#a trillion years! good enough

[franeridart]

The Housecat Philosophy - Ep 74

Ep 00 || < Prev || Next >

Read ahead on Patreon || Catch up on Webtoon || support me on ko-fi~✨

[sea-blue-heart]

getting for real nauseous thinking about sparrow oak

[godsfavoritescientist]

i think if I did write the failed redemption arc story. the heart of it would be getting to see just how close he got to changing. getting to see bill Almost learn and grow as a person. Glimpses of what could have been, if he had just Let Himself Face The Agonies

[bitchykuromi]

saw someone slandering ichika so now im an ichika fan. dont listen to them bby girl ull always be famous

[happypeachsludgeflower]

I’m not really one to enjoy proving other people wrong. Simply knowing they’re wrong and I could is usually enough for me, (i.e. my dad’s insistence that Spock and Kirk are straight when we ALL know they’re not),

but last night I was given the immense satisfaction of explaining to my step father why his opinion was wrong is such detailed that the Asshole Who Knows Everything actually said, “You’re right.”

I shall be lording it over him for the rest of existence.

essay in the tags

[emmyrosee]

His phone rings once, and Kiyoomi smirks down at it.

You’re calling him, of course you are, why would you not be, and he sighs and excused himself before slipping out to the front of the building and answering the phone.

“This better be good.”

“Im crawling in your walls.”

He lets out a laugh and scrubs his face with his hand, “you miss me that much? I’ve only been gone for a few hours.” You whine on your end of the line, and he chews the tip of his thumb to stop himself from laughing.

“Kiyoomi,” you whine. “I didn’t give you enough kisses this morning. I’m feeling deprived.”

He cocks a brow, “babe, you gave me a thousand kisses before I left-“

“No, I gave you forty seven. I should’ve given you forty eight. Or a thousand.”

This, has him laughing. Laughing because never in a trillion years would he expect to let such ferality be allowed. What would 16 year old Kiyoomi think if he heard some person say “I’m in your walls because I didn’t kiss you enough”?

He wouldn’t believe him. He wouldn’t think someone would care enough about him to go through such lengths to be part of his life, a part of him, and he poked his tongue in his cheek and shakes his head.

“You can kiss me more when I get home.”

“I don’t want to wait that long.”

“I’ll kiss you back?”

This, has you stopping, and he raises his brows as he waits for a response. “You promise?”

“Of course I do,” he snorts. “When have I never not wanted to kiss you?”

“True.” You go quiet again, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby. I’ll be home soon.”

“…okay,” you finally sigh. “I’m gonna eat your drywall.”

He snorts again, “go for it.”

[nasa]

Astronomers used three of NASA's Great Observatories to capture this multiwavelength image showing galaxy cluster IDCS J1426.5+3508. It includes X-rays recorded by the Chandra X-ray Observatory in blue, visible light observed by the Hubble Space Telescope in green, and infrared light from the Spitzer Space Telescope in red. This rare galaxy cluster has important implications for understanding how these megastructures formed and evolved early in the universe.

How Astronomers Time Travel

Let’s add another item to your travel bucket list: the early universe! You don’t need the type of time machine you see in sci-fi movies, and you don’t have to worry about getting trapped in the past. You don’t even need to leave the comfort of your home! All you need is a powerful space-based telescope.

But let’s start small and work our way up to the farthest reaches of space. We’ll explain how it all works along the way.

This animation illustrates how fast light travels between Earth and the Moon. The farther light has to travel, the more noticeable its speed limit becomes.

The speed of light is superfast, but it isn’t infinite. It travels at about 186,000 miles (300 million meters) per second. That means that it takes time for the light from any object to reach our eyes. The farther it is, the more time it takes.

You can see nearby things basically in real time because the light travel time isn’t long enough to make a difference. Even if an object is 100 miles (161 kilometers) away, it takes just 0.0005 seconds for light to travel that far. But on astronomical scales, the effects become noticeable.

This infographic shows how long it takes light to travel to different planets in our solar system.

Within our solar system, light’s speed limit means it can take a while to communicate back and forth between spacecraft and ground stations on Earth. We see the Moon, Sun, and planets as they were slightly in the past, but it's not usually far enough back to be scientifically interesting.

As we peer farther out into our galaxy, we use light-years to talk about distances. Smaller units like miles or kilometers would be too overwhelming and we’d lose a sense of their meaning. One light-year – the distance light travels in a year – is nearly 6 trillion miles (9.5 trillion kilometers). And that’s just a tiny baby step into the cosmos.

The Sun’s closest neighboring star, Proxima Centauri, is 4.2 light-years away. That means we see it as it was about four years ago. Betelgeuse, a more distant (and more volatile) stellar neighbor, is around 700 light-years away. Because of light’s lag time, astronomers don’t know for sure whether this supergiant star is still there! It may have already blasted itself apart in a supernova explosion – but it probably has another 10,000 years or more to go.

What looks much like craggy mountains on a moonlit evening is actually the edge of a nearby, young, star-forming region NGC 3324 in the Carina Nebula. Captured in infrared light by the Near-Infrared Camera (NIRCam) on NASA’s James Webb Space Telescope, this image reveals previously obscured areas of star birth.

The Carina Nebula clocks in at 7,500 light-years away, which means the light we receive from it today began its journey about 3,000 years before the pyramids of Giza in Egypt were built! Many new stars there have undoubtedly been born by now, but their light may not reach Earth for thousands of years.

An artist’s concept of our Milky Way galaxy, with rough locations for the Sun and Carina nebula marked.

If we zoom way out, you can see that 7,500 light-years away is still pretty much within our neighborhood. Let’s look further back in time…

This stunning image by the NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope features the spiral galaxy NGC 5643. Looking this good isn’t easy; 30 different exposures, for a total of nine hours of observation time, together with Hubble’s high resolution and clarity, were needed to produce an image of such exquisite detail and beauty.

Peering outside our Milky Way galaxy transports us much further into the past. The Andromeda galaxy, our nearest large galactic neighbor, is about 2.5 million light-years away. And that’s still pretty close, as far as the universe goes. The image above shows the spiral galaxy NGC 5643, which is about 60 million light-years away! That means we see it as it was about 60 million years ago.

As telescopes look deeper into the universe, they capture snapshots in time from different cosmic eras. Astronomers can stitch those snapshots together to unravel things like galaxy evolution. The closest ones are more mature; we see them nearly as they truly are in the present day because their light doesn’t have to travel as far to reach us. We can’t rewind those galaxies (or our own), but we can get clues about how they likely developed. Looking at galaxies that are farther and farther away means seeing these star cities in ever earlier stages of development.

The farthest galaxies we can see are both old and young. They’re billions of years old now, and the light we receive from them is ancient since it took so long to traverse the cosmos. But since their light was emitted when the galaxies were young, it gives us a view of their infancy.

This animation is an artist’s concept of the big bang, with representations of the early universe and its expansion.

Comparing how fast objects at different distances are moving away opened up the biggest mystery in modern astronomy: cosmic acceleration. The universe was already expanding as a result of the big bang, but astronomers expected it to slow down over time. Instead, it’s speeding up!

The universe’s expansion makes it tricky to talk about the distances of the farthest objects. We often use lookback time, which is the amount of time it took for an object’s light to reach us. That’s simpler than using a literal distance, because an object that was 10 billion light-years away when it emitted the light we received from it would actually be more than 16 billion light-years away right now, due to the expansion of space. We can even see objects that are presently over 30 billion light-years from Earth, even though the universe is only about 14 billion years old.

This James Webb Space Telescope image shines with the light from galaxies that are more than 13.4 billion years old, dating back to less than 400 million years after the big bang.

Our James Webb Space Telescope has helped us time travel back more than 13.4 billion years, to when the universe was less than 400 million years old. When our Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope launches in a few years, astronomers will pair its vast view of space with Webb’s zooming capabilities to study the early universe in better ways than ever before. And don’t worry – these telescopes will make plenty of pit stops along the way at other exciting cosmic destinations across space and time.

Learn more about the exciting science Roman will investigate on X and Facebook.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[withonly-sweetheart]

di leon kennedy doing pushups ;) inspired by this (suggestive) art by @bunnivievve because i think artists have too much power. lowkey im typing this out so fast rn im tweaking i have exams tomorrow NOOOOOOOO-

<><><><>

your husband joined the police force. great. awesome. what a wonderful sight, at least it is for all the people watching on the outside. the picture perfect couple; a loving wife and a valiant husband to match.

what they never saw were the late nights up, studying the same textbook about a trillion times over, pretty much memorizing the goddamn contents of it before stumbling into your bed.

his body might be warm but that warmth always abandons you in what seems like a second, the snap of his fingers, because it's become a recurring instance that he's left early to train.

always making good impressions, that man. and you're proud of him, you have to be and you're not ashamed to show it. you've seen his growth, his courage that he displays, the hurt he has to suffer through all to keep the city safe. his city, where you are. his heart.

which is why it comes as a surprised when your husband, a man you've been married to for seven years, comes up to you with a bashful expression, eyes darting left and right, grazing all the corners of the world.

"do you... uhm... think... i'm strong?" you blink, dazed.

"why? what's wrong?"

"well, some of my higher ups had some concerns about... strength. they wanted me to 'strengthen my core'." he chuckles. "whatever that means."

"and you came to me for that," you drone.

"i've seen you do all those exercises around the house!" he protests. "can't you just teach me a few?"

"first of all, those are to help with cramps, and second, no." it seems like he's given up, but you know him well enough to know that that will never be the case.

"aw, c'mon, please?" he murmurs, taking your hand into his, caressing the bottom of your knuckles, rubbing soothing circles into your fingers. "just once?"

so you find yourself relenting to the man who always knows what to say to get you to crack. maybe next time you should be more demanding, hm?

needless to say, it's all made up for when you stretch out into the first pose, a simple sitting position with your legs extended fully, fingertips reaching the tips of your toes.

leon nods, and he gets the sitting part right. but when he tries to copy your movements, he hisses and leans back, groaning with the effort.

"what's wrong, officer kennedy?" you tease. "scared you'll break a hip bone?"

"quiet," he grumbles. "i'm just a little sore from yesterday."

"of course, of course, a very busy day running errands, such as picking up doughnuts, might i add?"

he scowls at you and tries again, and again, but every time he can't seem to cope with the fact your flexibility, even at your maturing age, is better than his, even with all his rigorous training.

"looks like you couldn't do it," you say smugly, smirking directly at him, angling your body to face him. "told you so."

"i think it's my turn now," he says, creeping towards you. and this time he seems to have the prowess of a panther, easily slotting himself into place above you.

"your turn for what?" you ask, somewhat suggestively. he grins.

"how 'bout i show you what i've learned?"

fuck, you'll never doubt him again, will you? his sweet, submissive girl, arching beneath him, one hand pressed on the floor near your head, keeping him supported. the other is clasped behind his back, in an ethereal tilt that has his chest hair hitting all the right angles of the dying sun.

your knee is thrown over his shoulder, and the position should be awkward, you think, yet it feels as natural as anything. he pistons his hips further into you, and he's been mumbling something in your ear since he started.

now that you can hear him better through his rough, sloppy pants, you hear a steady rhythm. "twenty-five... twenty-six..."

he's counting, you realize after your mind-shattering orgasm, whimpering underneath him as he finishes, muscles flexing in a manner you'd never thought to admire until you realize why.

he's counting the pushups, god, that's all he's been doing this whole time. and you'd be damned if you didn't send a silent prayer of thanks back to the academy, where they trained him to do this.

but you're sure this isn't how they expected him to apply it in real life. hey, what can you say? seems like you're finally enjoying your husband's career and all the perks it comes with.

"my pretty wife, going around doing all those stretches, driving me fucking crazy bending over like that," he rambles, lowering himself to shower your face in messy kisses before tilting his head back to the side with a hiss, lifting himself back up.

back up and back down, a slower pace with his upper body while his lower half rails into you, and all you can do is lie there, helpless to what he gives you, craving more yet somehow satiated at the same time.

"yeah, mmm, fuck, just like that-" he breaks off his counting to whisper sweet nothings in your ear for the second time that evening, pushing his spend back in while you grasp for purchase on his biceps, feeling the hardened muscle lurch back towards you as you dig your nails deep into his skin.

"needed that, didn't you?" you whisper breathlessly after he collapses onto the hard wooden floor next to you. his eyes shine with effort and pride, and after a low exhale, he immediately scoops you up.

he carries you back to the bedroom, where he lies you down onto the comforters, making sure you're comfortable before trailing up and down your neck with soft, carefully measured kisses once again.

"w-what're you doing?" you murmur, twitching under the overstimulation. leon's eyes have shifted to a deeper color, a darker lilt to his eyes when he reaches your gaze.

"i can do better than that, sweetheart."

"better?" you ask jokingly, because what could make him better? anything better than that is a menace to society, you decide.

he sighs, shaking his head before cupping your body with his hand again, rubbing your skin in such a doting gesture that you don't expect his next words.

"i said a hundred, sweetheart. i didn't even make it to fifty."

series masterlist

[sillysiluriforme]

That one post, about how everyone has an akuma mark- that wouldn't be the case, and if anything that makes it worse. An akuma (or two) a day for several years is 1,000 people, maybe 2,000. Paris has a population of 10 million. So not that many people. But consider the suffering. Being a non-akuma'd person knowing your life is forever changed, possibly in quarantine forever, all because a small handful of people couldn't keep calm. (we know it's not their fault, but blame must land somewhere and hawkmoth is distant and unseen...). To watch as your future, or your children's future crumbles, because no one in or out means limited opportunities. There'd be riots (and more akuma possibilities). But to be one of the targeted? To have the suspicion (because akumas do strike twice, thrice, or more...) and the blame (if you'd just stay calm, if you just said no...). To lose an entire day of your life, watching as everyone you loved looks fearfully or angrily towards you (what did you do? what did you say?), to lose your job (what if it happens again? or was it because of your job?). To watch everything get worse, because of course: Any disruption to Paris would be Catastrophic. The paris region produces a GDP of 1 TRILLION dollars. 1/3rd of France's GDP. A day's disruption could cost billions of dollars. Even if property gets repaired, time still moves forward- a day not worked is a day where things dont get done. Things like road maintenance, court dates, repairs to water pipes, electrical generation, surgeries, and so on. Critical workers would need to get a suicidal level apathy towards akumas, because if they stopped work everytime one appeared then lives would be lost to power shortages, lack of medical care, and water. All the traffic supplying goods every day- even if they don't get inspected going in or out, any changes to that would raise prices in a heartbeat. Refrigeration becomes unreliable, as powerlines could be cut whenever. Education goes rock bottom, as who can focus when something's happening every day? Desperation rises, as there's nowhere to go, goods are more expensive or unavailable, jobs are in short supply because so many places go out of business, or outright leave.

God, forget the holders, forget the akumas, forget the reality warping little-g gods, the sheer decay of Paris would be enough to make this AU nightmarish. If Paris remains under akuma quarantine for long enough, the effects would become exponential. As businesses leave, the money disappears. Goods become critical, as a city that big needs an entire nation to feed it (but without the money, who would bother selling to Paris?). Infrastructure becomes abandoned, as cost cutting and triage prioritizes only critical locations. The government moves elsewhere (how could they function otherwise?) taking jobs, money, and focus away from the city. Homelessness, joblessness, poverty become the norm, as with inconsistent power and deliveries, how can businesses operate? Hawkmoth is murdering the city of love, over his own doomed love.

Paris becomes a colossal burden on the french economy, a nightmarish battleground and a looming threat to the world. The country is left with a hellish choice: Let the city sink on it's own, or be dragged down with it?

[YOU FUCKING GET IT ANON. YOU EXACTLY GET IT.]

[fawnhart]

ONLY YOU

pairing. drew x bambi!reader

warnings. none

authors note. some social media at the end! Loved writing this sm!! Enjoy ♥︎

⟡

“I feel like I’m not good enough for you,” you whispered, tears spilling down your rosy cheeks. “You have it all planned out, the future—everything. And I just…”

drew cupped your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “Listen t’ me, baby. I love you. Not for what you have or what you do, but for who you are. You make me happy.”

“But… what if someone better comes along?” you said, your voice trembling.

“That’s not going to happen,” he replied firmly. “You’re my choice, and that’s all that matters. I don’t want anyone else. I love you.”

You took a deep breath, letting his words settle. “Ya’ mean that?”

“More than anything”

“okay I love you too” you said wiping your tears and smoothing down your mini skirt

“Let’s get out of here. Just you and me.” He said pressing small kisses all over your face

A small smile broke through your damp eyes. “Yeah, okay. I could really go for some food right now”

Drew insisted on pulling an Irish goodbye but you convinced him to say your goodbyes to his freinds as you walked to his car, Drew felt the weight of the night lift slightly. “let’s go to the tunnel? Just to clear our heads?”

“Oh god we haven’t been there in forever!” you said, a hint of excitement creeping back into your voice.

As he drove through the quiet streets, the city lights flashing past, laughter replaced the earlier tension.

“Why do I even let them get to me?” You mused while reapplying your lipgloss recently social media has been kicking you ass over the age gap, how you’re not good enough for him blah blah blah

“fuck them, they don’t know you” he said, keeping his eyes on the road while rubbing small light circles over your thighs. “you know you’re not any of that shit and even if you were I would still choose you”

You smiled softly, leaning back in your seat. “You make everything a trillion time better.”

He shot you a glance, feeling the warmth of your presence. “And you make me want to be better. Always.”

“ugh your so cheesy I love it!” You said leaning forward and pecking his face with sparkly kisses

bambinaaa

♫ men I trust - serenade of water

…

liked by madelyncline and 7,769,037 others

bambinaaa ‘we’re pouges, they’re kooks…’ s4 out now! p.s Chloe is the best pouge 🦌🏴‍☠️#obx4

comments are limited

madelyncline missing my glitter tattoo :( ♥︎ liked by author

→ bambinaaa COME OVER RN!

madisonbaileybabe cute girllllll ♥︎ liked by author

→ bambinaaa you’re cuterrrr🤫

alexademie that bitch!🌺 ♥︎ liked by author

→ bambinaaa hot stuff☀️☀️

tayrussell missing you bbg! wavesgirlforever 🌊 ♥︎ liked by author

→ bambinaaa US FOREVER 🩷🪽

drewstarkey and the prettiest ♥︎ liked by author

→ bambinaaa muah! <33

→ hichasestokes wowww

→ jonathandavissofficial what about me bruh

→ rudeth 5 years down the drain🙄

→ austinnorth55 I’m at a loss for words right now

carlaciagrant my babyyy🥺🥺 ♥︎ liked by author

→ bambinaaa mommyyyy🥲

[art]

Creator Spotlight: GDBee Art (@prinnay)

Geneva Bowers is inspired by the wonders of the natural world around us, and enjoys manipulating colors to create art full of mood and feelings.

Check out our interview with Geneva below!

How did you get started with art? Did you originally have a background in art?

I’m going to say yes because that’s all I’ve known how to do. It started because I wanted to draw better horses than my sister, and it just spiraled from there. People started asking me to draw things because they saw me drawing horses. I was like, well, I can draw things that aren’t horses, and then it was just kind of all I did. 

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

I have one right now! Honestly, with time, and I also collect art books; I think I have a couple hundred. If I really want to draw something, then I just flip through those and try to steal some ideas.

Which three famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

I mean, of course Van Gogh…I’m really inspired by Impressionism and Post-Impressionism, so I would invite Van Gogh, Monet, and Julie Dillon to a dinner party.

Have you ever wanted to dive into another medium before?

Yeah, actually, I currently am! I’m trying to do more traditional painting. I used to do a lot of acrylics, but I haven’t done it in years, and now I’m kind of bad at it. I’m trying to get into actual impressionistic art with oils and oil pastels. I’m like failing, but you know, you get there. Just fail until it looks presentable. 

If there is one thing you want your audience to remember about your work, what would it be?

I guess it’s more of a feeling. I create art because I’m inspired by things around me, like certain video games. For example, I have been inspired by a Japanese RPG called Chrono Cross on PlayStation 1. They make me feel a certain type of inspiration to create something, so that’s kind of like what I’m hoping to leave behind. 

Have any of your projects surprised you with their outcome?

Yeah! I did this Weapon Faerie series where I took three prompts: a weapon, a winged insect, and an herb, which I combined to make different characters. So, a faerie with a spiked club or a butterfly faerie with a katana. I made 13 of those, and they kind of took off! I wasn’t expecting that at all.

What is the hardest part of your process?

My whole art style is coloring, like the way it’s colored… but I hate the coloring process, haha. I like doing the color combos, but I don’t like the blending and shading. That takes like one-trillion years. It’s the part where I’m most likely to give up. You know how art kind of looks ugly before it looks good? I’m trying to trust that process. 

What do you wish you knew when you started creating art that you know now?

I guess one big thing would be knowing how to use lights and darks. When I do color, it is definitely colorful, but when you switch it to black and white, you see that everything’s the same tone of gray. I’ve learned that if you just use some brighter colors and some darker shades, you create a bigger impact in the end. So, now, when I paint something digital, I make it black and white for a moment to see where all the hues are, and if something is weirdly dark or not dark enough, I can change it.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

Oh, @feefal definitely inspires me. She does a lot of spooky art.

[rebeltigera]

WAIT, hold on, I need more info about Mac in heat.

Is Wukong taking care of everything? Did it take them by surprise or Mac just forgot to mention it to Wukong? Is Wukong, idk, making sure everything is alright? Like,,, like the nest! Does he bring more pillows and stuff or is Mac one of those that prefers more space than being surrounded by things?

PLEASE GIVE US MOFE INFO 🥺

(ALSO, bc I almost forgot about them, are the cubs with them too?)

—🐵🐵

If that would happen like trillion years ago wukong in fact would take care of Mac But it's happening in the healing arc. Somewhere after Mac healed from the wound by scroll , but not enough for them to be that close to each other (HA, the first time will be years later from now ) So Mac told Wukong to not come visit his island for a whole week. Excuse? Pif was there It wasn't much of a lie- Pif indeed spends every Mac's heat with him so he don't feel alone, they also meet up with Chang'e and they have their "wine party" (it happens like once per 5 years) It's literally for the purpose of Mac not being alone in those days

Usually it works well enough , tho this time Pif wasn't there whole time, after many assurances from Mac that was quite still clear-headed , she departed before the thing was over and well, Mac got lonely either way

And he tends to overthink and self loathe when drunk, on herbs and during heat So he wasn't really in the good place on the rest of last day

The cubs were there alr- they got worried. And where they could go ? To the only person they thought can help, a one-year protector of the island during the scroll fiasco - Wukong.

Wukong worried visited the island (He wouldn't disobey Mac's orders in normal situation but his cubs came seeking for help) , and seeing Mac curled all in one of the common rooms , left alone , under some blankets, smelling all wrong - He took him back to his room , where his nest was . It was much better than that common room . Mac all delirious thought mostly it's hallucination , Wukong stayed with him- not entering the nest , giving up his phoenix robe, not providing more than smell and some semblance of warmth - U have no idea how he mourned that moment. He'd bring mac the best materials, pillows, blankets , helping him create the best and comfiest nest they could create , full of fluffy things because mac love them He couldn't do more in this situation . The hell would rise if he would , The moment When Mac would stop smelling wrong he'd be out. But the robe would stay

[ckret2]

(I said earlier I had a fic excerpt about DEATH LAWYER AXOLOTL, here it is.)

The god hopefully turned to the time giant—

She shook her head, expression flat. "Nope. I'm a civil engineer, not a hostage negotiator."

—and then turned to the Axolotl. "You. You know how to talk to mortals like this triangle that's taken over Dimension Zero, don't you? Isn't he like the omnicidal monsters you represent every day?"

The Axolotl looked nervously at the wormhole into Dimension Zero. He could see blue fire and hear wails of pain on the other side. "Ah," he said.

####

Biologically there was really no such thing as a god, in the same way that botanically there is really no such thing as a vegetable. Tomatoes are fruits; spinach is a leaf; carrots are roots; broccoli is an unfinished flower. The word "vegetable" just indicates the cultural role a plant performs in the kitchen.

The word "god" indicated the cultural role an entity performed in cosmology: a god was anything that exerted enough power that mortals felt driven to worship it.

Different beings so honored with the title "god" handled it in different ways. For the Axolotl's part, he thought it was a useful designation to help with networking, but mostly it was a pain that meant he was put up on a pedestal for doing his job.

The Axolotl was a god of justice. Not the god of justice, but one. He held dominion over an abstract concept; over millions and billions of years, his words and decisions slowly, inexorably altered the idea of "justice" on a multiversal scale. Mercy, retribution, punishment, rehabilitation, equity, equality, fairness, and righteousness were like multicolored clays he could twist, squish, sculpt, and blend at his leisure, permanently altering what those ideas meant to the mortals they affected.

Which was to say: he was a lawyer.

He was also known as a god of rebirth. Which was to say: he specialized in afterlife law. Before going into law he'd only been a psychopomp, but after having to escort too many despairing souls to afterlives he felt were too severe for their sins, he'd decided he wanted a say in where he took his souls. Now he helped clients get their charges reduced so they were eligible for a higher-tier reincarnation, or got their purgatorial sentences reduced, or—on rare occasions—even helped them avoid damnation. (Although he didn't take many damnation cases. He didn't always win—and those ones were too depressing to lose.)

And lately, he'd been developing a reputation.

For the past few centuries, he'd been working on a damnation case. He was defending a supervillain who'd built a weapon that could slice open the fabric of spacetime—a crime against reality—and bisect planets in its wake. He'd died inside the jurisdiction of an afterlife that had legalized eternal damnation. Case law had long since established that the dead had to be sent either to the afterlife system of their native jurisdiction or an alternate afterlife system of their choice in order to be judged, provided that the proper afterlife accepted their transfer request.

But if this villain had been extradited to his home world, the heaviest sentence he could have faced was a thousand years purgatory, with an option for early reincarnation for good behavior after a hundred years. So the jurisdiction he'd died in had summoned up some bureaucratic red tape to dismiss his native afterlife's extradition request, and he'd been sentenced where he'd died. They'd wanted to establish via case law that the dead who had committed crimes against reality could be damned in whichever jurisdiction they happened to die in, and hoped they could get away with it just for lack of anyone protesting the move. After all, everyone involved much preferred that a mortal wicked enough to obliterate multiple populated planets and trillions of lives receive eternal punishment.

Everyone involved except the Axolotl. 

Taking this case hadn't made him many friends. He didn't care; he had his principles. Let an interplanetary supervillain be dragged away to a foreign afterlife just so that he can be forced into damnation, and next it'll be a planetary dictator; let a dictator be dragged away, and next it'll be a murderer; and next it'll be a burglar; and next it'll be a jaywalker that a psychopomp has a personal grudge against. If the Axolotl could establish that even the most undeserving mortal imaginable, a criminal against reality, still deserved the right to be sentenced in the afterlife of his choice, then he could establish that everyone less evil deserved the same right.

If he had anything to say about it, in two or three trillion years he'd see eternal punishment outlawed completely; but untilthen, he was not going to sit idly by and let this flagrant abuse of interdimensional law become the new meaning of justice! He would get that supervillain out of eternal damnation, personally escort him to his native afterlife, and see him reincarnated on his own home world—and mark his words, he would rain so much bureaucratic hell on the judges and psychopomps that had let this abuse of justice take place that no god would dare keep a soul from its rightful afterlife ever again, or he wasn't the Axolotl!

All of which was to say:

Yes, unfortunately. This triangle was like the omnicidal monsters he represented every day.

And so he was appointed hostage negotiator.

####

(And that's why a trillion years later he's the guy helping Bill submit an insanity plea so that he can go to Theraprism rather than get the permadeath penalty.)

[probablyasocialecologist]

The degrowthers are right: There needs to be a lot less physical stuff produced, especially in the way of fossil fuels, and, for anyone with the least sense of justice, this means rich countries consuming less and poor countries consuming more. Such an apparent threat of rich-country austerity meanwhile contains, in truth, the promise of abundance: fewer but more durable goods, less work and more leisure. (Already in the 1990s, the French-Austrian ecosocialist André Gorz wanted to “build the civilization of liberated time” in place of that of wage labor.) The fact that any such global rebalancing of consumption patterns can’t plausibly take place so long as the rich countries of the Global North dictate world history is one more reason that degrowth remains a dead letter under capitalism. It is not, however, the working classes of the Global North that must drastically curtail their lifestyles: The world’s richest 1 percent are responsible for as much carbon emissions as the poorest two-thirds of the global population. Much of the work of degrowth would be accomplished by the dispossession and destruction of the class represented by this sole percentile. As for the idolaters of growth, their god has not only failed but, Cronus-like, has started devouring its children as if these were so many chicken wings. “Growth” fantasizes one kind of fake substance, and “degrowth” another; real intelligence demands attention to how the ingredients of this world are different, not the same. Even so, the advocates of degrowth (a more attractive English word might be Samuel Beckett’s “lessness”) can boast of a sounder moral and political intuition than can the usual apologists for growth: Less stuff, more life! Such an argument may be obviated soon enough, either way, by the specter not of degrowth communism, but of prolonged capitalist contraction. Voters and politicians whistling past the graveyard being prepared for our children may have neglected to consult a recent article in Nature which holds that “the world economy is committed to an income reduction of 19% within the next 26 years independent of future emissions choices” (emphasis mine). Important factors in this bleak outlook include the declining agricultural yields and the massive and unpredictable damage to infrastructure attendant on climate collapse. In other words, even if carbon emissions are somehow reduced through the magic of the market, climate change can be expected to cause about $38 trillion in damages annually by the mid-century, enough to render overall economic growth infeasible. The choice facing the 21st century, then, is likely not between degrowth and growth. It is more likely between a form of capitalist contraction in which prosperity endures for a few but evaporates for the rest of us, and some kind of socialist or communist degrowth in which the well-being of everyone in general prevails over the wealth of anyone in particular. The precise politics of egalitarian degrowth are no more clear to me than they are to Saitō. But universal crisis will license strategies that theory alone could never discover.

26 August 2024

[iaure]

𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶; 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢

𝖞𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝖔❜𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2: 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰, 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3: 𝔦 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔨, 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 4: 𝔰𝔞𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 CW: self-awareness, stalking, obsession, delusion, ptsd, mention of a brother's death, thoughts of kidnapping. Written in the third person. Use of Y/N. Spoilers for Spider-Man: Across The Spiderverse.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ heaven have mercy on my simple soul. we might have another dearest series on our hands, but for miguel. god. jesus. i made this in one (1) day. it's two am.

wc: 1.7k

𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗻❜𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗱𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘀.

Miguel knew that feeling all too well. Gabriella faded away in his arms, a flash of technicolour and geometric shapes. An entire world, falling away and escaping from him, like grains of glass as fine as sand but still so colourful. That's what kept him moving. He never wanted someone to make the same mistake. But he was only a man. he couldn't be alone in the isolation of his own making forever. He built up those walls, praying he'd have the sense to never knock them down. But brick by brick, other people did. First was Jess. She was his friend, his sister in arms. Then Peter, then a thousand other faces and names and hearts and morals and everything that made Spider-Man, Spider-Man. They each took a brick, as though it was nothing. It was just by pure chance that she was the one to take that last brick. She was a new addition. Friendly, witty, quick on her feet. Just like everyone else. Another Spider in another place and another time. Another in a million, another clone, another warm body as fodder. But when Jess brought her to him, Miguel knew; she was one in a trillion.

She had stood next to Jess, firm, with a thousand yard stare like she'd been digging around Miguel's soul and yanking out her favourite bruises. Harrowing was a good word for it. Her estranged brother, a captain in the police, had died. She looked like she'd seen Hell. Fresh bruises, scarring, her suit torn in some places...and she stood tall.

"Spider-Woman, from Earth 7290. Also known as Y/N."

Jess spoke softly, a hand on Y/N's shoulder. Her breathing was steady but her eyes had glazed over, completely tapped out to the situation. Miguel felt his heart tug. He knew what it was like. Everyone did. Most Spiders were sad, upset, but she simply seemed...angry. Furious, even. Like if Miguel made a move towards her, she'd chew him up and spit him out. He'd seen people try to tame horses before, ones that would buck and kick and neigh until someone's leg was broken. It was like Jess was doing that. The one hand on Y/N's shoulder, keeping her in place.

"Miguel?" Jess spoke up, and he came out of his haze. "Are you listening?" "Yeah." He nodded, quietly clearing his throat. "Sure. Get her a watch." Jess shared a look with Y/N, one that he couldn't quite tell the reasoning behind, but the glance of her eyes was enough.

Spider-Woman of Earth 7290 took the last brick.

He'd see Y/N around, walking around the Spider Society and speaking with other Spiders. She seemed to hold that anger close to her heart, despite the other Spiders telling her that it'd get better over time. They'd healed, or got over it, or pushed it out of their mind. But not Y/N. She stayed mad. She stayed angry. Miguel understood that more than most. Mourning took time. So many had gotten over it after years. It wasn't fair to expect Y/N get it over it so fast. He didn't think so, anyway. After all, it was an anomaly that took her brother's life. A mistake. It had fallen off the proverbial map, but according to Jess, Y/N had 'handled it her own way'. Whatever that meant. Miguel didn't really care. All he worried about was her. Rather than just taking the brick off his walls, she smashed it in with a hammer and ran it over with a bulldozer. She had a wrecking ball to smash a single blue and red brick. And he hated it. Because what about Gabriella? What about his wife? Did their deaths mean nothing now? And how was this healthy? Granted, Miguel wasn't a healthy person. Not like that. But the sudden way his mind dedicated himself to her was absurd. Did it have to do with his DNA? With the spider mutation? Rapture? Mating season? There had to be an explanation. A cure.

But there was none.

Now, Miguel's mind was rotting away. He wished he could pry it open and take to it with tweezers, to prod out the parts that he hated. But his eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, and he knew he didn't stand much of a chance anymore. It was all Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. Even just the faint, passing scent of her was enough to drive him up a wall that very much shouldn't exist. Passing word of her wellbeing made him tune into conversations he was never part of. He began to develop a seventh sense: touch, hearing. sight, smell, taste, spidersense, and Y/Nsense.-the uncanny ability to know when she needed help. Trademarked, owned by Miguel O'Hara exclusively. Peter once teased him about how Miguel would suddenly jump up and scoot over to the cameras, checking in on Spider-Woman 7290.

The teasing didn't last long when given way to the severity of the situation.

Gradually, Miguel leaned into it. If he couldn't fight it, then join it. Revel in it. Let his eyes linger on her frame. Let his waking hours resort to thinking of her. Let him suffer. He deserved it. He began to follow Y/N around. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And sometimes, Miguel would see enemies-a Vulture here, a Doc Ock there-and he'd help when she wasn't looking. Little favours here and there began cropping up. Getting her groceries. Taking care of her cat. Fiddling with the gas for the car of the one creep that kept following her around that was so sure she was Spider-Woman. Granted, the creep was right. But he didn't know that.

(He did. Love comes in many shapes and forms.)

Y/N never seemed to notice. She was off, battling her own demons and fighting the good fight in her own world. She was good and kind and still angry but she used that anger so well, and Miguel loved her for it. She burned with the anger of a thousand dying stars. She was everything. When Y/N would stop by the Spider Society, Miguel made sure to look good. Brush his hair, brush his fangs, make sure his eye bags weren't too obvious, or if they were, then they looked good. He was trying to get her to like him, after all. Check to make sure his suit didn't have any tears or holes. Because Y/N was gorgeous. She could drag herself in with her guts spilling out like roadkill and he'd still think she's the most beautiful thing to grace the multiverse.

The beauty of delusion, he supposed.

He was aware how delusional this was. He knew how absurd it was that he saw her and fell immediately. Was this what happened in fairy tales? Is this what Prince Charming felt when he saw Cinderella? The world completely spinning the moment there's even a hint of her? The complete dedication of his heart to this woman that barely acknowledged him...someone who would only glance his way if it was a requirement. Y/N was cordial to him, but little more. And it made his heart ache. She spoke to Jess more than she spoke to him. It felt wrong. It felt cruel, like a tease, trailing up and down his spine but never providing relief. One word to him was ten to Jess.

Miguel refuses to admit it, to accept that he was willing to stoop so low. But there was a brief moment where he thought about hurting Jess. Or getting her on some mission that would take forever. Breaking her bracelet when she least expected it so Y/N would have to come to him.

He'd never act on it. He was sure of that.

If there was one thing Miguel was proud of for himself, it was his restraint. He had the unparalleled ability to simply...hold off. Another day, he'd tell himself. Next time, he'd self-assure. Then another next time. Then another. Until heaven knows how many next times it's been, and he's aching for her to even look at him, but why won't she glance his way? Why was she so cold? He's done everything he could. Just look at him! For god's sake, just fucking look at him! That's all he wanted! Five minutes with your eyes on him, your undivided attention.

But no. Another day, he said. Next time.

But maybe he could simply...take Y/N away. Her world was inconsequential. It'd be easy to take care of any villains. He'd do it for her, single-handedly. She were everything. He could just keep her there, in his office, never allowed to leave. He could come back after a long mission to her loving arms, her warm embrace, flush to flush to flush to flush. He'd do unspeakable things just for her to trace the vague outline of his body with her eyes. If Y/N told him to kill, he'd do so without question anymore. Miguel barely had any control over himself.

The next time he saw her, it was while dealing with Miles. It was so much, all at once and never at all and undying and swarming his senses. It was so much that he didn't realise how much she'd been smiling at the two teenagers, how sweet her gaze got, the gentle touches and warm laughter and how Gwen and Miles looked up to her.

He didn't know Y/N had a soft spot for kids. And he found out most vividly when she was the first one to help Miles escape, blocking off what must've felt like half of the Spider Society with the same undying rage, now spent on protecting her new friend, the child she called such sweet things. That she saw as her own.

Miguel felt his heart shatter when he had to take her down. The way she fell into the floor, limp and dangling like she was nothing more than occupied space. His heart was wounded, wailing like a dying dog. She picked the newcomer, the anomaly, over him. Him, her one true love. Did it matter that she'd known it yet? No. It only mattered that she helped Miles escape.

Lord, he thought. I worry that love is violence.

[ooooo-mcyt]

Grian is the sun in his warmth. He's a natural leader, the creator of the game, the first to win it, someone who's good at taking charge, someone it's easy to just orbit around. He's warm, fun, active at all points. He feeds beautiful things and warms cold hands.

Grian is also the sun in the way he burns. To come too close is often to burn into nothing. To look too long is often blinding. Long told tales warn not to fly too close. Burnt wax and invisible radiation- it isn't intentional, there's no malice in the destruction. He destroys anyway. It's the nature of the sun, to silently poison and burn.

Scott is the stars in how he guides. Company in the darkest night, a steady still light used to navigate the darkness. Scott loves deeply, giving all he has to see the ones who love him succeed. He burns for them, a steady presence, hopeful and certain, you're going to make it, he knows it.

Scott is also the stars in distance. The stars in our sky are a snapshot of time, thousands of years passed and trillions of miles away. As much as he may burn with all the radioactive heat of a star while he can, choosing to die first means Scott has no power over what happens once he's gone. All he can do is hope for the ones he loves to look up, and that the light will be bright enough still to guide them home.

Pearl is the moon in the way she changes. She's adaptable, able to shift easily, changing form. A loyal friend, a curse, something wicked, something that watches- the moon can be many things, depending, and that's one of her big strengths. Pearl survives- thrives- off her willingness to be what she's believed to be, what she has to be. Adaptability and change is one of the reasons Pearl is always one of the last ones standing.

Pearl is also the moon in her loneliness. Isolated through quiet nights with nothing but the howling of the wolves for company. Overlooking a world quiet and still and shrouded in shadow. Even if she longs for company, it's not in the nature of the moon, at least, not when the moon is truly visible.

Martyn is mars in victory. It may not be pretty or palatable for everyone, but there's an empowerment in it. Martyn seized victory, made an ending that was his and his alone. Exactly the way he wanted it. The best kind of selfishness, the kind where you finally get to hold something close and say it's yours, after so long of just playing a role in someone else's story.

Martyn is also mars in brutality. A barren red desert, inhospitable to all but himself. Maybe once it could have held life, could have been something kinder, but now all that remains is harsh freezing dust, brutal and selfish. Mars has no capacity to regret, but still, the rage of dust storms can sometimes feel like grief, or something close to it.

Scar is the earth in his capacity to create. Tending to animals, helping the flowers bloom, building incredible things. Trade and commerce, speech, energy and life. Everything to do with creation, with life, with civilization. The only winner who kept living beyond their victory.

Scar is also the earth in his capacity to destroy. Violence and destruction, dishonesty, injustice. The earth may be the holder of life, but it's also the most common destroyer of it. Earth can be an unforgiving and unsympathetic force, bringing injustice on the shifting of the tides and gathering of clouds.