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occasionally subtle

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@firestarting-blog1

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I ask you what is more dangerous than an open flame? The woman behind it.
Excerpt from Myth Untold // L.H.Z
(via
lhzthepoet
)
gnomedad:
He’s surprised to hear her shout at him, he thought the wisp would have disappeared if he walked away from it. But he turns to see it coming right for him and he lurches back away from it, until it comes right up to him and touches him. He can feel it touching him– her touching him. “Are you real?” he whispers back, reaching up to take her hand. He can feel the grit of the sand on her palm and he looks up at her face with wonder. This is real? Where are they?
“Ten years,” he answers, faraway. “It’s been ten years, Lup, nobody. Nobody knew where you went– something happened to us, to all of us. We’re all confused, I think Fisher did something I didn’t– remember. Anything, I didn’t remember anything. Taako and Magnus and Merle, they’re out there, they don’t remember each other– Lucy, Lucretia didn’t remember them either, nobody– it’s like we’re all strangers. Something terrible happened, Lup.”
Lup doesn't notice the flinch, but might not have even if she wasn't consumed with the fire in her stomach that forced her forward. Her hand continues across his jaw, his cheek, tracing along the familiar mustache and beard and wondering why her heart ached with half-formed memories she couldn't quite place. She wanted to hug him. She wanted to pull him close and put her hands in his hair and never let go, and--
"Real," She muttered, voice still quiet but it's a shock that drags through her when he touches her back-- He touched her back!-- and she can feel it. If there weren't tears in her eyes earlier, they burn now, unshed even as she wants to blink, to set them free-- But she doesn't. She can't. "I'm... I'm..." And she manages a look at the ocean. The tree. The bottle of wine and the book strewn on the ground. This was the tree where they'd... "I'm real."
There's a lot thrown at her at once, and her hand snaps away like Davenport suddenly burnt her. "Ten years?" And she shakes her head, reeling back like she was hit. As he speaks, she repeats the names. Repeats the words: "Taako, Magnus, Merle. Lucretia." Davenport. Lup.
"We were--" They are. "Family doesn't--" And that was the word. Family. She swallows around her tongue, keeps going. "You can't forget family. How?" And she comes back to it, "Ten years?"
gnomedad:
“Okay, what do I know,” he’s muttering to himself, looking around. “I’m back on the beach. Oh,” he stops, noticing the burning building now, silent and beautiful and without any heat. “Yikes.”
He keeps moving. “Beach cycle– astral plane? Am I dead? What do I remember– grabbed the cane– umbrella. Lup’s umbrella. God, that was Lup. Lup went missing. I was with Magnus, Merle and Taako–” he freezes again, realization hitting him as he remembers the day he forgot. He was sitting across from Merle, and tears start rolling down his cheeks as he remembers the last words he frantically spoke,
I’m Davenport, I’m Davenport, I’m Davenport, I’m Davenport.
Him walking away tore at her with a kind of pain she couldn't quite place. Desperation gripped her, high and tight in her throat, and as he walks away she stands there as if struck. It isn't until he's several feet away that she lurches after him. Her mind scattered, desperately twisting to formulate-- Something. Something that wasn't a stupid, mindless thought. Something that was real. This was the beach. This was the building. This was the tree where they...
"Hey!" She shouts, urgency suddenly in her voice as she runs, legs slipping the sand where they weren't quite used to the effort, rushing to catch up even as he stops at the building, at the.. "You can't--" And she skids to a halt, beside him. Feet catch soft sand and she falls to her knees, feeling wild, clumsy, but not caring even as her head snaps up to catch on a tearful face.
She's not thinking as her hands lift, not thinking as sandy palms meet a hard jawline and thumbs graze across cheeks. "Are you real?" She asks, her voice a breathless whisper, her own eyes overbright, watching him, making him look at her. Even if she is smoky around the edges, she holds onto him with a sort of realness-- And ignores the way the touch knocks the breath out of her lungs, fingers grazing skin for the first time in... in...
"How long has it been," And that almost seems more urgent than before. "How long has it been?"
TAZ Aesthetic- Blupjeans
“Hear that babe? We’re legends”

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cronelau:
@firestarting continued from here.
Along with cleaning there comes to be chronicling; duties like cleaning also meant to write down what they were low on and what needed to be tossed due to mold or bugs because even cycle after cycle, tiny bugs might get in month to month.
“I know you don’t mean it maliciously, Lup,” Lucretia is jotting down and updating her list from the last cleaning, crossing a couple boxes they’ve gone through an adding some of that hard granola with thick honey that the human likes with a bit of cream. She listens to the elf and can’t help watch and possibly admire her form. This cycle was a mix of recon missions and training, though Lucretia had the opportunity in her down time between writing to actually do some painting.
So of course, she wanted to paint the things important to her.
“You told me last cycle to do something for myself, so I did. For you.” And she still has the finished watercolor waiting under her journal, for whenever Lup is either bored or comes asking for it.
Lup picks up a box, squints at it, opening and sniffing it before cringing, tossing it aside. Honestly, she hated this part of the gig. Oh, sure, they could be reborn every cycle, but Gods knew asking for a consistent ration of food replenished once a year was just too much to ask for, huh? At least she had company.
Standing on her tip-toes, Lup reaches further back into the cabinet with her towel, and if she wiggles her ass it isn't because she thinks Lucretia is looking, but more because she really wanted to get in there. And also she just sort of had a default state of wiggling, it was very distracting. Regardless, Lup settled back onto her feet and rinsed the dusty towel off. "You get me, Luce," She said with a little smile. "'Bout time, too-- Can you imagine me sayin' that to you, like, ten cycles ago? You'd've shut up right the fuck there." She snickers, beginning to settle edible food back in its cabinet, mentally sorting them by things they should eat first vs last. They were getting low on their Lavender and Honey oats, fuck-- They'd have to figure out the recipe sooner rather than later.
"Oh? Oh!" And Lup taps her forehead with a finger. "Shit, I did, didn't I?" But her smile is back, 100 kilowatt and beaming. "What'd you do? Take a nap? A bath?" She gasps. "Did you write something not pertaining to this Plane?" She's teasing, if the wink she gives is any indication, but only partially. Honestly, Lucretia taking any time for herself would be a goddamn miracle.
just a heads up, guys. the tumblr staff is at it again. they’re going through and not only tagging blogs as explicit with no way for you to get it changed without removing whatever it was they decided was explicit on your blog in the first place before you PETITION them to change it, but they’re also turning safe mode on for everyone. basically they’re censuring blogs for their content and then making it so others can’t see the content they have chosen to be censured. rather than, you know, allowing us to self-police, which has been working for years, long before they gave us even a basic tool for filtering tags.
so if you start seeing blogs with blurred out icons or safe mode posts, you know it’s your turn to go turn safe mode back off.
because fuck them, that’s why.
hey.... you ever think abt how lup has no concept of time anymore because of her time in the umbrella..... you say ‘'be ready in 5 minutes’ she aint even moved after an hour, you set plans for 2pm and she gets there at noon confused why no one’s around because her only real solid concepts are night and day and thats only bc the light changes
continued from here -- @aminerdlord
Yeet. Lup kept replaying the sound-- Word?-- in her head as she giggled, leaning on the counter incredulously as she dragged a hand through her hair. "You fucking threw that thing, too!" Lup offered as another wave overwhelmed her, arm throwing wide to gesture towards the can, lying prone as it was on the floor, unable to hurt them with its empty, pitiful existence. Not right now, anyway. Not from all the way on the goddamn floor.
And she had to wonder if he did that sort of thing by himself. Labwork got lonely, she knew it as well as anyone. She'd probably muttered or thrown something across a room when no one else was with her.
...Well, now she was just thinking of Lucas saying yeet alone in a basement and she was dying again, putting her head on the table as she gulped for air-- "Sorry, sorry-- I was. Thinking of you-- Saying yeet, I don't--" And she takes a deep breath. "I think, um," Another burst of giggles, practically delirious in their origin comes from her lips, and she puts a hand to her mouth. As if she could physically force them quiet. "Let's.... Coffee break?" Or food, or something? How long had they even been working? It looked dark outside, but time had been an enigma to her for a while now. She rolled her shoulders as she straightened, hooking a hand in the crook of Lucas' arm and pulling.
"C'mon, killer, I mean it. We gotta keep going but I think if we keep this up we're gonna end up speaking gibberish in like two hours." And she glanced at Lucas, winking, smile bright. "You got a coffee maker, or am I gonna have to magic us up something?" She asked then, casting a look around the lab. Suppose he might have one in his actual house, but she'd hate to assume she'd even be allowed up there. Who knew what shit he had going on up top.

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@whereisyourrider -- merle !
"It's not improv, it's baking, homie! You can't just add shit!"
There was laughter on her lips as she tugged the mixing bowl just out of reach of the dwarf, plastic spatula slowly incorporating flour into the wet ingredients, taking her time with it. They were alone on the ship today, everyone else having found better things to do with their time, apparently. Out sciencing. Sunning, in the case of Taako, punching trees probably, as far as Magnus was concerned. And Lup had wanted to bake. Another birthday had passed without them really realizing it, and Lup was determined to make this cake good. Had to be, it was for Davenport.
"Besides, I don't think Cap fucks with figs that way, if you know what I mean." She drawled, eyeing the small glass jar that Merle had attempted to add, tucking the bowl into her hip as she one-handed tried to grab another sifter of flour. But she didn't trust the bowl going onto the counter. Didn't trust Merle and his quick, damn hands. This had to be perfect. Why did they even have figs? Who the fuck liked figs??
cronelau:
“I could have saved her,” she can feel Lup against her but her eyes are elsewhere, to an observatory filled with small beautiful disks and their tiny planar portals. Where she could have stopped so much hurt. So much pain. It does help Lucretia relax, her shoulders losing tension and she tries to calm her breathing just a bit more. She knows. Playing god to save someone broke more laws than she could count - had Kravitz found her then she would have been drawn and quartered but, there were more things at risk during that time. People were still waging wars and fighting over the Relics. Breathing out Lucretia tilts her head forward rests her forehead on Lup’s shoulder. It almost feels like she shouldn’t, to not show this affection but she draws herself closer to her and there’s a hitched sob.
The funeral for Maureen was small and decorated. She remembered Lucas standing with the other members of the Miller family and there was restraint as she had wanted so badly to comfort him. She watched the boy grow up, become a fine young man And now.
It took her a few minutes to collect herself and she’s pulling away to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. She has to be strong - she is strong, but with Lup here it’s like everything is back to normal and they’re laughing and smiling as if they were still cycle to cycle on the Starblaster.
“Sorry, I got ahead of myself.” A weak smile.
“Should we put together some food?”
It strikes Lup, not for the first time, how deeply broken their family has become. Davenport to the void, Merle alone, Taako retreated to anyone but the few he deems acceptable. Lucretia, here, at this table. And they were always stronger together. Together, these 7 Saviors of the Entire Goddamn Shit World could conquer anything. Everything.
So it was probably appropriate that, at their weakest, they were each thrown to a different wind.
"Or maybe you couldn't've," Lup murmured, her voice gentle in her chest. "Some deaths are set, Luce. You can't change them." Lucretia's not with her now, she can see it in her eyes, in her gaze. See it when in the way her shoulders hunch, only relaxing as her fingers graze across them. It's dangerous to go on as Lucretia is, pining for someone who cannot for you. Who has long since been lost to the void of death. But Lup resigns herself to it-- The best she can do is keep an eye on her. Keep her safe, even if it's from afar.
If there's anything that Dark fucking umbrella taught her, it's patience. This? Waiting for Lucretia to remember where she is, who she's with? Doesn't even feel like a stretch. And what silence would have normally been filled with chatter was left to hang, Lup pulling Lucretia closer as she leaned in and drew out a sob.
Her smile is sad when Lucretia pulls away, hand raising to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, thumb dragging against her cheek to wipe away a tear. "Sounds to me like you were behind," She offers, not unkind. But she gets to her feet, nails at the back of Lucretia's neck, and cracks her neck.
She hums, glancing around the kitchen. "I know I came here for tea, but uh-- You wanna drink? Just an eensy bit? Nothing goes quite so good with reheating leftovers than booze."
erastisism:
{ Starter from here - @firestarting }
“ Do you think it will let up soon? ”
Barry is leaned against the wall of the cave, watching the heavy rain fall outside wash their planet they are on. It’s warm, and there is the solid crack of thunder in the distance when lightening flashes over head, and for a moment Barry is just excited for something like a summer storm! Something that, since they started, he hadn’t seen in a good few years.
So, they are trapped, not that he minds too much. They still have three days to make their way back to the Starblazter, even though it’s only one away.. And Lup is here to keep him company at the very least! H smiles and turns bac kto her and the small fire they have.
“ I still have some coffee if you want to share it. ”
For a gal that liked fire so much, she really didn't mind the rain.
"Dunno. We really should've called this. All day it was 'oh, it's so dark', 'oh, look at that cloud'." Lup huffed, rolling her eyes at their past selves. Their dry selves. Oh, what fools they had been.
The crack of static as lightning struck was something close to exhilerating, and as thunder roared faintly after, Lup couldn't help her smile, even as she drags a large stick from the side to poke at the embers. It didn't need stoking, the flames, but she was cliche enough that she liked fucking with the fire even without it being strictly necessary.
The cave is small. Comfortable. It's nice, in the way dimly-lit caves can be, and their bedrolls dry next to the fire, only a bit damp from the trek they'd had to endure until they found said comfortable, cozy cave embedded in the mountains. Eyes on his back, she almost looked startled as he turned around, though her smile was lazy, nose wrinkling just a bit at the prompt of coffee.
"How cold is it?" She asked, and she leaned forward to tug a rock close to the flames, settling like a platform within the ask. And she held her hand out, expectant. "Come on, Bluejeans, don't hold out on me now." Her smile was gentle, though, words teasing as the fire lit her from below.
gnomedad:
Davenport hears the voice and his eyes snap open to see sand beneath him. The sound of ocean waves comes in next, and he stands unsteadily on the shifting sand under his feet, whipping around to look at– “Lup,” her name leaves his mouth before he can even register what he’s looking at, her voice in his ears is a memory he feels on his skin like a fingerprint. “What– where are we? What is this? Is this– the beach cycle?”
He looks out at the water and then back up at her. She doesn’t look right. She doesn’t look like herself, but she doesn’t entirely look like her lich form either, a form he knows by heart. She looks like some halfway, cobbled combination of both, wispy and dreamlike and hard to focus his eyes on.
“You were missing,” he realizes before she’s even answered, his eyes going hazy as years of memories come flooding back, and his voice speeds up, frantic. “You went missing– oh god– oh god, that was you in the cave, I– where are you? Where is this? What’s going on?”
Lup. That name sounds haunted, the word fucking cursed. Lup-- Her name. Her name was Lup. Lupeetuh. Lup-eat-a. Lupita.... She’s breathing, but since fucking when? She can feel her chest raising. Falling. Her toes curl in the sand as she stares at the Gnome before her, stricken with a pain in her a chest, a deep ache, that she can’t begin to understand. How? Why? How was he here, why-- Was he saying that name like he knew her? “Beach cycle?” She repeats, and she sounds fucking stupid even as she says it. She hates herself as she says it. And Lup looks up. Looks at the waves, the sky. Hears the birds, each carefully crafted note a song she only half-remembers, playing on repeat in the distance. There are a lot of questions being thrown at her then, and each jolt of his voice finding her ears makes her stagger, take a step back. “I don’t... I don’t know--” Bright eyes are wide, and the birdsong staggers. “Davenport--? I don’t--” It’s the looming threat, a devastating knocking somewhere behind her ears of something about to give, a dam about to break. “Home,” She finally manages, after too long, and it takes a lot out of her just to answer him. “I’m.. This is home-- You? How did you get here?” She needs to go on the attack. She needs to stop the throbbing behind her ears that makes her hands twitch into fists. She needs to... To... “You... aren’t supposed to be here--Davenport--” The name keeps raising to her lips like an unbidden curse, like a word she isn’t supposed to know but she does. Davenport. It chokes in her mouth like a swelling ball. She feels sick, she feels heavy. The birdsong stilts. Restarts.
gnomedad:
Davenport’s face falls. His simple state gives him enough mental power for one shallow emotion at a time, and right now it’s annoyance. Something draws him closer to the figure and he kneels down to look at it more closely. He reaches out to take the skull in his hands, pushing back the hood. No recognition, he doesn’t know why he would have expected to recognize a skull, but something like guilt pulls in his heart. He looks down at the curved handle of the staff, and reaches down to grab hold of it. Several things all happen at once when he does. He feels a jolt of pain shoot up his arm into his chest, so powerful he can’t even scream, he hears the echoing cry of several voices behind him, and then a blank, hazy white shroud overtakes him.
When he opens his eyes, he’s lying flat on his back in a misty white veiled area, fog swirling around him infinitely in every direction, every sound he makes shuffling and breathing amplified and echoed around him. He staggers to his feet, feeling weightless, like he could just float up into the mist and be lost forever. Was this a plane? Where’s the Starblaster, is his crew safe?
It hits him then all at once, and the last decade lands on him like an anvil, oppressive and shattering. He falls to his knees, clutching his chest, a little ache still present there behind his ribs. His crew, the ship– Lucretia. His jaw falls open wordlessly and he doubles over, his forehead touching the invisible, textureless ground, and he s c r e a m s.
A lot happens, very quickly. A touch-- Touch?-- Touch scorches through her like she's never felt before, and it's like power at her fingers she can't quite place, damning, impossible power that builds very quickly and-- It's gone. A bolt, a shot into that hand-- Hand?-- and the dark recedes. It eliminates.
There's a ghostly whisper of water on sand as Lup builds her home from scratch. It's instinct, plain and simple, carving her niche out of the abyss and making it home. Sand, water, beach, sun. The spray and smell of salt in the air. The careful backdrop of paradise birds and there, behind, back, amongst it all-- A quiet song, a burning building, flames slowly licking at the frame in blue and orange and curling pink, towards an eternally cloudless sky. And Lup finds herself where she usually does in this dimension. Home. A towel on the sand where she can be--
But the scream isn't part of her home.
Immediately, she crackles. Her skin burns, her body goes pale at the edges. And she recognizes that scream-- Does she? She does, she has to-- And she runs. She runs until she finds him, curled in on himself, and-- There's a twist. A shout. Her hair turns to ash as it curls down, the sand between her toes more realized and firm than her own limbs, but something in this makes her solidify. Just seeing him makes her--
"Davenport?" The name comes, unbidden, to her lips; And her voice breaks. Cracks. Splinters like she doesn't remember what her voice is. She's stilted as she staggers, taking one step. Two. Clumsy and awkward and skipping a bit as she approaches, hand reaching out, but not touching. He seems too alien to touch-- But fuck if she didn't want to, didn't need to.Where had she gotten that name? How had she gotten that name??

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gnomedad:
@firestarting || closed
He wasn’t supposed to go with them. In his fractured mind in which he can only hold half a thought at a time for a few seconds at best, somehow Davenport knew he _wanted _to. Something about those three faces felt safe, even though he could only hold them in his mind for a couple seconds after looking away. He’d snuck along, it was them who had come up with the explanation for themselves that Lucretia had sent him with.
He wasn’t much for conversation along the way, most lengthy sentences slipped in one ear and out the other like they were greased, but when posed with short, simple questions he could give short, simple answers. Hungry? Yes. Cold? No. Tired? No. Fight? Yes. He did his best to help them fight, but every weapon felt unfamiliar in his hands until he managed to take hold of a bandit’s dagger, and then he wouldn’t let it go.
He held that knife for miles, until they found themselves in a cave, and he was the first to notice a figure, huddled in the corner, decayed to nothing but bones and holding a cane. He’d wandered close enough to look, and something about it hurt his heart. He had no thoughts in his head as he looked at the body, just a vague uneasy feeling in his head and a pain in his chest. He looks back over his shoulder and calls out “Hey!” to the others.
The Dark.
That was what did it, she thinks-- When she can. If she can. It's not the quiet, though that had been a close second, nor is it being alone, a close third. But the Dark. It's maybe the most suffocating, the most agonizing. She can talk until she's blue, she can close her eyes and remember..... someone. Someones. Some kind of personal connection, even when she's nothing more than ash, she can feel warmth and she's not alone... But the Dark takes that from her. The Dark is all three, and more. Worse. You can't remember who or what or where or why you are from the fucking Dark. You can't remember the warmth of a smile or the blue of eyes staring so deeply into yours.
The Dark takes. And it separates. And it eliminates. Until you're nothing but dust amongst curtains, plush on velvet.
Hey!
It wakes her like a slap. Eyes in the Dark, a body in the Dark. A word in the Dark. Someone. She warms. She calls. She screams with a voice that doesn't quite leave her throat (Does she have a throat?)-- Hey! You there? Someone!
"Give us a tick, my man!" Taako calls. A group meeting at the mouth of a cave between adventurers. Their quiet companion left to his own devices in lieu of discussing strategy. We don't need another Slime incident, Magnus--
"We're just having a quick meeting, little buddy, we gotta figure out what we're going to do once we get in here. Don't go too far, yeah?" And that was the human fighter, himself, yelling over his shoulder but not bothering to check on the Gnome. It was a closed cave, there really wasn't too much he could do to get hurt-- At worst there was a trap, but surely he'd know better than to walk into any of those. They continued their talk, paying Davenport no mind.
❝ john mulaney / starter sentences.
here are some john mulaney starter sentences ! you know, the salt and pepper diner guy. feel free to change the pronouns to make these fit !
‘ you have the moral backbone of a chocolate éclair. ‘ ‘ anyone who’s seen my dick and met my parents needs to die; i can’t have them roaming around. ‘ ‘ i’ll keep all my emotions right here, and then one day i’ll die. ‘ ‘ i was once on the phone with blockbuster video, which is a very old-fashioned sentence. ‘ ‘ because bill clinton never forgets a bitch. ‘ ‘ in terms of like, instant relief, canceling plans is like heroin. ‘ ‘ excuse me: i am homeless. i am gay. i have aids. i’m new in town. ‘ ‘ the more you do stuff, the better you get at dealing with how you still fail at it a lot of the time. ‘ ‘ i’ll book a ticket on some garbage airline. i don’t wanna name an actual airline so lets make one up, lets just call it delta airlines. ‘ ‘ i was always the squarest person in the cool room, and alternatively, sometimes the weirder person at the mainstream table. ‘ ‘ i have a lot of stories about being a kid because it was the last time I was interesting. ‘ ‘ why do people shush animals? they’ve never spoken. ‘ ‘ comfort is everything. you start doing something and you want it to be perfect right away, but most babies are born ugly and then they shake it out and you get beautiful toddlers. ‘ ‘ i’m a very lucky person. i’m an idiot, and i’ve shoveled through life rather nicely so far, so i don’t feel like i deserve good treatment. ‘ ‘ i always thought that quicksand was gonna be a much bigger problem than it turned out to be. ‘ ‘ one thing that the character mickey mouse is lacking is any personality traits whatsoever. ‘ ‘ you can do good work simply staying up all night and eating nothing but junk food, but probably not in the long term. ‘ ‘ you can’t always see both sides of the story. eventually, you have to pick a side and stick with it. no more equivocating. you have to commit. ‘