconwo]

Ford pulling back on EV investment is a harbinger of the future. There is not gonna be a long term EV revolution, Tesla will fall on it's face in the coming EV bust.

Toyota always figured EV was dumb and maintained that stance and now has a lot of fairly matured H2 engines to complement their top of the line hybrid technology. This will severely impact battery-based EVs even though it has small uptake currently. I'd bet on Toyota's stance.

[minhosimthings]

Heaven

Symphony Smut Series Day 7: Julia Michaels' Heaven

Lyric: They say all good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you

Pairings: Badboy!Jeongin × goodgirl!fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, loss of virginity, virgin!reader, sub!reader, dom!Jeongin, p in v sex, degradation, praise, hair pulling, overstimulation, corruption kink, Jeongin calls reader 'darling' and good girl, reader wears skirt, mentions of masturbation, implied abused reader, fluffy at the end, sorta enemies to lovers, college au

A/N: I mean I couldn't not include this iconic song in this series so did it for day 7 with our Innie because I don't know corruption kink just hits different with him.

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

People pleasing. Wasn't it so fun? To have a person complement you for something that you was poison to yourself.

But people pleasing always got out of hand one way or the other and now, here you were, crying to your worst enemy about how much you felt like not existing anymore.

Jeongin was completely antagonistic to you. It was much like the bad boy, good nerd trope, except this time, you liked the bad boy first and he basically hated you. Romantic right?

"So wait, what you're telling me is you willingly let yourself be used by other people and you get nothing out of it?" Jeongin questioned, looking you up and down, his eyes filled with what seemed to be pity. It was as if you were a wounded dog, who still trusted so foolishly.

"I know." You tried to fight back. Having him as a chemistry partner suddenly seemed okay. Now, his aura was one of comfort as he ran a hand down your back in circles, comforting you as the tears you've held onto for so long started falling down.

"Hey hey hey." Jeongin panicked, seeing you cry. It had been the first time he'd seen you do that. In everyone's eyes you were little Miss Perfect, unbreakable and able to endure a lot of pressure. But diamonds crack someday don't they? And when they are subjected to enough heat, or in your case, enough comfort, they crack with a lot of force.

"I'm here, I'm here don't worry." Jeongin pressed you to his chest, engulfing you in warmth. The hug felt genuine, something you hadn't known for a long time.

"I-Just can't Jeongin, I just don't want to do it anymore." You gasped, tired from all the crying.

"Calm down darling, we still got all these dumb carbon atoms to balance!" Jeongin tries to cheer you up, successfully earning a giggle from you.

"There we go." Jeongin pulled you back to wipe your tears, "Now shall we work on this project, or should we work on how to set your boundaries?"

"But how do I do that?" You asked, listening intently to him, "How the fuck do I give up this stupid habit of mine which people have been praising me for so long?"

"Let's practice then!" Jeongin said in a cherry voice, immediately shutting his book close, "Let's say.... I'm someone who wants you to help me out with my homework, but in reality, you're gonna do all my homework. What do you say?"

"Yes..?" "No Y/N." Jeongin sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead, "You say no, cause you're not gonna help some dickhead complete his work when he's the one who needs to do it."

"Alright another scenario, what if... Your best friend wants you to come to a party with her just so you can play her wing woman, what do you say?"

"No, cause she needs to get her pussy inside some dick?" Your uncertain answer made Jeongin's face light up.

"Yeah good job! You're getting the point!"

After some more scenarios, in which much laughter was involved and your chemistry book lay depressed by the side, you got to know a lot more about Jeongin. Beneath all that dark leather jacket aesthetic, he really was an adorable little fox who apparently really liked fashion.

"Alright alright last scenario." Jeongin laughed after you told him the story of your childhood cat, Potato, "And this is important for you, as a woman."

"As a woman? Alright then." You said, still laughing.

"If a man ever asked to fuck you for his own pleasure, would you let him?"

"I mean unless it's you, no."

The silence that filled the room was unnerving, deadly almost. Jeongin stared at you, and you stared back.

"You want to do what to me now?" Jeongin smirked, adjusting his posture, which made him look slightly bigger.

"I-I didn't mean-"

"What didn't you mean, darling?"

His voice never failed to make you wet. And yet you didn't have your vibrator with you right now.

"I mean it's not like I want to fuck you, I mean I do! But I-"

"You're so adorable." Jeongin chuckled, leaning back against the bedframe, spreading his legs a bit further. You could clearly see his erection pulsing through the fabric of his pants, "Does my good girl need dick in her pants?"

Good girl.

One simple nickname and you wanted to be devoured by him, carnally, brutally as he could.

"Fuck me then." You stated, not breaking eye contact with his beautiful eyes, "Fuck me and show me how it feels to break the rules for one time."

"If you say so." Jeongin chuckled, placing his hands on your hips and leaning in close. Your noses almost touched and you could feel his fingers tightening around the fabric of your skirt.

He stared at you hungrily and took in your figure which was clothed in a normal shirt and your skirt, his eyes flicked down to your chest.

Jeongin passionately pulled you in for an open-mouthed kiss, you were taken by surprise and put your hands against his chest, to pull back slightly, but Jeongin held you possessively and deepened the kiss to taste your tongue with his tongue.

He broke the kiss with a chuckle and playfully pushed you back onto your pillow, he peppered your neck with kisses and warm sucks.

"Ah fuck Jeongin." You whimpered, feeling his bulge press against your pussy. He hadn't even done anything and yet the simple gestures turned you on like a sinner in church.

"Already darling?" Jeongin chuckles again, feeling positively elated at how innocent you were, "It's alright we'll take it slow."

Jeongin rests his hands on your hips more tighter and lays you on the bed, taking in your sweet perfume. "Your roomate isn't home is she?" Jeongin asked, wigh uncertainty, his fingers toying with the waistband of your skirt. You simply nodded no, too distracted by the impact his fingers had on your waist.

"Good." Jeongin ripped off your skirt with one tug of his skirt, making you gasp loudly, "Then this'll be easier."

He cups your tits and let’s out a deep groan. You move to grab at his shirt and pause, nodding a question at him. He nods back at you and his godly chest is revealed. You then move to grab at his belt buckle and after that your clothes get removed pretty quickly.

He leaned down, kissing along your chest and the swells of your breasts. His teeth nipped at your skin, biting down hard enough to leave hickeys behind.

Jeongin chuckled at your reaction. He lightly rolled your nipple in between his metal thumb and index finger. You gasped loudly when his fingers pinched your nipple, sending a new sensation through your body. Both of his hands went down to your sleep shorts and pulled them down your legs, exposing your wet lacy panties to him. His fingers on his right hand rubbed your clit through your panties causing you to buck your hips against his hand, only for you to receive a smack on your inner thigh.

You squealed in surprise when he pinned you to the bed. He spread your legs, getting in between them. He rubbed his cock through your wetness before lining his tip up with your entrance. His tip alone stretched your pussy. He sinks his cock inside of you inch by inch. Your jaw dropped.

"Ah-ah big." You moaned, feeling him sink into you. You had never felt pleasure like this before. And you sure as hell loved it.

"Is that okay, darling?" Jeongin asked, raising a brow at you. He didn't want to hurt you or do anything that was out of his boundaries. But oh, did he love this.

“So fucking tight.” Jeongin groans, tilting his head back. Fuck, if only he had had this pussy before.

He whines and buries his head in your neck, alternating motions on your very stimulated clit, acting like he’s the one about to completely fall apart.

Once he was deep inside of you, he gave you a moment to adjust. You nodded your head, giving him permission to start thrusting. He starts thrusting pretty slowly, probably wanting to make sure you’re getting used to it, but his hand in your hair shows you that things aren’t going to be so tame for long. He pulled his cock almost all the way out, only leaving his tip inside of you and then thrusted back inside of you all at once.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned, trying your best not to be loud.

“Such a little slut.” Jeongin says, amused that someone like you, someone so pure, could be like this.

His thrusts got more rough. The sound of skin slapping filled the room. His tip hit that one spot inside of you repeatedly. You wrapped your hand around his wrist and squeezed it every time he hit that spot.

He doesn’t need another invitation, and you realize immediately he is not going to hold back as he grabs your hips with more force than before and slams inside you. His balls hit your clit over and over again, and you moan even louder, tilting your head so he can get the hint you want him to pull your hair. But he ignores it.

"Who knew a good little girl like you could be such a slut eh?" Jeongin whispers in your ear, making your cunt itch for him even more.

You whimpered in response. You slid your hand down to your clit and started to rub it in fast circles. Jeongin noticed and smacked your hand away, making you whimper.

Your cunt clenched around his cock, feeling your orgasm build up a second time.

“Jeongin, I’m— mhmm fuck!” You moaned, not being able to finish your sentence.

“Cum for me, darling.” Jeongin whispers in your ear, "Like the good girl you are."

His fingers gave your now sensitive clit a particular rough rub to help you chase your high. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came harder than ever before. Jeongin’s thrusts became sloppy, feeling his orgasm approaching him.

You’re screaming before he can even finish as the strongest orgasm you’ve ever experienced takes over your body. It’s a blinding pleasure you can feel everywhere: from your pussy to your head and even fingers. And the way he keeps thrusting in and out of you at the same speed prolongs it.

Jeongin couldn’t take it anymore. After a few more thrusts, he came inside of you. His thrusts came to a slow stop. His hand left your throat and went to the back of your head, pulling you into a sloppy kiss. He pulled away and looked into your eyes for a few seconds before pulling out of you. He laid down next to you, staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily.

"Oh fucking hell." He lets out a breathy chuckle, "That was fun wasn't it?"

"Thank you Jeongin." You pant, still not being able to understand that you just lost your virginity.

"No problem darling." Jeongin whispers, "Good little girls like you deserve the best heaven they can get."

Taglist: @ramenoil @mynameisniya150 @demigodmahash + whoever wants to be tagged send an ask my way!

[shockedemojiatsv]

▪︎■☆New Years🎊☆■▪︎

☆ 🔞‼️NOT SAFE FOR WORK‼️🔞

☆ trans!bot!Miguel O'Hara / amab!dom!reader

☆ 2k words

☆ late (I faced multiple family issues during the first few weeks of January, so sorry for the delay 😭😭)

☆ words such as cunt, pussy, cock and hole are used to describe Miguel's genitalia

☆ please correct me if I missed anything 😓

°○☆ nsfw under the cut ☆○°

The sound of fireworks. Loud and colorful. One would expect to walk outside and see the display of reds and blues. Even purple or green. Or a wonderful mix of hues patterned together.

Fireworks were symbolic. Fireworks were for to celebrate the new year coming ahead. To celebrate the birth of new months to spend with the people you love the most and to make thanks for the previous year and all of its challenges and shortcomings.

Other people had parties over it. Charcuterie bords plated with soft cheeses and salty cold cuts, added with a side of fruits and oranges. Not to mention the flaky biscuits.

Other people spent time together. Blowing their horns and rambunctiously declaring out their love for all people to hear on the top of their lungs until their throats burned and their ears stung.

You and Miguel decided to spend time together. Of course, a blend of the two given directions to spend the birth of a brand new year.

There was a party held in HQ for the other spiderpeople who were also celebrating new years eve and you and Miguel enjoyed it but had leave sooner on account of celebrating it on your own with him.

"You do realize i could have bought all of that for you" Miguel says with his eyebrows raised. While feeding himself a piece of unflavored biscuit dipped in cream and biting down on the snack. His large hands made it look miniature..

"Well I wanted to treat you, obviously. It isn't fair if you're getting me so much. It's the least i could do. Especially for today." You mention as you sip your wine and smile. Leaning against the circular couch and watching the muffled fireworks from outside pop into colorful combinations with your loving husband.

"I like the Queso de Bola from your universe." Miguel mentions with a huff and a smile then buries his face on your shoulder to lean on it. You snort, then decide to speak, "There isn't a difference between the one from mine and yours... even if it's from the future. It's.. still a cheese ball"

"Yeah. But I can taste the difference. The ones I've got were made by machines. Not cows." You shrug. He has a point. But despite that there isn't much a difference in flavor.

Eventually you two settle on finishing up the charcuterie board and drink the wine you two had. Mundane conversations about life. All the while you had your hands on Miguel's stomach whole you cuddled with him from the back.

He was talking about atomic particles and the more he explained the more wine he drank. Despite his tolerance he became tipsy quicker than you both had planned. Not that anything changed. He just became more clingy and open. And a little sleepy. It was adorable to see honestly. Though, there was no doubt the warmth growing inside of yours and his stomach.

It settles with you both lying down in bed watching some movie that you can't really focus on right now because Miguel's kissing your neck and rubbing his clothed pussy against your thigh. The kisses were alright. You spared some back. But the sudden wetness you felt when his hips moved on your leg had snapped your attention to him.

You finally got your eyes off of the movie and looked at him. Most of his face is buried onto the plush pillows but his eyes had that half lidded look that always made you feel warm. Everywhere. He needed something. He needed you.

You both have done this before. More than once. Of course, he was your husband and he has needs. He has a lot of needs. And you were always receptive of fulfilling them.

Without a word you reached over to him without moving the sheets away and traced your hand down his body. He closes his eyes and sigh softly. Adjusting his own body so that it was now facing the ceiling. Snug right beside you with the blanket covering everything you two were doing.

Your palm brushed against his pecs. So soft. You squeezed on the muscle and he twitches and hums in response. You apologize by kissing his cheek.

You go lower and your hand is on his muscles. Thumb tracing against his torso. He was breathing faster and his squirmed a little. Impatient. You apologized by kissing his nose.

Your hand reaches the spot he had needed you to touch. His warm wet cunt. You wanted to tease him but decided against it. It was new years after all. Why derive your husband of the pleasure he deserved? As a little thank you gift for just being here with you. For existing. Because he loved you and you loved him and nothing will change that. Especially another year to spend with your darling husband.

He groans a little. With the way your fingers rub his cock, and graze against his hole. Overall spreading the wetness. The warmth that is, Miguel. You use your thumb to rub at the slit softly but fast enough for his liking. He pants and turns his head so that it's buried on your neck. His breathing is labored and he does as much as to lick at and bite your neck. His hand rubbing against your clothed throbbing cock to share his own effort.

You groan at the touch. Close your eyes for a second to focus fully on the way you pleasure him and how he pleasures you. You move your fingers down, 3 of them, entering his sopping cunt. Your thumb flicking his clit while moving your fingers back and forth and curling your fingers to press down on a spongey spot that has his seeing stars.

He whines. Growls? Could be both. What mattered was that it felt good his warm pussy felt around your three fingers that moved in a way that had him curling his toes. He gets your fat cock out of your boxers and strokes it properly. Now your distracted. Your fingers move a little erratically inside of his hole. Sucking more in. Greedy little thing.

You continued moving your fingers. In and out. Curling your fingers up at a degree that caressed his gspot in the right ways. Your thumb stimulating his cock. He was shivering. Not from the cold, a blanket ensured that. He shivered with the way your hands moved inside of him. For a moment he stops stroking you because his hands gripped the sheets tightly.

He chokes. And you move your head to kiss him. It's messy. Sloppy. But it's full of love. It's always full of love. Everything you do for this man has always over-poured itself with so much love, he even doubted if he deserved it at some point. Not that you wanted to linger on the thought. Because he deserved so much more.

And when he cums. You're there for him. He whines out when you prolong his orgasm with a few more strokes of your fingers. Thrusting in and out at his usual preferred pace whilst flicking his cock with your thumb. The more he gasps out while his gangs graze your tongue the better. He knows you love him he knows.

You're not even finished with him. Oh no you weren't.

Not when you moved the covers away from his beautiful legs and moved yourself to face in front of him. His eyes were lidded and he had himself waiting for you, legs spread and revealing his vulnerability in its full glory. Only for you. Always for you. You leaned down, kissing his legs. Every scar littered on his skin you appreciate quietly with a soft peck of your lips, maybe a soft bite or two. You can smell his heat approaching the further you go down and it's exciting but you have to remind yourself to be patient.

You leave a kiss on his happy trail and the little bit of soft fat on his abdomen, not giving it what it wants at first. Take it slow. Just the way he likes it. To take your time appreciating him and his body. And when your tongue will part the dark curls coated on his cunt and land your tongue on his hole, hold him down while he squirms and throw his head back.

You'll lap up the slick that's been dripping down his pussy lips since his earlier orgasm and drink it up the more you lick deeper, nose budging his clit. Hold him down, please do. With the way he'll call out your name and arch his back the faster you pressing your tongue deeper in his walls. He'll squeeze you inside whenever you prod and press against that area that has his pussy creaming all over again. When he comes, again, he squirts this time. At this point it's easier to drink up now that you're nearer to him.

He's so sensitive and his clit is throbbing. He's twitching against the bed and his grip on the sheets are evidently strong. Luckily he had made a way to make his bedsheets harder to tear so there was no damage done. He could tear and pull and scratch all he could but nothing would be damaged. Other than perhaps you, some red angry marks here and there on your back.

Like the ones forming now, with your face pressed against his and your own throbbing cock rubbing against his own heat. Wet shy slickness. Rubbing your girth against his clit and he can only whine and make half assed growls, demanding you to go faster. He's cute isn't he? All desperate like that, legs spread trying so hard to get your dick inside him, whilst his ankles pressed against your spine trying to thrust you in himself.

And when you give him what he wants he'll scream again. He'll scream your name. He'll scream because he can feel your cock parting his warm, creamy walls. The soft and humid interior of his pussy. It has you both seeing stars. Just as colorful as the fireworks from earlier. You ram into him and the deeper you go he has his eyes rolling back and his words falling into mumbles. Soft moans and slight growling.

Words you'll hear would be please and thank you. Then it'd turn into curses and demands. Him asking you to hurry up. And if you thrusted into him just right he'd return back to his more polite pleads.

You can feel him squeezing so good around your cock. His hole, slick and just sucking you in. The crown of your cock hitting his cervix and it drove him hazier. He laughs, because the intensity of it all has him in a precious, soft, fuzzy delirious state and you kiss his forehead. To make it all better.

His walls squeeze at you. And it feels so fucking good it's driving you insane and he swears he can feel you deep back in his throat. Because he chokes on his own noises for a good second before his head falls back and he whines again. Rutting against the knowledge of you knowing you'd end up filling him to the brim. Stuffing him full of your cum and your scent will just overwhelm him because you're his and he's yours and anything about you. Your personality, your voice, your scent. He wants every ounce of it and it only multiplies I'm sensation when he knows he's leaking with your love. Your scent and your very DNA in its pure form, as Miguel thinks to himself.

Well, one thing or another, the thought of you filling him up again has him squeezing you and he squeals because it's all so much. Too much. The way you kiss his face and mutter praises into his ears, your hands spreading his legs apart while the head of your cock hits him deep and I'm talking deep. He cums on your cock and arches his back, mouth opened for a silent scream as he growls next and twitches. Claws digging further into your back, he'd apologize for that tomorrow morning.

Right now he was focusing on experiencing the best fucking orgasm he's had for this year. This precious, brand new year. With you and in this bed. When he cums his pussy squeezes you and you couldn't help it either. Coming undone as well with a groan and filling him up full. Miguel's gasps because the sheer warmth of you is making him feel full. Feeling fulfilled. It could be for whatever reason but no matter what it'd be he's so happy to be here with you because he loves you so much and he's so full of your love. Literally.

One things for sure, you were willing to go a little longer. To thank him for being here with you..

(A/N: it's finally here!!! I'm really sorry for the delay afhfhrjjf (҂ ꒦ິヮ꒦ິ) but that's no excuse, so I finally finished this work :) I hope you guys like it. I'll make more soon. Please be patient with me ♡)

[wearebackbagels]

Don’t imagine the SAS in highschool, dont do it, DON’T-! ........I did it.

The principal's son David Stirling who wants to live up to the family name but struggles in school.

And his rowdy crush Eve.

Paddy is flying in and out of juvie more frequently than he is shagging his long-haired boyfriend.

And Augustin is not too happy about either of those things.

This is the second time Dave gets busted while smoking weed by the dumpsters.

Reggie-best-in-the-football-team-Seekings.

Straight A-student Johnny.

Mike before puberty hit him like a fucking train. All the girls( and most boys) at school have a crush on him.

Jock Lewis is secretly making bombs with stuff he steals from the lab in the school cellar.

Pat Riley is good with a sewing machine and works part time as a police officer though there are some who claims they have seen him smoking weed with Dave Kershaw by the dumpsters, but those are just rumours ofc.

And what list of mine would be complete without my Trash prince Walter Essner aka Mr Real Thing having beef with someone in the mens-room( or something, I have no fucking clue what is about to go down here)

Actors, media and characters. Connor Swindells - Sex Education ( Adam Groff)

Sofia Boutella - Atomic Blonde (Delphine)

Jack O’Connell - Starred Up ( Eric Love)

César Domboy - The Walk          ( Jeff/Jean)

Bobby Schofield - The Walk-In   ( Matthew Hankinson)

Theo Barklem Biggs - The First Team( Petey Brooks)

Jacob McCarthy - The Drummer And the Keeper (Christopher)

Tom Glynn Carney -  The Last Post (Tony Armstrong)

Alfie Allen - How to Build A Girl (John Kite)

Jacob Ifan - Cuffs (Jake Vickers)

Paul Boche - Uns Geht es Gut( The blond)

I seriously couldn’t find anything with Donal Finn( Eoin) or Corin Silva( Almonds). They are basically in nothing outside of SAS. Same goes for Bill Fraser, sorry @adowbaldwin​

FUNNY STUFF IN THE COMMENTS

[floralcavern]

Who’s your favorite Invincible character? Mine is probably Mark, but I did go as Atom Eve for Halloween in 2021.

OHHH! Good question. Debbie has been SO awesome this season. I’m a huge Mark and Samantha simp lol. But I probably have to go with Debbie.

[amrbokhari]

-a poem on lingering love-

birthed by

a breakup

the breakup

my breakup

andthisFleabagscene

[With All This Love]

I, with foolish pride,

carry and heave all this cherished love,

somehow unbroken,

but sickeningly blessed and swollen,

overnourished to the brim with tacit tons and garrulous gallons of heedless affection I cannot outswim,

like cells that ceaselessly multiply,

tearing me limb from limb while they

goodheartedly align and coalesce into cancerous love whereby I convalesce,

but killing me on a headless whim,

yet these cells are all mine,

forged and bathed with and in harmful care,

and still my proud design.

•

I held on with heartstrings and lung tissue,

morphed my biology into a finder of oxygen and sustenance in you,

but you held on via spider silk with slippery hands

I insisted I’d baptize with impassioned love and foolish future plans,

you held to me like the suicidal would to life:

flimsily, halfheartedly, knifed.

I carry now a wounded heart that holds its breath till it turns blue as punishment when I think of you;

my lungs now boycott O2,

they lead a conspiracy theory that every molecule is

carbon monoxide in disguise,

another potential you,

but they’ll come to trust,

they’ll come around,

no matter how unwise,

despite how unsound.

••

You left me with gargantuan love I couldn’t expel,

so I kept it all in my chest which nobody could tell,

until cacti protruded from my ribcage one day

and asked for the nearest desert so I pointed inward and begged it to stay.

My friends protested and detestably elected to evict the cacti

as I,

against deepest wishes, complied and,

as this poem’s title would imply,

lay rueful, requesting gentleness,

asserting that the DNA of my foolish soul

resided somewhere in that beloved mess.

After the marring, after this horror,

I took what survived to bury,

but it rebelled and blossomed into a rosemary-laden garden,

spoke a few potato rhymes,

then blew into unkempt hyacinths of proportions upsized,

but with no single rue in sight,

and it all felt inextricably right,

but as I was ill-versed in the tending of gardens,

it had to go,

plus the neighbors thought it unsightly,

this unendeared perennial field I half-intended not to sow.

•••

I deemed Earth unworthy of such indefinite life,

so flung it I did, spacebound, my cosmonaut;

it landed on some lifeless planet ungraced,

no whisper, no thought,

then sentience enflamed,

life had boomed,

atomically, they claim.

They thus visited me,

onerically,

“I am not your progenitor, leave me.”

“But look here, your silly soul’s DNA, we bleed thee.”

I sigh, half-lovingly.

They then ask how they came to be,

I say, weakly:

“Foolishly, but heavenly.”

••••

Its next form was a poem made for two,

I guess it wrote itself seeing as it’s a feat we planned but couldn’t do.

It was written with stardust,

frolicked midair,

and foolishly penned by “Intangible We”;

it told me,

“I die except on one day:

the eve of September 3.”

It tugged on my heart,

asked to be read,

I couldn’t tell it she had left so instead

I read

and read,

with dread, I read,

this fragment of death full of life,

it took me till daylight to finish the thing,

the recital nigh left me dead;

it blistered my cords,

ulcerated my tongue,

rendered my body unyoung,

even the parts she had shred,

unwritten, unsaid,

I persisted to read undone,

for what sin can one pin on a poem that asks

to be heard, fulfilled, and sung?

•••••

The last day it came as an orphan,

I shouted “not mine” but the twitch in its eye was a feature I couldn’t deny,

the same that I had when she left,

of which now I am sorely bereft.

It just sat there and wept, and wept, and wept,

drawing Ws and Ms on the wall,

the inverted letter we shared,

a dear fact I try not to recall.

I told it my name fit snugly in hers,

and how when I smiled she’d draw

a signet just by my wrinkling eye,

a seal that I had to declaw;

it smiled and the و was revealed,

then inquired on why she would leave,

I made up some disease to put it at ease,

a fib only kids could believe,

that it wasn’t really her choice,

that her hands were unsteady and moist,

and I said, with a foolish unconfident voice,

“Kites would not give her their strings,

she couldn’t clap nor wear any rings,

only 69 songs could calm both her hands,

which said pain is all that love brings;

she held you but you kept on slipping,

so I tearfully kept you—the most—in my arms,

then shame engulfed and embraced her,

so she left, but not without qualms.”

It half-believed me, but I did not,

it then hugged me feebly

—herein set in the rot—

pulse waned, breath gone,

it merged into me undistraught,

unpained, indrawn

toward its little corner of my world’s plot,

a grave marked by nothing,

a grave I did not dig but honored still, darling.

••••••

No visits after that,

how does one visit oneself?

No detrital revenants,

no perpetually returning love,

no remnants;

you can only return to the thing you had left,

but this love is sacrilegiously kept

and indwells my all

to be used and bring mirth

to loved ones, myself, and everything else,

this love I’ll send forth to the earth.

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Powers

If asked in the past “if you could have one superpower, what would it be?” I had a whole list of answers going from least to most noticeable. This got longer than I expected it to, so under the cut this goes!

Not needing to sleep but also being able to At Will.

The ability to voluntarily perceive and interact with a 4th spacial dimension, and all the mystifying resulting abilities that’d come with that.

The ability to control time.

The ability to fill any space I choose with any thing I choose.

Now, while I would still absolutely cherish having these gifts, I have recently found myself with a new list of powers I would love to have all at once.

Shapeshifting: This is the queer nerds and geeks website, I don’t need to tell you how amazing shapeshifting would be but stars do I just want it so much.

Transmutation: Specifically I want Atom Eve’s variant of transmutation; perception, comprehension, and manipulation of all matter in range down to the sub-atomic particles and up to something as complex as a memory wipe. There is, frankly, no limit to what I could do with this.

Duplication: I would love being able to absorb the physical gains of the clones too, but honestly even Naruto’s shadow clones would be a fucking blessing. I don’t need to make an army of myself, I just need enough of me to cover all my obligations so I can have fun!

Portals: listen here guys, girls, and squirrels, portals would be absolutely amazing. I could go anywhere I want, at all, period. I would be fucking unstoppable in life.

Photographic memory. I don’t need or want an eidetic memory but I envy people with even standard memories, and if mine were photographic it’d really pull all the other things together.

It would just really make my life way better if I had these, I think. I would use the power for both wide spread and personal good.

[dullahandyke]

Hi. Short story time. Is it coherent? Maybe ;) psychological(?) horror story abt prophecy trans name shenanigans w vivid descriptions of a corpse plus ambigious Christian visuals. So TW for that.

Adam

Decades before it was in anybody else's head, the name was entangled in mine.

One day the world woke up and everybody knew the story of a hero who would one day save society from collapse, a martyr heralded by the name. The martyr part was new. I found out about that part when I woke up to the sear in my chest fizzing a little brighter than usual. I turned on the news to see people discussing the astounding lack of scholarship for something that, surely, had to have always been this firmly lodged in their minds. Nobody gave the full details - why would they, when they all knew it? I picked it up from context clues.

For a second, I entertained the fantasy of phoning in to the talk show. I wanted to regale them with stories of years spent searching every mondegreen and minced phrase for answers. To tell them about learning the phonetics alphabet to piece together a pronunciation, only to turn around and find that every word I had used for reference no longer existed. I wanted to share the terror that ran through me when I heard even a sound of the name, and the terror that ran through me when I never heard anything approaching it ever again.

I didn't. I don't think they would have understood me anyway. I turned off the TV, unable to look directly at the name without its brilliance stunning me. It had spent eternity jailed within my mind. Not a suitable name for such a sweet young girl. Not like Eve. So Eve dusted off her skirts and she prepared herself for this new world, where the name littered every street corner.

It didn't die down. It never died down. The name was the new John. Boys bearing the name filled nurseries and morgues alike. There were a hundred stories written about the bearer of the name, and I read one and never another. They likened the forename to King Arthur and it stung to hear them get their hopes up. I met a young boy who chose the name to replace xyr old one and the heat in my chest flared through my nerves like fireworks. The sun bounced from this naïve mirror to burn a hole in me.

People began to realise what doom the hero was sure to save them from. The name took all the words around it, in every language that ever lived, until it was the only word like it. Whole paragraphs of books were blacked out where the name had seen the author coming too close. Analysts found that the name was eliminating all those with the same number of syllables, number of letters, syntax, even a single letter of any script in common. Projects and initiatives were abandoned when the notes were no longer legible. Negotiators lost each other mid-conversation. Ancient stories were pared down to the atoms. That was when they caught it.

I had caught it when my first word, months before I mumbled my mother's calling, was the name. It was fully formed and perfectly pronounced, my infant mouth layered with something more than me in aid of its deliverance. Despite its staged perfection, and my dogged insistence on repeating it, my mother and my father and the speech therapist talked over my head about this babbling. I watched from childhood as words were lost before my ears. Classmates looked at me funny as I repeated a phrase they had said, and then they never said it again. By the time the world caught it, I hadn't spoken in years. I was too tired to keep up with what words still existed.

I adjusted and I isolated but the cavern in my chest only ever grew sharper. I mollified it with boyish nicknames and hair cut short and watching the transsexual freaks from afar. The edge was taken off by every dress thrown out the window and every binding of my chest, but it only came back stronger. It reached a fever pitch whenever I introduced myself. I did not call myself by the name. I was Adam. The name broke my bones as it raged within me, so close that I could taste it on the bile. But Adam swallowed it down and set his bones and saw how dangerous it was to be just close enough for the name to reach me. So Adam went back to Eve and the name was kept buried with who Adam knew he was.

Twelve endless years after the name was known to all, a landlord found my body hunched forward in a chair. Eve looked old. Her floral skirts were stiff with dried blood, suspended in earthy crinoline. The bugs had found Adam, burrowing into his frigid remains. My skin was pulled taut until it tore over my bones, seams of muscle unraveling too easily. The landlord pulled the body upright. The chest, the chest of the body which bore the name, was gone. Flesh hung like ribbons from the gaping maw, a curtain masking the emptiness behind it. The landlord shifted aside the strips of meat to peer into the cavity, and the world saw it too.

The lungs had eviscerated themselves, lying limp in the thoracic cavity. They trembled in a horrific jitter, one that should have ceased after so long dead. The heart was gone. There was no evidence of its existence but the footprints leading from the ribs to the ajar window. The wall outside was streaked and stained with gore, tracks petering out as they headed towards the city centre. The landlord saw none of this. The landlord saw the ribs.

The sanguine parade had left the ribs untouched. They were a calcium white that stank of bleach. And branded to the very marrow of these bending pillars, in single-spaced text, were the words. The landlord saw millions of words stored on 24 ribs, words the landlord hadn't heard in years. Uncountable hordes of phrase unfurled from the bones as the body decayed, flesh sloughing off of the testiments. Every inch of the skeleton was scarred with overlapping and cramped knowledge of Babel.

Untold thousands attended the funeral. They watched as remains of the name were buried in my dress. All the words the world had ever lost were returned to them, but the name was gone. My headstone was not marked with Adam or Eve or the name. It was marked with the epigram of a cursed saint. The knowledge in my chest froze.

Centuries after it was in anybody else's head, the name is entangled in mine.

[burn-the-retcon]

I’ve witnessed an awful lot of drama caused by the claim going around that the Strilondes are canonically Jewish and therefore it’s okay to harass people who do things like draw them celebrating Christmas. It not being okay to harass people over drawings and Dave canonically helping Jade set up Christmas decorations (in April) aside, I can categorically state that no, I am pretty sure they are not. Cut for length, anti-Semitism, and general anti-religionism (on Hussie’s part, hopefully not on mine); please read whole post before commenting.

The evidence which gets cited as proof here is the fact that Dave and Rose came up with elaborate metaphors involving “ethnic weddings”. I’ve seen at least one person claim that Dave must be Jewish because “he knows what happens at Jewish weddings”. This baffles me completely. I know what happens at Jewish weddings and I’m certainly not Jewish, and by that argument, Hussie must be Jewish because he’s the one who wrote it. I’ve also seen a claim that Dave is “obsessed with Jewish weddings”. He mentioned them exactly one time. By that logic, he’s also obsessed with meteors - he discussed those more than once, even!

That aside, let’s look at what he and Rose actually said, starting with Rose’s because it came first chronologically.

Removing the lid signals the moment your life becomes a great whirling batshit pandemonium, somewhat resembling the chaos of an especially ethnic wedding. Somewhere, a soused uncle deliberately shatters china on the floor. Muddy livestock is decorated, and then lost track of. The question “Who’s mule is this?” at times can be heard over the din.

Coming from a Jewish writer, I could accept this as a bit of self-deprecating humour. Hussie is not Jewish, and has a track record of at best tone-deafness and at worst actively cruel mockery of minorities. To my non-Jewish eyes, this doesn’t even look like the correct offensive stereotype. Intentional shattering of crockery is a Greek stereotype, not a Jewish one. As for Dave...

TG: im feeling pretty friggin MATRIMONIAL all a sudden TG: take a look down by your foot see that little bottle TG: stomp on that shit like its on fire TG: noisy ethnic dudes are flipping the fuck out and waving us around on chairs til someone gets hurt TG: im your 300 pound matronly freight-train TG: and my gaping furnace is hungry for coal so get goddamn shoveling

This is at least vaguely like a Jewish stereotype, but again, this comes off like an outsider mocking others’ traditions. He didn’t even get them right - in every case I’ve seen it’s been a drinking glass that gets stomped on, not a bottle, and Googling doesn’t turn up anything about bottles being used. I also note neither of them used the word “Jewish” at any point, but used “ethnic” - a word which implies, at least to me, an out-group that the speaker is not in.

This aside, human religion of any kind is never discussed again except idiomatically, until Rose compares the story of Adam and Eve to splitting the atom, in a scene where she’s supposed to come off as a rambling drunk. Then, we get the other scene usually cited for the Strilondes’ Judaism, the wedding.

This is a much stronger point, but when you look at this there’s a level of nastiness beneath the surface. Rose and Kanaya both look discomfited and surprised, not happy, implying they either didn’t suggest this or are nervous about being picked up and shaken around or both. There’s a Jake face in the background looking shocked and appalled, and he’s just copy-pasted from the Trickster pages but this implies we’re supposed to think this is weird. Worse, the characters doing so are in Trickster Mode. Trickster Mode’s entire deal was the characters acting irrationally and impulsively, had a whole long spiel from the author insert about how it’s a horrible idea, and is portrayed as more or less analogous to drug usage. This is not giving me the impression that we’re supposed to think the chair-lifting is anything but something to be mocked.

Finally, they set up a planet-wide society in which no human religions exist anymore, including Judaism. I can’t find the quote anymore but Dave in the epilogue specifically states dismissively that only troll religions exist on Earth C and even those aren’t popular. If it was so important to them, why didn’t they keep it and tell others about it?

This ties into a general pattern of how religion in general only comes up in the comic to be made fun of or portrayed as a disaster. The kids make idiomatic references to God, but never display any signs that faith means anything to them. John refers to Jesus as “an adult bearded human who was magic”, which is more like how an alien would describe Jesus than anything that comes out of the actual aliens’ mouths/keyboards. Rose specifically brings up Adam and Eve when she’s drunk and babbling. No one celebrates any religious holidays except for Jade and Dave setting up Christmas-in-April with the shittily drawn decorations which is supposed to be them fucking around and pretending to get the presents Jade never got before, not actually finding meaning in a Christian holiday. Gamzee’s religion veers between a reason to mock him and a reason he’s dangerous, and it hasn’t escaped my notice that his theme song of a sort is “Miracles”, by a rap duo who are very spiritual with a Christian influence in their personal lives, and it’s used to make Gamzee look like even more of a dumb stoner. Karkat and Sollux have an exchange about how “MIRACLES ARE POOP STAINS ON GOD’S UNDERWEAR” and “makiing fun of people’2 reliigiion i2 the be2t thiing two do”. And the kids don’t have any qualms about themselves being worshipped as gods in the new world. I am not personally very religious (best I can say is I don’t disbelieve) but I’m familiar with how religious people think, and if the kids were religious in any way, they would not simply throw out their views when something supernatural happened. People who believe in God would be more likely to, from my experience, consider themselves tools of the “real” God behind the scenes and spread the word about the God they worship, not want to be worshipped themselves. They’d consider themselves extremely powerful tools, yes, but still tools, not the ultimate wielders. Not all religions or subsects of Judaism believe in a literal god, just in codes of behaviour and historical connections, but if it was at all important to them, they would at least think about how their faiths connected to what happened to them. The fact that they seem so blase about supernatural happenings in general is probably a sign of clumsy genre switching - it went from “parody of adventure games with characters as stand-ins for the player” to “philosophical rambling with characters in their own right” - but there sure as hell isn’t any canonical support for them practising religion of any kind either way, or even being aware it exists except when they want to make a weird metaphor.