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#i wish i could write more but
sinwrote · 2 years
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tbh my hands have been getting worse, its mostly when im holding things for an extended period of time but they ache alot and now i get periodic numbness in both hands alot more than i was before. it’s ? a bit nerve wrecking even if its nothing serious ?the first doctor i went and saw said my scans were clear and nothing was wrong but the fact that it is getting worse stresses me out. ( it could be because im working almost everyday even if its only for a couple hours at the moment but its still ?? ) so thank you for being patient with me, im sore alot and its hard to sit down and be creative. when i am here, i really love writing with you all so thank you for staying mutuals with me <3
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y'know what, ao3 appreciation post cause these people out there doing amazing work for no monetary compensation
literally so many of us love ao3, please show support for these guys <3
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markscherz · 7 months
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Bad Newts: Amphibians are in Serious Trouble
My colleagues and I have just had a paper published in Nature, based on our efforts to assess almost all amphibian species for the IUCN Red Lists. The major takeaway messages:
It is a bad time to be an amphibian
Two fifths of all amphibians are threatened with extinction.
Salamanders are the most threatened group; three fifths of all salamanders are threatened with extinction!
Climate change is a major driver of amphibian declines globally
Habitat loss, especially due to agriculture, is a problem for the vast majority of amphibians
Chytrid pandemics have caused and continue to cause catastrophic declines of both salamanders and frogs
Protected areas and careful management are working as strategies! They are actively improving the outlook of some species
As many as 222 amphibian species may have gone extinct in recent times; of those, 185 are suspected extinct but not yet confirmed.
Our paper is Open Access, you can read it here!
Photo of Atelopus hoogmoedi by Jaime Culebras, used with permission
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confessedlyfannish · 23 days
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Writing Prompt #12
Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.
Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.
Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.
While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.
These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".
There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—
"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.
But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.
He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.
"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.
"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.
"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.
He doesn't look away from the man.
"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."
"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.
The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.
The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"
Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."
"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."
He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.
"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.
"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.
"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."
"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.
"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."
"Him."
"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."
"Why me?"
"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."
This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.
"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"
"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."
Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."
"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."
"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."
"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."
"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."
"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.
"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.
"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."
"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."
"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."
Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.
Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.
"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."
The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.
"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.
"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."
"I have more than one."
"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."
"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"
There is a pause.
"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."
"Resolve what?"
"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."
"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.
"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."
Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."
The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.
"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."
"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."
"They will have already muzzled him."
Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.
"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."
"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—
Clack!
"sluuuuurp!"
"Master Timothy, honestly!"
"Sorry Alfred!"
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venomous-qwille · 4 months
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first attempt at animating <3 had soooo much fun with these, Sunspot & Noon from my GITM AU!
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beforeimdeceased · 5 days
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i love ur fics sm!! its my bday today and i was wondering if u could do a drabble on fem reader riding ellies strap. i can just imagine ellie getting absolutely pussy drunk on the sight alone.
happy birthday beautiful angel!
you’re so right about her getting pussy drunk. she’d be in a daze, fucking drooling all over herself watching the way it slides in and out of your cunt, the slick coating on the strap plus the way you clench on it would drive her up a wall. hands gripping onto your waist, guiding your hips up and down and back and forth. letting out a low “atta girl.” that sounds like she choked back a moan to get it out.
and there’d definitely be moments where she bucks up into you just to hear you moan and watch your body fall into hers. hands gripping onto her shoulders for some sort of balance. barely being able to catch your breath because you feel so fucking good. and she lovesssss making you feel so fucking good. eyes low while she bites her lip.
“you look so pretty on top babe. why don’t you be a good girl and make a beautiful mess for me to clean up?”
all while her hand slips down to spread your slick all over your clit, rubbing teasing circles. pushing you closer to the edge.
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felsicveins · 2 months
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We're a lethal combination, too lost for therapy
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starry-bi-sky · 4 months
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more clone^2 memes because i think they're funny
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#dpxdc#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#clone^2#danny fenton is not the ghost king#so canon to clone^2 and clone damian the portal that ends up transporting damian to amity park is left pr ambiguous#so really how he got there could be one of many things whether it be through divine intervention or clockwork's doing or hell#it could've also been quite literally the 1 in 1 millionth chance that a natural portal opened up beneath him and sent him to amity#and was a happy accident#but the idea that the laz pits or another adjacent such entity heard damian wanting an older brother (he meant og damian but oops never-#specified) and then sends him to the one person who could fulfill that wish and make him happy at the same time.#was really funny to me within the context of the lilo and stitch meme. the meme can also be seen the other way around with danny as lilo#and damian as stitch. but danny being stitch was infinitely funnier and ~technically~ more accurate imo#danny technically IS a nice angel but also. he's a developing menace to society (just ask wes) and he's going to make damian one too#danny being from the midwest means he has a midwestern accent and thats not something the bats know how to handle when they finally meet hi#hey look at that! my meme making skills are steadily improving. im no longer making the same joke six different times in different formats#those first two images i made a few days ago the rest i made in the last thirty minutes in a spur of clone^2 induced inspiration#and procrastination of writing the cfau rewrite of the first post. we are 10k words deep folks and just barely got past the 1st gala reunio#dunking on the giw is a god-given right and danny WILL pass it down to damian
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the-modern-typewriter · 3 months
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The sands devoured the landscape in every direction, a gaping yawn of yellows and reds. The protagonist's throat scorched dry. The last drops of their water bottle had been drained two hours ago.
They staggered another step forward on the dunes, squeezing their eyes shut against the breeze that somehow did nothing to alleviate the heat. They raised a hand to shield their face.
When they opened their eyes again, the antagonist stood in front of them. They looked as cool as ever, untouched by blistering day or the surprisingly freezing night.
"How is your great escape going?" the antagonist asked. They flicked their fingers, magic summoning a sweet pool of water into the inviting cup of their palm. "Are you ready to come home yet, darling?"
Option A: The protagonist shoved past the mirage, for it had to be a mirage, in silence. "I'm not your darling," they snapped, all the same. And they knew they could never go home again.
Option B: The protagonist's gaze dropped, despite their best efforts, to the tantalizing promise of water. It was all they could do not to drop to their knees there and then. The antagonist's smile shimmered across their face, glinting in their eyes. You can have it," the antagonist said. "If you ask nicely."
Option C: The protagonist's hands shot up, drawing up a protective ward. Their heart hammered. It was impossible that the antagonist was standing there, wasn't it? The citadel was barely in sight anymore. "Oh," the antagonist clicked their tongue. "That badly, huh? Poor thing."
Option D: "How are your desperate attempts to find me going?" the protagonist returned. "Ain't nothing but sand to see." "If you come back now, I won't be angry." The protagonist snorted. "I've got my own anger to contend with, after what you did. What do I care about yours?"
Option E: "Do you really think?" The antagonist stepped closer, holding their watery hand up to the protagonist's lips. "That distance alone would be enough to shatter the connection between us? This is silly. You know I don't like to see you suffer." The protagonist let the antagonist feed them a drop of water. A moment of weakness, perhaps. Or maybe just the familiarity of them, of the bond rattling in their chest. The thirst and the hunger. "Then close your eyes, love," they replied. "Look away and you won't have to."
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juicysnoop · 6 months
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watched like 7 seasons of buffy in half a month something is wrong with me anyway ... him
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daily-hanamura · 6 months
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I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :
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(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )
#tumblr polls#hrmm... a little poll perhaps.. about a subject I find interesting.. since this image came across my facebook today#still really not feeling that well. no longer shaking violently and such but I still feel weird and weak much more than usual#They did say my markers for like infection or inflammation were elevated but that they werent sure of the cause so hopefully#it's nothing too serious. they did also say a lot of different things can cause that thing to be higher than normal but didn't go into spec#fics of what. maybe some of them are relatively benign or something. I still havent felt much back to normal since#I got really sick that one time though. I feel fine on and off but then little bouts of feeling weird and sick happen. hrmmm#ANYWAY.. looking for small ways to be productive. such as little doodles on evil ipad or editing game videos#or posting polls or cat pictures or some other like not very labor intensive things#I WISH I COULD FOCUS on writing HHRGGhh... I need to finish my game.. it would be so freeing.. a project that's been looming#over my head for like 5 years even though througouht that 5yrs I've probably spent a total of 3 months working on it lo.. ANYWAY#I still partially really cannot beleive that people CAN see stuff in their heads. There's always part of me that's thinking like. well mayb#e everyone DOES see the same exact thing but we just describe/conceptualize it so differently that we think we're talking about#different things when we're really not. But I have been assured by people I've talked to about it that they can GENUINELY really see#stuff in their heads like as vivid as an actual picture in real life or something. And the other senses are neat too. Like for exmaple I#can hear in my head much better than I can see imagery. I still CANNOT hear vividly like as if I were listening to actual music out loud..#but I think it's developed more than my sight. AND interesting how this varies the creative process. a friend I was talking to on the phone#said they write by literally just watching stuff play before them like a movie. where my process is COMPLETELY different. AND that affects#the content/what details we focus on as well as our individual styles of writing have differences that can be traced back to that.. hrmm
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fandom-trash-goblin · 1 month
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i wish i could save my mother.
@/veniennes on tiktok // Elena Poniatowska, from "La Flor de Lis," published c. January 2011// love drought - beyonce // Athena Farrokhzad, "My Mother Said" // Oleander, by Janet Finch// Hannah Green from "Night Terrors" // Sharon Olds, “Holding To A Wall, Treading Saltwater” // Kyung-sook Shin, Please Look After Mom // take care: mothers, daughters, and inheriting self-hatred by Ella Wilson // tumblr user honeytuesday // Marge Piercy from "our neverending entanglement", Made In Detroit // Honey Girl, Morgan Rogers// supernatural season 12 ep 22 // Silas Denver Melvin, from Grit: Poems; “Twenty” // Hayan Charara, from Mother and Daughter
for @shestrying
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I've been thinking a lot about Leonarda's not-death ever since it happened back in April.
("What death?" you might ask, to which I say: "EXACTLY!")
Back in mid-April, Vegetta and Leonarda were mining together in a one-block wide tunnel. A mob (a Petriman) got between the two of them, and Vegetta told Leonarda to step back while he took care of it. At this point, they'd spent enough time together that he trusted Leo to listen to him.
Instead, she was killed by the same sweeping edge bug that killed her siblings.
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Vegetta's reaction here is what's really interesting to me. Unlike most other parents on the Island, there are no shouts or tears – only a very brief "Hmm" and then silence. He very quietly takes stock of the situation, saying "Vegetta, no" and wondering aloud why Leo didn't defend herself. In chat, Foolish says "It was a bug, right? LAG" to which Vegetta slowly responds "Yes, lag. Bug." (Despite this, Foolish still asks "WHAT HAPPENED" in chat, though Vegetta doesn't reply).
Instead, he creates a slightly wider space in the tunnel where Leo's body is. He continues quietly taking stock of the situation, wondering why Leo didn't defend herself (which is what necessitated his intervention). She'd been lagging a lot that day, and he figures that must be the cause, and eventually when Leo re-appears out of thin air in the middle of the cave and collects her stuff, she confirms that the lag got to her and that's why she didn't fight the mob.
Now here's where things get interesting:
Vegetta checks the tab list. Online, it's just him, Leonarda, Roier, and Foolish. He quietly tells Leonarda "The body has already disappeared, and without a body, there is no crime. Nothing is happening. Did you die?" Leo shakes her head, and Vegetta shakes his head too, and in the kind voice he uses sometimes with Leo, he says: "I believe you have not died. Where is the body? It isn't anywhere, no mija. If it was a mistake, it was a mistake."
Leo says: "I saw Diosito (God) pa, and I was scared. God, what am I doing here?" and Vegetta laughs, telling her it's alright. Leo says "No pasa nada (don't worry / nothing happened)" and Vegetta says: "And the people who are watching us have not seen it either." To Foolish and Roier, he messages: "Secreto."
And the funniest thing about this is it worked.
Not a single person spoke about it. I saw this entire event go down live and I didn't see a WHISPER of what transpired among fans. I can't even remember if the QSMP official accounts talked about it (they sure didn't mention it in Vegetta's recap of the day). We could discuss this in meta terms of course– Leo was having known lag issues that day, Vegetta's beloved by the admins so of course they're willing to turn a blind eye rather than slap a "?" over Leonarda's life on the Eggstatistics, but meta talk isn't what I'm interested in here.
I'm interested in q!Vegetta, the weird "god-adjacent" aura he's got, and the way the universe bends to his will.
Before he took a break from the server, Rubius seemed to be a caretaker for the Eggs who died (for example, he was present when Maxo, Quackity, and Mariana & Slime said their final goodbyes to Trumpet, Tilin, and JuanaFlippa). Because of his role as an "angel" and some of his dialogue during the early days of the server, it's not a stretch to say he probably came to collect any Egg who lost a life. I can imagine he did the same when he saw Leonarda die – that is, until Vegetta said "And the people who are watching us have not seen it either." Realistically, we know Vegetta was saying this to Chat (and possibly the admins as well), but again, we're looking at this from an "in-universe" perspective.
I wonder if Vegetta was aware of Rubius' role, and this was his way of telling Rubius "No. I won't allow that to happen." We know Rubius has a soft-spot for Vegetta (and we also know that Rubius was cast out of heaven several months later) so it makes me wonder if these two instances are connected.
Either way, this isn't the first time the laws of the QSMP universe have bent for Vegetta, and I certainly don't think it'll be the last.
Rubius or no, Leo didn't die that day.
Vegetta made sure of it.
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kimio7 · 10 months
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Fics that defined my love of f1 rpf
In celebration of literally nothing actually, i bring you a fic rec list of some of my favourites!!! very condensed (100+ -> 15 not even including tumblr fics) and im kinda sad i cant put all of my favs down lol but these are like my must reads!!
pleaseeee read these if u havent already its all amazing even if you dont vibe with the ships themselves
Strollonso:
silver platter by atwater | E | 9k
Literally the first fic I've ever read and basically got me into this fandom (and ship). Theyre both so unhinged and amazing it's a very fun read. Probably the best written lance ive every read.
Make Sound by antimonyandthyme | E | 1k
Makes me so fucking insane no notes this is just amazing oh my god
I make two grand an hour by Kaytheologie | E | 3k
Literally so hot and so amazing. lance is so bitchy in this one is great. amazing writing and amazing premise, literally inspired me to sketch out something right after (might finish it at some point)
Sewis:
provenance by ecorone | M | 18K
Literally the fic that introduced and made me fall in love with sewis. it wrecked me like i still havent recovered at all. the writing itself is just, i vibe to it so much
The Numbering at Bethlehem by Kaytheologie | E | 26k
might be one of my favourite fics, ever. what a masterpiece genuinely the environment is just so immersive and lush. ive reread it a dozen time and it never gets old
Brocedes:
you're my purple candy high by nothoughtsjustvibes | M | 5k
baby's first brocedes 🥹 started my love affair with emotional destruction. ruined me when i just first read it and ruined me every time after that. The writing is so profound and laid out their tragedy bare.
the torture of small talk with someone you used to love by finedae | T | 2k
baby's first nico fic!! it also destroyed me!! i think this is the one that made me join f1br bc i was just so obsessed with the writing i needed to know what the author was like lol.
3344:
special research vessels by ecorone | M | 15k
listen i thought this ship wouldve been more popular than it is LOL or at least not as hated. regardless, i love this fic so much. I love the environment, I love the dialogue, the characterization, everything. It's just such an amazing reading experience
matchstick people by ecorone | E | 60k
if you havent noticed by now, im obsessed with this author. the prose, the characterizations, how beautifully the magical realism of it all was realized. horror as a genre is so underutilized in fanfics as a whole but when its done, its done amazingly. love love love
Others:
crude generalisations and vulgar simplifications by crescenteluce | E | 14k | Alexander Albon/George Russell
This fic is THE galex fic for me. it so funny and the writing is so witty its just fun to read. love the way the environment is constructed and it everything just feels so real. amazing
it's more than I can bear: this interminable want, turning and turning. by Anonymous | E | 2k | Fernando Alonso/George Russell
The vibes are rancid, the ships are niche, the writing is good. what more do you need? i love reading this and i love thinking about this.
Amen by sirius | M | 9k | Fernando Alonso/Lewis Hamilton
THE ferwis fic is my mind and mad me unreasonably obsessed with this ship. its so well written- like i love the characterization so much it makes me insane.
on golden sands bysionisjaune | T | 6k | Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg/Sebastian Vettel
Listen, this and the ships that go sailing are both just amazingly entertaining fics. its objectively such a good read and i enjoy spending my time reading it. its just so fun!
steal the air out of my lungs (make me feel it) by nahco3 | E | 26K | Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen
My favourite medical au fic!! ever!!! everything is just so well realized and the characterization is just spot on!! love everything about this fic and nothing i say can fully explain how amazing this fic is!!!
Shutter Speed byantimonyandthyme | E | 18k | Sebastian Vettel/Mark Webber
got me into photography lol. made me purchase my first actual camera. dont know what else to say its just that amazing
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atalienart · 5 months
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Aster and Kornelia
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