#zero comprehension of anything

[paracosmicessence]

nuclear bomb sneeze

[bluebobatea]

if sasuke was the main character then he probably would've been a LOT more sympathised with than he is now (which is to say rarely). like the narrative wouldn't even need to change to show his pains or 'his side of the story', bc it does that plenty. it's just that he is not the main character. and idk what it is about our human minds but we tend to sympathise with main characters automatically (unless ofc you go off the rockers insane and do something like obliterate almost everyone from the planet *cough* eren yeager *cough*)

an instance that comes to my mind where this does happen is with lelouch from code geass. while i don't agree with his character motivations, people generally do sympathise with him as he is the mc and as viewers we know he isn't inherently evil. sasuke's goal towards the end is slightly similar but ofc people love to hate him so they don't even try to understand where he is coming from.

my point is, most people while engaging with the naruto story don't read between the lines and so don't see how traumatised and in pain sasuke is and hence don't understand his character motivations. heck, they don't understand a single bit about him and so they automatically hate him, as he is supposedly going against the main character's goals.

which is really sad given all that he has been through.

[timeskip]

Akane Kurashiki my morally grey wife who has never done anything wrong. Yes I am contradicting myself but you get it. She's full of vengeance and full of love and she will save herself and she will kill the people who hurt her first and she will put the people she loves in danger because she has to. There's no other way to enact her plans. And every single time she has to weigh a thousand timelines and past and future and she has chosen. passively, at first in 999, and then actively, that she will save people. No matter the cost. Even if Junpei hates her, she will save herself and then she will save the WHOLE WORLD. She's going to take on every burden the world gives her, and it doesn't matter because this is something ONLY she can do.

She's done horrible things and put so many people in danger, but does it even matter when the "true" timeline will be happy?

(Spoiler: Yes. Yes it does matter. But not enough to stop.)

But you understand her. Even if she's not perfect, you know why she HAS to be this way. You understand her desperation to save herself, why she chose to kidnap everyone. She's gotten her revenge and she's also been put in a terrifying situation, and every smile she gives Junpei is also with the weight of everything she knows she will do, because she already saw the future. God I love her so much.

[punkmunch]

why is the agere community so so toxic jesus christ just let people be themselves

[neon-moon-beam]

A thought about Carmine...kinda tired and not able to articulate well, don't know if I'll follow this one up

Wondering if all the people demonizing Carmine would be doing so if she were a boy instead. Unfortunately demonizing girls (or even just afab folks in general) for not reacting to situations in a way that is deemed acceptably "feminine" (such as hiding emotions, crying, being sad instead of angry, blaming oneself instead of where the blame actually should go, being passive-aggressive, resignation, submission, etc) is still a problem in general, and a lot of people still unconsciously have this bias. We've come so far when it comes to gender stuff (for lack of a better term) and understanding mental health, behavior, etc, and yet this bias is still pervasive.

(And before anyone starts shit, t*rfs are not welcome on this post and will be blocked on sight, there is no time and space for you here)

[stewyhosseini-bf]

Something really funny to me about people who keep re-iterating and pointing out how awful everyone on succession is and that they’re bad people bc that is the only form of media analysis they’re capable of. Oh the people on the bad-people-show are bad? They’re awful and spoiled and self-centered? Like did you just figure that out or

[starryserenade]

Myth and Magic Ch. 14: Hidden

Fic Description: When Tir Na nÓg--the fabled land of the fae--falls to a dark power, the destinies of two young mice are set in motion. As each struggle to make their way in an ever-darkening world, they must learn to trust one another, or risk forever losing that which they hold most dear.

Chapter Description: Recovering from a bitter battle, Mickey and Minnie struggle to find a way home.

Notes: The initial snippet of the story the father reads to the child is taken from Lady Wilde's Dance of the Dead. (the time in which it was written doesn't line up with the vague timeline of this story, but I do not care lol)

Links:

AO3

Prologue

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter: Coming Soon

~~~~

The forest was calm and lovely, with leaves that moved in time with the wind and blanketed the world in their own sort of whispered dance. Stories are powerful things in a time and place such as this. Words weave throughout the air and cross over into realms unseen, bringing visitors who never truly make themselves known, but whose very essences thrive on such tales.

In a clearing littered with stones and surrounded by moss-draped trees, a fire crackled and shone on the wonderstruck face of a child, and that of her father beside her. The man spoke with great vigor, the shadow of his movements gracing the trees as he wove his tale, cracking a grin each time the young girl leaned in with wide eyes. She hung on every word, tail sweeping behind her as she held her breath.

“And she looked at him steadily,” the man breathed, his eyes wild with the light of a storyteller. “He was very pale, and seemed sad.  

“‘Why are you so sad?’, she asked, ‘and as pale as if you were dead?’” 

The man had pitched his voice up a bit for the character in an effort to humor the child–this was a rather eerie part of the story–but the girl only stared at him with a fearful face and eyes that pleaded for more. 

“You’re certain you won’t be having any night terrors after this?” he asked with a raised brow before continuing. 

She shook her head profusely, the golden ribbon braided through her hair flashing in the firelight. “Nuh-uh. B-besides, Geal isn’t scared either, a-are ye Geal?”

‘Geal’, affectionately named by the girl for the fluffy, pale down that hadn’t quite yet disappeared from his feathers, was a little fledgling barn owl presently perched on the child's shoulder. He wasn’t her pet, not exactly, but he had made it a habit of showing up whenever she visited the forest. So she’d taken it upon herself to give him a proper name, and would bring him little treats from the castle from time to time. He was a wonderful little friend, she thought, and quite a necessary companion on nights like these when her father chose to tell a spookier tale.

In answer to her question, he let out a shrill little screech and nuzzled close to her cheek, wide eyes growing even wider as if he was very much frightened, too. The girl pouted and poked his beak. “You’re not helpin’,” she huffed, and Geal ruffled his feathers and glared right back at her.

Her father chuckled and narrowed his eyes with a grin, “Weeell, maybe the ending isn’t what you think it is?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“And then the young man said,” her father began again, laughter in his eyes and humor on his tongue. “‘It’s because I didn’t eat m’greens!’ And so the young lady took the young man to dinner and fed him a hearty meal, and all was well with the world.  

The end!” 

At this, the girl leapt up from her seat, Geal fluttering to keep his balance, and set her fists to her hips. “That’s not the ending!” 

“Oh, so you know the tale yourself, then, little miss?”

“I-! W-well, I…not exactly,” she stuttered, and the owl fluffed his feathers to stare down accusingly at her father. “B-but I know it can’t be that!”

“And why not?” he laughed, and then softened his smile. “That’s the thing about stories, my little princess. A story on one person’s tongue might sound different on another.”

“Well I think it sounds rotten on yours,” she argued, and wrinkled her nose. 

“Well, how do you think it would end?”

She thought for a bit, ears and tail pricked in determination. But then that determination slowly dissipated, turning instead to a soft melancholy. “I think it might be a little sad,” she answered quietly, and then her father knelt down and placed a hand to her shoulder. 

“And sometimes stories are like that, too. So I say, you make your own ending. And if there’s ever a story you can’t seem to fix…then maybe that just means it’s time to turn the page. There’s more than one adventure to be had in this world.” When Geal twittered in reply, the man laughed and gave him a little scritch on his head, but almost immediately erupted into a fit of coughing. 

“Papa!” the girl cried, jumping to his side. Geal, too, hopped to his shoulder and let out a quiet squeal of concern, but the man held up a hand to keep them from worrying. 

“Ah…” he muttered, drawing in a deep breath at the end of the fit. “Don’t worry, it’s just wood smoke,” he chuckled. “An old man like me can’t seem to handle even little things like that anymore! But…ah…anyways,” he yawned, and stretched. “I have plenty of royal things to take care of in the morning and you, dear, have your classes. It’s time to head back for now.” He craned his neck to cast a look towards Geal. “Time to say goodnight.”  

“Awe, no!” The child frowned, and then couldn’t help but giggle when Geal leapt from his shoulder back to her arm to coo a soft little farewell. “Not you too, Geal. You’re supposed to be on my side.” 

He ruffled his feathers and seemed ready to let out a final, friendly screech but then suddenly perked up, swiveling his head to look about them. The girl’s father took particular notice of this, and hushed his daughter before she could utter another word. 

“What is it?” he whispered to the bird. “What do you hear?”

Geal was quiet for a moment more, but then from deep in the wood, a strange sort of melody began to drift through the air. The man and child at once seemed taken by the sound, their eyes growing fogged as if in a daydream. But Geal began to screech wildly, and fluttered behind the girl’s back, sinking his talons into her cloak and trying to drag her out of the clearing. The sound of his screeching and the beat of his wings was just enough to drown out the noise, and it was the king who snapped out of the trance first.

He looked about him, dazed, before shaking his head and taking note of the owl. “Good boy, Geal!” he shouted, and then swept up his daughter and began to run. Geal stayed back, perching on a branch just outside the clearing as he continued to screech.

“Minnie, cover your ears!” the man hissed as she blinked away the enchantment.

“Hm?” she yawned and then, hearing the screeching and realizing they were no longer where they had been, began to squirm madly in her father’s arms. “Geal! That’s Geal! What happened to him? Where are we going?!” 

“He’ll be just fine,” the king answered, and though he didn’t once pause to cast a look behind them, Minnie did. And in the dimming firelight of the clearing, she could have sworn she saw a brighter flash, and a small, more human, silhouette staring back. 

~~~

There was a wonderful sort of comfort to it–waking up the way Minnie did that morning. Her body ached, heavy with fatigue, but in the kind of way that made those lingering moments of waking rest all the more lovely. Feathers lay draped across her body, Mickey’s wing still gently arched across, and a warmth radiated from him as she lay against his chest. He still slumbered away, his chin having come to rest just beside her head. She didn’t dare move, for fear she’d wake him and rob him of precious sleep, so she remained still and quiet, cherishing the birdsong that graced the morning air. 

No room had been left for dreams or nightmares last night. That was the one good thing about the sheer exhaustion that had consumed her, she supposed. She didn’t care to think about how the one in whose embrace she slept was perhaps the same one who had so often plagued those dreadful imaginings. Now the empty silhouette of those dreams would bear his face, his form. But not his eyes. No, not those, Minnie determined. Even her memory could not seem to fully replicate those willful depths of emotion. Mickey’s eyes, as she had come to know them, were relentlessly kind. And that was the curious thing, really, because she truly could not recall or even imagine them any other way. 

She could have pondered this for ages, had a sharp pang of hunger not dragged her from her thoughts. She had not eaten more than a few stale pieces of bread since she’d been captured and, she realized with a bit of concern, neither had Mickey. He stirred slightly, taking in a breath with a shudder of his lungs, and Minnie used the moment to slip free from his grasp, praying she wouldn’t wake him. Though he shifted a little, wrinkling his nose in the absence of her touch, Minnie grasped his hand to ease him out of it. With a gentler sigh, Mickey relaxed and settled back into the hay. She let go slowly, carefully, waiting to see if he’d wake. But when he didn’t move again, she grinned softly and slipped out of their little nook. 

There wasn’t a great chance she’d be able to find anything even remotely edible in the area, Minnie knew that. But she figured it couldn’t hurt to try. Daylight had warmed the area enough to let her walk about without worrying about the effects of the frigid cold, and streams of sun now graced the snow in glittering light. The decrepit barn actually looked a bit enchanting in that regard. The warmth had begun to melt the snow just a bit, and all sorts of old tools and things were beginning to poke through the ice. Though with them, other things that didn’t quite seem to fit the aged decay of the rest. There was a soggy hat hanging from a hook beside a stable gate, wet but still in good enough condition to be worn. A few pairs of shoes lay strewn about as well, and a tunic or two, ragged and torn but with color that wasn’t yet faded enough to be as old as the barn itself must have been. Strangely still, the size of all these items were hardly average. She knew this only because they mostly looked like they could fit her, which wasn’t exactly commonplace.

She thought back to Mickey, how he’d seemed so certain of this place’s existence, and realized she’d never really thought to ask where he’d been living before they’d met. He’d always skirted around any conversation that could have led to such a topic. Could this have been his home? The thought filled her with guilt. It was hardly even a shelter, really, as grateful as she’d been for even the slightest relief from the elements. But to live here?  

She took a couple steps, forgetting about food long enough to take in several closer looks. But in doing so, she found her foot caught on something hidden beneath a snowy drift, and let out a little yelp as she tumbled over it.  She cursed, knowing full well it wasn’t quite becoming of a princess but caring very little about all that, and managed to hoist herself back up. With a wrinkle of her nose, she brushed the snow off her dress and leaned in to see what it was that had caught her off guard. 

The faint brown and bronze of wood and metal met her eyes as she dusted off the ice. A curved structure lay beneath her palm– the top of a chest, she realized quickly. Though she did feel a bit guilty for snooping, she couldn’t help her curiosity, and quickly worked to free it from the snow. After all, she wasn’t sure it was Mickey’s. And if it wasn’t, then whoever it had once belonged to had long since abandoned it to rot. 

The chest was not locked, and even if it had been the wood was so near falling apart that she probably could have gotten through regardless. Strange apprehension settled in her heart as she ran her hand across its surface. There was no real reason to believe so, but she couldn’t help but feel like something important lay within.

When she lifted the lid, she found herself quite disappointed at first glance. There was hardly anything inside, save for a piece of canvas folded neatly at the bottom. She let out a disappointed puff of air and was just about to close the chest when she spotted a faint outline through the fabric, as though there was something else resting inside the folds.

She couldn’t help but hold her breath as she reached inside with trembling fingers and lifted the canvas from its resting place. Sure enough, it had a decent weight to it, and there was a thickness to the object inside. Sitting back on her heels, Minnie set the canvas on her lap and gingerly unfolded it to reveal the contents within.

A chill ran through her spine and her fur rose on end. It wasn’t for fear, not really. But the implications of what she’d uncovered were boundless, and she wasn’t quite sure what to think. Resting in her lap, canvas bunched around its form, lay a silver dagger in an ornamental sheath. Jewels glittered on its surface, gracing the golden leaves and branches that decorated the metal. The light caught them all in an enchanting way, casting pools of color on Minnie’s face as she lifted it before her eyes. But none of this was what had startled her. No, that simple factor lay in the design that rested on the dagger’s hilt. 

At its center, between each curved quillon, an elegant crest arched across the handle in the shape of an “M”.  It had been ages since she’d seen that shape before her eyes, but it was unmistakable. It was her signet, the symbol that had once marked her very identity. She had no memory of the blade, not even a fleeting echo, but the implications were clear. 

This dagger was hers. Or had been, once. 

A footstep sounded behind her and she turned her head sharply, certain her guilt was showing as she hid the dagger beneath the canvas in her lap. Mickey didn’t see her and looked over her head at first, fatigue evident in the dizzy sway of his steps. But there was panic across his face, like he’d lost something important. Then his eyes fell to her, and the look in them nearly broke her heart. 

Relief, and a painful streak of heartache, crossed his face. “ You’re still… ” his mouth formed the words, before he seemed to realize they had crossed from his mind into reality. Then he bit his lip and swallowed, like he was embarrassed at the thought that had nearly escaped.

Minnie wasn’t quite so eager to let the moment slip. “Still what?” she breathed quietly, though she already felt she knew what he’d been about to say. “Still here?” He only grinned awkwardly, if not a bit sadly, and looked to the ground. “Mickey, I-”

“What’s that?” He cleared his throat and interrupted before she could finish, and though she frowned at his shirking of the issue she resolved to let it pass, if only to save his pride. 

She hadn’t done a fantastic job at hiding the dagger. Though it was covered enough to hide most of its shape, the tip of the hilt still poked out from a corner of the fabric, and it was towards this small piece that Mickey peered as he knelt beside her. There was a part of her that felt the need to justify her discovery, but there wasn’t a shred of Mickey’s expression that was suspicious or accusatory. He only seemed curious, and a little nervous, so she lifted the canvas without another word.

Mickey went silent beside her, as if he was holding his breath, and before she knew it he was reaching for the blade. “Gosh…” he murmured, fingers hovering over the metal, and glanced at her to ask if he could take it. When she nodded, he cast her a little smile and took it in his hands. She watched him closely, wondering at the twinkle in his eyes as he ran his fingers across the metal. After a few moments, he turned back to her with that dopey little smile she’d so come to enjoy. “Thought I lost this,” he laughed and though she hid it well, Minnie’s tail twitched a bit.  

“It’s yours?” she asked smoothly, careful to disguise any sort of suspicion in her tone. 

He wrinkled his nose and glared back at her with a little smirk on his lips. “What? Too fancy for me?”

Implications aside, she couldn’t help but giggle a bit at that. “Well, it is rather…well… sparkly. ”

Mickey frowned and gestured to himself with mock incredulity. “Have y’seen me lately?” he scoffed, and even as he spoke, his glow flared. “Sparkly’s kinda my thing now. ‘M practically the king of sparkly.” 

“Are you now?” Minnie laughed, fully this time. To his credit, he wasn’t entirely wrong. There was a persistent shimmer that had settled across his fur since he’d transformed. He really did look sparkly. “Well, in that case, I suppose it matches you perfectly. Still can’t help but wonder where you got such a thing, though.”

Mickey chuckled, but his eyes were still on the blade. “You and me both,” he sighed. When she tilted her head, confused, he glanced at her and shrugged. “Was one of the only things I had on me when I woke up all that time ago. Only thing worth anythin’ too, I figure, but…ah, I dunno. Couldn’t bring myself to part with it.”

“Why not?” She was more curious than suspicious now. 

His face fell a bit, though he smiled softly. “Awe, Min…you’re gonna make me sound like a sap.”

She scooched a bit closer to him and nudged him gently, “There’s nothing wrong with that,” she murmured, and after a brief glance her way, Mickey ruffled his feathers and sighed.

“Well, you’ve seen it…the world hasn’t exactly been a friendly place lately. We got lucky findin’ Goof and his pals. But when it comes to the other places I’ve been, if they’re not after ya for some kinda bounty or reward, then you’re just a thief or another mouth to feed. It gets tiring gettin’ chased outta every town y’visit just ‘cause you’re not quite sure where you’re meant to be.”  His grip around the dagger tightened, and his tail swept behind him in an anxious rhythm. “There were days where I just thought…well, I dunno…thought that maybe it’d be better if I wasn’t here at all.” 

She squeezed his arm when he said that part, and he leaned into her as if grateful for the comfort. “The dagger…I…erm… whenever I tried to…whenever I…” he stumbled over his words before finding the right thing to say. “Whenever I… saw it, I just had a feelin’ that someone must’ve given it to me, that’s all. And I guess it made me think that maybe someone out there did care. Kept me wanting to keep goin’, for their sake.”

“If it meant so much to you, why didn’t you ever come back for it?” Minnie murmured after several moments, refusing to let him go. When she asked the question, she felt him draw in a breath.

“I…” he paused for a moment and looked over the dagger’s sheath, lost in his thoughts. Then he turned back to her and cracked the smallest hint of a smile, though there was still heartache behind it, too. “I found somethin’ better. Didn’t feel like I needed it anymore.”

After that he took a few steps back, flicking his tail behind him. There was a look of uncertainty in his eyes as he studied her face, and Minnie hated the way it slowly dissolved into fear. 

“‘Course, I…I don’t know much of anything now,” he breathed. He pulled his wings behind him as much as he seemed able to, despite the pain that crossed his face as he did, as if trying to hide them. “Don’t even know who I am. I-I’m sorry, Minnie, I shouldn’t have-”

She reached for him before he could get too far, grabbing him by the arm. “Mickey!” He paused, but didn’t lift his head. “Mickey, look at me,” she breathed, cradling his cheek in her palm. Reluctantly, he lifted his eyes to meet her.

“I know I must have frightened you yesterday,” she whispered. “But I need you to know that no matter what anyone says, no matter what I may have said....” She spotted the wobble in his stance and the shudder of his body–he was still wounded, she could tell–and gently gripped his wrists to pull him to his knees. He didn’t fight it and silently obliged, letting out a quiet breath as she cradled his face in her hands. “You are wonderful,” she murmured, studying him with gentle eyes. “And kind. And more than worthy of love. And…” He tried to look away but she turned his head back to her with a light finger to his chin. “And no matter what we find, I won’t be leaving you. If these memories are a strange dream or if they’re real….whatever the case may be…you are not that person now.”

He only sat there for a few moments, watching her quietly as she stared back with gentle repose. Then he gave into his emotion and buried his face in her neck in a trembling embrace. “Awe, Minnie…” he breathed in a broken sort of tone, and though Minnie didn’t show it, her heart was breaking too. “I…I trust ya, honest. But I’m so scared. Everythin’ I thought I knew about m’self is just…it’s wrong. Maybe everyone had a reason to chase me away. Maybe I am dangerous. I mean, look at me.” He pulled back and gestured to his body, spreading his wings just slightly before a shudder of pain made him draw them back in. Then he seemed to retreat inside himself, shrinking beneath the weight of her gaze. 

“Hey,” Minnie stopped him, a soft little reprimand, but she found it difficult to know just what else to say. Her eyes fell on those beautiful wings, twisted and torn. That was her doing. She could tell him again and again how unafraid she was, how much she loved every wonderful piece of him. But it wouldn’t mean a thing. He’d seen the fear in her eyes, how far she’d nearly been willing to go because of it. There were no words that could fix that, not now. And that was the worst part…because as much as she wanted to promise him it didn’t, deep down she knew her fear still lingered.  

After a few quiet seconds, Mickey lowered his eyes and forced a smile. “Anyway,” he whispered, and then shook his head. An old cloak hung over a stable door and he darted to it then draped it over his shoulders, fastening the clasp with a nervous click. The fabric was somewhat ragged, but it did what she knew he wanted it to–it hid his wings. “Our village isn’t far. If we leave now, we can get there before dark. Prob’ly can’t stay there long…the king’ll be lookin’ for us…but we can grab a few things at least.

There were several things Minnie thought to say, but none of them made their way out. Instead, she only muttered a quiet, “all right”, before getting to her feet. She picked up the dagger, turning it over in her hands for a few moments before finding a spare belt to attach it to and setting it around her waist. She’d return it to Mickey eventually, but currently he didn’t even seem able to look her way. 

They made their way outside, Mickey tugging at the cloak every time a breeze caught it up and blew it backwards. A warm midday sun had made the snow beneath their feet slushy, and Minnie found her shoes quickly soaked through.  Even so, the air was springlike, as it so often seemed to be when they were together–and only then, it seemed. It would have been difficult not to notice such a strange occurrence. 

So many things puzzled her about all this. How was it that he could bring with him such lovely warmth, and somehow be responsible for the chill she’d felt for so long? How was it they shared such a profound, unmistakable connection, when he had once done something so cruel?  And how on earth had her dagger made its way into his hands? 

The memory in her head was so clear, so vivid, almost unnaturally so, and seemed to grow stronger all the time. Of him standing above her, magic drifting from his fingertips that was destined to steal her memory away. But that was all, and she couldn’t seem to make sense of any of it. Her heart and head were at war within her, and she wasn’t yet sure which side was going to win…or what she would do if one did. 

She looked at Mickey, or, rather, the cape that fluttered behind him. He had not said a word since they’d left, and they were now a decent ways along. But after coming upon a twist in the road, with several snowy hills rising up around them, he suddenly stopped in front of her and froze. She heard him draw in a breath, and saw the puff of steam escape from his mouth, but he said nothing. 

“Mickey, what’s the matter?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

It took him a moment to respond, but then silently he grasped her hand and lifted his arm and hers together to help guide her view. “There,” he whispered, pointing to a spot at the crest of a hill, where the sun had dyed the snow a brilliant shade of gold. A lone tree stood there, its branches covered in petals, though “spring” had only just arrived. “Just beneath that dead tree. There’s a black dog watchin’ us…a wolf, maybe?” 

Minnie frowned and squinted, wondering about his definition of a “dead” tree. And while she looked for the figure he’d mentioned, she simply couldn’t spot it. Not at first, at least. Finally, after nearly giving up, she did manage to see a faint silhouette, though it wasn’t at all how he’d described. She’d almost missed it, the canine’s fur a milky whitish-gold that blended in well with the sunlit ice.

“Mickey!” she laughed. “A wolf? Really? That dog looks perfectly harmless!”

He shot her a look that seemed thoroughly confused, if not a bit offended, but before he could argue, the dog had lifted its muzzle to the sky to let out a howl. Minnie wasn’t sure why but at that moment, she felt quite sure they should get out of sight. 

“Mickey…” she muttered, finding his hand again and taking a few steps backward. “I think we…we should hide.”

He scoffed a bit when he glanced her way again. “Ha! Thoughtcha said it looked harml-” 

“It’s not the dog I’m worried about,” she interrupted with a hiss, and when he saw the fear in her eyes, the humor vanished from his face and he nodded briskly. “Ah, I…er…right. Right. Over here.” 

A large boulder lay stretching out over a thinning patch of snow, one of the only spots where grass could be seen poking through. Mickey led her there, pulling her along with a sense of urgency until they were hidden from view. Almost immediately, the howling ceased, but the two mice dared not move. Mickey had let one of his wings emerge from the confines of the cloak only to shield Minnie from view, but even with those feathers around her, she couldn’t help but shudder when she heard the sound of panting from just outside their hiding place. 

Snow crunched lightly, and quickly, as the dog traversed the snow. Minnie couldn’t tell at first if it was getting closer or further away because the sounds seemed a bit random, as if it was prancing around wildly in the ice. But after a few moments, it released one final, short howl and, from the sounds of it, ran away. Mickey made a move to get up, but Minnie grabbed him by the tunic and pulled him back down, holding a finger to her lips. She had a lingering suspicion the danger had not yet passed.

Sure enough, pounding hooves–too many to count–and rough, angry voices proved her right. 

“ Why did you drag us this way again?” 

Minnie gasped, then held a hand to her mouth, and Mickey squeezed her free hand. That was Mortimer’s voice.

“Coulda sworn I’s saw somethin’,” came the gruff reply, unmistakably Pete. 

“You think you saw something? Or you did, you dolt?! I didn’t come all the way out here just to go chasing down rabbit trails! They could be long gone from that backwater village by now!”

“Now, see here!” Pete growled. “ I’m da fairy huntin’ expert, and I say we should take a looksie ‘round these parts, just to be sure. See…look at those tracks there…”

Minnie swallowed, and Mickey flinched. No, no, no…stupidly, they hadn’t covered a thing. They might as well have left a map for them to follow.

“Those are pawprints !” shouted Mortimer, and Minnie thought she might faint for relief. She wished the canine had stayed, so she could give him all the pets in the world. “From a dog!”  the king continued, and let out a loud, frustrated sigh. “Already lost those damned fairy folk…I don’t plan on letting those little mice get away, too. I want that village burnt to the ground by nightfall, and the princess and her friend dead along with it! Is that clear?”

Minnie leaned into Mickey, heart pounding so loud she was shocked they couldn’t hear it.

“Hmph…fine, Your Majesty ,” Pete sneered, and the flick of a horse’s reins echoed in the air. A moment later, a flurry of hooves took the sound of whinnies and voices far away. 

Minnie was trembling, her face pale with terror by the time they left. They waited a few moments more, listening intently for any hint there was danger still around , before Mickey finally helped her to her feet. He stood as a brace for her while she swayed dizzily, overcome by sheer adrenaline. “M-Mickey, they’re heading for the village,” she whimpered. “Goofy, Max…everyone…”

“I know,” Mickey stated abruptly, and she saw his nose twitch. He’d been overcome by sadness not long before, but now rage seemed to fill his eyes.  Before she could even try to stop him, he had gathered the cloak in his hands and was trying to fly…and failing miserably. With every uneven beat of his wings, she saw him grit his teeth in pain, and even when he managed to get a foot or two off the ground, he swiftly plummeted right back down to the snow with a pained gasp. 

“Mickey, stop that!” She ran to him before he could try again, holding him by his back and chest as he stood so he wouldn’t try to take off. His face was sheer frustration and anger, like he was furious with himself above all else. He tried to break away from her, but his legs gave out and he was back on the ground again.

“What good are these dumb things if they won’t even work! ” he hissed, pounding his fist in the snow. 

“They saved me , remember?” Minnie whispered softly, and Mickey stared at her blankly for a moment before narrowing his eyes and looking away. “Come on,” she murmured, holding out her hand to help him to his feet. Once he’d recovered his balance, she swept his cloak up from off the ground and handed it to him. Abashedly, he draped it over himself, and she wondered if she should have kept it from him after all. But she shook off that concern and simply offered a reassuring squeeze of his hand.  “We’ll find another way.”

“Yeah? How?”

“Well, we…” her voice trailed off as she tried to think of any sort of alternative. At this point, walking would get them there far too late. The sound of the nearby river was of excessive annoyance as she tried to come up with a plan, and she was just about ready to bring her hands to her ears to block it out, when she realized that it could be the solution after all.

She pursed her lips, not quite liking the idea in her head, but knowing there were hardly any other options before them. Mickey must have taken notice because he tilted his head and turned to look at her. “What?”

“You’re…” she sighed heavily. “You’re going to have to trust me, all right?” With a gentle tug, she pulled him along as she made her way to the rushing water. The river was just over one of those snowy hills, and Minnie knew at once it was a river that crossed into the forest. Into her forest. Which meant it was a direct line to a certain creature they’d met before.

“What are you plannin’ to do?” Mickey asked with a wrinkle of his nose as she knelt by the riverbank. 

“Just…um…just stand back there a bit, all right,” Minnie chuckled lightly. “I’m not entirely sure this will…um…work…”

Mickey had just begun to obey until he heard that last part, but by the time he started to argue, she had already opened her mouth to sing.

This melody was a wild one, with notes that leapt from top to bottom like waves on top of a storm-ridden lake. And then it was calm and charming, clear and cool as ice. She kept it rocking back and forth, until the river started to churn, and she knew at once it had done its job.

Water burst forth from the river, spiraling yards up into the sky before plummeting back down into the currents. But as the droplets fell from the sky, a creature emerged from them. Its hooves trod over the water seamlessly, as easily as if it was solid ground. A mane of seaweed graced its neck, though it quickly melted away into hair of greenish-black. Wild red eyes flashed and nostrils flared madly as the kelpie reared and landed with a snort and furious breaths, dripping onto the snow. 

It kept its gaze on Minnie, and the mouse didn’t move a muscle at first. She stayed quiet and calm, acutely aware of Mickey’s poised stance behind her.

Don’t move, she urged him silently, and hoped he’d have the sense to stay put. 

The kelpie approached her, and she felt its eyes must be piercing her very soul. Cautiously, she lifted her hand and held it out for the creature to sniff. “Good girl,” Minnie breathed quietly. “You remember me, don’t you? I know you’re not all bad…” 

The horse eyed her warily then, gently, pressed its muzzle up against her palm. Minnie grinned and turned to Mickey, a satisfied twinkle in her eyes. But she’d hardly taken a breath before something shifted. The kelpie snorted and then, with a newfound craze in its eyes, whinnied and drew up on its haunches. Minnie was struck by the motion and fell backwards with a shout, clutching her side with one hand and throwing the other above her head as the horse prepared to land its hooves on top of her. 

Mickey jumped in front of the creature as fast as lightning, the look on his face more sure and determined than she’d ever seen him. His wings flew out from his cloak, expanding to encompass the kelpie’s whole view as he held up his palms to keep it from moving forward. It whinnied furiously, and kept trying to move past him. But slowly, its movements slowed and it set its eyes on him instead. A strange look settled in its eyes, and Minnie watched with bated breath as it stared deeply at him. 

Her fingers buzzed, as if there was something coursing through them just dying to get out. As she looked at Mickey’s face, a sudden idea crossed her mind.

He didn’t notice fast enough to stop her when she leapt up again beside him. The kelpie nearly spooked again, but before it could rear up, Minnie grabbed Mickey’s hand in her own and pressed them both up against the creature’s muzzle. It squealed once in protest and then went quiet, growing so calm that Minnie worried she may have hurt it somehow. There was only silence for a few moments–silence, and her own ragged breaths alongside Mickey’s. She saw him glance at her side–the kelpie’s strike had reopened her wound–but waved him away when he made a move to try and take a closer look. 

When the kelpie moved again, it lifted its head slowly and blinked as if taking in an entirely new world. When its eyes landed on Mickey, it snorted with wide eyes, then knelt on its front legs in a strange sort of bow. The grace with which it knelt for him, anyone would have thought him a king.

Minnie drew in a breath. 

“You came all the way to Tir na nÓg, and don’t even know when the king himself is serving you?” 

A voice echoed in her mind and she held a hand to her head, uttering a pained gasp. Mickey had been watching the bowing kelpie with shock and an undeniable bit of pride, a tiny smile alighting on his lips despite the strained shudders that wracked his wings.  But when he saw Minnie he leapt to her side. Ah, she wanted to rush into his arms and praise him for his heroism. But that strange new memory poked at her consciousness, and it made her fear bubble up all over again. When Mickey reached for her, she drew back, and hated herself for it all the more. He froze. The pride in his eyes vanished, and his wings with it beneath his cloak.

“Mickey, wait…” she started breathlessly, shaking off the memory.  She reached for his arm and clung to it, desperate to erase the effects of that simple action. “...I didn’t mea-”

“It’s all right, “ he answered before she’d even finished, that sad smile once again clinging to his lips. He placed a light kiss between her ears as if to prove he wasn’t upset, then turned back to the kelpie. “Gosh,” he chuckled as it stood back up and shook its head, droplets of water flying from its mane. “Look whatcha did, Min. Tamed a whole fairy creature.”

Minnie let out a breath. He was trying to save her feelings again and shoving his away in the process. She wished she could stop it, but didn’t know how. The best she could think to do was oblige his distractions. 

“Well, you certainly helped.” she grinned, He laughed at that, and reached out a hand to stroke the kelpie’s muzzle. It nuzzled into him playfully, drastically different from the crazed outrage that had consumed it only moments ago. 

“Strange how different she is now, isn’t it?” Minnie noted. “It’s like…something else had control.”

Mickey got quiet, and his tail snaked behind him as it always did when he was thinking deeply. “...like the Sidhe?…” he murmured distractedly, and Minnie tilted her head.

“Hm?”

He looked up, as if confused as to what she’d asked, then seemed to realize. “Ah! I’ll tell y’later. Just some things I’ve been tryin’ to piece together.” With a scratch behind his ear, he nodded towards the kelpie. “Seems like whatever y’did tamed her for good though, huh?” As if in response, the horse whinnied and nudged him under the arm. “I, uh…I think she’s ready t’go.” 

Minnie grinned and drew in a deep breath, feeling a little queasy from the strain of her wound, but she drew up to her full height anyway. There was no time to worry about that sort of thing. Mickey wasn’t quite as convinced, and even as he approached to help her onto the steed, he glanced at her side with an uncertain expression. The fabric of her dress was still torn from where the Sidhe had sliced it, and the gash that had previously healed was in bad shape, worsened by the kelpie’s kick. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

She nodded and so, gently, he helped her onto the kelpie’s back, careful to avoid the wound as much as he could.  “We’ll getcha some proper help when we get to Goofy,” he assured her as he hopped on behind her. “But just lemme know if I’m holdin’ on too tight, all right?”

“I will,” she breathed, and pursed her lips against the sting as he brushed up against her. It hurt, badly, if she was being honest, but she was almost grateful for it. It kept her mind from any frightening imaginations while she was here beside him. So she cherished that part of it at least, despite the seering pain.

“So, how do you ride one of these things?” Mickey asked, and Minnie laughed, stopping herself short when it led to a worse throbbing. 

“It’s easy, just think of where you want to go.  She’ll know, I promise.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “Is there, uh, anything else she’ll know?”

Darn him for making her laugh all over again. “That remains to be seen,” she managed to reply, traces of humor still on her tongue.

“Okay, just one more question.”

“Mickey!”

“I know, I know! Last one! How…uhm…fast can a kelpie go?” 

Minnie only smirked at that, because no sooner had he uttered the words than the kelpie reared up, whinnied, and took off galloping across the hills, leaving Mickey to cling for dear life to both her and the kelpie’s mane.

The answer was “fast”, as Minnie would jokingly tell Mickey later. But for now she only prayed that 'fast' would be fast enough.

[paixarina]

calling cozmez "incest bait group" really shows that these fuckers didn't knew nor consume paradox live and only assumed them as that based from the official art/fanart.

[oscalesoffeeling]

i want to update my f/o list but i don't want to </3

[cinnabeat]

i love dream drop distance so fucking much you guys are just haters

[qqueenofhades]

https://www.tumblr.com/qqueenofhades/743255237060689920/the-thing-that-confuses-me-about-the-dont-vote

The “don’t vote” left’s point is basically that, if Biden gets a second term, it’ll basically signal that “They’ll vote for us as long as we’re not Republicans, why don’t we do some REAL fucked up shit, if we can get away with it?” It takes the power out of the people’s hands and places it firmly in the party’s.

I can’t completely disagree with that, my caveat is that there’s no real alternative system or party in place, because top-down change is ineffective; a third party president has to contend with a two party congress.

Except no. This whole "Biden just wants to do as much fucked up shit as possible while not being a Republican, and if you give him a second term he'll do more fucked up shit deliberately to spite you" mindset is only possible as an interpretation if you a) deliberately and comprehensively ignore everything he has done to date, and b) you approach the situation with the maximum bad faith possible. Not to mention, the ultimate outcome of this Big Important Teaching Biden A Lesson is that Trump gets back into power and makes everything orders of magnitude worse, because he does in fact want to deliberately do evil shit to everyone and says so at every opportunity. There is not some magical happy alternative that springs into existence by not voting. If you choose this as a year to Teach Biden A Lesson, you are enabling Trump. Trump will be much, much worse. If you don't care about that, I still do not care what your Great Ideology is. You are not helping anyone and you are directly and irreversibly hurting everyone.

I made a post a few days ago wherein I mentioned that I want to assess Biden fairly, taking into account both strengths and weaknesses, but the rampant bad-faith, lying, misreading, misrepresentation, and open sabotage of him (especially by the online left; the GOP sometimes only wishes they were as good at turning Biden's voter pool against him) makes it really difficult to do that. My frustration with those people makes me just want to go "BIDEN IS GREAT THE END." I know he is a flawed old man (though by literally every account of a career spent in public service, he really does care about making the world a better place and any remotely good faith reading of his accomplishments thus far can see that). It is also very likely that he goes MORE left in a second term because he won't have to face the electorate again, he has always gone more left when pushed before, and he's not actually the scheming genocidal mastermind that leftist social media paints him as. Shocking, I know.

I know there are things in the world we don't like and don't want and want to stop, and therefore we blame our own president for not making it stop. But I have zero, no, none, absolutely none whatsoever sympathy for this pseudo-populist "WE NEED TO TEACH BIDEN A LESSON BY ELECTING TRUMP AGAIN, I AM VERY MORAL MUCH ACTIVIST" mindset. There's this funny thing about America wherein it is still (for now) a democracy. If Biden wins a second term, he can't run again. I would take literally anything these people said more seriously if they focused on developing their dream progressive successor for 2028 (and also figured out how to get that person elected and in a place to make real change) rather than cynically sabotaging Biden in the most consequential election year, again, of our lifetimes. If you don't like him now, find a way to make his successor a better option. Throwing a toddler tantrum and handing the country back to a senile, deranged, fascist, revenge-riddled, theocratic Trump HELPS. NOBODY. I still don't know how many times I'm going to have to say that, but yeah.

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Hi! Finally able to request. I really enjoy your work!

Can you try a creator who use their power through music (like singing or playing instrument) in an Imposter-AU with the Archons? (The voice of the Creator is heard as the sound of nature like wind or water, though. No one knows their true voice)

Thank you so much.

🎄Merry Christmas🎄

Welcome @peaceindreams ! I'll see what I can do with Your Request :D

Also VERY LATE Merry Christmas—I'm writing this a few days after Christmas.

Archons Realize Reader is a MUSICIAN WOAHHH

To be honest, you were kinda just minding your business when the Archons found you and your ever-singing glory.

They SHOOKETH so good job! Let's nitpick at their reactions! >:)

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

Venti

Wisp boi HELLA SHOOKETH. But he also happi boi so good job!

Wants to hear your voice sing and not the wind just continues to gently smack his face. Don't get him wrong, he's probably the only one who can actually listen and understand and compute with what you're singing, but like he really wants to hear your actual voice. He thinks it'll be such a treat!

"Your Graceee...Is there a way to let these humble gods hear your voice? Pleaseee? This bard will make a ballad about it and the world shall start spewing about it right after!~ Hehe, it'll be a big hit, one as grand as your visage!"

He really wants to hear you sing now. Good luck explaining that you got no control over dis :)

Zhongli

GRANDPA ABSOLUTELY SHOOKETH. But he finds it pleasant to see that you're having fun and enjoying your time in Teyvat.

Unlike the airhead beside him, he cannot understand what you are singing, and he feels kinda disappointed that he can't enjoy it too. He would share the memory—

Ahem, anyways. Loves it, 100%. Bro's a huge supporter even though he legit has, like, zero comprehension of the situation. He's also giving Venti some bombasic side-eyes.

"Your Grace, please do not be pressured by this wind god. While it would be a stunning blessing, do NOT feel like you owe us anything." You know those memes where like, one person is forcing someone's head to bow while they bow to apologize to whoever got offended? Yeah, it's that one meme except it's Zhongli making Venti bow for his idiocy.

Grandpa wants to hear your voice fr this time, but bro's not gonna force it upon you. Grandpa will, nevertheless, share the memory over osmanthus wine, because "Osmanthus wine tastes the same as I—"

Ei

Raiden Ei, Raiden Ei...I honestly think she feels like she doesn't DESERVE to hear you sing. Like, she feels like she just intruded on your personal space and she crossed some sort of line.

But the wind's pleasant and all of the surrounding area is practically glowing as you sing. Your voice practically carries throughout the place, becoming the nature, the water, the wind, everything.

"Your Grace, you need not heed to the request at all. We are more blessed to be in your presence enough." As much as she's getting more and more used to the present times of Teyvat, she's still kinda stuck in her ways a little. She still thinks of you highly and does not let her beliefs falter.

She really doesn't think she deserves to hear your voice, but she is also very curious. Never wants to push though because she's old-school.

Puppet Shogun looking at this and going "This will be forever engraved in eternity" as Ei is shaking the Puppet Shogun by the shoulders like "NO, WE SHOULD NOT BE HEARING THIS WHAT KIND OF PROGRAM ARE YOU ON I DID NOT PROGRAM YOU LIKE THIS—"

All in all? Mental crisis! :D

Nahida

Cute god loves you! She loves how the flowers bloom, how the wind flows, how the water speaks—not even analogies can describe the amazingness of it all!

She's grinning so wide with such wholesome-wide eyes, like an actual child discovering music for the first time or smth ykwim? IT'S ADORABLE IS WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY.

"Your Grace...is it possible if we could see this more? You don't have to, of course, but this is really amazing!" She's practically GLOWING with excitement and nervousness. While Nahida wants to hear you sing and see you enjoying your time, she doesn't want to push boundaries!

Safe to say, she'll support whatever your answer will be!

Furina

Girl's flabbergasted. She thinks she might have been sent to both celestia and hell because it was hard to compute whether she was trespassing or if she was being blessed.

Furina is utterly speechless to how your voice alone commands presence and power without even needing to try so hard. Anyone, absolutely anyone, can tell you are truly the Almighty Creator.

Though she's retired from being the Hydro Archon, she still has the slight dramatic flare she has had for 500 years. And she's got to say, she absolutely loved your performance!

"Your Grace, if I could humbly suggest a request on the behest of the follow archons beside me." Furina dramatically bows a little. "May we be humbled by your presence, and continue to gaze upon our unfathomed eyes of what a real god can truly do in the likes of the world? I'm sure this will bring many beautiful pieces of art—be it music, visual arts, dramatic arts, and so on!" Girlie doesn't realize she made a beautiful monologue about your singing on the spot, but one thing's for sure—she loves you and you singing, even if her ears can't understand it. It was still a beautiful piece.

After all, she was the All-Powerful Hydro Archon before she retired. She knows power and art when she sees it, and you bypass all forms of mortal concepts. You're practically her favorite musician!

Please grace her—I mean them—with your singing! It's too beautiful to miss!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: I am SAD I couldn't finish this when it was still AROUND CHRISTMAS SOBBING, but I hope y'all like this post, though! Hopefully my next post won't take too long—but I'm not gonna say anything because rn I'm EATING those words up like it's for breakfast lol—I'll see you all next time :)

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[peachsayshi]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ EX-BOYFRIEND HCS (feat. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso) 

minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

ˋ°•*⁀➷  tags: angsty, mentions of break ups, mentions of make ups, mentions of commitment issues, I’m keeping all of this kind of vague.  

ˋ°•*⁀➷  notes: decided to finally edit up this post that I wrote xo I hope you enjoy it! feedback/reblogs are always appreciated <3 

wc: 1,204

gojo:

he understood why you ended things with him. he’s not an easy man to love, he doesn’t exist in a world where a life can simply be built. he didn’t fight you on your decision or beg you to change your mind. there is nothing he can offer in return which is why he conceded in letting you go, even though the choice destroyed him beyond comprehension. this is the first time he’s ever felt truly broken and he chooses not to cross paths with you for the sake of his own wellbeing. 

but still, he can never fully erase you from his life. you were his pretty light, the spark of happiness that brought him profound joy. he can’t help but succumb to an opportunity of sneaking back in, even in the smallest of ways. besides, the break up didn’t end with fighting or hateful words, it was amicable - so, why can’t he show any signs of fondness? 

these excuses come with every birthday, holiday or special occasion. you always receive a thoughtful gift wrapped up in a pretty bow. gojo never includes a card, but the way your heart seizes up tells you that it is from him. it lingers in your mind that he still thinks about you, even though you are trying to move on. your heart fights you on every decision you make. you would meet bachelors who would exude perfection but they don’t even come close to the man you once loved. satoru gojo may no longer hold space in your life, but the painful reality is that there’s a void inside you that only he can fill. 

geto: 

the man who stole your heart - there’s an ache in the place where the muscle once resided. he snatched it away without even knowing, and disappeared into the shadows. you don’t hear from him at all, not even a single text or a phone call. the silence is absolutely haunting - he doesn’t know the hurt is the reason why you hate him, but how its also a reminder of just how much you love him. he makes time stand still - and your world stops moving. 

suguru should know better - this way is easier (or so he thinks), he had his reasons (or so he thinks). he spends his days analyzing this decision - dissects it, pries it open and pokes at it in all angles. every conclusion leads to him acknowledging that you deserve far more than what he can give you. but still it becomes his obsession, his source of contention and irritation. it’s not like he hasn’t done this before, but why can’t he snip the last tether that’s tugging at his heart? 

it’s him showing up in the middle of the night, taking in the stunned expression on your face after months of zero contact. he holds you with so much care when he apologizes, begs you to take him back as he whispers sweet words in your ear. you’re not proud of the way you melt right into arms, or how easily you invite him to your bed. you hate that you would let him break your heart a thousand times over, not knowing that he’'ll fight to his last breath just to mend it back together. 

nanami: 

messy is the only word to describe the break up. somehow it wasn’t even a one sided decision, but a point where neither of you were willing to carry on. the heartbreaking thing is that the two of you didn’t just end a relationship, you ended an entire life together. nanami never went into anything half-assed, and that included what he shared with you. now, he sits in his new apartment, most of his things still packed in boxes, and he can’t bring himself to settle down. you were the only home he’s ever grown to love and he can’t help but think what it was about this particular fight that defined the course of your relationship.

nanami was mature about the aftermath, but his removed behavior made you feel small, made you wonder if he was truly unaffected by the pain of separation. as you divide up your life you ponder if he’s reconsidering the entire decision as well. this whole blow up felt so stupid to you now, a minor blimp in the beautiful story of your love together. you knew he wasn’t good at expressing himself in the moment, but when he finally left the key to your place behind, everything came crashing down at once. 

you both have a hard time referring to each other as exes. you both still speak about one another with such tenderness. your loved ones pushed you both into seeking each other out, but neither of you were willing to disturb the other’s peace. you’ve both done enough damage, caused enough hurt that would last a lifetime. it’s only by chance that you stumble into him at a new coffee shop - like fate itself worked hard to ensure you swung the door open just as he stepped through the threshold, that your bodies collided at the right moment so you can see the missing half of your soul in each other’s eyes. 

choso: 

“can we at least be friends?” - how were you supposed to say no after you had just broken him. this man whose sweet heart radiated nothing but gold even though his eyes were full of sadness. he didn't ask you questions as to why you felt the need to end this, didn’t push your decision even though things were going relatively well. you were so thankful because the extent to which he loved you was petrifiying. you just needed to find yourself for a moment - to catch your breath, and ground your feet after floating on air. 

it’s hard to ignore that choso shared your body and heart. your friendship is so different, and you can’t help but feel like you were tiptoeing around a minefield. he looks at you with immense hope, and that optimism weakens your will. you don’t want to sell him any dreams unless you were sure yourself. so you try your best to keep things platonic - you make sure that you are never alone with him for too long, give other suitors a chance for casual flings, and even go as far as setting choso up on a date. 

you’ve somehow convinced yourself that this is good for you both, until choso asks “do you hate me?” - it hurts seeing him break before your eyes, listening to him question you if you’re doing all this because you don’t want him around you anymore. he tells you that it hurts and you don’t know how to justify any of your actions by using your fear as an excuse. he’s given you no reason to think he won’t cherish your love, and all you can think about is making him smile. waking up tangled between the sheet with him makes you feel sick. your heart races when his arm squeezes around your waist, when his lips brush softly against the back of your neck and you’re burrowing yourself deeper into this hole with no idea how to make it out safely. 

[being-addie]

The Glow Up Game

Part One: Pretty on the Outside

A comprehensive guide to getting your shit together. You heard me. We are done standing on the sidelines, looking at people living their dream lives being rich and hot and happy. WE'RE DONE.

This is a long guide, filled with pointers covering EVERYTHING regarding physical glow-ups. I'll be editing it and reblogging it whenever I come across new ideas and information. It covers everything from head to toe. I mean this literally.

Note: This is for people who want to do glow up physically. It is totally your choice to do anything you want to/don't want to on this list. We live in a world full of unfair beauty standards, and instead of being angry about it, I'm going to exploit the hell out of it.

Are you ready to change yourself? Here we go.

The absolute basics: These are lifestyle changes you're going to implement. Non-negotiable.

Go exercise: Don't look at me like that. This isn't optional. Find a way to move your body so you like it and you're actually breaking a sweat. Leisurely walking on the treadmill does not count, half-hearted zumba does not count. Whatever you're doing, it has to make you SWEAT. A good figure is earned. Trust me when I say you'll feel better, and like what you see in the mirror.

Change your diet: Enough sugar. Toss the soda out, and chuck out your candy stash. You really don't need it. Craving something sweet? Make a batch of healthy, homemade dessert. Or have a piece of fruit. I'm not kidding when I say the kitchen is where you make the biggest lifestyle change. It will be HARD, but every McChicken you say no to, is good for your HEALTH. You want to live longer? Cut out the takeout and heavily processed foods.

Fix your sleep cycle: Sleep is so important, and I think people overlook it so much. All your hard work is wasted if you don't sleep well. Your skin will break out, and your body will refuse to change even if you exercise. SLEEP WELL. Create a nighttime routine and stick to it. Make sure you have at least 7 hours of sleep as a minimum.

Create a skincare routine: Take off your makeup every day. And have a good skincare routine. Cleanse, moisturize and apply whatever you usually do. Exfoliate twice a week and stop touching your face. I also drink an ABC smoothie (Apple+Beetroot+Carrot+Water). This does wonders.

Use sunscreen: I cannot stress this enough. Skin cancer is real, and it will get you if you don't wear sunscreen. Use something higher than SPF 50 and use it religiously. Make sure to get your earlobes, chest and back of your neck. Cover every inch of your skin that will be exposed to the sun.

Drink your water: 3 litres of water per day. You will be amazed at the results. Your skin will clear, your breath won't stink and you won't be dehydrated. This shit works, and there's a reason everyone recommends it. Drink your water.

Moving on to each itty-bitty detail.

Eyes: SLEEP. You want your eyes to look fresh? No pesky dark circles? Get your sleep cycle right. No more late nights. Hot girls sleep on time.

Nose: Those blackhead-looking things are natural, they're called sebaceous filaments. And, no you can't get rid of them. But you can minimize them. Cleanse, moisturize and exfoliate. Don't pick at your skin.

Lips: Don't bite them anymore, for God's sake. You're going to make sure they're chapped beyond belief. Use lip balm religiously and don't overuse lipstick. Your lips WILL get discoloured when you're older. Use a light lip tint, and lip balm/gloss.

Eyebrows: If you want to shape them, go to the hairdresser and get it done.

Facial hair: As someone with naturally dark, thick hair I have a lot of noticeable facial hair. I'm planning on getting it lasered soon. Find a way that works for you and is affordable.

Body hair: I have zero self-consciousness about my arm and leg hair, so I have no desire to shave or wax it. I do wax my underarms, because of ridiculously thick growth. Understand that this is a personal choice, and you do not have to do this if you're unwilling.

Nails: Keep them short or long, always filed and CLEAN. Do not let grime or dirt build-up underneath. Don't keep your nails painted 24/7, it will 100% lead to yellowing. Give your nails some time to breathe between every manicure. When they aren't painted, keep them filed and presentable.

Hair: I have Type 3a curly hair, so my hair routine is tailored to suit me. But what I can tell you is wash your hair at least 1x a week, use sun protectant, and oil your hair before wash day(it works). And use heat on your hair SPARINGLY. If you want to colour you can, but remember it does lead to long term damage, brittleness and bad texture. Get your hair cut every 3-4 months with a trusted hairdresser. Keep switching up hairstyles and do not stick to a single part (middle part, side part) constantly because it can lead to thinning of hair there.

Acne: STOP TOUCHING YOUR FACE I am begging you. Touching your face with grimy hands is a recipe for acne. Cleanse everyday, moisturize heavily and go to a dermatologist if it gets worse.

THIS LIST WILL BE UPDATED

Go live your best life. You deserve everything, and you shouldn't let anything stand in your way, not even yourself. Now GO, you've got shit to do.

xoxo

[urhoneycombwitch]

plan b

___

foreword: thank you to this anon, this was just the right amount of sitcom Spider-man pointing meme-ery that I needed. wrote this with husky!neighbor!Eddie since I thiiiink I’ve established that version of him is modern so hopefully this aligns with my made-up canon. lol.

wc: 1.9k

cw: weight mention (in the context of finding meds, no numbers used), embarrassment on R’s end of kink discussion, frenemies vibes between R and Eddie (they get under each other’s skin but in a hot way <3), Eddie is soft-domming in public, no actual smut but still +18 mdni

DISCLAIMER: Plan B can really fuck your shit up and shouldn’t necessarily be used when introducing new kinks. Please do your research and consult w/ a medical professional before using. Putting the fiction in fic with this one.

_____

Christ, there are too many options.

Your vision is swimming in the Family Planning aisle, fluorescent overheads of the CVS taking up residence in your left temple.

You press your fingertips against the spot, massaging gently as you pull different brands of boxes from the shelf to inspect the instructions.

This one says take within twenty-four hours, that might be- oh, shit, there’s a weight cap. Dammit. And this one’s… twice the price? For fucking why?

Frustrated, you shove the expensive thing back in place. The words on the blue label next in line catches your eye- Pre-Seed Fertility Lubricant- and you snap your hand away, as if scorched. Nope. Opposite of what you need. Christ. Pre-Seed?!

It’s almost giggle-worthy. You take out your phone, glancing up and down the aisle; the store is empty this late at night, just an older woman behind the front registers who had greeted you earlier with bored corporate formality, eyes fixed on her magazine.

Picture of Pre-Seed, taken. Check that one off the list. The only person who you’d want to share a laugh over text about this with is the one person who does not need to know why you’re in the goddamn Family Planning aisle at ten PM. On a Thursday.

At least, not yet. You lock your phone, pocketing it before zeroing in on the purple and green-themed Plan B that boasts One Tablet, One Step.

Although it’s pricier than some of the other morning-after pills, it’s the only one that you feel fully confident about buying. You give the box a little toss, feeling the next-to-nothing weight of it in your palm. Fifty bucks for a tiny pill, one that you may not even end up using- but you’ll be goddamned if you’re caught unprepared.

“Can I help you find anything?”

Your blood flashes cold, then hot, as you realize who the voice belongs to- attention focused elsewhere, you didn’t hear Eddie sidling up the aisle until now.

He’s leaning into his arm on the nearest shelf, grinning wolfishly at his own joke, chocolate eyes lit up at having found you here. He looks obscene- biceps and chest bulging at the stretched fabric of his t-shirt, hair unspooling dark curls from a low bun, black ink tattoos rippling over his bare forearms and peeking out from beneath his collar.

Honestly, you don’t know why he wasn’t stopped at the door by the woman on night shift. He’s bordering public indecency with those fitted Levi’s alone.

Fortunately the shock of hearing Eddie’s low voice is not enough to send the Plan B in your hand flying- too late to reshelve it without him seeing, you cling to it tighter, plastic creaking under your grip as you pray to every god ever that he doesn’t notice.

“Oh! Hey. Hi. Haha, very funny.” Well, that was smooth, but at least you said something comprehensible. “What’re you doing here?”

Eddie doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss, using his free arm to reach for a pack of condoms near your head- “Late night shopping. Stocking up for the weekend. Can’t seem to keep these around, seeing as I’m being fucked out of house and home.”

”Well… apartment,” you correct, heart leaping at the smile lines that jump around Eddie’s eyes. This is good, maybe you can just keep him talking and find a second to shove the Plan B into a random spot or perhaps launch it into the sun-

Nope, too late. Mid-crinkle, Eddie’s eyes drop to the package in your hand, and you watch his face drop as he processes multiple trains of thought at once.

“Oh, shit. Is that… did we…?”

There’s a pinch between his dark brows, likely running through the last few weeks of your hookups (which have all been protected) and trying to do the mental math; you shake your head, trying to stammer through the flush of embarrassment that’s overtaking your system.

“No, it’s not- not from us. Not from you. I mean…” you trail off, shifting uncomfortably from one sneaker to the other as words hit a jam in your throat.

Eddie’s in a full frown now, pushing off the shelf, standing to his full height, confusion and hurt seeping into his expression, voice quiet and pitched deep- “Is it from someone else?”

“Oh my god.” This was a nightmare, right? You’d like to wake up now. “No, no, not from anyone else. It’s-”

A sharp exhale, a shake of your head, and the words loosen all at once- “I was gonna get it for us, for me, for this weekend, if you wanted to give me a reason to use it.”

Eddie goes as still as you’ve ever seen him before, fingers stopped in their usual constant tapping, blinking at the box in your hands.

His face smooths.

Then he smiles.

Your stomach flips.

Eddie slides the condoms back into the wrong spot, not bothering to look as he leans in close enough for you to smell the spice of his cologne as he says in a sex-dipped timbre: “Well if you wanted me to fill you up with my cum, why didn’t you just say so?”

A horrified, awkward squawk escapes before you can bite it back; your head whips down the aisle to make sure no one else was within earshot of his dirty mouth as you blindly shove the Plan B away, deep into a shelf. “Oh my god. Jesus christ.”

”Eddie is just fine,” he responds mildly, the cool demeanor to your rapidly heating one as his grin simmers wicked between dimpled cheeks.

“Forget it,” you start, shaking your head and making to brush past, embarrassment flooding in hot, “Just forget-”

Eddie catches you by the elbow, effectively locking you in place with a single move, but he’s not looking at you; with his free hand, he snaps up the slightly crumpled box and scans the words.

“Y’think one will be enough?”

The flood subsides, gives you pause enough to stutter out, “W-what?”

Eddie’s fingers flex on your arm. He turns the box over in his big hand, rings glinting. “We’d better get two. Just in case.”

Your skin feels the impression of his palm even after he lets go, like a Polaroid in rapid reverse as he grabs a second box, warmth fading fast from your skin. “I don’t think- I mean, that’s not how they work, I should probably find a more permanent sol-”

“Just for the weekend.” His eyes are back on you now, self-satisfied smirk giving way to something darker, more intense. “Yeah?”

A shiver casts goosebumps down the length of your body. He’s goddamn toying with you, in the middle of a fucking CVS. Despite your flare of irritation, you nod, voice nearly a croak as you echo, “Yeah.”

The grin lights up his face again. “Good girl.”

Eddie doesn’t give you time to react to this (verbally, anyways- your cunt is most certainly responding to the praise despite your best efforts to remain unaffected), using one large hand to hold both boxes and another to press at the small of your back, leading you down the aisle.

Truthfully, you’re grateful for the help (regardless of his dominance-based tendencies that don’t usually get you this easy); based on the ringing in your ears, you’re doubtful of your own ability to navigate the maze of aisles.

Eddie walks you both to the front register, and you watch as if outside of your own body while the cashier scans the barcodes and Eddie swipes his card.

He pockets the receipt, slides a finger through the handles of the plastic bag, and holds it out between your bodies. Right in front of the goddamn cashier.

”For you.”

This brings you back to yourself, a bit, mortification giving way to annoyance (a much more useful emotion in this scenario), and you snatch it to your chest. It’s your turn to grab Eddie’s elbow, half-dragging him towards the exit.

“Come again soon,” the cashier calls, still in monotone.

So close. You’re less than a yard away from the sliding glass doors that would have swallowed Eddie’s reply- but as it stands, he gets in one last cheerful wave, an award-winning, dimple-charmed smile to match his bright response.

“She will!”

Damn him. You give a final tug and you’re both out in the parking lot, glass doors closing automatically with a whoosh behind you, cool night air kissing at your cheeks.

”Seriously?” You’re mature enough to recognize that your anger is misplaced, adrenaline-fueled, but that doesn’t stop you from whirling on Eddie, giving his shoulder a sharp shove that (unfortunately, tantalizingly) doesn’t move him an inch. “I can never return to this fucking store. Thanks for that.”

Eddie really doesn’t help his case, grin turned shit-eating as he rustles through his various pockets for his pack of cigarettes- “Careful, sweetheart- you know how hot and bothered I get when you’re mad.”

”Unbelievable.” You turn on a swift heel, slipping the bag loops up your arm to dig for your keys. “You just got me blacklisted from our local drugstore and you don’t even care.”

There’s the snick of a lighter behind you, while your car a few spaces down chirrups and blinks in response to the furious press of your fob’s unlock button.

Eddie chuckles, sardonic and unsympathetic. “Too bad this is the only CVS in the whole world. I think you’ll live, princess.”

Ignoring this, you stomp towards your car, petulant, bag rustling; the door is half-open when Eddie calls, “So, are you coming over tonight, or what?”

“Obviously!”

The door slams with more force than you intend, sound ricocheting across the lot.

From the respite of your tinted windows, you watch as a streetlamp-haloed Eddie takes a drag from a cigarette, smoke drifting thick around a hazy visage of the hottest man alive. (Maybe you’re a touch biased. But your opinion is based on personal accounts, so fuck the naysayers.)

He tips his head back to look at the stars, pale column of throat illuminated- with a flush of realization, you scoff. He’s putting on a show for you.

Two can play, you think, driving your seatbelt into place with a click. But first I’m gonna have to make a stop at home. Namely for new undies.

[mylordshesacactus]

I'm sorry but I have made this post multiple times before and I cannot put it in any smaller words: 

If you expected the ARMY OF GENOCIDE MACHINES FROM DARK SPACE to have a rational and coherent motivation, you may just be bad at narrative comprehension.

The answer to their question was “cyclical genocide”. There is no logic that can make that make sense. It is, genuinely, perfect that at the end of the day the Reapers’ motivations are stupid and deranged. 

They are a broken AI modelled off the broken logic of a megalomaniacal group of eldritch abominations who are, to this day, even after seeing the horror they wrought, incapable of even comprehending the idea that they might have made a mistake--incapable of comprehending the idea that the “lesser races” might have any value, anything to contribute, any worth, any right to not be subjected to this. The Reapers say they’re “beyond our mere mortal comprehension” because they think they’re gods, because their creators thought they were gods.

The logic shouldn’t track. It shouldn’t make sense. And that is not only sensible and narratively coherent, it’s extremely realistic. Surely, surely especially now, seeing what actual AIs do, the things they think are logical, surely you can see this.

The Reapers are the galactic-scale equivalent of an AI art generator that’s told to make a pastoral scene with sheep, and instead doubles down on making increasingly photorealistic oranges because it thinks those are the same thing, except in this metaphor ChatGPT has guns. That’s good writing. That’s the horror of it. They cannot be reasoned with because they are, genuinely, beyond anyone’s comprehension--because their reasoning is utterly divorced from reality.

(The breakdown from a writing standpoint comes with the way the narrative fails to point this out--the way the final choice, even with the extended cut, presents Synthesis as somehow both morally pure (instead of a horrifying violation of literally everyone’s agency) and existentially necessary--not just a way of saving everyone by exploiting the Reapers’ algorithm (which I would accept 100% if it was a purely strategic, this-is-guaranteed-to-work-with-no-casualties option) but as somehow ‘the way to end the cycle’, when you’ve already shown through gameplay that the cycle can be broken through compassion alone.)

But the issue there is in the narrative framing at zero-hour, not--jesus fucking christ, people-- not the fact that the Reapers’ logic is bad. Do you hear yourselves?! Do you understand what you’re implying--that there is in ANY way, ever, a motivation that would make this “make sense”?

The Reapers’ logic was always going to be bad, was meant to be bad, NEEDED to be bad, because no good logic, no sensible motivation, will lead you to fucking genocide.