#but I heard it as a child and it was one of those like...foundational things you can't pry out of your memory

[tj-crochets]

As far as my favourite animals go, I am obligated to put my two silly baby tabby cars, Benny (image 2) and Jenny (image 1)

But my favourite animal is the peacock mantis shrimp. One creature should not have evolved to have such rage in its body. I'm not going to attach a photo cos it looks a bit strange and I wouldn't want to scare you without warning :D

Your crochet things are amazing! I love them so much! Have a great day!

Thank you!! Benny and Jenny are absolutely adorable, and I don't think I've ever seen a cat with side stripes quite like Benny's. It almost looks like he has a big square on his side? I admit I haven't spent much time with cats though so idk if that's a common cat thing lol Peacock mantis shrimp are so cool! I appreciate you not wanting to scare me but as long as the animal photo isn't gory I have yet to encounter any animal pictures that scare me ^_^

[tadpoles-and-daydreams]

A ramble on imposter syndrome and the accessibility of witchcraft

So, I’ve been thinking. I think a lot in case you haven’t noticed. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about the major imposter syndrome I’ve been feeling lately in regards to this blog. TL;DR is at the bottom of this post.

People have been, occasionally, sending me asks requesting my opinion on things/how I do things/what I know about XYZ topic. If you are one of these people, I promise I’m not vagueposting about you in particular- in fact, I love these questions! They’re so fun to get and they actually make me sit and think sometimes, or even encourage me to write out something that I’ve been meaning to for my book of shadows. Genuinely, they're wonderful asks to receive. These questions have made me confront something, however; my blog is still small, but some people actually like what I write and value my opinion even if just a little. 

I feel like a mimic hiding in the witchcraft community. I feel like, were people to truly understand my experiences, they would want to “expose” me for knowing so little.

So I sat down with those feelings and turned it over in my head and I’ve come to a conclusion. The fact is, I don’t do research. At least- not what I think of when people talk about research. My "research" consists of the occasional rabbit hole I go down, one and two halves of different books I never finished under my belt, what I see scrolling through various social medias, and conversations I've had with other witches. I check to make sure I'm not stepping on the toes of any closed practices- in fact, that's what most of my energy goes to when it comes to research. This isn't a complaint; I'd much rather know that my craft isn't appropriative.

But I don’t know much about mythology, even that of the deities I work with. I don't even remember the holidays and what they're for. I thought Nyx was an Egyptian deity until like four months ago because I'd just heard her name in passing as a child and had never looked into the mythology... Even though I mainly work with the pantheon she belongs to. Y’all, I’ve done like three spells that I remember. My book of shadows is a messy disaster and I love it but it's got so little information in it, because I rarely write things down. Most resources (especially mythology resources) are academically worded or difficult to read for me personally, and all of these things feel like secrets I have to guard with my life because if I were to ever say them aloud, people would know I'm a fraud.

Today I've come to the conclusion that that is, in fact, absolute bullshit.

Maybe it's not, maybe this post will make some people really upset, but in my practice it's bullshit. All of the above is a result of my ADHD and the fact that I am nothing if not a hands-on learner. My craft is mostly my own experiences because that's how my whole life is; I learn by doing. My ideal learning style is sitting with another autistic person whose special interest is whatever I'm learning about and just talking for five hours, but if that's not something I can do, puzzling it out myself is the next best thing. That's what I've been doing ever since I felt had a basic foundation for my craft. Hell, even before I had a foundation I was putting my own experiences into my craft because "Well that rule just doesn't fucking vibe with me."

This post is mostly for me, but partially for anyone who feels similar. We are not broken or doing witchcraft/paganism wrong. We are simply what happens when the kid who could never do homework ends up practicing the "religion/spirituality that comes with homework." Witchcraft and paganism, in my experience, is far from accessible when it comes to the typical image of it. UPG is what makes it accessible. So yes, my practice is heavily UPG, and I don't do as much research as I think people have assumed. But I'm going to let go of the idea that I'm a fraud, because frankly I know enough about witchcraft to have supported my practice this whole time and my deities haven't smited me yet so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TL:DR:

Fuck the rules, I don't do much research. I've researched the "basics" and what I need to so I'm not stepping on any toes of closed practices, but people seem to think I know way more than I actually do. I've felt like I was lying this whole time but frankly witchcraft just isn't accessible to someone with my flavor of auDHD, so my craft relies heavily on UPG and I've decided that I'm not broken or wrong for that and neither is anyone else. I'm tired of seeing myself as an imposter just because I make my practice doable for me.

[just-some-jam]

YOU au Hanma shuji x reader

“Hanma can you open the door for me please” a voice echoed through his head. It sounded like a soft melody in the distance. Something far off that he couldn't quite reach, so close yet so far.

“Hanma help me please. I'm holding the baby, I can't do both at once” your voice whispered from behind the door. Rocking the infant back and forth.

“Hanma help me please im holding the body, I cant do both at once” you had said simultaneously. While both versions of you holding a body and a child flew through his head. But it finally landed on just one. One that he had not expected.

“Hanma, are you deaf or something get the door Im holding the damn baby” you finally snapped at him. Knocking the man out of his state of unawareness. His thoughts still circling through his head, mixed between last night and now.

“Okay, okay stop your bitching. I'm coming woman.” hanma growled as he walked over towards the big white door that he hated. In the big fucking window like house that he hated even more, in the quietest most boring neighborhood in the whole city that he hated more than that. Hamna hated everything about his new life with you. From the supermarket that didn't sell the type of coffee that he liked, down to the dumb neighbors who would always comment. when they heard you two even seem to be rasing your voices at each other. But like the good loving husband he was he would just put up with it. No matter what the draw back was and you were one of those. You were a draw back, everything that you did was a draw back. When he opened the white door he didn't just open it for you and your child he opened it for himself too. So that he could see the outside world far away from his trapped life. In a home that he hated, in the one part of town that he hated even more. And yes finally surrounded by people that he hated the most.

“Hanma hurry grab her feet” you screamed with the voice of a whisper more afraid of waking the baby then getting caught with a body. You were and still are a draw back, and it always came down to situations like this. When you go off the rails and do stupid things, going off a very small claim that he had cheated on you. With the mail woman of all people. Cliche much one would think but you though it was very much real.

“Im grabbing her legs but could you be more quieter” hanma had yelled back at you with his brows furrowed very hard. Showing the sweat that was gliding off of his almost pail face. Everything could end here and now just by one person spotting them. One person waking up at fucking 2:20 in the morning. To see the atrocity you both have now committed.

He took over now at this point, Hanma was no stranger to violence. No stranger to hiding bodies and covering up crimes. You had married a criminal after all. But you were inexperienced, so bad that the action that was committed a mere few hours ago. Had already incriminated you both, even If you hadn't gotten caught yet. The woman fell limply into the back of the car as hanma tried to slam the trunk as quietly as possible.

He paid no care to the fact that his wife was running back into the house. Grabbing his son and a fully packed diaper bag. Jumping into the front seat of the car as he did the same. A small infant in the back sleeping only a seat away from his mother's crime.

"you just had to bring the baby." He muttered putting the car in reverse.

"what were we supposed to do huh? leave him there?" She retorted back. Watching said boy from the review mirror asleep. As he drove off twords a string of new houses being built at the opposite end of the culdesac. Down as far as the street reached. Settling on a newly dug up foundation that was set to have cement poured that next morning.

Hanma got out of the car now being able to take out his frustrations loudly. Slamming the car door as it echoed off the vancent houses. Reaching around the back to open the truck of his obnoxiously large soccer mom car.

What had you done to him truly. What had you done to his life. Hanma shuji had run from his original crimes for as long as he could. Deciding that he would never senselessly kill again unless he had to. And now you had broken his own personal rule. Throwing the man straight into yet another crime.

What did you do to me?

[nerdygaymormon]

Doctrine and Covenants 128:18 - We cannot be pro-family and anti-LGBTQ+ at same time

This verse is specifically about Baptism for the Dead, and the principles presented for this practice are enlightening. It is a lengthy verse, I'll put the entire verse at the bottom of this post. For now, I want to focus on this section:

"It is sufficient to know, in this case, that the earth will be smitten with a curse unless there is a welding link of some kind or other between the fathers and the children, upon some subject or other—and behold what is that subject? It is the baptism for the dead. For we without them cannot be made perfect; neither can they without us be made perfect."

When I think of this from a queer perspective, for all those parents who've kicked out a child because they came out as LGBTQ, how does that action fit with this verse, aren't they are breaking those bonds? I don't know if they are smiting the earth, but they are smiting their family member (smite means "to strike sharply or heavily especially with the hand or an implement held in the hand." This could be a blow so hard that it causes injury or even death).

Many studies have shown that family rejection of LGBTQ children has a negative effect on their mental health as these queer individuals experience higher levels of depression, substance use, suicidal ideation, and suicide attempts. Literally, they are causing injury and death to their child.

Another part of the verse says that this welding of people together needs to be "a whole and complete and perfect union." That doesn't sound like there's gaps or missing pieces, there's no exceptions.

"for it is necessary in the ushering in of the dispensation of the fulness of times, which dispensation is now beginning to usher in, that a whole and complete and perfect union, and welding together of dispensations, and keys, and powers, and glories should take place,"

Interesting that it says all "glories." I've heard too many General Conference talks where queer people are relegated to lower kingdoms, or glories, of heaven, and the LDS Church is only going to focus on people who can become exalted (which current teaching requires a married couple, a man & a woman, to be sealed in the temple). This verse says all of us, no matter what our future glory may be, are to be bound together.

Everyone talking about being exalted without their LGBTQ+ family members WON’T BE. If same-gender couples and trans people aren’t exalted, NO ONE will be, instead there will be a curse. “For we without them cannot be made perfect; neither can they without us be made perfect.” We cannot be pro-family and anti-LGBTQ+ at same time.

Here's the complete verse:

18 I might have rendered a plainer translation to this, but it is sufficiently plain to suit my purpose as it stands. It is sufficient to know, in this case, that the earth will be smitten with a curse unless there is a welding link of some kind or other between the fathers and the children, upon some subject or other—and behold what is that subject? It is the baptism for the dead. For we without them cannot be made perfect; neither can they without us be made perfect. Neither can they nor we be made perfect without those who have died in the gospel also; for it is necessary in the ushering in of the dispensation of the fulness of times, which dispensation is now beginning to usher in, that a whole and complete and perfect union, and welding together of dispensations, and keys, and powers, and glories should take place, and be revealed from the days of Adam even to the present time. And not only this, but those things which never have been revealed from the foundation of the world, but have been kept hid from the wise and prudent, shall be revealed unto babes and sucklings in this, the dispensation of the fulness of times.

[sleeplesssmoll]

The Timekeeper and the Warden (Reverse 1999 AU)

I know I said I was studying but this is all @blehhhhhsthings fault! They keep making me brainstorm (thank you but also what have you done lol)

I was inspired by their Mask Tk au, but I put my own twist on it since I am a twisted individual. This is the scenario:

Vertin and Sonetto never make up after the break-away event because instead of Madam Z reaching Smoltin, Manus does first. They were waiting for her because they heard rumors about a child with Storm Immunity from their inside sources. Finding Vertin as the only child left confirmed those rumors.

Sonetto never gets over Vertin. She thinks about the way she treated Smoltin and blames herself for Vertin's Reversal.

Years later, Sonetto graduates as the top of her class and becomes a field Investigator so she can witness the outside world Vertin longed for. Two years after her graduation (roughly 6 years after break-away), a Manus Vindictae Renegade waltzes through the Foundation's front door. Sonetto pins her to the ground but falters when she realizes they have silver hair. However, she can't see her face because of her mask. The voice is both unfamiliar and nostalgic (because Smoltin is grown up now) but she doesn't have time to dwell on it. The deserter doesn't resist and claims they want to stop Manus more than they hate the Foundation. She's seen the way they treats arcanists who aren't purebloods and the unnecessary violence. She wanted to escape long ago and waited for the perfect opportunity.

Constantine decides to interrogate her further, especially once she sees the special umbrella the renegade brought with her. She must be one of Arcana's pets.

Later, the renegade becomes the Foundation's Timekeeper, and Sonetto is her Warden. While the Timekeeper has flexibility within the Foundation due to her rare Storm Immunity, it's Sonetto's job to keep her in line.

The Foundation also sealed off the Timekeeper's ability to communicate by branding an arcane skill (a curse really) around her throat. She can only speak with her Warden's permission and even if she tries to be sneaky by writing or something, the markings burn red and are incredibly painful (they're triggered by intent, like the bangles on the Island that Arcana and Vertin wore in the real story). Sonetto thinks it's cruel but Constantine informs her its for everyone's safety. This deserter has a silver tongue and she plants dangerous ideas in people's heads. By limiting how much she can say and forcing her to have Sonetto nearby in order to speak, they reduce her opportunities of betrayal. Besides, she's already betrayed Manus. Who's to say she won't turn her back on them next and return with their secrets? Sonetto's whole thing is loyalty and devotion so she starts off very cold with the Timekeeper.

The Timekeeper no longer wears a Manus Hand Mask, but a monochrome Foundation mask that covers her upper face (as much coverage as Bessmert's blindfolds or 2B's mask from Nier so it covers her freckles but leaves her mouth open to eat and make smug smiles with). It completely hides her eyes but she can see better than the average person through it since it has the same enchantment as the other Investigators (the ones that completely cover their face like in the prologue).

The Masked Timekeeper does the sort of the same thing as the Timekeeper we know. She shelters "unhinged" arcanists and takes on the most dangerous missions since her people are considered dangerous and disposable. She is very protective of her crew.

However, she and Sonetto are painfully awkward.

Vertin has no idea how to interact with her former deskmate. In her mind, Sonetto was always nice enough to put up with her but actually couldn't stand her. She doesn't blame Sonetto either because she was...difficult. While Vertin is a touchy and affectionate person, she hesitates with Sonetto or changes her mind last minute.

Meanwhile, Sonetto hates this game of hot and cold she ends up in every time they interact. As much as she hates to admit it, the TK grew on her. She's kind, sincere, and never treats Sonetto like her Warden but as part of her beloved crew. They argue at times but Sonetto never uses her status as Warden to silence her. There is an odd understanding between them even if they never seem to get one another.

This Vertin was raised by Arcana instead of Madam Z. She's a smooth talker and a skilled fighter outside of her crappy arcanum. Instead of a stoic face, she smiles (like Arcana but a smug smile instead of Arcana's creepy "I dare you" one.)

As much as she says she despises Arcana, she kept the Umbrella she gave her. The Umbrella is infused with Arcana's slime and can shape-shift into many things: a shield, a sword, a cane, heck even a fishing pole (she did this to piss Arcana off but her leader found it amusing and creative). This Vertin is also completely shameless when it comes to manipulating others as a means to an end.

She finds out what you desire most and uses that against you. It's one of the reasons Constantine branded her.

"You deserve more. They can't give you that, but I can," type of persuasion. She also frustrates Sonetto by talking around her instead of answering her questions or telling her what's on her mind.

Eventually Sonetto opens up to the Timekeeper about a friend she lost long ago. She's afraid one day she'll forget her.

Vertin has no idea she's talking about her because she didn't think Sonetto thought of her as a friend, just a deskmate she was stuck with. She assumed her friend fell in battle. Lots of people were reversed too so she still doesn't connect the dots until Sonetto specifically brings up the break-away event.

Vertin's name was added to the Forbidden List and you'd be punished for saying it (like the word "Storm" before it was public knowledge). This is one of the reasons the Timekeeper took so long to put together Sonetto's still grieving for her. She's not sure how to deal with this but she doesn't know how to make Sonetto happy. All these years later and she's still a burden on her deskmate.

Some things never change.

Aaaaand that's where I decided to start writing my story from. Although, I could sprinkle this background information throughout...if I knew what I was doing anyway. Reverse did it with AS while Vertin was in a coma so I decided on a dream route.

Sonetto is so scared she'll forget Vertin, she uses AS to see her again. However, she can never remember the color of her eyes. Smoltin would lower them when she spoke to her or avoid her gaze after she found out Sonetto asked the Instructor if she could switch deskmates. That's why it was the first thing she forgot. This makes her panic!

I also want to put Yeni in this fic. She's sooo much like Sonetto but more direct and sarcastic. Essentially, what she and the TK develop is what Sonetto and the TK could have been.

Sonetto tells herself she doesn't care. She's only worried about remembering Vertin and nothing else matters–

But how come she's never seen the TK's face but Yen has!? Unfair. She's known her longer.

Sonetto hasn't realized the others have seen Vertin's face. Constantine only dictated she wear the mask on missions to represent the Foundation, but doesn't care about what Vertin does in her free time once she realizes it's THAT VERTIN. Not many people recall what Smoltin looked like since she was never in the Spotlight due to her awful grades and she was tiny. Just harder to notice in general, especially when everyone's looking down to see her. The school did their best to cover up her past since she had no family to fight for her anyway. They were her "family" since she was a month old.

Vertin finds it hard to face Sonetto so she doesn't take it off in front of her. It's easier this way. She's also still figuring things out.

Constantine's happy her little pawn returned as a more powerful piece to play with. Madam Z cries a bit when she see Vertin, the child she failed to save.

Idk what to call this au or even if it's worth naming if I don't actually do anything with it but I'm open to opinions!

[vesss23]

Because | Miguel

-`♡´-

A/N: I haven’t written in a hot minute so may be rusty but guess what!! Miguel!!

Paring: Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Synopsis: You wish Miguel wouldn’t bottle up his emotions anymore.

Or

You care for your best friend, perhaps too much, and accidentally confess your feelings in a fight

What’s the hardest thing to see?

For some it’s death. Witnessing the warm flame of life slowly melt into nothingness is a cruel, cruel experience.

Eventually, you get used to it, especially in this line of work. It cuts a scar deep into your soul when you fail to save an innocent life. It hurts even more when it’s a colleague.

The hardest thing for you to see? One of your best friends is slowly digging himself into a bottomless hole of misery. You weren’t there when the incident occurred, you only heard about it because Peter was worried about Miguel’s state of mind. While it isn’t uncommon for Miguel to lock himself away in his so-called lair for days on end, this was getting to an unhealthy point. Meals were going ignored, pretty much zero social interaction, and he wasn’t talking.

Not even to kick someone out.

According to Peter, the mission started out very well. Everything was in control and civilians were evacuated to a safe location, that is until a lone child was found. A young girl who had a striking resemblance to Gabriella. Things quickly went sour when the highway’s foundations started giving out, the concrete cracking and crumbling from the stress of the explosions below.

He was too slow.

It felt as if thorns were burrowing into your heart, their sharp claws digging and digging until the organ would be nothing but a bloody pulp. So here you are, standing in front of Miguel’s door holding a plate of freshly baked sugar cookies. Baking is one of your favorite ways to relax after a tough mission, the aroma of freshly made goods always calmed down your inner turmoil, and seeing the smile on others’ faces as you gift them always squeezed your heart in a wondrous way.

You weren’t sure if Miguel was fond of the sugary treat, but you hoped at least the gesture itself could bring him some solace. Though, deep down you know it most likely won’t.

“Miguel?” You muster up the sweetest voice you could, but make sure to not go too far and make him feel like it’s all out of pity, “can I come in?”

A moment passes. Nothing. Not even the slightest sound.

You take a deep breath, relishing in the feeling of fresh air making room in your lungs, and calm down your anxiety. It’s just Miguel. It’s just your best friend. The door creaks open and you promptly close it behind you. The area looks the same. Dark and ominous.

You see Miguel staring at the screens blankly, not a single thought behind those pretty brown eyes of his.

“Miguel? I brought you something. You should eat,” I approach him and lower my voice to avoid startling him.

Miguel has never been…great with his emotions. He’s not the type to unload everything and help face his issues with the help of others, he prefers to bottle them up and if the occasion ever did happen, he can hardly find the words to describe how he’s feeling. You care about Miguel a lot, you didn’t want to see him wallowing in pain and being the ghost of his former self. You hated to admit you even missed angry Miguel when he’d throw out witty remarks at everything you said.

You miss him.

“I’ll admit they probably aren’t the most nutritious,” A laugh escapes your lips and you try to lighten the atmosphere, “but Peter said he hasn’t seen you eat since last week.”

Once again, no response.

You sigh and set the plate of cookies down on a nearby storage trunk and trudge up to his screens. You weren’t afraid to be a little stern with the man, he may have a shorter temper, but that doesn’t mean he can’t handle some scolding every once in a while. You’d be damned if you let the man you love your best friend treat himself poorly.

You slap the screen in front of him and it spins to his side, your expression is still soft in hopes of not starting an argument.

“What.”

So he speaks.

“I heard what happened, it’s–”

“I’m not talking about this.”

Miguel dodges every word you say, his voice low and raspy with a hint of annoyance in there.

“I’m–”

“Go.”

“Would you let me speak, god damn it?!” Your voice raises a few levels, the man’s dismissiveness finally starting to unravel your patience.

“Miguel! I’m not just going to sit around and let you struggle on your own!” You reach out a hand to place gently on his shoulder but he immediately brushes you off and turns his back on you.

You sigh. You didn’t expect this to be easy, Miguel has a tendency to shut down sometimes, but you were at a loss. You couldn’t just force him to open up and accept your words, but how would you convince him? How could you get him to want to care?

“Remember when I got stabbed?” What a way to lighten the mood, “and you stuck by my side in the hospital and banned me from missions longer than anyone else?”

He doesn’t move. Or speak. So you continue.

“That was you caring for me, Miguel. No one else would’ve done that for me, and it made me fall for you a deep impression on me. Let me be there for you like that. You don’t have to talk, you don’t have to leave the room, but all I ask is you let me take care of you.”

Please, please, please. Please, Miguel.

“I don’t need your help,” His voice softened only a smidge, but he still refused to budge.

“I hate seeing you like this, refusing to let things out so you can move on.” You place your hands on your hips, but he can’t see that anyways, “it wasn’t your fault, you did your best and–”

“I could’ve been faster. If I had just–” His voice grows deeper and louder as he runs a hand through his hair, “because of me, a family isn’t whole.”

Your hands fall off your hips when you hear him, you’re tempted to place one on his shoulder in comfort again but didn’t want to pressure him.

“Think of how many people are alive because of you.”

He spins around and stands up. Miguel is…huge. It’s always intimidating when you’re standing right in front of him, his piercing gaze looking down upon you. Especially when he’s emotionally unavailable. He takes a step forward and I hold the eye contact.

“Do me a favor and leave me alone. Leave. Go.”

“No. I care about you Miguel, I’m not–”

“Why? Why could you possibly care so much about me? What is so special that makes you want to get all up in my business and pester me?”

“Because I love you!”

Miguel freezes, his eyes wide and surprised. You didn’t realize what you said until a moment later, the regret pulsing through your veins like venom, paralyzing your thoughts as your mind goes numb.

“You should go,” His voice is softer now, but still firm and lacking warmth.

You don’t fight him this time. As you leave the room and pass by the plate of neatly stacked cookies you can’t help but feel defeated. Rejected. Pretty much every sour emotion. How could you be so foolish? To not only admit your feelings to yourself but to the man in question.

You spend the next few days in your room, not feeling like talking with Peter or Jess or even Miles, but not quite wanting to return to your own universe. The HQ has become a comfort–a reminder of your strength and will to survive. Yet that cozy feeling has been replaced with anxiety. Perhaps the real comfort was Miguel all along.

His rejection stung deeply. You really did fuck up big time, would there be any way to salvage this? You could brainstorm but your mind was a jumbled mess of panic and insecurity. Your room was starting to become stuffy. The air is no longer crisp but suffocating and making you sweaty. The way your clothes were starting to stick to your skin made you uncomfortable, so you grabbed a blanket and escaped the room, choosing to head to the roof.

The view from up so high is always incredible, especially at night with the darkness consuming the world whole. You take a seat by the edge and allow the blanket to fall behind you, too lazy to adjust it over your shoulders.

“I wish I could stay here forever,” talking to yourself is calming. As strange as it looks to others, it provides a sense of security and identity.

“What’s stopping you?”

You jump when you hear a familiar and unwanted voice come into your space. You turn your head and frown when you see Miguel. His hair is unkept (probably from stress and running his hand through it constantly) and the bags under his eyes are as prominent as ever. His grey sweatpants rested low enough on his hips to peek at his v-line, the dips of his–

You quickly turn your head away.

He looks good.

“Why are you here?” Your voice cracks and you wince. You can already feel the heat rising to your cheeks from embarrassment.

“We should talk, cariño,” Miguel takes a seat next to you and your knees brush, causing a shiver to run down your spine in contrast to the warmth your body is feeling.

“You didn’t want to.”

He rolls his eyes, “This changes things,”

“Does it?”

“That little girl looked just like mine,” He stares up at the sky and talks quietly, “I guess I just–Look I’m not good with this stuff you know that,”

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

“We’re talking.”

You sigh and finally look at him. It’s hard to not admire his face, he looks peaceful right now. Almost like that thing never happened.

“I’m sorry.”

Did the Miguel O’Hara just apologize?

“You should be,” You say promptly.

He takes a deep breath and turns to me, an emotion in his eyes that wasn’t there before. It gave you hope, hope that maybe he would let you in. Let you be more.

“I wanted to push you away. Keep you away. I let myself go and get attached, and when that girl’s life slipped through my fingers, I thought: what if that happened to you? What if I was too slow and because of me–”

“Miguel.”

“--you get hurt or even worse.”

“Miguel!”

“I just couldn’t subject you to that. To me.”

“Miguel!”

He goes silent.

“Just shut up for a second and listen to me, okay?” You experimentally reach a hand to cup his cheek gently, your thumb ghosting over his skin. When he leans into the touch, you continue. “You deserve the world. You deserve to be happy. You do so much for the multiverse but so little for yourself. Be selfish just this once.”

“The last time I did it ended horribly,”

You take a leap of faith. Your hand pulls his face close enough to place your lips on his. It was a shy kiss–you weren’t entirely sure of what you were doing, but god the feeling of kissing him was exhilarating. A large hand makes home on your waist and squeezes.

He pushes you back slightly, just enough to disconnect your lips. Rejection shattered through you again–was he really going to run away from this?

“We shouldn’t.”

“I love you. I want you.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against yours, his breath minty as he exhales.

“Have I not proven enough?”

He chuckles, “It’s not about proof. I understand your feelings hermosa, but I am not worthy of someone like you.”

“I love you.”

You can see the gears turning behind his eyes, a rope ready to snap.

“I lov–”

He kisses you. Harshly. His lips absolutely devouring yours like this was his last meal, hands exploring every inch of your body that he could. He moves to your neck and you gasp when he lightly nips at your sweet spot.

“Ah, mi amor, you’re going to be the death of me.

Miguel continues with a smile, one so big it was foreign on him.

“I’ll try. For you.”

“You won’t hide away and ignore me?”

“I won’t.”

“You’ll–”

Miguel shuts you up by kissing you, this time slower and more passionate. He smiles against your lips and whispers something you thought you’d never hear.

“Te amo,”

[cupcraft]

i watched the Dream video for technoblade, his dad, and the charity. no other reason.

It'll be A dream free liveblog this will mostly be about stories of techno, his dad. I will state here that dream does talk about his memories of techno/techno kicking his ass at things/being good (mc monday and the duel for ex) and responds to his dad's stories and stuff but i dont feel comfortable liveblogging those parts so thats all ill say about it here. There will be a portion where his dad mentions dream a few times in his stories which ill state in service of his dad's/the family's voice but thats where itll end!

This will be long im sorry, and also its unedited grammar wise:

this stream/video was to donate to the sarcoma foundation (which definitely i do encourage donating if you can) and once again reminder you can buy the techno merch that also goes to his family and charity!

skeppy presented the award at the sarcoma foundation and met techno's dad. His dad also heard a lot about skeppy over the years as they were friends. Skeppy said the video that resonated the most with him the most when asked was "skeppy tries to troll me but i troll him first" (on technos channel, "skeppy's dungeon" on his). His dad shared a lot of joy to memories with techno and skeppy's relationship.

his dad says he feels like the "grief wants to be the only thing thats happening". and he said "i was there for his whole life. literally from day 1. literally for the last day." He finds his memories going over the last week of his life over and over again and he remembers it being mostly painful emotionally. And he doesnt want that last week to cement itself in his head, so he wants to go over memories of his whole life and stories from when he was a little kid and stuff. His goal is to talk about him as a whole person and not just the cancer.

His dad talked about how little funding cancer gets, how its the number 2 killer in the US and "it not only takes our parents but takes our kids sometimes and our friends and anyone." He praised doctors and researchers and he met them at the sarcoma foundation event.

in the spirit of joy as he dad said he wanted to share this story: when techno was 2 years old his dad had techno and his younger sibling. he said when kids are 3 months they sit so you can go to the bathrooma nd that when they get older theyre dangers and he said "thats when they try to kill themselves!". His first wife had the flu at this story, and he had to maintain the childcare and there was a staircase to the bedroom. The younger sister thought going up and down the stairs was super duper fun but she wasnt good at it, he had to like monitor her a stair behind. She then at one point was on the stairs close to the bottom and fell, and his wife said "what was that??". he picked her up and he tried to comfort her and stuff. And techno walks in the room and goes "baby fall down crash" and then his dad mimicked slapping the floor and rolling all around to show what 2 year old techno did to describe the story. Srsly crying at this :,) oh techno.

another reminder to donate!

his dad is an avid gamer but stayed away from minecraft bc he didnt want to be the "parent that gets heavily involved with what the child does" *laugh*. He watched techno play pvp, and once he figured out what was going on during these 1v1's and noticed that he kept winning without losing hearts. And his dad said "alex do they know youre there? are you invisible?" Though his dad could believe his son could win due to other video games like tf2 that they played together where he'd be MVP 2x the score of the entire other team's score and he'd say "oh i did so bad im so disappointed" (noted to be a bit of an exaggeration).

in his whole career his dad said he never saw him stress about anything other than the duel, leading up to it mostly. he didnt know why but it really stressed him out and techno shared with his dad a lot of worse case/ "nightmare" scenarios that his dad said "didnt seem realistic." His dad said "all the bad things you imagine might happen but are more likely if you turn it down (paraphrased i missed a few words here my apologies i do have auditory processing issues!). And his dad said "who is this green smiley guy whose gaining more subscribers than my boy!!" and he felt competitive on technos behalf.

he aspires to be a good dad to those behind the camera (which i assume are techno's siblings by context).

his dad brought up the elbow reveal and that he wanted to do a face reveal which caused some laughs. He is now thanking his sponsor "cancer where without it this stream wouldnt have happened." (All i can say is that ik where techno got his humor from im srsly in tears this fucking family :,)!)

His dad talked about the cancer. and referenced the joke "it was gonna be the most epic elbow reveal ever" about the almost amputation. And he did a great impersonation of techno's voice. He thought he was going to be weeping copiously but he didnt want to put that on the situation so he tried to stay positive and kept it about love for techno as much as he could until the end. He got techno a present in this message and then started laughing and that "nobody likes this story". next bullet pt->

the present was for the occasion of the surgery. He wanted it to be good and valuable and special. He got him a book, a rare first edition first print 1922 book of hemingway's farewell to arms. (no shot cryinggg)

Now its mcc time! Just a lot of sharing of techno mcc memories.

Dream smp whitelisting time! Techno was always on the dream smp list because (maybe) tommy asked him to be. He just logged on at one point (which we all know when :,)!). His dad also shared that he had several characters only one he wanted to be whitelisted (which was technoblade!). i assume he means acc names (?) and there was a joke that he kept trying to log in with his other acc's and said "i cant join because im not white listed (paraphrased) and that "i spent 50 dollars on a joke".

his dad is 60 years old, recent bday!.

"no ones gonna watch you play the videogame you can just play it yourself!" his dad said. (i missed the context of this im so sorry)

he says as a dad hes required to tell dad jokes.

There was a touching and emotional moment about how "it feels like techno is here with us" (paraphrased)

his dad wanted techno to pick out a good chair and out of all the chairs in the world he picked his dad's chair. and he has a shit desk, a computer, and a "ehhh" mic.

Whenever techno would stream/record at 2 am when his family was trying to sleep theyd hear "WHAT???? HEH?? *insert technoisms*" through the door. and he said "it was so awful when it stopped." :(.

he and his dad communicated through the door texting and hed check on him and theyd watched hunterxhunter/etc. together. And techno "couldnt eat without watching tv" and so meal and a show ig :D!

His dad said "i really miss him a lot." And he'll see reddit posts and he'll think its perfect to techno but then he remembers he cant send them.

Also He wont make a twitter but he's thought of making a technodad reddit and he loves the techno-ers on reddit a lot :D and he reads those posts until he cant any longer.

REMINDER TO DONATE AGAIN!

they knew another boy who had sarcoma who only lived until he was 8. and they had to take a break. at this point.

his dad said techno seemed to mean a lot to people that was more than pvp and funny jokes. and he sees the like "techno you helped through a bad time" posts. and hes so proud, and has seen all the donating on his behalf and finds it really (he pointed to his heart).

He met the director of the sarcoma foundation and they had never seen anything like it before. And she shared a story of a kid who ran a lemonade stand and raised to 100 dollars and sent it to the foundation for techno.

His dad said techno said "i sell pants now for some reason".

Theres new merch coming out soon. He's outselling! Also you can only order merch when its in stock to avoid delays.

The stream was ended with a hug <3!

His dad gave a big thanks to dream for what he did to help the family.

His dad plans to do more stuff with more people! Hinted at a big charity event with lots of games maybe.

AGAIN DONATE.

Technoblade never dies. this was a stream of love overall <3. I miss technoblade so fucking much. o7 king.

[shapeshiftersvt]

M'Mothm'n.

Here's the thing about the Mothman. Even though he scared the ever-living shit out of the people who saw him, the speculation around him has become, over the years, actually very kind. What if he's only here to help? What if he's trying to warn us about impending disaster? What if that horrible feeling you got that something wasn't right, what if that was the Mothman telling you to look out, be careful, danger is coming, doom is nigh?

It's one thing to be a harbinger of doom; there are apparitions of ghostly black dogs all over the world that will give you that, red eyes and all. It's another to have one who actually means well.

I'm going to be an Old Queer for a minute, now, and talk about gay politics in the USA as I watched it over the past thirty years. My experience is my own; my history is shared, but not universal. Sound off in a reblog if you saw it happen differently. I want your story, too.

There’s a certain line the right wing in this country likes to use against The Gays, one I’ve heard since I was a small child. It goes: queer people are threatening our way of life. Queer people are the pebbles that start the avalanche of apocalypse, the collapse of civilization as we know it. If marriage becomes something other than Man + Woman, or if Man and Woman become something other than we think they are, then we will lose everything we know and love.

The rise of the Respectable Gay in the 1990s was a pushback against this. “See,” cried Degeneres and Savage and all the rest, “see how we’re so very normal? We want to get married and buy a house and have 2.1 kids and a white picket fence. Our marriage doesn’t threaten yours. How could it? We’re just normal, ordinary, white, moderately wealthy, people. We're like you."

This move shifted the narrative across the 90s and 00s. Homosexuality was officially decriminalized in '03, and we got gay marriage in 2015, and every year in between there was another Influential Gay Person saying "I just want to get married, that's all." There were even commercials about it, remember? “Gay marriage is just like yours. Only gayer.”

But... in the mid-2010s this was already wearing thin. Transgender people, gender non-conforming people, gays who didn’t go in for two-person marriage, everyone in the greater LGBTQ+ umbrella who had thrown their support behind gay marriage and waited our turn to get our rights; we'd all been mobilizing, too. We'd been putting together our own coalitions, under the aegis of the greater umbrella or not. And, here's the crux: we were, in fact, threatening the right-wing Christian ways of life. Just by existing in public, by talking and writing and performing and living our lives during the Transgender Tipping Point, trans and non-binary people like me were challenging the foundational definitions of Man and Woman as exclusive, all-encompassing categories of humanity.

It wasn't just the right, either. Straight liberals who were totally on board with gay marriage would look at us and say, "um, wait, really? Really, like that? Do you have to?" The discomfort was palpable. This was my experience with my own family; they were fine with me dating and getting married, but a new set of pronouns was forcing something on them. It was hurting something intrinsic to their identities. It was, in a very real way, threatening them.

I'm happy and grateful to say that most of them learned to discard the parts of their own foundations that excluded me from existence. This is rarely easy for anyone. I'm honestly proud of those members of my family who have learned to look the Mothman in the eyes, so to speak, and think, "He's just here to help."

("Pop your hood up," I told this model, "and look at them. They should see their impending death in your eyes."

Layton is an incredible model, a great human, and they know and love the Mothman. They knew exactly what I meant.)

It can be awful, sometimes. When I'm unapologetically myself in public, I can walk past a line of protesters at Planned Parenthood and see the hostility rise up, the anger and revulsion and fear. And I do think it is fear, at the core of it. I think something in them knows that I'm just one of 2.6 million transgender people out here, living my life, casually being a harbinger of their doom.

Next time they come to Brattleboro, I ought to greet them with red glasses and a twelve-foot wingspan.

[acesw]

new year, new angst

happy new years yall, if there is information that i never dropped here its the fact that im highly biased towards vertin and sonetto's relationship and i feel like i should drop a little scenario i wrote for the sake of it. its how i celebrate as an angst dweller :)

questions and questions. - A.D.

I didn't understand back then. I did not see you much after the incident, after Ms. Z had brought you back from the outside, drenched in rain. I would have gone to you if it were not for the guards that swarmed you both. You were the only one that came back. Why? Where did the others go? Did something happen to them? To you? What did you see in the outside?

I got the answer to my first few questions the following morning. When you came back, you did not talk for days; Did the things you would normally avoid. It was unlike of you, and I could not tell at that time if I felt relief or remorse. You didn't come up to me until the last night we saw each other up close.

On the night you left, you asked me to fix your hair, which was also an odd request. You normally didn't like doing this, but didn't exactly hate it either. (Perhaps I noticed too late that the reason you didn't hate it was because I was the one doing them.) I helped tie it into that rough and messy half-bun you only began to warm up to; I know you did, as it was the only way you could ever really stay still. You would talk about the frogs and the bugs you found near George the Oak, but you didn't. Not that night. Not in a time of wounds forced to be left unrefined by the white hands. When I made sure that the half-bun looked like the flowers you drew on your papers, you got off my bed and left with most of your things.

Why did you have to leave the dorm in such haste? Even left the toffees and pebbles on your night desk. I kept it for you when I thought you'd come back sooner. The frog was here, too. It croaked and whistled, jumping around the dorm and scaring the other girls. Then the janitor took it out the day after you left. And eventually I hid away the pebbles, ate the toffees. I accepted that I wouldn't feel the warmth of rough hands, showing me pieces of the outside for a long time to come.

There were no answers to the rest of my questions until graduation, and I saw you for the first time in a while. Your hair is fully tied to a side bun, the tiny freckles had faded, your hands rested on the hat on your lap. You wore an intricate suit that even I would have never guessed fitted you. You stood out amongst the black and white crowd as an indigo pawn. You looked far older, mature for our age; As if you had graduated years before. But I still saw the softness in your face, the baby face still made you look like the reckless child you were long ago. You looked…elegant and mysterious. Were you the same deskmate I grew up with all these years?

You graduated with us. A "special student'" like the principal called you once. They announced that you had become the first "Timekeeper" in the Foundation, a title of reverence and importance. You tipped your hat forward and placed your closed fist on your chest, finally speaking. "May the peace be with us." Those were the first words I heard in your low, gentle, and firm voice.

After that, you disappeared. Worked diligently, but left no trace around the Foundation until you came back to report weekly. We never spoke to each other until that fateful week in London, and the time that passed after that. Back then I did not understand what that title meant, but I do now. It sparked new questions full of wonder. And that wonder came with its concerns.

What did you really see outside? In the "Storm"? How much more did you lose? What will it take to break from the weight of the world on your shoulders? When will you realize it's okay to be vulnerable again?

More and more questions arise the more you shroud yourself into melancholic mystery. Perhaps, as time passes, all these will be answered and land into place.

But for now, I just want to spend more time with you, and rebuild what we lost. Make up for what could've been and discover new things together again.

[elysiumarchieve]

What would fluster Scaramouche to the point of blushing? Like what would make him blush just a little bit where you can barely see it compared to being red like a tomato and hiding under his hat. (Imagine the blush meter meme for artists)

FINALLY GETTING TO THIS i actually thought about this for some time already oml

blush meter for scaramouche

warnings: mentions of his past, it's fluffy, scaramouche is a warning for himself, slightly suggestive?? you touch his skin idk, no proofread we go down like katsuragi

✧ so first off, i believe scaramouche doesn't get bashful nor flustered at all - my guy abandoned any sort of emotions a really long time ago and for him to even get a speck of color onto his face you must either be absolutely bold or downright embarrass him

✧ back when he had just woken in shakkei pavilion, it was enough to take his hand to cause his face to become bright red and reduce him into a stuttering mess, that's how cute he used to be

✧ in a way, back in his time where he used to live with katsuragi and the other blacksmiths, anything could cause him to get flustered - he was like a child at that point, his mind taking in all the new experiences and feelings and reacting to it with innocent and childlike glee

✧ gathering lavender melons with him and praising him for helping you so diligently would cause him to smile to himself and make his cheeks flush (he was so glad he could help you)

✧ but with his fate taking a tragic turn and his life slowly spiralling out of control, that childlike glee became lost the same day that he decided to burn his past in karmic flames, abandoning everything he once felt and leaving behind his kind smile

✧ nowadays, getting him to blush or embarrassed is hard. genuinely hard

✧ if you're his s/o you already managed to do one thing - break down the foundation of a giant wall he build around his 'heart' that keep him away from those 'disgusting human emotions'

✧ in fact, instead of getting flustered over compliments he receives, it's rather boasting his ego or he simply dismissed it (what do you mean, good job? wasn't it clear from the beginning that he'd do a good job? idiot)

✧ the only way to get him to blush at your compliments would be if you really, really exaggerated your compliments, but in a way he could still tell you were genuine (you think he's comparable to an actual archon? sure, if you say so he won't stop you)

✧ however, you'd never see him flush over this, but rather he'd just turn around and cross his arms with a shrug. he's always trying to play off how much the things you say actually affect him

✧ taking his hand in public only causes him to flinch and glare daggers into you - absolutely do not touch him in public, he hates it

✧ however, in private, although he still claims to hate any sort of affection, you can still feel the way he relaxes under your touch and how much he enjoys having his hair played with and it actually gets him flustered a lot when you whisper sweet nothings to him in the dead of the night, though he's happy that it's too dark for you to see his face heat up jist a little

✧ what i'm telling you might sound a little crazy, but hear me out on this one

✧ fix his clothing (you heard me)

✧ although scaramouche can't tell why exactly it gets him all flustered and why his stomach churns, but there is something about you suddenly telling him to keep still and gently fix the golden emblem on his chest or readjusting the bag on his back as gently as possible, with all your attention directed at him in that moment

✧ his finishing blow might as well just be the way you smile up at him afterwards and tell him that he's ready to go (as if he needed your permission) - it usually ends up with him thanking you in a curt reply before he turns on his heels and pulls his hat slightly into his face

✧ if anyone caught the slight red hue on hie cheeks and had the audacity to ask him about it (i'm looking at you childe), he'd simply lie and say it's cold. usually people buy that excuse since nobody knows that the cold doesn't even bother him

✧ now, for the worst (possible best way) to get him to actually blush in your presence is to touch him. anywhere. it doesn't matter what you do, but the more intimate and closer you are the more embarrassed he might become

✧ the look of shock in his eyes and his face just getting a red hue is almost too adorable to miss and you almost tell him that he looks 'super cute' (but you decide for your own well-being to not do it)

✧ scaramouche usually doesn't fuss over empty compliments and since he hates any sort of pda in public, you'd never get him to blush outside your 4 walls. the only things that actually get him flustered is when you focus your attention on him, when you remain genuine with him or when you touch him at the most unexpected situation (though it's somewhat embarrassing him more the way you look at him afterwards)

✧ he denies it but he likes it when you focus yourself on him. being betrayed and cast aside for being 'worthless', once he knows that someone appreciates his value does cause his stomach to flutter in a way he wants to hate but simply can't

✧ and although he hates that he reacts like this, he doesn't stop you

[yanderecrazysie]

Yo! I was wondering if I could perhaps request a Yandere Nagito x Reader who happens to be Junko's little sister or smth.

This. This is the ultimate pairing

I got writer’s block in the middle so this turned out kinda weird, sorry.

Title: Almost

Pairings: Nagito Komaeda x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, spoilers, self-mutilation, self-deprecation

Summary: Nagito finds love in a very unexpected place.

“I wouldn't know where to start

Sweet music playing in the dark

Be still, my foolish heart

Don't ruin this on me”

-from “Almost” by Hozier

Nagito’s heard of you, of course. Junko Enoshima and Mukuro Ikusaba’s little sister. Even the Future Foundation doesn’t know if you’re a third Ultimate Despair or a victim of your sister’s cruelty as well.

He just didn’t expect to see you here.

He had planned, ever since watching Junko’s death on TV, that he would take a part of the Ultimate Despair and attach it to him. By taking a part of Junko, he would absorb a part of her power, he hoped. He would become one with despair so he could overcome it with hope over and over again.

To be honest, even he wasn’t sure entirely why he wanted to do such a thing. Maybe he was just as obsessed with her as his former classmates. He hoped not. After all, Junko was against everything he stood for.

Nagito pushed those thoughts aside and focused on his goal. He’d have all the time in the world to consider why he so badly wanted to become one with the person he hated most later. For now, he had to go see what was even left of her body.

Hope’s Peak Academy stood proud and tall against the wrecked city- easily the tallest building that remained. The round once-deadlocked entrance was just a hole in the front of the school now, open for Nagito to walk inside.

He obliged the silent invitation, soon finding himself walking the halls of his old school. Maybe it would be nostalgic, if he could feel that sort of thing anymore. Instead, it’s a dull ache in his chest that he easily ignores.

He traversed through the school, looking for the scene he saw on his TV- the execution room where Junko had met her end. He doubted anyone had tried to move her body after the show had ended.

Sure enough, he soon spotted the machine that had crushed the mastermind. To his surprise, it was reset in the “up” position instead of down, smashing Junko’s body, like it had been left. He hurried over, worried that someone else had gotten to her before him, only to stop and stare at the girl crouching at Junko’s side.

It was you, (Y/n) Enoshima. Sister of the twin Despairs. The last living Enoshima child.

Nagito watched as you scurried away from Junko’s body, giving him a worried look. He couldn’t blame you. After all, you seemed much too sweet and pure to be an Ultimate Despair. He could tell that from just looking at you.

He sat down next to the body and pulled out a knife. It was time to get to work, to combine the Ultimate Despair with himself, a servant of hope.

Nagito began to saw through his arm, biting his lip as the pain washed over him. He tried to hold back the screams of agony, but they still escaped his mouth. Finally, the severed hand fell to the ground with a sick thud.

He grimaced as he looked down at the stump. It was sick of him to do this, but he needed to. To his surprise, a white cloth was wrapped around it immediately. He looked up and found you dutifully wrapping it around his wrist.

It must have been disgusting, as his blood soaked through the thin white handkerchief, but you still did your best with it. Nagito stared at you, heart pumping in his chest.

Oh, you were so full of hope, weren’t you? How precious, how beautiful you were! To lower yourself to care for trash like him was simply incredible!

Nagito forgot about Junko’s arm and, maybe even for a moment, he forgot about despair. 

He grasped your arm with his remaining hand and grinned from ear to ear, hyperventilating from the excitement he felt. “To think, an Ultimate Hope born from the same womb as the Ultimate Despairs!”

You looked at him, confused, but he frightened any potential words from your mouth. Nagito was crazed, creepily staring at you as though you were the answer to everything he had been searching for.

“I don’t need to combine myself with a Despair. No, no, I need to subject you, a being filled with such unimaginable hope, to my despair and watch you win, over and over again!”

[icanseethefuture333]

THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR...

A tarot reading on:

ENHYPEN

Enhypen as idols:

Their debut as idols honestly feels chaotic. I don't know what happened, but the members of the group were not prepared mentally it seems for the lifestyle that was to come as idols. There could of been conflict with schedules, technical issues, or delay in communication. Enhypen's debut was a hot topic as well or a lot of people were just talking about it. I have a feeling some members of the group were rebellious when they were younger. Their company could of had unrealistic expectations from when they were teenagers. I am being reminded of those monkeys who perform in the circus and are trained to be a pet. "Animal cruelty"? Enhypen were trained in a very unethical way. It's like their company made them do things that were not suitable for minors (Child labor? Lack of parental figures present? Missing school? Something of that nature). "It's like dancing for peanuts.", were they not being paid fairly in the beginning of their career? Yikes. Although, I see that since Enhypen are now young adults, they are finding a way to achieve success. There is a lot of emotional healing and abundance present. They are experiencing some sort of wish fulfillment. (Clarified by Adjustment) I feel like Enhypen are learning to balance their idol life with their personal lives, perhaps in the past they weren't allowed to have much freedom but now they can explore their options and be more independent. I keep seeing birds in these cards so Enhypen read their fans messages a lot and appreciate the encouraging words they get, they know that engenes got their back.

What does the music industry think of Enhypen?:

My phone crashed as I was writing this and I thought "break the industry" with this Tower card. The music industry adores them. They want to make them happy and give them all the endorsements they can possibly get. Their cards are on the table and they want to see what big move they will do next. Enhypen are only going to grow more and become even more accomplished.

What do other idols think of Enhypen?:

I heard "they got their ducks in a row". So that could mean as a group other idols believe they are playing it smart and making moves that will overall benefit them in the end. Enhypen are not afraid to take a chance or provide themselves with new endeavors. I thought of the scene from White Chicks when Marcus said "*out of breath* I don't know? I like a challenge." After getting in a fight with one of the biggest dudes there. So idols could see Enhypen as a group that can take a "beating", meaning they stay strong in moments of adversity. They're quite patient and have a lot of emotional intelligence, protective of each other as well.

Enhypen's dynamic as a group:

This group has a strong ass backbone. This is very impressive given the fact they're all so young. They can't be pushed around easily by people's words. "You can't move me, I'm stone." They just have a solid foundation and Enhypen all seem to be grounded individuals. They are compassionate, wise, charismatic, brave, and secure with themselves. Overall, I'd say they have a very strong bond as a group. Good luck to anyone who would want to sabotage them because they're not going anywhere and if shit were to ever go down at their company, they're leaving as a group.

[thewisecheerio]

Elden Ring - An Alternative Crackship

Seemingly no one is perfectly happy with the Miquella-Radahn-Mohg polycule we ended up with in Elden Ring's DLC final boss sequence. And honestly, I think there's an even better trio that is still a crackship, but makes more sense for the alchemical metaphor being made with this boss.

You can read more about the foundations of this alchemical metaphor, as well as many ways Elden Ring uses alchemy throughout its story, in the post linked below. But basically I argue that the metaphor is based on the filius filosophorum, or Alchemical Child. This is like a Next Generation Level Up compared to the rebis that is Marika/Radagon (the previous generation), and so naturally follows as the product of the rebis's children. Importantly, the Alchemical Child has three fathers, which is why I think we ended up with three masculine characters melded into the end product.

The Alchemical Child isn't meant to be taken literally. It's not about an actual child of three fathers; that's just kooky symbolism meant to get its idea across. Rather, alchemists' dream was the Unified Theory of Everything, where completely disparate ideas could be melded into a single, cohesive whole. And so the idea of a child being born of many fathers was meant to symbolize a Perfect Philosophy born of learnings from many viewpoints. It was meant to justify the pursuit of all knowledge in ultimate service to complete and total understanding, i.e. the Alchemical Child.

In that sense, Miquella and Radahn are actually a pretty good pair. Miquella is all about control through compassion. Radahn is all about control through war and force. These are certainly disparate ideas that alchemists would have been looking to unify.

But what about Mohg? Does he provide a third, disparate idea we can meld with the other two? I don't think so, personally. Mohg is just as forceful as Radahn, using methods like kidnapping (not just of Miquella), torture, and coercion. He's not a new idea added into the mixture. But you know who is?

Godwyn.

(If you didn't have a kneejerk reaction of, "Godwyn is DEAD-dead, it can't be him", you can skip the section at the end after the text breaker.**)

Godwyn is not rule by compassion like Miquella. Godwyn is also not rule by war/force like Radahn. Godwyn is thought to have potentially negotiated with enemies like the dragons, even while besting them in battle, as that's how he ended up with Fortissax as his bestie. He is an alternative to the two ideas of complete compassion and complete war. He is rule by negotiation and compromise. He is the third disparate philosophy that helps to make the unified filius filosophorum. And in that sense, he would make an excellent choice as the third father of the Alchemical Child. Compassion, war, and compromise: three disparate ideas melded—dare I say grafted—into a unified theory of everything.

Anyway, look what we could have had and weep:

Fin

**To those who did have that kneejerk reaction to me mentioning Godwyn: y'all are not invited to this post; complain elsewhere. We've heard your arguments already and discarded them.

This is a fantasy story where people return back to life, in whole or in part, for all sorts of ludicrous reasons. It seems like y'all have forgotten the part about becoming a literal god. The rules of godship are unclear but involve things like remaking the world however you want, up to and including removing death entirely. Or did we just forget that was the entire point of Marika's godhood?

Did we also forget that retconning time and past events is also a part of the base game? Did we forget Miquella's Needle and the Place Beyond Time where you use it to undo the influence of an outer god that you have already accepted? Or maybe, like me until I saw a lore post about it, you just never realized that is WHY you have to go to the Place Beyond Time—to quite literally and fantastically retcon that event. So why draw the line at staving off outer gods? Retcon whatever you want! It's in the lore! Have some fun with it! Live a little!

[voxpraxis]

lately i've been... idk if you can really call it "debating" but i've been interacting with some muslims in the comments of an instagram reel in which a young girl was speaking to a young boy (i want to emphasize that they are both children) and telling him that she wasn't allowed to speak to boys until she was married, because her parents and her religion said so. the boy was sad but replied with something like "oh, alright" and the caption & comments were all talking about how "sweet" the situation was. i commented that i didn't think it was sweet, and actually that's a horrible thing to put in a child's mind. the post never directly mentioned islam and neither did i, but everyone who's been replying to me is proselytizing islam, so. anyway, these are the points that have been thrown at me so far:

it's not wrong because both genders are forced apart from each other

in response to me saying it still enforces an extreme divide between genders and encourages them to see each other as opposites rather than equals: the separation is necessary to prevent rape

there is no rape in islam because of the separation between men and women, rape only occurs in western society because men and women are not separated (...because apparently we cannot expect men to not rape women unless they're physically kept away from them at all times)

rape does not happen between family members, it's just not a real thing, ever (incest doesn't exist?)

if you're interested in a girl you should marry her immediately, because dating leads to cheating

men and women cannot be just friends because "islam and science and psychology says so." one guy said it's because "women can't talk about cars and sports"

(i also got called a simp for saying i have female friends. can't make this shit up)

in response to me pointing out that what the girl is saying implies that she won't have any say in who her husband is: arranged marriages are better because they always work out and unlike western marriages, they never end in divorce! (i'll give you one guess why that is.)

similarly, single parent families and suicide are solely western problems

men and women are NOT equal

i need to shut up and respect it because that's their religion

islam cannot be questioned because islam says islam is true

and that's not including all the personal insults and threats i've received, in just a few days.

i will say this is one of the least challenging "debates" i've ever had, in the sense that almost no point brought against me has any logical foundation and is easily refutable. but it's one of the most frustrating because the problem is that they won't hear me at all, because islam teaches its followers to never consider anything else. it teaches them to accept exactly what they are spoon-fed as the ultimate truth. and this is by no means a problem exclusive to islam, but islam does this kind of control better than any other religion i know. people raised into islam are not taught to think in any logical terms - in fact, they're deliberately taught to avoid thinking logically. logical fallacies are the rule. so not only can they barely form a coherent argument in favour of their beliefs, but they have absolutely no clue how illogical they sound sometimes. when i point out a lapse in logic in something they've said, the response i get is "no, that's true because islam says it's true." no other explanation required. at least, i've sometimes heard people of other religions attempt to use logic or science to prove their beliefs, but with the muslims in these comments, those are unnecessary things to be absolutely avoided - it's like they don't even understand why i'd bother to use them. you can't use logic to get through to them because they've been taught to avoid logic and cling to the mantra of islam-is-true-because-islam-says-so.

[katerinaptrv]

What if in another universe Babe meets Charlie way earlier, while they were still orphans at the foundation, how what this change things?

I am writing this inspired by all the Pete/Way/Kenta past interactions speculations.

To those who saw Kiseki Dear To Me Ai Di/Chen Yii vibes, but without all the unrequited love misunderstanding part. Babe knows from the beginning Charlie is his mate even if he is too young to understand what that really means.

Babe is eleven and Charlie is six here, I totally made it up so it probably does not reflect how it is in canon.

A Different Start

Babe was living at the foundation for a few years now and he knew it was not the best place to live but at least he had a rough under his head, clothes, food and Tony would reward him with gifts and benefits if he worked hard in improving his abilities. 

He knew he was lucky to have known his superpower and that other kids were not much so, he could hear the cries of others in the rooms. It used to bother him a lot when he first moved but he learned to block them by now, he did not really interact with any of them since most kids are kept apart. Only the kids that do not know their abilities are put together sometimes to see if they trigger each other's power.

That would all change that day, his acceptance of this situation, his indifference for the others,  he just didn’t not know it yet, an core event that would lead to a chain reaction that would completely change the direction his life was heading towards. In another universe this event only happens in later in his life, but in this one, one of Tony’s employees is to slow in leading on of the crying children back to their room and Babe path crosses with one of them, but this was just not any kid, and while he usually look forward and ignore it when that happened this time was different.

The smell makes him stop, in a house full of Alpha retching smell everywhere or sometimes omegas sickening sweet ones, this one was just so good and drowned all the others. Once the sense was on, the others came back in and he heard the piercing cry of the child screaming like there was no tomorrow. It hurt his ears. He turned to look at it and realized the smell came from him. He was a small child who could not have been more than 5 or 6 years old.

The child full of tears turned to look at him and then his alpha was right awake and roared clearly in his head: Yours, protect. Babe did not know what that was about, his alpha did not talk much with him until this day but he was told to always listen to his instincts.

- I’m Babe. What 's your name?

- Charlie.

- Why are you crying?

- I don’t want to go back to my room, I don't want to be locked in there again.

He could see that Tony’s guards were lost in what to do in this situation, Babe was known to be Tony’s favorite and that did allow him to have some perks that other children did not.

The commotion got Tony’s attention and he approached the children, suddenly having an idea he asked Tony.

- Dad, you told me I could ask for something for my hard work on training, I want him.

He could see Tony was intrigued in his sudden interest in another child, one so much younger than him at that.

- I don’t know Babe, Charlie is an orphan at the foundation and a very misbehaved one.

He knew exactly what Tony meant by that, he meant that Charlie had not displayed any powers yet and was most likely being punished for it like the other children in this situation and right there he knew exactly what to say to convince Tony.

- Maybe I can help him be better behaved.

Tony was indeed very intrigued to his favorite most powerful adopted special Alpha sudden interest on this child, Babe did have heightened senses, maybe he sensed something in the other Tony did not, so he decides to play along and see what happens. 

So, that day Charlie was moved to live in Babe’s room with him and that changed everything.

[sercezgazety]

The stairs creak so badly, Dan wonders how did Hill ever manage to sneak up on West in here. Maybe West was just lying about that night. Some of the things he told Dan sound way too random to be true — though, of course, also way too random to make a decent and convincing lie. And Herbert West does know how to lie. Dan’s seen him talk to the police.

So perhaps Hill really did sneak up on him down here, not because he was trying to but merely because West was so focused he wouldn’t have noticed a bomb going off next to him. He does get like that around tissue samples, and if he really was looking into Rufus’ results, then well. Maybe. If he were to lie, besides that pathetically obvious “he wanted you to disappear” gamble, he probably would have attempted to at least put himself in a more flattering light. Unless he just doesn’t care. It’s really hard to say what things West deems important, and what are unworthy of his attention.

Fine, so maybe West wasn’t lying about the sneaking up part specifically. Maybe he was really too focused on his findings. It doesn’t change the fact that the stairs are creaking, and even the sound of the basement door opening is so loud, Dan immediately knows he’s no longer alone in here.

He’s beyond caring.

“Dan,” Herbert says from the landing, and he sounds almost hesitant. “What are you doing?”

The creaking resumes, and then stops after the exact same number of groans that there are remaining stairs. West must have reached the ground, but that’s no reason to waste time turning around and looking when you have work right in front of you.

“Digging,” Dan pants, and performs a one-arm shrug. “What else does it look like?”

There’s a pause.

“A mental breakdown?” West supplies after a moment. His voice is neutral, and it’s hard to tell whether he’s mocking Dan or actually believing he’s being helpful.

Dan doesn’t respond, too busy trying to force the shovel into the floor. The tool makes ungodly noises against the concrete but doesn’t crack. Yet. The other one is already broken in three places, and it remains there on the very much intact floor as a testament to Dan’s dedication.

To his credit, West doesn’t put a hand on Dan’s shoulder when approaching his roommate. That might be just because he’s repulsed by the idea of touching the sweat-drenched shirt, though.

“You are aware, of course,” West says, “that the building has foundations.”

Technically, Dan is aware. He must have been at some point, at least. These parts of Arkham used to be a bog, and yet, the building has not collapsed to this day. That would clearly suggest some sort of foundation. Dan’s not a child, he knows how the basic laws of physics work, and he’s heard the parable of the two builders. So yes, of course he’s aware he’s not going to get to the soil just by the virtue of really wanting to. Still, he carries on, leaning with all his weight against the shovel. The screech makes him wince, and doesn’t achieve anything else.

West lets him make a fool of himself for a bit longer, staying uncharacteristically silent. For a moment there, Dan thinks the infernal man has left, but when he finally pauses, panting, drenched in sweat and not even one inch closer to his goal, West decides to clear his throat and make his presence known once again.

“I’ve brought you some ties to choose from,” he says, all business-like. It’s so out of place that, despite everything Dan’s witnessed here so far, this feels like the weirdest thing ever said in this room.

“Ties?” Dan echoes, finally looking at West who, in turn, nods solemnly.

“Ties. From your general appearance, I infer you don’t own a broad selection of those.”

Dan merely grunts because yeah, true, but also who talks like that?

“Most of them are black, obviously, but there’s also charcoal to consider,” the other man carries on as if that were a perfectly appropriate conversation to have here and now. “I wasn’t sure if you owned a suit. We can take a look at your jackets and then make our choice. Not everything goes well with corduroy, but we can make it work. Provided you own a proper white shirt, that is.”

West is indeed holding an assortment of absolutely identical suit ties. When Dan squints at them, he can’t even say where one ends and another begins, or how many of them are there. He assumed West owned just one, but he also quickly finds out that, all in all, he doesn’t give a shit. West, perhaps realizing the same thing, tries to shove the items right in his face.

“We need to pick one, Dan,” he says, and now there’s an insistent note to his voice. “It’s getting late. You do own a jacket, right?”

West himself is all dressed up, but he just looks like that. Dan’s never asked whether he was going, and formal attire in West’s case doesn’t indicate absolutely anything.

Dan looks down at his own hands. The rolled-up sleeves are covered in dust, and he can smell the sweat that’s turned into wet patches under his armpits. The fabric clings to his back, and if he stops working, he’s quickly going to get shivering cold, but that, at least, is an easy to solve problem. Just don’t stop.

The shovel’s handle is slippery. The floor, on the other hand, seems completely undamaged. There’s a minute dent here and there, some scratches, but that’s basically it. Everything he’s been doing for the past couple hours was pointless. Maybe those weren’t even hours. It’s difficult to say, he’s been losing track of time lately.

“Where are they?” heaving a sigh, he asks West who, clearly misunderstanding, just gestures impatiently to the ties on his forearm. Dan shakes his head in annoyance before rephrasing. “Where did you hide them?”

The smaller man stares, cocking his head to the side slightly.

“Hide… what, Dan?” he asks after a second, and his voice is now soft, the kind of thing you use when you try to avoid startling an—

“Animals!” Dan explodes, gesturing widely and letting the shovel drop to the floor with a clatter that forces an undignified yelp out of West. “The test subjects, the fucking animals!”

West frowns, yes, blinks twice, but doesn’t pretend to be an idiot. “Oh. I buried them in the backyard,” he says with a dismissive wave of a hand. He’s not even denying anything. “You can actually dig a hole in there, you know.” A pause. “As opposed to concrete floor.”

Oh Lord. Is that why nothing’s been growing in there ever since West moved in? The soil being perpetually disturbed? Dan never cared much about gardening and never did anything that could help the plants grow in the backyard, but even without his assistance, the grass was doing fine. There were some  dandelions from time to time, even. The garden was doing well by itself until West appeared. In fairytales, the flowers refused to bloom during the evil king’s reign, and that was probably the reason. They were dumping all the corpses in there, weren’t they. It’s just that nobody wanted to tell that to children. Dan should have known.

“And Rufus?” he asks, his throat suddenly dry.

“Rufus?” West echoes with a frown, confusion written all over his face.

“My cat!” Dan throws his hands into the air, a bit theatrically, perhaps, but it’s not like it’s unwarranted. “My dead cat in your mini fridge, rings any bells?”

“Oh.” The son of a bitch brightens up immediately. “The cat.”

“Yes, the cat!”

“Well, he’s mostly around here,” West says breezily, and then nods in the direction of the ties. “Look, Dan, you really should—”

“What do you mean, mostly?”

Only when the smaller man winces at the spit, Dan notices he must have closed the distance, grabbed West by the lapels, and yelled right into his face. He lets go, but not without giving the asshole a perfunctory shake.

“I mean,” West says, unperturbed, using his free hand to automatically smooth out the wrinkles on his suit, “for the most part.”

Dan’s not proud to admit it, but it takes him a couple seconds to understand the ghoulish implications of that statement.

West promised he’d take care of the body. Well, not a body, exactly, but it wasn’t Rufus either, and it needed to be referred to somehow. Dan imagined it was a quick thing, not a proper ceremony, but swift and efficient. He did feel a bit guilty about it, but back then, he wasn’t sure he could deal with euthanizing the writhing thing. Poor guy’s been through enough as it was, died twice already, and didn’t deserve any of it. He was sweet, at times oddly possessive of Dan, with soft hair and clumsy movements. Hated West, but hey. Turns out, for a good reason. Always so curious and with those huge, bright eyes; often leaning to the touch without even realizing it, especially when sleepy (the hairs would stick in funny ways when ruffled by Dan’s hand). Would sneak up on Dan at times, demanding his attention, but it was always a pleasant surprise. Kept leaving the house at odd hours, never stayed the entire night, and she could be awfully loud when in bed, but Dan was the last person to mind. It wasn’t like there were any neighbors nearby.

Dan really hoped West was never there to hear it. With the hospital shifts, library, and running around the town, looking for animals to murder and bring back, he was rarely home. Dan assumes. And if he was home, he was in the basement, so he probably couldn’t hear anything anyway. Whatever might be the case, West never complained about the yowling noises, and now he won’t have a reason to. Dan’s bed is empty and way too big, so cold he’s been sleeping on the couch for the past couple days just to avoid it. He stopped after he found some hair on the backrest, an unmistakable reminder of someone else who used to like this spot, liked to lay on Dan’s lap, yawning and stretching her limbs delightfully, and now she’s not coming back.

Maybe whatever happened, was West’s elaborate revenge for keeping him up at night with the loud noises? One death wasn’t enough, and he had to make sure there was more of it? Though that’s an ugly thought. Dan was the one who administered the reagent. Herbert wasn’t even there, too busy almost dying himself.

And yet, he’s still here, warm and breathing, dressed impeccably, not a hair out of place, demanding Dan’s attention and sneaking up on him but never in a fun way. West avoids common areas and apparently never sleeps, probably because of the injections, and while he also leaves the house at odd hours, Dan finds he really doesn’t want to know why. He’s still around, with bright eyes that should be similar but are somehow off-putting, and with a curiosity that killed a lot of animals.

Rufus did tend to leave gifts of similar nature on Dan’s doorstep, and once, just once, on his pillow. Mercifully, Meg didn’t wake up to the sight back then. Dan can’t blame him, really. He needed to be praised, so proud of his accomplishments and so thoughtful, willing to share the prey with his helpless human who couldn’t catch anything.

Now West is demanding his attention, though, and there’s a similar pride in his movements as he opens the cupboard Dan didn’t think to open.

“Fuck,” is all Dan can say at first. Then, “Jesus. Fuck.”

continue reading about the contents of the cupboard here. you'll never guess what's in there

(yeah, it's organs. of course it is)