#but im willing to do more research & get back into them as i was at one point lol

[ecl1pse]

can you teach me billies name and members with their photos please

ooh sure!

i'm gonna start off by the member you probably already know, tsuki

she's a main dancer & a sub-vocalist. she went viral back in 2022 during the gingamingayo era for her facial expressions.

you might've also heard of sheon

shes's a main dancer & lead vocalist. she also was participant in girls planet 999, under her real name, suyeon, & in fact ranked one spot away from making it into kepler!

up next is haram

she's a main vocalist with a gorgeous voice. she won a contest by sm & recieved vocal lessons there.

this is siyoon

she's a main rapper & lead dancer. she got a bit of fame as a kid for her dancing, even appearing on tv!

rounding up the current active members is haruna

she's a sub vocalist. she's also the youngest in the group / maknae!

currently billlie has two inactive members / in hiatus:

suhyeon

she is a main vocalist & lead dancer. she also participated in produce 101 & mixnine. she had been on hiatus since june 15 2023, due to health reasons.

moonsua

she is a main rapper & vocalist. she trained in yg for 10 years & was in the lineup for the future 2ne1 project. she's the oldest in the group & somewhat of an unofficial leader. astro's moonbin is her older brother & she went into hiatus originally after his passing, she returned for some time but went back on hiatus on september 12 2023, also due to health reasons.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

angel of a daughter

words: 2.2k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, stepcest, stepdad!rafe, p in v sex, unprotected sex, virgin!reader, female receiving oral, fingering, breeding, fertility issues (from mother), reader is described as having big boobs, kinda pregnancy kink from rafe but more talk of sex while pregnant, cheating (no daddy kink)

“i got the results back.” your mom says, her voice low and sad, revealing her results with her tone alone. “the doctor says theres no way.” “i’m sorry, mama.” you pout, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. you hate that you feel a bit of relief. your mom had you young, a teenager knocked up by another teenager who ran off the second he heard his girlfriend got pregnant.

your mom raised you until you were a teenager yourself, doing everything by herself until your stepdad came into the picture. he inserted himself perfectly into your life, but expected to have kids of his own.

“whats the plan then?” you question as your stepdad comes into the living room, setting a glass of water down in front of your mom. you sit on either side of her, showing your support. “adoption? surrogate?” 

you like being an only child. you like it just being you, mom, and rafe, but at the same time, you want your mom to be happy, and if a baby gives her that, you'll adjust for her.

“actually…” rafe clears his throat. “we were hoping you’d be willing to help out.”

“yeah, of course.” you nod. “anyway i can.” 

you don’t realize what rafe means until later. you assumed it was just help researching adoption agencies, or finding a surrogate, but as rafe hovers over you, you realize he means to breed you.

“m-my mom can’t be okay with this.” you stutter out, body stiff against the bed, trapped as you blink up at rafe, body caging you over the mattress.

“she thinks you’re going to get inseminated.” he huffs out, breath warm against your face. “and in a way you are. a natural way.”

“i-i-” you stutter out. “i don't know about this.”

“come on, i see the way you look at me.” rafe shifts his weight to one hand, gliding down the other down your torso, squeezing your hip gently. “i know you want this.”

“you're married to my mom!” your eyes are wide, but a spark does ignite inside of you. “you're my stepdad!”

“and you’re going to be doing both of us such a big favor, pretty girl.” rafe coos, his fingers running along the material of your shorts, stroking closer and closer to your center every time.

“i-i guess it would be easier than going to a doctor.” you’re sure it involves waivers and legal shit that your mind just can’t even wrap around.

“exactly!” rafe smiles down at you, glad for your naivety. “besides, im making you feel good... you’ll get pregnant, and both of us will feel real good.”

“how many times will we get to do it?” you whisper, hands reaching up to touch rafes cheeks, running your finger down the smooth planes. “like, it probably won’t take the first time.”

“as many times as we have to babygirl. and i’ll take real good care of you during your pregnancy. rub your feet, buy whatever you are craving, eat you out.” rafe loves the way your eyes blow wide.

“thats not appropriate!” your mom has lectured you long and hard about sexual experiences and above all how important it is to wait so you don’t become pregnant young like she did. and now she is asking you to allow your stepdad to breed you when you’re freshly out of your teen years.

“its okay, its just you helping us out so im helping you back out in return.” rafe moves his hand up to cup your cheek. “let me show you.”

he leans down to press your lips together in a kiss. you lay frozen for a moment before beginning to move back, reciprocating the kiss as your hands fist into his shirt, tugging him lower.

you let out a moan into his mouth and rafe has to pull away to chuckle. “see, i knew you wanted me babygirl.”

“yeah.” you nod. “okay, lets do this.” damn the consequences, you can think about them later.

“good.” he coos out, lips back against yours quickly as his hand gropes at your breast, rubbing them through your tanktop. you’ve always been insecure about the size of your chest, but as rafe lowers down to look at them, you think about them in a whole new light.

“these are gonna feed our baby so well.” he says, tugging at the hem of your shirt, lower and lower until it breeches the swell of your breasts and they pop out the top. you don’t ask who he means by ‘our’. you can indulge in the fantasy that it’s just you and rafe. that your mom is still in the picture, but only in the role as your mother, not the one of rafes baby. 

rafe wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking deeply into his mouth, so in contrast to what it must feel like to have an infant feeding.

“i-more.” you gasp out as rafes fingers play with your other nipple, rolling and pinching at it until they’re both stiff peaks.

“i can’t wait to fuck you baby.” rafe says, helping you sit up just slightly to pull your shirt off, the small pajama shorts the only barrier you have left on your body. rafe also tugs his shirt off. you’ve seen him shirtless before in the pool or on your boat, but its different in this low lighting, so intimate and close. 

“gonna eat your pretty pussy first though.” rafe tugs your shorts down, your thighs pressing together to allow you to keep that part of yourself hidden for a moment longer, before rafe is pushing at your legs and slotting himself onto the bed in between them.

“aww.” rafe smiles, looking much more like a boy your age with his grin rather than your stepfather. “i knew she’d be cute.” his hands stroke over your inner thighs. “have you ever had a guy eat your pussy before?”

“no.” you shake your head. “never done anything with a guy.” you’ve kissed past boyfriends, but it never went beyond that.

“im gonna be your first?” theres a spark in rafes eye when he realizes that you’re a virgin. that he’s going to deflower you, fill you up. 

“y-yeah.” you nod. 

rafe wants you to cum once with his mouth and fingers first to open you up and get you wetter before he fucks you, so he wastes no more time, pushing his face forward between your legs, tongue swiping over your folds as you scream out in pleasure. 

rafe is glad as your moans increase with every flick of his tongue and glide of his lips that he chose to sneak into your room in a time when your mom was gone, off to the spa with her girlfriends, no doubt sharing to them her recent doctors trip and how her angel of a daughter agreed to be a surrogate so her and rafe could have a baby of their own.

“you taste so good.” rafe says. he isn’t one to enjoy giving head often, but you really are the sweetest taste on his lips. he focuses in on your clit as your entire body stiffens before relaxing, sighing out as your head becomes fuzzier and fuzzier with every touch of rafes mouth.

“do you touch yourself here?” rafe asks, pressing kisses to your clit, making out with it just like he did you mouth.

“no.” you shake your head. you occasionally grinded yourself into a pillow stuffed between your legs to get off when you got too overwhelmed, but you never reached your hand in your pants to feel yourself.

“what about here?” rafe brings his hand to your cunt, finger circling around your entrance.

your eyes widen again, that gloriously innocent startled look that has rafe grinding into the bed to give his cock some sort of relief.

“never!” you shake your head.

rafe just smiles, going back to focusing on your clit as his finger pushes in. you’re so wet it’s not difficult at all, but he can feel the way you squeeze around his digit, getting used to the feeling of the intrusion.

“relax for me, princess.” rafe says, sucking at your clit as he begins to move his finger in and out until he’s able to easily pump, the delicious squelching of your wetness filling the room with his every movement.

“gonna add a second, okay?” rafe talks you through the process, not wanting to do something to scare you into changing your mind. “gotta open you up for my cock, baby.”

rafe pushes a second finger into your entrance, working you open until he feels your body stiffen, his concentration going to your clit as he works you through your orgasm, your high so suddenly breeching that your body locks up and you let out a scream.

“shh, i got you.” rafe kisses along your mound as you work through it, pussy clenching around his fingers as he scissors them, knowing he needs you looser to fit inside.

“that-” you gasp out, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “that was so good.” “yeah?” rafe smiles up at you. “i can keep helping you feel that way, baby.”

“mhm.” you nod, not sure how you’ll ever go without now that you’ve felt the high that rafe can get you.

“can i fuck you now?” he questions. as much as he’s ready to go right now, if he has to build you up to allow him inside bare, he would wait.

“yeah.” your voice is dripping with eagerness. “yeah, yes please. just need a drink of water first.”

you sit up slightly, going to reach for your water bottle on your bedside table, but rafe moves quicker, helping you bring the bottle to your lips and suck the water down, pulling away with a gasp as a drop of water glides down your chin, reaching your throat before rafes tongue is on your skin, tasting the sheen of sweat as he follows the wet trail up to your lips, kissing you to keep your mind occupied.

he works his pants and underwear off while you’re wrapped up in the kiss, your hands stroking through his hair, playing with the strands. 

rafe moves your legs to wrap around his hips as he holds onto his cock, swiping it through your folds. he taps the head against your sensitive swollen clit, making you pull away with a gasp.

“stay nice and relaxed for me, baby.” rafe says, pressing kisses to your jaw as he lines up with your entrance. he pushes in slowly, your eyes clenching shut as your chest moves up and down with each breath, trying to keep your body relaxed like rafe said.

“there ya go.” rafe says, halfway inside your cunt. “good girl.”

he pushes as far in as your pussy allows, both of you sitting in that moment, relishing in the feeling of being joined together as you stretch to accommodate his large length, shifting your hips side to side and up and down to get used to the feeling.

“i gotta move, baby.” rafe says, his voice sounding strained.

“yeah, go ahead.” you nod. despite your affirmation, rafe continues to move slowly, his hips swinging back before pressing forward, carefully building up a rhythm.

“it feels really good.” you tell rafe, your cheeks flushed bright pink, hair fanned out on the pillow around you like a glowing halo.

“yeah, yeah.” rafe nods rapidly, his grip on control quickly loosening. “you feel so good too.”

rafe knows he should stop, but he loves the way your body reacts to his dirty words. “you’re so tight around me. i love this pussy. so much better than your mamas. gonna give me a baby, right?”

“i-yeah.” you nod. “fill me up.”

rafes loosening control shatters, his hips swinging forward fast, burying his cock inside of you as the pace instantly triples. you let out a squeal, the sheets gripped in your hands as he pounds into you.

“gonna fill up your pretty little cunnie, baby.” rafe grunts out, his own forehead sheening with sweat from his effort, his muscles straining as he pushes up then down, up then down.

“want it so bad.” you whine. 

“fuck.” rafe gasps out, mouth dropping open, his lips shiny from eating you out. “can’t last much longer. gonna cum.”

you experiment, clenching your pussy around his cock, and judging by rafes reaction of a loud moan and curse, you can tell he likes it. you continue, squeezing every time he pulls out, wanting to keep his cock wrapped in your warmth.

“i-im cumming.” rafe gasps out, his cock growing inside of you before your eyes widen, suddenly feeling warmth spreading as his cum fills you, his cock pressing in even harder, hoping it reaches your womb.

“god.” rafe groans, lowering his body on top of yours, but you don’t care about the weight as you smile.

“we’re gonna keep doing that?” you ask, running your hand down his back.

rafe looks up at you. “oh, of course baby. gonna keep fucking you while you’re pregnant too, maybe you’ll give us twins.”

you roll your eyes and giggle at rafe. “thats not how it works, silly!” “oh, what do you know?” rafe smirks at you. “you haven’t even had sex before!”

“well… i have now.” you mumble, shifting your hips from side to side, rafes cock still lodged deep inside of you.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra

[hhonghu]

You don't have to answer this if it makes you uncomfortable.

But imagine yan!trans!scara babytrapping you because he was scared of you leaving him because he wasn't the Kubokimono that you were in love with all those centuries ago. But you were surprisingly happy that Scara was pregnant, and that you wanted to raise the child with him. And you wanted to celebrate by stuffing his cunt with more of your cum, if only you knew that your darling was far from the naive innocent Kubokimono you once knew.

[Thirst]!

yan!trans!scara is so real for this, absolute girlboss!! what's a better way to get you tied down to him for the rest of your life is a baby ofc!! i researched so this should be an afab!trans!scara ? usage of female anatomy ! correct me if im wrong (bc i feel like i wrote this absolutely wrong and ill rewrite it)!

he would be biting his nails, nervousness and paranoia taking over him as he thinks deeply. there's a possibility you'll still leave him. he was no longer the kabukimono you once knew; sweet, kind, curious, and naïve about the world and of course, you. you just can't let him go, he belonged to you! he was everything to you and he still is! the thought was haunting him, he's yours so don't leave!

he's thinking of ways to make you stay forever: sex? a lot of that and mire. money? you're too humble, money doesn't sway you too much. he tugs on his hair in frustration, racking his brain for anything, anything that won't make you leave him ever. then, a thought pops in.

a baby.

you were soft with children, even back in inazuma. despite you having work, you were willing to look after children when parents would come to you for help. you let them do as they please, running around and playing, even calling for you and him to join. and even at times, they would ask to play house. "kabukimono will be our mother, [name] will be his spouse, and we will be your children!" you would chuckle and agree, cooing how you and him would be great parents to them.

and so he had a plan. he'll have you fuck him pregnant. stuff him full of your cum and reach his womb, ensuring that he'll be pregnant with your child. that's it, it's the perfect plan! all he has to do now is put it into action. he prepared everything; he'll clear your schedule for a whole week and have you fuck him on his most fertile day, just to be sure.

and today was the day!

you were informed and relieved of your workload by scara's subordinates and shooed to his quarters, "lord scaramouche says he awaits you in his room." you headed for his room all the while wondering why the sudden vacation. maybe you've been working too hard? you had been busy with fatui work lately so it could be that he did this so he can have you all to himself. cheeky boy. you finally arrived and knocked on his door, "scara, i'm coming in." you twist the knob and head inside, "it's quite nice of you to let me relax for the week, we should—" you freeze, eyes landing on a beautiful sight.

scara was sitting down on the edge of the bed, legs crossed and wearing a pretty purple lingerie that matches his eyes, straps and lace hugging his body beautifully. you stare and eye him all over while scara was absolutely bathing in your attention, smirking. "like what you see, [name]?" he stands up and approaches you, his steps coquettish and cunning, his hips swaying and you watch. he reaches his finger to trace the outline of your jaw to your chin and you still stare, stunned of what he was doing, how he was acting. scara wraps his arms around your neck, his chest coming in contact with yours. "keep staring, i like this.." he mutters, taking in the attention you're giving him. it was working!

you finally snapped out of your daze, your hands coming up to his waist and squeezing it. "well, aren't your surprising?" you smile, "does this come with the vacation too?" he knew what he was doing to you, getting himself all prettied up all for you was one of the things that gets you going. scara nods, lips curling into a smile, "my [name] has been working so hard to stay by my side, surely you deserve a reward, no?" his body sways, tempting you more. "come to bed and let me help you relax."

"guuhh— ohhhh, fuck♡! [name]! hahh—" scara pants, skin slapping heard in the room and his moans getting louder. "that's right, darling. ride me mmmm— harder," scara's eyes were unfocused, his hips slamming his ass up and down on your cock, his cum dripping down his thighs down to your stomach. you reach for his clit, rubbing frantically and his back arches, his pussy clenching as he feels his orgasm coming. "nghhh— you're fucking my pussy hgnhh— fhuck♡! fuck my pussy so good [name] ah, ah, ah♡!", "my hole was made for you to oooohh— fuck♡! all yours, all yours, all yours!", "yesyesyes, 'm gonna cum, you're gonna— ohhhhh, nghhh— i'm gonna fucking cum♡!♡" his hips comes to stop and he squirts with a pop, his juices drenching your cock and stomach. your fingers still kept on rubbing on his puffy clit and watch in fascination as he jerks around from overstimulation. he was starting to feel tired, orgasm after orgasm washing over his body and you still have yet to cum inside him. he can't have that, he won't.

he regains his composure, he'll have your cum in him if that's the last thing he'll ever do and the rest can come after. he slowly realigns himself on your cock, teasing his hole with your tip. "we're not stopping, [name]." you hear him mutter, "you're going to stuff my pussy with your cum until its overflowing, until you can't fit more inside. we won't stop." he slams down on you, mewling as feels your tip touch his cervix. he leans down his body and went in for a kiss, his hips bringing itself up and down on your cock. he moans into your mouth as he kept going faster, his pussy gushing around you. "mmph— that's it, [name]. fuck into my pussy and nhghh— cum in it, don't you dare stop♡!" he screams, lost in pleasure as you wrap your arms around his torso and slowly rise your hips meet his thrusts, his pussy felt so good around you, felt too good even.

you finally cum inside him, groaning as you feel him tighten around and milk you for all your worth. you can hear him sigh happily and nuzzle in your neck, his ass wiggling as he feels your cum spurt inside him. you catch your breath and thought, so much for relaxing. all the while you were recover, scara was smiling to himself. you finally caved in and he'll finally get you to stay for all eternity.

2-3 weeks passed by (and a whole fuck fest), scara was already experiencing symptoms of pregnancy; from morning sickness to backache, he knew he finally got what he wanted and he couldn't be more happy. you were worried about his constant sickness, thinking you've gotten overboard with your sex with him and had him rest and attended to by trusted subordinates and you (reader is dense idk why get the hint!!!). it wasn't until one night, after a long night of fatui work and coming back to check in on him, scara pats the free space beside him. "[name], come lie down, i missed you today." you obliged, taking your coat off and gently lying down next to him. you wrapped your arm his waist and sighed, "how are you feeling, darling? i was told the doctor came in today, what did he say?" your subordinates seemed to have refused to tell you the diagnosis, telling you that scara forbade them and that he was to tell you instead. you prepared for the worst, thinking of every possibility and dreading if you have somehow put him and his body in danger.

"[name], promise me something first?" you gulp, there it is, it's definitely bad. you nod with no hesitation, taking his hand and intertwining it with yours. "anything." scara smiles, "promise me that you won't leave me. stay with me for the rest of eternity." you nod, "of course i will, i love you, darling. you know that you're my eternity, i will never leave you.", "then lend me your ear." you nervously lean your ear to him and he cups his hand, as if to tell you a secret in a whisper.

"i'm pregnant, [name]."

you stay still for a few seconds before your eyes widens, turning your head to fully face him. scara tries to hold his laugh as you search his eyes for any sign that he was joking, but you can't. "d-darling, you can't—" you sound out of breath, your heart beating in your chest. "did i hear that right? are you really pregnant, darling?" your hand comes to his stomach and caress it, taking him by surprise as he nods. a few tears formed in your eyes before it streams down your face and you gently hug him, kissing the top of his head. scara was stunned but he was overjoyed, were you happy? were you crying because he was pregnant with your child? "my darling, i'm so happy to hear that. i finally get to be a parent with you.." he can hear you exhale in content, your body slightly shaking. but then you snap out of your daze, "wait, do you want this too? i.. i—" panic begins to envelope you, what if he didn't want to have the child with you? but scara consoles you and smiles, wiping your tears away. "of course i do, i want to carry your children, [name]. i want us to have a family together so let this be the start of it." you can't stop yourself from sobbing, hugging him once again and he cries a bit with you, happiness overflowing that night.

after you two calmed down, you begin to lightly discuss the future with him. a new house somewhere quiet, baby names, a new room.. scara was feeling euphoric and couldn't help but stare at you with love. "let's rest for the night, we have a whole day ahead of us." scara stops you as you tried to cover you two with a blanket. "[name]..", "yes? do you need something?" he wraps his leg around you, bringing you close and grinding down on you. "why don't.. we celebrate? i promise we'll be careful, just need you in me.. come on. [name]♡."

what in insatiable boy you have.

sorry for the long wait fgassfsdfsd TT;; i got slapped with work out of nowhere, dw tho i'll be replying to thirst in my inbox so don't fret >:) thank you for the food anon!! i'm looking forward for more thirsts hehee

[andromeddog]

Do you have any tips for drawing soldiers uniforms?

hi anon! really really long, really really rambling answer for u below the cut <3

i have many thoughts! ig the first thing is, what are your intentions with what you want to draw? are you going for complete accuracy, or is it more of a vibe situation? bc you don’t always need to be perfectly precise with uniforms, sometimes just suggesting what’s there is enough. being completely 100% with them can sometimes be distracting or unnecessary…

LIKE HERE FOR EXAMPLE….. in the snafu piece i kind of only hinted at what he was wearing… the belt, the pants, theyre really all over the place. but that’s not what’s important here or what i was trying to depict, so that’s okay! u want to see snaf being crazy, which i got more w shading and color. whereas in the piece w speirs, being precise in what he’s wearing lends itself to the war dog intensity of the whole guy. he wears that helmet proudly and holds tightly to the strap of his gun, very much IN his uniform in this moment

(do i think either of these r successful? idk. looking back on the work ive made and viewing them as complete “””””art”””””””” pieces is wack. am i in art school again. these certainly are drawings, let’s just assume they are worthy of this sort of analysis and that for sake of argument are “successful”)

buuuuuuut u can also go too crazy with pinpoint accuracy haha. like this pic? maybe it was just bc i was using a monoline brush but there was literally no reason to draw every single fold. it makes this drawing incredibly busy and unpleasant to look at. i think im just obsessive and get too invested in the details and miss the forest for the trees. so u get shit garbage like this sometimes, but that’s a me problem. i would just keep an eye on what the purpose of the drawing is!

if it’s accuracy ur going for (which i usually am) then reference is your best friend. look in different places for them, collect them, caress them like a lover, they are very important. after u look at soldiers a lot u can kind of get a feel for how specific uniforms sit on them (watching shows, movies, hell even gifsets if u r extra online like me) but that varies for whatever era ur trying to draw! spending time researching is kind of a big part of the process haha. be willing to scroll through lots of pics and lots of sources, if ur really dedicated to the cause then maybe buy some reference books!

in general i find uniforms are practical, durable, and layered for utility. everything has a purpose, those fifty straps going cross body are usually attached to fifty pouches, each with their own functional use. understanding the different parts of a uniform, their uses, the WHY of an items inclusion helps build the whole look in ur head and translates to the drawing. uniforms are bulkier than i initially expected bc they are meant to fit as many ppl as possible and typically have little to no tailoring (if we’re talking ww2. ww1 was all over the place w uniforms, especially officers, but that’s another ramble for another friday night). each era and each country and sometimes even each soldier’s uniform has its own little quirks. that’s what’s so appealing about research and drawing them for me! isn’t it neat how ppl’s individual preferences shine through even when they all have to wear the exact same thing!!!!

did any of this help at all??? i am chronically incapable of keeping things succinct! but if u read all of this thank you! i love u 🦆✨

[1for5]

yes im changing

paige bueckers x reader

(paige x uconn psychology student!reader)

synopsis: with y/n being in a new environment, still facing rejection, how can she bounce back?

masterlist

chap 4

y/n pov:

okay scratch that. i would have to do all athletes. okay new research:

a comparative research on the academic resilience of students and students part of the basketball team in the university of connecticut.

much better. i can have more focus on the people in my research. and plus, the basketball teams are the most known in uconn, which could make them have different perspectives. but first.. i would have to ask their coach first. i may ask aubrey if she can bring me to their coach, his name is coach geno..?

after their training (and an hour of peyton giggling), i went up to aubrey and told her about my research.

“yeah! i could definitely ask coach geno, he’s in the other room though to get his stuff, but he’ll come back soon” aubrey replied with enthusiasm. “thats great! thanks aubrey. i would also have to ask the men’s basketball coach, but ill check tomorrow since its already late” i mentioned. aubrey and i got to talk a little bit more, aubrey asking me why i was even in their training the first place.

i said that peyton’s crush is in the team, which made aubrey laugh. when we both looked behind to peyton, we see her talking to azzi. smooth ass..

coach geno finally got out of the other room, and aubrey introduced me to him.

“oh coach! this is y/n, and she has a small favor to ask” aubrey says. “hello coach geno! i am a freshman taking psychology, and i wanted to ask if i could have your team to be part of my research” i smiled.

“what’s it about?”

“their resistancy in regards to their school work sir”

“will it hinder their skills?”

“no sir”

“how long will this take?”

“maximum of a month i believe, but it still depends”

“as long as the team says yes and it wont be a distraction, then im all for it. goodluck y/n, and welcome to uconn!” coach geno replied with a small smile. “thank you sir! it means a lot” i smiled back.

i went back to peyton, who was talking to azzi, and introduced me to her. azzi then introduced me to the other players— to nika, kk, paige, and caroline. i guess i still needed a formal greeting even with the event that happened yesterday.

i then proceeded to ask the whole team about my research idea, and they were all willing to help me. just needed to contact the men’s basketball team now.

after small talks, we all headed back to our dorms. i feel better with the team already, they’re all quite playful, just have to ignore that one blonde, paige. we haven’t talked a word to each other, and i won’t mind if we don’t talk at all.

when we arrived to the dorms area, we all bid our goodbyes to some of the members and the others headed to the same dorm building as me. turns out that everyone that has the same dorm as me lives on the same floor as me.. this will be fun. my “floormates” are nika, ashlynn, ice, kk, and paige. azzi along with caroline and the others were at another dorm building.

we all bid our goodnights, and aubrey and i went inside our dorm. we both were too tired, and got unready and head to our beds quick.

“goodnight y/n!”

“goodnight aubs”

the next week

the last days were great. men’s basketball team is on board with my research, and my introduction and rrl is surprisingly done.

today, i will start to interview the women’s basketball team, and i am thinking of doing observations with them as well— like having group study sessions and know their behavior and thoughts.

its now 2pm, two hours before the team’s training, which gives me enough time to interview some people. i text aubrey saying that im near their court, and was asking who i can interview first.

aubrey: paige is free

goddamn it.

oh well, let’s just get this over with. i open the court’s entrance, the team seeing me and greeting me.

“so, who can go first?” i ask the team, i really didn’t want paige, she will just give me negative energy for the rest of the day. she is always so.. negative towards me.

“i dont think we can.. coach wants us to do 25 laps as penalty! but since paige wasn’t there when the team was goofing around.. she’s free” azzi explained. “what did you guys even do that made coach geno be in fumes?” i asked.

“teased coach about paige dating on of his children.. they’re our age though” aubrey steps in. “oh id send you guys to 25 laps as well” i joked. “whatever!” azzi says.

i told paige to come with me the the bleachers, still being nonchalant.

“so where do we begin..” i hummed. i could feel that paige felt awkward

“name?” i started.

“paige bueckers”

“year?”

“im a junior”

she’s 2 years older than me.

“current gpa?”

“3.9”

not bad.

“workloard in school?”

“atleast 5 worksheets and 2 tests per week”

“can you finish them on time?”

“depends”

“what’s your hardest subject?”

“chemistry”

“favorite subject?”

“anatomy”

“okay that’s all for now. we still have more interviews in the future, and a possible group study session with the others. thank you!” i tell paige.

“thanks” paige coldly replies.

after an interview with aubrey, azzi, and the others, i wrapped it up, just in time for them to do their own preps before training. i was looking for a water dispenser as i was thirsty. i passed by the locker room and heard a voice.

“what is she even doing here? can’t she do her studies somewhere else? we don’t need her bro” the voice stated, which i think was pertaining to me.

“paige, just be kind. its a freshman’s research, you know how tough some professors are with the freshmans, they would have to give their best” another voice replied back.

“whatever, let’s just get to practice” paige scoffs. i rolled by eyes and realized that it was my signal to go, i didn’t want them to see me. i quickly got my water and got out of the court, thanking coach geno and the other members who were just sitting on the bleachers.

as i walk, i start to feel discouraged. i just want to do what’s best for me, and a person who doesn’t know me just talks bad about what im doing. i guess i just have to suck it up, i have no time for negativity anyways. just focus on being able to transfer to stanford.

uconn, your star is not-so shining to me.

- zo’s notes: hello, i hope everyone is enjoying reading my fic :)

[graysexualcreature]

before i go into this post i should be specific: i am a matpat fan. i have watched matpat for a long time. therefore, i am an inherently biased perspective.

something i will never understand is the visceral hate for matpat. like mfs will act like they have the biggest slam dunk ever and then pull out something from 10 years ago. like yes there was some questionable stuff back then but people can change as time moves forward. bro is just living his life you don’t have to like his theories you don’t have to watch his videos nobody is sitting you down and tying you to a chair and forcing you to watch his videos. you dont have to make up reasons that you hate him you dont have to go digging for old shit. you also dont have to viscerally hate him because he made a theory and got it wrong i fucking guarantee if he was a much smaller creator nobody would be dogpiling him the way he gets dogpiled.

also: the people who think he is the only one who did the research and work for ALL OF THE THEORY CHANNELS for YEARS is just insane to me. I guarantee you he has a whole ass team for each channel he’s not doing this shit at lightning speed if you see something that looks like it might be a stolen theory then maybe you shouldn’t pin it on one member of an entire team. matpat does not have magic superpowers. calm the fuck down. when a car breaks down you don’t immediately blame the metal shell that surrounds the inner workings. matpat has mentioned MULTIPLE TIMES that scripts and theories are a multiple person effort that involves a lot of input from multiple people. His earlier videos are definitely different but when you look at something from more recent times and try to say that he is the sole creator you just sound fucking ridiculous.

people make mistakes. everybody makes mistakes, but when the internet comes into the equation and stuff gets preserved all of a sudden it’s as if everybody must be infallible as a human being.

also: the amount of rage people have towards him over theories is fucking insane im sorry. i understand being serious about a topic but putting visceral hatred onto a human being who is just as human as you are is not the answer. if the theory is that bad you can easily just change somebody who believes it's mind using evidence he's not some omnipotent being who is brainwashing people into liking his theories. If somebody isn't willing to listen to you then that's a them problem not a matpat problem. Also, this stuff does not matter when you step outside and enter the real world i guarantee nobody in the local park is going to be as worried abt video game theories as you are.

[tuliptired]

Ello! Hope Im not a bother, but i was hoping to make a one-shot request? I looked around and it looks like you are still taking requests as of the moment, very sorry if I missed something.

Anyways, if its not too much trouble, could you write Egon Spengler x Baker Y/N? I think that would be a fun dynamic!

If thats not to your liking, what about Egon x Shy Y/N?

Love your works, I check the ghostbusters tag daily to see if youve written anything new. Thank you so much, love ya have a great day and night!!!

How Sweet It Is (To be Loved by You)

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Baker!GN!Reader

It's never too much trouble...no idea if I've used this gif before

did yall hear about the SNL biopic btw oh my gahh...

Better formatting on Ao3! (italics)

Your relationship started with a cupcake. As the story goes, told lovingly by your now mutual friends, there was a bust at a retirement home, and one of the caregivers insisted on sending the boys home with a treat in addition to the hefty bill. Demanded, actually, practically shoving a metal tin full of pastry into Egon’s hands as he attempted to discreetly sneak away.

“Jackpot,” Peter leaned over, happily surprised as nimble fingers opened the lid. The smell of sugary sweets wafted through the car, prompting Winston to extend his hand to the backseat, palm soon full of muffin. Egon was patient, letting everyone take something for themselves, before finally deciding on a blue-iced chocolate cupcake, sweet tooth waiting to be satisfied.

“Where’d this come from?” Ray, Peter, and Winston stood in the kitchen, confused at the spread of different colored boxes and containers. Upon further inspection, they were full of even more cupcakes, each the same blue iced chocolate flavor. Egon sat with his hands folded on the countertop, unfazed at their reactions to his display like any true man of science would be.

He made a tick mark on a long list of names, clipboard somewhere in the organized, delicious chaos. “If you must know, I’m testing every bakery in the area to find the one I ate that evening. I’ve yet to find it.”

Ray shrugged, taking note of just how many locations he had procured food from. “Not the weirdest thing you’ve done for a result,” he admitted.

“Good food’ll do that to you,” Winston laughed, Peter reaching over to gauge how mad Egon would get if he tried to take a sample from one of his possible matches.

Egon didn’t look up, flipping to the next page. “Go ahead, those are the rejects. They'd end up in the trash, anyway.”

Peter peeled away the paper, going through the motions of ripping the bottom of the cake and placing it over the top of the frosting. “Rejects.” he parroted plainly. “What’re you gonna do when you find the right store? Stand in the window?”

He glared up at him above his glasses. “No, I’ll buy a half dozen and go on with my day,” he unfolded a wax lined box, “so if you could leave me to my research?” Research being, going down a line of cupcakes. They each exchanged glances, before filing out. Egon could be just as tenacious as everyone else, when he felt like it.

Except, that tenacity wavered in the face of unfamiliarity. The only reason Egon was willing to go in your bakery to begin with is because the others had forced him. “Don’t be a baby,” as Venkman had put it. He finally found the match, in fact he had found it a few days ago. But he took a glance at the bustling establishment on the day in which he set out on his own, and got cold feet. Especially when he accidentally locked eyes with the smiling artisan while he just stood in the window.

His friends had managed to shove him towards the counter without a second thought. The same person he’d seen through the tall window was behind the counter now, greeting them all kindly. The bandana you had used to keep your hair in check must’ve been failing to do its job, evident by the flour near your temple, caught in a few strands. Egon’s fingers twitched.

Peter flicked him on the lower back when he failed to respond like a typical customer, making Egon come-to and clear his throat. “May I get a half dozen chocolate?” he asked robotically.

“You may,” you grinned at his grammar, “but, chocolate what?”

Egon’s ability to speak stopped short at his misstep, unable to let out anything but unintelligible stammers, and Egon never stammers. “Cupcakes, please,” Ray spoke up for him, catching wind.  

You nodded, moving to the display rack to place his order in a smaller, blue box. Peter wasn’t content with how smoothly this interaction was going as he watched on with a bored expression. “Funny story, actually,” he caught your attention through the framework.

You laughed at how it made him look like he was in a horizontal jail cell. “Yeah?”

Peter raised Egon’s stiff arm for him at the elbow. “We walk in one night and catch Egon with at least 20 different cupcakes, trying to find yours ‘cause he missed it so much.” he regaled.

He may have caught you blushing. Were you blushing? He shouldn’t stare at business owners when they were just trying to work. “Well,” you started folding the corners of the parcel, “assuming you liked them- and you guys are pretty important to the city…” You held them out to him with two hands. “Just take them. No charge.”

Egon felt like there was smoke rising from the top of his head, or the espresso machine, as he shuffled out, and you leaned over the counter to call after him: “Come back anytime, for whatever! On the house!” 

The rest happened slowly, but surely, and you enjoyed it thoroughly. On an earlier morning, you and your pubescent employee were handling the typical rush you got around breakfast. Between prepping, a small burn from the oven, packing orders, ringing people up, and a quick trip to the corner-grocery for more milk, you finally had a spare minute to breathe, both hands pressing into the counter.

A blur of beige and a trail of smog put an end to your mini-relaxation, and you hurried over to the door. “Stantz! Spengler!” you beckoned before they could turn the corner.

Like children, they found their way to your storefront, though Egon looked rather apprehensive with a used trap dangling from his gloved fist. “Good morning, guys,” you urged them inside, “did you eat yet?”

“We really should get going.” Egon said after Ray greeted you. Most of the sickly smell from the trap was left outside, and it was too covered up by the scent of sugar and warmth that everyone but you swore clung to the bakery for you to worry about it driving away customers.

You ignored his protests, crossing behind the counter. “Eat in the morning or you’ll crash in the afternoon,” you started pouring two cups of hot coffee.

“There’s no need-” you interrupted with a hand. “We’re fine,” he continued anyway.

Ray’s stomach betrayed his friend’s wishes. “Something small wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Listen to your friend, Egon.” you warned, adding a bit of whipped cream to both cups to literally sweeten the deal. “You need to eat.”

He frowned, but you didn’t care much. “We have a Class lll in our hands, now is hardly the time for-” you cut him off again, stuffing his mouth with a blueberry danish. As he annoyedly chewed, you procured a paper bag from the back, wrapping his hand around the handle.

“Too bad I already packed for everyone,” you patted his knuckles when he acquiesced, catching sight of what was inside with a small smile. “You’re crabby when you’re hungry.”

Egon opened his mouth to respond, but the contraption in his left hand started beeping. Are they supposed to beep? You’d never seen them do so before. It seemed as if the two experts themselves hadn’t either. 

You stood on your toes to give him a parting kiss, Ray grabbing both paper cups in the meantime before you could start shooing them out. “Go, go- don’t let that thing loose in here. And swing by later, okay?”

He followed your lips when you pulled away, but the ominous beeping drove him to the door and down the street. You sighed to yourself, already missing him. None of the regulars in your store seemed to pay any mind to the local celebrities- or the weapons they had strapped to themselves, as Egon floated in and out during different parts of his day at least once a week.

Egon knocked on the glass door, soft light and music slipping through as he got your attention. When you let him in, the distinct whiff of cookies enveloped him like the warm temperature of your little shop. It was his favorite part of visiting you, apart from actually getting to see you. “How was today?” he spoke over the soft jazz that you apologetically turned down.

“Better,” you were about to run a Crisco covered hand through the front of your hair before you stopped yourself, “better.” Egon only then noticed how many cookies you had managed to make for having only closed an hour ago. “I have more in the oven,” you said from the back wall with the smaller front oven while you hurriedly took out a hot tray with a mitt and put a cool one in.

It wasn’t just cookies, but brownies, sweetbreads, and cinnamon rolls. “Are you…restocking?”

You laughed, a quarter manically and another quarter incredulously, and started to peel cooked pastry off of baking sheets. “If anything, we have too much stock.” you paused your fervor, frowning at your display case’s abundance. “I’ll send you home with some- give them to your clients or eat them or something.” 

You were barely done shutting the sliding glass when you popped up, clapping your hands once and frankly startling him. “Pies! I know what I need to make now! I’ll make some pies and maybe a cake and we can head home.” Before you could disappear into the kitchen, he stepped in your way, two soothing hands on your shoulders.

“You’re stress baking.” 

Egon couldn’t hide his amusement at your familiar despondent expression, as if you were coming down from a high. “Was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” he stroked up and down your arm, steering you to the stool you kept tucked away behind the register and pulling up a chair for himself on the other side. “What’s wrong?”

He enjoyed the chairs you had because of their structural variety, and the fact they didn’t make him feel like a giant. 

You slumped your head into your since-dried hands, groaning out of frustration. “It’s just the season, I guess. A ton of people come by, bringing their dumb boyfriends-” you paused, realizing what you said, “no offense.”

“None taken.”

“-And they come looking at our stuff to see if we’re good enough for, like, baby showers and weddings and all that.”

A car passed by on the street, definitely above the city’s speed limit for a business area. “I assume that’s a good thing?”

“It’s great,” you sat up, “we want people to pick us. But it means everything has to look great, and we have to get ready for half a million custom orders.”

That would be a partial reason for the sudden uptick in inventory, combined with the pressure to make a good first impression. But you were working so aimlessly hard that you looked crazed, all by yourself. “Your employees aren’t willing to help?” Egon questioned.

You stood, addressing the heaps of different cookies, the only creation of yours without a home. “They are. But they’re kids- I can’t work them that hard. It’s probably illegal, too. They won’t be around for the next couple of days anyway.”

He could sympathize with your plight- backed into a seasonal corner that business owners just had to get used to. “I’m sorry,” Egon offered, “I’m not as skilled in your trade, but is there anything I can do to make it easier?”

You smiled your first genuine smile since he arrived. “There is, actually,” your tone was excited as you moved to the freezer, “just let me finish these and I’ll fill you in.”

Egon would’ve stopped you from continuing to try to work, but he relaxed when you brought out pre-prepared bags of icing and miscellaneous confectionaries, knowing that decoration was the more relaxing aspect of the art. 

He both sat in comfortable quiet as you put all your focus into icing, piping, and arranging.  It was pleasant, knowing that you had something so ardent that you cared so deeply about, even if it was dismissed as a mere hobby while you were close to collapsing to exhaustion in the bakery you financed on your own. It was a mix of career and craft- one of the many reasons he had grown to give you his utmost respect.

You were eventually done, making the task of embellishing countless treats look effortless. You handed him a cookie, which he gladly took. “I need you to be honest,” you counted on his affinity for sweets. He took a bite, surveying the dessert after the initial pleasure your baking always brought him.

“Raspberry compote,” Egon took a second, “and coffee icing.”

“Good job!” you scribbled something down on a spare slip of paper after springing the register drawer open. “Rating?”

“10/10”

“Honest.”

“That is my honesty. But if you wanted the unweighted scale, 7/10. The two flavors balance each other very well.”

You passed him another, which he promptly ate without being asked to. “On the crumbly side. Is that intentional?”

A nod. “A little less butter than usual. Old ladies tend to like those.”

He put a hand on his chin contemplatively. “6/10- marmalade. A softer version would get a higher placement, it would be a shame to lose interest from those who don’t fit the demographic.”

You copied down what he said, seemingly happy with any sort of feedback. “And here I thought I’d have to help you cross the street.”

The night went on like that for a while, and Egon grinned to himself at the parallels he had only just noticed- another mix of career and craft, now inquiry and indulgence. You looked like a proper scientist- or, a food scientist, scrawling down notes and numbers that he’s sure only you would be able to decode. He felt the corners of his face dimple in a familiar smile while he watched you- something he’d found himself doing much, much more.

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, suspicious of his joy.

“Nothing,” Egon excused himself, “you just look incredibly nice.”

 You squeezed the hand that he rested on the counter, silently appreciative. “Thanks- for that, and for helping me out. Let me get you home before you barf.”

He’d learned to live with the indecencies, helping you tidy up the best he could without breaching the system of organization you had. When you returned from the back with your personal things, he let you loop your arm around his for the semi-short journey home.

Egon only let you go so you could lock the door, and he stared at your back for the entire time that you did. “If I were having a baby shower, I’d come here.”

There were practically stars in your eyes. “Really?” 

“Really.” You planted a gratuitous kiss to the side of his face, before setting off towards his apartment.

Over the course of a few days, your boyfriend showed up earlier in order to take you into work, and keep you company as you tried to quell the impending anxiety. When regulars faded out and new faces came in- possible clients, you assured him with a non convincing tone that he had a job, too. If your ego was bigger, you’d be bragging about the compliments and inquiries your store got, not to mention the referrals to friends regarding special upcoming events. But, entrepreneurship had taught you to be humble, so you were resigned to spilling it all over a phone call to the firehouse.

One morning, you forced Egon out before anyone could arrive, asserting that he had a day off and he should find a way to relax. He asserted that this was how he relaxed, but you had a key to the front door and he didn’t, so that solved that. 

Not long after he was gone, you were hastily punching his number in, bouncing on your heels and out of breath.

“Hello?"

“Rich girl- eloping- needs a wedding cake- lots of money,” you forced out like you were out of air, already seeing dollar signs in tandem with the minutes you were losing. “But I have a crazy favor to ask.”

Very soon, “OPEN” was flipped to “CLOSED (sorry)” and you put on your serious business apron. Egon stood behind you, unsure of what to do as you jumped from here to there, double checking that you had absolutely everything you needed.

You only stopped when you realized that he wasn’t in the proper attire. “C’mon, Spengler,” you chastised him while cinching the strings of a smock around his waist.

“Game plan,” you led him to the back where all the industrial sized equipment was, “three tiers, green and pink, white cake. She gave me creative freedom, so I’m kinda flying blind.”

Egon’s eyes were on you as you laid out a few large bowls. “Have you ever…made a wedding cake on such short notice? I assumed they take days.”

“They do! And they’re the one thing I swore to never sell!” He looked disappointed in you, but you weren’t fazed, grabbing both of his hands. “$1,500,” Egon’s eyes widen as you continued, “think of what that could buy.”

He pushed up the bridge of his glasses like a flustered schoolboy. “That’s…a lot of copper wiring.”

“So many new mixers! And without the down payment! That’s why we need to start while we already have the time.”

Realistically, it was more of you starting everything while Egon was subjected to measuring or throwing away eggshells. But, you eventually gave him bigger responsibilities, as there was no way you’d be done in time for the impromptu-wedding if you worked one-by-one. 

You turned from what you were doing after instructing him to mix the batter for the top layer, being met with his bare forearms, dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“What?” Egon noticed your commotion halting. “Am I overmixing?” 

You didn’t answer, still staring at his toned arms. He should help out more often- your stand mixer cutting out on you must’ve been a blessing in disguise. Your blatant ogling was cut short when he stopped his ministrations, resting the whisk against the lip of the bowl.

“Don’t get distracted.” He tried to sound condemnatory, but it was hard to feel scolded when the scholar had on one of your teenaged employee’s spare pink bibs around his front and he was almost bent over the edge of the counter space in the midst of his focus.

You could breathe a little easier when the timer went off for the tiniest layer’s completion in the biggest oven. You took the searing pan out carefully, and your worry spiked again when you saw how dark the unfrosted dessert was along the top. You went through a list of things that might’ve gone wrong-  was the oven at the right temperature? Setting? You definitely let it bake for the right time. It wasn’t until you saw a pair of little cylinders, tucked away in the havoc, that you put two and two together.

“Which one of these did you use?”

Egon looked like a mix of confused and concerned. “This one, baking soda.”

That’s how he got put out your kitchen for a considerable amount of time, until he knocked at the round window separating you both.

“Are you sorry?”

A pause. “Not anymore than I was 20 minutes ago.”

“I’m locking the door.”

He was allowed back in after a long and rehearsed apology. Soon, all tiers were baked, except for the base, and you were aching all over. The whole cake process never got any less demanding on you.

Egon must’ve seen how you stretched your arm across your chest before you tried to continue on anything. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’ll be fine- just sore.” you answered truthfully, before slightly jumping at the feeling of hands wrapping around your middle.

“Take a break,” he herded you to a folding chair you kept in there- the only chair. You were slotted in between his knees, thoroughly confused. He only got like this every blue moon.

It did feel great to be off your feet for a second, despite your cushy sneakers. “What’re you getting at?” 

His strong hands made work of your tense biceps. “Nothing lascivious. I just think you should save your energy for the important part,” you stifled a noise at his doctoral tone and the way his thumbs kneaded at the space in between your shoulder blades, “and you’ve been working very hard.”

“Baking makes you a freak,” you scoffed, but hedonistically let him continue to dote on you.

Soon it was time to keep moving, attractive masseuse or otherwise. You put Egon in charge of coloring the buttercream while you ran out to the store for the second time in only a few days, making a mental note to use some of the bride-to-be’s payment to keep a consistent supply of the little things.

When you returned, though, it wasn’t as you had expected. You picked up the metal bowl full of neon icing incredulously. “I said green, not snot!”

“I made green,” he didn’t budge, not seeing how gaudy this would look in the middle of a reception hall.

You pushed a finger in between his brows. “You’re such a guy,” you remarked, regardless of your own gender, as you hassled him out of the way. “Watch.” 

With a bit of red, the bright green dulled into a paler color, fit for a wedding. “Can I trust you with pink?” you asked as if he was a child.

Egon’s expression was unreadable. “No promises.”

Half of the green was shoveled into piping bags when he was finished, presenting the baby pink mixture to you like a project would be presented to a teacher. “That’s better,” you started, taking the bowl while he kept the spatula. You’d assumed that Egon was going to wash it or scrape off the excess or something, but your eyes squeezed shut as something cold and tacky hit your nose.

Frosting, pink frosting. His audacity. You took the green spatula, getting him back on the cheek. That led to him getting you back on the forehead, ear, chin, and eventually some strays ended up in the corner of your mouth, which he was more than happy to take care of. Baking really made him a freak, you thought. You probably shouldn’t be kissing over someone’s wedding memorabilia, but you shortly noticed that was the icing for each tier and its decoration. You lost an hour cleaning and starting from scratch on the buttercream, steering clear of each other in a respective corner each.

You had another hour to eat a late dinner while each tier chilled in the freezer, setting the white icing you painstakingly leveled to their surface area. When you returned, it was time for the assembly, the second most dreaded process. “I’m scared,” you confessed, just about to push down the first dowel.

Egon got eye level with the top, squinting. “You’re just about perfect.”

Your nerves got the better of you. “How can you tell?” 

“I calculated.”

He was to keep calculating until all three cakes were secure on each other, bringing on the actually grueling part: decoration. You could design anything easily, after years of practice on your skills and ability to freehand- but a wedding cake was just so intimidating. That was part of the reason you vowed to never try again, how easy failure was staring you down in the form of little white fondant flowers. Egon let you take the reins on this, disappearing from your narrow field of vision. You honed in your knowledge of swirls, mini roses, and the drape style that was still in fashion among traditional couples. You were bent in all sorts of ways to make sure every bit of sugar that left the tip of the plastic bag came out perfect, for a perfect pair of newlyweds. Or newlyweds with perfect pocketbooks.

Time got away from you when the final detail was placed, and you stepped away like it was a bomb. “Is it done? Are we done?” you looked for confirmation. “How does it look?”

Egon’s torso stopped you from running off somewhere. “It looks perfect.”

The giant thing was stowed away to wait until you were scheduled to drop it off the next morning, and a weight was taken off your chest. You let the faucet run over materials, mind somewhere else with the rush of running water.

“It’s so sweet when it’s all done,” you spoke up, scrubbing crusted batter off of a tin, “weddings feel so magical.” 

You thought back to the agreement you made with your boyfriend of a handful of years: nix a big ceremony, celebrate with friends when the time felt right. The time always felt right to you; you’d drag him to the courthouse at the drop of a hat. Perhaps there was an even right-er time out there, written somewhere in your future.

Egon wiped down all the surfaces. “I agree.” he voiced from across the counter, taking a pause. “You’re not…angry with me? For taking as long as I am?”

You laughed at that, drying your hands. You crossed over to him, a hand on his chest. “Not at all. I trust you.” He had ditched the tie at some point after you had to make a new batch of icing. “If you’re offering…”

“Give me some more time to make it special.”

You brushed away some of his hair that had come loose in the heat of your scullery. “How much more time?” your voice was soft.

Egon thought about it for a moment. “What’s 5 more years?” He laughed heartily at the groan you let out, resting his head on yours.

“Really?” your voice broke over the phone. “I’m sorry…I’ve never- I don’t know,” you forced yourself to take a shallow breath, “I’ll work on getting your deposit back.”

You didn’t know what to think or feel when you ended the call, but thoughts of wasted hours, materials, lost profit, all flooded your mind as you attempted to calm yourself. You rested your head underneath where the phone was mounted on the wall, rubbing at your temples to sedate an oncoming headache.

“What happened?” Egon asked at your back, with you again in the early morning as he scored another day off. You didn’t turn to face him, trying your best to blink back embarrassing tears.

“She canceled. We made the cake for nothing- there’s no wedding, I-” 

Egon was on a knee, in the middle of your homely bakery. Your frustration evolved into pure confusion. “What’re you-”

There was a blue, velvet box in his hands with a glinting band inside of it. Before he could get a word out, you were on the floor too, tears free flowing. “You can’t do this now,” you clutched the fabric of his pants when he moved to hold you. “I look horrible.”

His free hand dried your tears, though more would keep on appearing in their wake. “I’m sorry this is so overdue.”

Your hands gently held onto his jaw to know this was real. “When was the right time?” 

“A long, long time ago. I just needed to find a way to make it special.” He looked hesitant before continuing, “I hope you don’t mind having made your own wedding cake.”

You blinked. “You’re the worst!” you joked exasperatedly, falling with him into a hug on the floors you were happy you mopped. “That was all you?”

“Why do you suppose her down payment was a multiple of 18?”

“They didn’t.” 

“Consider it a group gift, I suppose.” Egon smiled underneath you. You sat in the giddy silence of two people, soon to be wed, when he gingerly asked the question

“Will you?”

Your boyfriend- fiancé, went through so much trouble to make the moment one you could look back on happily. Who could refuse?

“I will.”

[queerfortress2]

Oh my god, I loved the way you described the support classes in an argument, I feel like it was totally spot-on. Would you be willing to write how the other classes would be in an argument, as well? Or, at least maybe the defence classes?? Thank you and have a wonderful day! 🥰

another engineer (technically) one, im in heaven. also, thank you! (also so very sorry for how short it is, my brain is so very very fried from art fight.) — mod engie

GN!READER X DEFENSE CLASSES ; ARGUMENTS

DEMOMAN

out of all of them? he is the best. he can actually recognize that he is wrong in an argument after the fact and apologise, which is crazy by mercenary means. after all, most of his problems are solved by alcohol and bombs, but he cares about you enough not to blow you up, so be thankful for that.

that being said… he’s also drunk most of the time, so the former may not even apply when you’re arguing. he most likely won’t recognise he’s even arguing— hell! he might not even remember he’s arguing halfway through and begin talking about a completely unrelated topic. it’s kind of difficult to continue from there, considering he’s either too drunk to recognise you, sleeping, or taking another swig out of a comically large bottle.

"Aye..! I know y’er mad aboot th’ match but in—" His glassy eyes looked around, almost not at you, rather your general surroundings, his leg limp slightly. Be tilted to the right as he looked towards the fireplace of the lounging area, stumbling slightly, "—Wh’teva’ ‘s really jus’ ah… hic!—" Almost on cue, the man had practically fallen, stumbling over, falling asleep momentarily. The second his body loses balance, you seem to have been forced by your instinct to catch him. The impact between him and your arms almost knocked you both over, but thankfully he slowly rose back up to his feet and looked you in the eyes. Unfortunately for you, he already forgot about the argument, and began incoherently babbling about how he missed being this close to you. ..Maybe bring it up another time. One of the rare hours when he’s sober.

when he's sober afterwards i imagine its a lot easier to have a conversation with him, after all he's usually willing to admit he was in the wrong, and a lot of the time, its not a big argument. he's just not a man easy to anger. while the support classes are much easier to aggravate. a common theme seems to be the defense class men are just a loooooot more patient. (also a lot more apologetic)

ENGINEER

its genuinely really hard to argue with this man because he is (most of the time) correct. even if it is an argument you thought you knew all about he's INFURIATINGLY on top. why? well, he does his research really. he's not as willing to win silly little debates but when it comes to much more serious decisions being made. or, say, doing something utterly STUPID at work that could've gotten you killed. yeah, the respawn exists, but darn it that don' mean you can play with it!

so when you, say, fuck around with dangerous technology, he will 100% start arguing. not because he hates you for messing with his latest trinket, but because you could've gotten seriously hurt! that's not a game he's willing to play. unlike the medic, he doesn't often fuck around with satan, the poor texan doesn't want to grow more grey hair in his... beard? eyebrows? i don't know, dell is practically bald.

"WHAT were you THINKING?" The Texan dropped his hard hat onto the desk beside him. The man works late nights to make sure no one gets royally fucked by that dangerous machine his Grandfather created a few generations before, and you're skipping out of it like it's a playground? It's safe to say his blood pressure suffers due to your recklessness. Though it was clear his volume was unwarranted, he finally started over with a long sigh, talking at a normal volume. "Y'know that thin' wasn't always 'dere? Dontcha? Don't get too comfortable with that thin'. I don' wanna see you get hurt, y' hear me?" Dell really didn't want to hear your side of the argument, after all, in his mind there was no reason in hell OR heaven for you to just casually run at the flames of the opposing Pyro for 'funsies'. Imagine how it is for him to see you die in numerous ways on the battle field. It AIN'T NICE, to say the least.

no matter how long the argument went on, he would eventually shut you down with a good 'don't pull that shit again' and move out to take a lap. he takes a lot longer to cool down than the other two defense mercenaries, mostly because whenever he argues genuinely, it gets rather personal. even if to you it seemed rather 'impersonal' and 'professional' feel-y, in his heart it was because all the machinery is what gives his family their name. whenever he sees someone messing around with it? it genuinely ticks him off.

HEAVY

man of little words argues the least, mostly because, unlike engineers, everything is rather impersonal. he's definitely heard it all, and while i don't think he apologises as often, it's also just difficult to get him to argue THAT BADLY. the most you get out of him is maybe two words telling you not to do something, and even then there's not that much room for argument is there? you either do what he's asked of you or you don't. both are things he can't quite control. he's just as stubborn, as you can tell he just does his own thing, only following directions when he can see it's vital for his or others' survival.

not impossible to argue with him, however. there are times when you can get him to argue, but its usually not anything important. perhaps you had a different opinion on how a cliffhanger was supposed to be interpreted? now we're getting somewhere. maybe you have a rather negative imagine of fyodor's brothers. he's not gonna let you pass without explaining why.

"I just didn't understand what the Father was supposed to mean in all that!" You may have exclaimed as you sat across from the largest mercenary on the team, yet sat composed in a comfortable sofa chair, with small glasses and a comically small book in hand. He wasn't usually seen like this, after all, most people see him screaming violently on the field. It's only this side that you see most commonly late at night. The way you seemed to speak of it was rather surface-level. Which, not to blame you, it's a Russian novel, not many are reading it at all. Heavy never owned books in English. So it's really just for you to 'suck up and take' while reading with him. Thankfully, he's taught you enough to have you fill in the blanks with common sense. Perhaps it was just American society getting to you. Back at home, the meaning was a lot easier to grasp, knowing that most were under a similar crushing situation under the new rule. At least in Russian society, where a lot of knowledge is needed to even begin to understand the book, the brothers' differences were clear in what they represented and what their father represented, especially in the modern day with the uprising and new government, filled with Soviet control. The man stared lost in thought at you, which is mighty intimidating on its own, before actually speaking up. "Ah, no." He simply shook his head, leaning forward in his chair for you to hear him better, "He uses father in metaphor not..." He snapped his finger attempting to remember the English word for his sentence. "Literal. Father mean more than just caretaker. Mean oppression." It sounded as if he were to continue before he simply sat back and relaxed back into his chair.

it didn't exactly feel like an argument, in fact it felt more like he was informing you. but that's genuinely the closest i could ever imagine him getting to an argument. he just doesn't seem like that type of guy.

[pinazee]

And down the stretch comes murder

I wanted to take this moment to highlight the adorable child actors they got- Liam James and Carlos McCullers II. They are so perfectly cast as Shawn and Gus and they do such an amazing job! Im so impressed by them 👏👏

The whole spitball incident really highlights the differences between Shawn and Gus’ ethics. Shawn feels guilty for thinking he got the wrong spitter and ruined Jimmys life while Gus actually did it and feels no remorse at all. Perhaps it’s because Jimmy tortured Gus more, but it’s also come up a few other times i believe, that Gus is not above revenge nor is always willing to do the right thing if it interferes with his safety or his own code of justice, whereas with Shawn it’s like he can’t rest until he’s made things right. This, in addition to the ways he looks out for people (helping Lassie solve a case without him knowing, helping juliet find some kids without getting paid, standing between Gus and a gun), I think is why i tend to be more drawn to Shawn. I love tender-hearted morally just characters. Im not saying he’s always riding the high horse (pun intended), simply that at the end of the day you know he’s going to do the right thing. Don’t get me wrong, i love a morally ambiguous character too, and if I’m honest Gus’s outlook is certainly more realistic, but if i had to pick a favorite, i want the reliably good and wholesome over the self-serving. Not that im saying Gus is selfish at all, but of the two Shawns more our hero, even compared to his own cop father. I think Juliet is the only one who comes closest to matching that above and beyond heroism. I think the only reason she’s a step below is because Shawn simply notices others more. Thats all. If Juliet had Shawns abilities she’d be just as on top of it as him, probably more so. Actually she might get overwhelmed by seeing it all and not being able to help everyone. I think it’d be really hard for her to ignore sometimes. Which, okay I’m going down a tangent, but do you think Shawn had to learn to shut it off sometimes or like, learn to walk away? Cause i imagine day to day Shawn’s seeing people dealing with grief, abuse, or pain and with as kind as he is, it must be hard for him to ignore. Like if you’ve ever seen Daredevil, I’m imagining a less dramatic version of that haha

Henry will take any opportunity to point out Shawns failings or try to make him feel less than. Shawn tells him he’s there for a case and instead of asking him about it, Henry goes right back into you never could be a good handicapper because you lack the patience and follow-through it takes to put the time in and research. Also, the line “i let him talk to me” just doesn’t sit right with me even if the guy did turn out to be a skeeve. This kind of stuff makes me think Shawn either learned how to respect people from his mother or refused to treat people like his father. Probably both, though i hate to give her credit for anything haha

Look at his smile when he sees Lassie feed the horse. He’s so warmly amused by him. I wasn’t a Shassie shipper originally (as i just didn’t ship ppl in ye olden days) but i think I am now. I see it guys, I get it haha

These scenes are what makes the episode for me! I love them! We get to see both Shawns interacting and how he utilizes his vast memory, taking a peak into his mind palace so to speak. Plus he literally answered that common question of if you could go back in time what would you tell your younger self? (“Think big!”) I know they never really intended for this to be like a deep scene (nor expected certain fans to overanalyze it haha) but i like how he approaches the kid version of himself with a certain degree of amusement. Like I imagine if i was seeing my young self I’d probably be rolling my eyes at my sheer stupidity, but Shawns a lot kinder to himself haha Also little Shawns line “I thought I’d be bald by 20” was fucking gold! I wish I had better words for why this works so well but all i have is that it does and its brilliant.

Nice try Psych, your Canada is showing ;)

Heres some completely irrelevant info. The difference between a dreamcicle and a creamcicle: both are orange flavored, but dreamsicles had an ice milk center while a creamsicle was ice cream. And dreamsicles are no longer made.

I like this addition to the background. Its so cute. (Sidenote: this screenshot makes it seem like Shawn is the babyfaced assassin)

P.S This is the second episode ive seen him hold this frog. That is all.

[path-of-grass-and-leaves]

How to Handle Difficult Spirit Communication

UPG Warning: All of this information comes from my personal practice and is not universally true.

To start, spirit communication can be challenging when done solely through divination, but that doesn't mean it's impossible. For beginners, I suggest researching how to sense and perceive spirits. After a while you'll likely begin to develop your own personal methods.

That being said, you don't need to have highly developed spiritual perception in order to communicate. This is where divination comes in. It can be difficult and sometimes frustrating but the more you practice, the easier it will become.

Let's dive into some of the common causes of unsuccessful spirit communication:

You don't know who you're reaching out to or why.

I think this happens more often among beginner practitioners. It was definitely one of my first mistakes when starting. You want to get into spirit work so you dust off your divination tools and start searching for the first spirit willing to talk to you. This IME has resulted in spotty or inconsistent communication and downright unpleasant experiences.

You should know why you're opening channels for communication. Are you attempting to contact a specific individual? Are you searching for a spirit guide or familiar? Are you seeking information or help with a working? Maybe you just want to honor your house or local land spirits. Maybe you suspect that a spirit is trying to get your attention and you want to find out why.

Whatever the reason, you want to make sure that you have a vague idea of who you're contacting and what your intentions are. One thing that I've found when reaching out without direction is that sometimes several unrelated spirits will come through, tying up the lines and confusing the reading.

Divination method is too limiting.

Some spirits prefer specific divination methods so it's important to experiment. Not getting results while using the pendulum? Try something else, like automatic drawing/writing, shufflemancy, or scrying. Tarot meanings not lining up? Try reading the images or elements and numbers instead, or adding an oracle deck to the mix.

I find that using two or more techniques at one time yields the best results. This includes asking for signs and performing dream work or spirit travel.

Results are being overlooked

I always make sure to write down results during divination. Otherwise it's very easy to miss out on key information. Let's say that I'm doing some bare bones spirit identification. I choose to use tarot and shufflemancy. During the session I notice that I'm pulling a lot of wand cards and many of the songs mention fire in some way. So, okay, now I know that this spirit is likely connected to the element fire. Good enough for now.

The next day I ask a follow-up question and don't get any results. This is when I would go back to my notes and review them. It's possible that my question was answered during the previous session and I had overlooked it while focusing on the more obvious information (the fire themes), and the spirit is frustrated with having to repeat themselves.

Questions are too broad or too restrictive.

Let's go back to general identification. I break out my tarot cards and ask, "Who am I speaking with?" and the cards that I pull aren't making sense. In my opinion this question is too direct and open-ended. I might want to rephrase it and ask something like "Which of the images on these cards best represent your preferred form?".

If successful, I would at least have a general idea of appearance and go from there. I might take note of additional details like the suit of the card, it's elemental and planetary correspondence, and assigned meaning.

I would avoid yes/no questions completely. In my personal experience they're always inconsistent, frustrating, and require a lot of guesswork.

Certain actions are required for contact.

Depending on context, culture, folklore, personal path, etc., some spirits may require that you perform a certain ritual or provide an offering before they will speak or work with you.

Now I'm not suggesting you leave offerings for just any random spirit, but there are some situations where it's appropriate. If contacted by an unknown spirit, for example, I would skip all forms of veneration and go straight to divination. But if I were to try and work with, let's say the spirit of my local river, I would have my offering ready before introduction.

You're communicating too often.

Just like any activity, spirit work takes energy. Overdoing it can and will result in burn-out.

If your attempts at communication are unsuccessful you might just need a break. Make sure to step back often and focus your attention elsewhere, like self-care, socialization, and hobbies. Answers will often present themselves after or even during a period of rest.

[generalluxun]

Hey. Asking about how Chloe was abused. My knowldge of abuse is fairly limited to general pop knowledge so I'm curious as to what abuse was done to her.

Okay caveats first:

I am not a medical professional, I am simply someone with a vested interest in the topic who has done more research than the average person.

There are many definitions of abuse. Legal definitions are rarely useful, as they are limited to concrete, provable, gross violations. Just as you can inflict a lot of pain on someone without leaving the marks to prove assault, you can do a lot of damage to a child without it being legally 'provable'. Medical definitions are much more helpful for discussions.

Lastly some level of extrapolation is required as it is a show. We take what we are shown. For example:We actually only have Felix's word that he was ever abused, and his first character traits sre being deceitful and manipulative. We still take his word though, because it's a show. (And also we should give weight to victim accounts!)

So both parents are guilty in different ways. We will start with Audrey, the simpler one. There's clear verbal and emotional abuse demonstrated on screen. Mis-naming your child is a form of abuse:please ask the trans community about the impact of deadnaming even in full grown adults.

Beyond that she is constantly dismissive and belittling of her child- to the exclusion of all else. Style Queen/Queen Wasp is rife with examples. There is also the clear behavior shift in Chloé. The wheeling, approval seeking, hunched posture expecting rejection. This is a *pattern* not a one off. Audrey may live in NY, but no fashion movil would be away from Paris for 13yrs straight. We are simply seeing the most recent interaction. This culminates im a child having to ask 'Why don't you love me mother?' and the response is telling

Audrey barely chokes out the strange word when trying to contradict the question. It takes Marinette literally making them both mad at her to get a bare minimum of interaction on Audrey's part. It doesn't last though. Audrey falls back into her negation behaviors and is now present to inflict them more regularly on Chloé, while also being a constant target for/model of behavior for Chloé. (Seriously it was such a misstep to write Marinette reuniting a victim with an abuser) We know the show itself considers Audrey'ss care as a bad thing because the original script had André divorcing her and takin Zoé because Zoé 'doesn't deserve you' so Chloé being in an abusive parenting situation in Representation is supposed to be 'punishment'(ewww)

André is not off the hook either. People look at him 'spoiling' her and leave it at that. Well, 'spoiling' can in fact be abusive too. Let's look at what we see:

André has been her primary caregiver for 14 years now, so he has had the most responsibility in molding what we see for good or bad(mostly bad). She does learn from him too. Darkblade she proudly announces she learned everything about winning elections from watching her father. He's also excessively arrogant (I'm the symbol of Paris!) and quite willing to abuse his power for his own ends(having Roger round up protestors etc) which explains where Chloé learned where power is to be abused.

André is also extremely neglectful as a parent, extreeeeemely. Let's hit a bunch of points in the order they come to me.

Chloé lives *alone* in a hotel suite. There's no shared space, no family area. It's not even really her room. It's commercial, sterile. Where sre her hobbies? Posters? Even her *colors*? She is so used to being ignored at home that the girl who is loud as heck everywhere else doesn't make a single mark on her living space.

A hotel employee seems to think he needs to step in to raise Chloé. Let that sink in. An employee can see how bad it is and tried to make some kind of change, (he's working against a lifetime of ingrained behavior and is not very good at it himself). He doesn't even think to you know... Get Andre in to do this.

André was unaware or didn't care his daughter hasn't done schoolwork since Sabrina *learned to write*(5/6 yrs old) that is a shocking level of disinterest in your child. 6yr olds aren't criminal masterminds.

Andre supplants actual attention and affection with *stuff* he gives material possessions in *place* of parenting. This is somewhat similar to spoiling but not the same. André's method denies the child something vital. You see- things aren't a substitute for affection/attention, developmentally. And so while they may delight they never satisfy the need. They never validate the emotional attachment. So after the shine wears off, the hole is still there. So, like someone with an addiction, the child needs more, and more, and more. Since the needs are never met, it is never enough. And this is what the child views as *normal* this is simply *how it is*. They rarely know they are being given inadequate care because it's just life to them. Seeing something different in a one off doesn't make a dent vs a whole life.

This sort of thing makes a potent cocktail when mixed with the abandonment issues from her mother too. See- if her mother left, and daddy doesn't pay attention, anyone can leave. This leads to a cycle of pushing/demanding/hurting. The child expects to be left and let down, so they both try to reassure themselves it won't happen, and *make* it happen on their own terms (because they believe deep down it will) so more outrageous demands, because when those demands are met, it shows that you are still 'loved' and when they are not met, then there you go, you are not loved and they will leave you. It's a self-destructive spiral.

You see it play out with her interactions with her classmates and Sabrina specifically. How does she express affection? Gifts. What does she do? Push. Push and push and find the breaking point because if she can make Sabrina actually leave then it shows that she herself is worthless and her mother was right to leave her and her father is right to ignore her. Pretty messed up right? Yeah. Child abuse does horrible things to kids.

We're not done with André yet. Some people might say 'he expresses love for Chloé!' and to that I say- performatively.

André likes the idea of being a father. It's what respectable people do. It looks good on camera. It's someone to love him unconditionally. It's an ally against his wife.(broken home dynamics are horrible too) André just doesn't like having to parent for more than a snapshot.

We can see his interactions with Zoé highlight this too. He's delighted she's here!(a potential person on his side vs his wife and daughter) what's his first parenting advice? 'lock your dreams away and get on with life' A+ André.

What's he do in Queen Banana? He uses his power to let Chloé manipulate the movie *kicking Zoé out of it* This is the guy who is supposed to be supporting her? He only draws the line when it comes to sending Zoé away... Why? He doesn't want to lose an 'ally'. It's power dynamics. Not parenting. Where was he when Zoé was stuck in boarding school? He was going to keep Zoé in the divorce so clearly Mr Lee isn't in the picture, Audrey probably forgot Zoé existed, why didn't André bring Zoé to France and let the sisters grow up together? Oh, right, that might be work.

André likes Zoé because she comes pre-raised(boarding school was probably better than either parent) he doesn't have to put in work and he gets a free good kid to make him look like a father. She's his 'do over' as he throws the one he raised in the trash.

André shows his true colors when he's lamenting to Gabe about his corruption and abuse and blames ot on his 'heartless daughter' you know... The child he raised. The grown man is actually shoving his own corruption and misdeeds onto his child. You really don't need much more than that.

So, via neglect, verbal abuse, and emotional abuse the Bourgeois parents raised an incredibly messed up child. Chloé is not a 'good victim' like Adrien, she doesn't sulk quietly under abuse. She lashes out. She is hurt and angry and she passes the pain on. This is why they call it the cycle of abuse.

The end of Revolution illustrates this perfectly. Audrey throws verbal abuse at her on the plane. Angry that Chloé embarrassed her(not that she did wrong, Audrey loved the power grab) and calls her a loser by implication. You *see* it hit, the physical cringe. Then Chloé immedietely goes to try and pass on the pain. She is hurt and making someone else hurt is the only way to lessen it. She calls Marinette. Marinette breaks the cycle though, and good for her. But the show seems to have forgotten there's still one hurt child in this scene, and it doesn't seem to care.

I'm going to stop here for now. I probably left a bunch out, but I do have other things I need to do. Feel free to ask more questions. Thanks for taking the time to seek answers.

[matan4il]

Im currently doing a simple poll on my other account what Tumblr thinks of a Free Palestine and I say the results so far are a little concerning

And then two comments so far:

ardwolff: That's like saying we give a small chunk of land back to the indigenous American people and keep the rest for ourselves while we "live in peace" -- y'all do realize a Palestine historically was home to Jewish people and can be again if we abolish the Israel - backed apartheid ethnostate. No theocratic ethnostates should exist. They are inherently unjust

beigale-shtuchim: hey buddy what happened to the jewish population in MENA states?

Hi! First off, sorry that it took me so long to reply, I am getting so many asks, and I do not have as much time to reply as I would like, despite doing my best to find it... But I hope you know that I appreciate everything you do!

Thank you so much for doing this poll, and for sharing the temporary results. Do you have the final ones? If so, I hope you consider adding a link to them here.

There are different strategies researched in psychology about how to persuade people to come around to your position. It actually started out with marketing, but can be applied to any campaign aimed to get the public to subscribe to a specific position. One of them is the "foot in the door" strategy, a term that comes from those salespeople who show up on your doorstep, trying to sell you stuff you weren't even looking to buy. Their first challenge is how to keep you from slamming the door in their faces. If they right away offer you to buy something big and expensive, which you don't even need, you're likely to do exactly what they don't want. But if they get you to agree to something small, then they "got their foot in the door," you won't slam it in their faces 'coz you agreed to something small, and now they have you engaged. And the more engaged you are, the more invested you become. If you've already said yes to the small thing, you're now invested, and they can start talking you into why, if you're gonna buy this thing anyway, a bigger and more expensive version makes more sense.

The way it is defined here: "The foot-in-the-door technique (or FITD) is a strategy used to persuade people to agree to a particular action, based on the idea that if a respondent will comply with a small initial request then they will be more likely to agree to a later, more significant, request, which they would not have agreed to had they been asked it outright."

That's what the anti-Israel movement basically did. They started out with a smaller, more reasonable request, for people to care about the "Palestinian problem" (which means they were getting more and more people invested in it), and agree to a Palestinian state alongside a Jewish one. That wouldn't be as hard for people to agree to, especially since Jews themselves had agreed to that notion back in 1947, when they accepted the UN partition plan. Then, once people are invested in caring about the Palestinian problem, the discourse switched to how Israel has no right to exist as a Jewish state, and the only solution is to destroy it. Now all of a sudden, if you really care about Palestinians, then it's not enough to support a two state solution, you have to be against Israel, you have to be against Zionists, you have to be against the Jewish right to self-determination, anything less than that, and you are failing the Palestinians (who by now are depicted as the world's greatest victim, even though there is plenty of comparison data to refute that notion). And you do care about the Palestinians, right? So you gotta be against the Jews. Sorry, Zionists.

Also, I would love to hear what chunk of the land @ardwolff lives on they gave away to native people, while they're so willing to distort the history of Israel and erase the native rights of Jews here, making us the only native nation to have returned to its ancestral land, only to discover the world wants to displace it again. First it was done by the Romans 2,000 years ago through colonialism, now it's "in the name of" anti-colonialism (as its been packaged by your friendly FITD seller), but by punishing a native population, it's playing right into the hands of colonialists still...

I hope you're doing well! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[itsabouttimex2]

saw the notifs that you posted and came running.. IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEW CYOA LETS GOODJJRF Primal Moon was so good too!! rlly enjoyed the way Wu kong had that sort of forcefulness to him,, much love and i cant wait to see your next post!!❤️❤️❤️

Ahhh thank you so much! I hope everyone will like the CYOA- I’ve been plotting things out for a while now, and I’m super excited for it too!

And I’ve been working on Primal Moon for a long time now, so I’m really, really happy to finally get a fic of it out!

Wukong is one of the more demanding, pushy demons during the verdant lunar cycle. He’s been alone in the wilderness with his monkeys for a long time- he’s super excited to have a troop! Wukong wants to cuddle! He wants to groom! He wants to share his food! He wants group naps and shared nests!

It just so happens that this swell of love-seeking behavior comes with a severe loss of inhibitions that he’s never taught himself not to indulge in. And although he’s pretty reasonable in spite of all this… he’s still willing to severely crack down on any intentional disobedience within his ‘troop’.

Macaque is a loner, and he gets along just fine by himself- so the instincts that get brought to the fore are much less severe than Wukong’s. But he still has them, no matter how much he’d like to pretend otherwise. There’s a lot of embarrassment involved in these weeks for him, accepting and giving affection without even realizing it. One moment Macaque is trying to distract himself by reading, the very next he’s snuggled up to you/Wukong/MK, whining for scritches and pats. By the time the time he’s realized what’s happened, he’s already purring on his back, his tail sweeping back and forth in glee.

Poor, poor MK. This kiddo is going to despise himself when all is said and done. After a lifetime spent unaware of his true nature, the first Primal Moon he endures absolutely destroys him.

Usually people have a lot of time spent preparing for this event- even babies and toddlers are affected by the moon, so people can grow accustomed early. As you grow older and stronger you can resist the animalistic urges that rise inside, and some demons/celestials can even suppress their instincts almost entirely- with training and practice.

And guess who hasn’t had so much as even a day to prepare?

So MK goes from gold-hearted goofball to a damn near abuser, beating and pushing and throwing you around because his mind and body are genuinely brand new to this- he doesn’t know what else to do! He doesn’t have the years of acclimation that his friend and family have, the coping mechanism that they’ve learned to employ. And at the end of the week, the viridescence in the skies dies away entirely, leaving him free to see the entirety of what he’s done to you.

And he’s going to hate himself for it.

———————————————————————

Also I had to do a lot of research on animal behaviors for this AU- fun, because it’s my special interest- not fun, because animals are incredibly awful little things who sometimes engage in awful behaviors!

Like, male pigs engage in so much baby-killing. Just so very much. Very little in the way of parental/familial instincts. And unless I base him around an octopus, what am I going to do for Sandy? He’s a river demon- what instincts does fish even have?

[idlenight]

I'm curios- what are the reasons from the demo that you like hg? It can be under the cut if you want to avoid people getting spoilers!

I will use any excuse to blab about HG, you are an enabler anon.

WARNING: Public Revelations Demo spoilers (for route 4.2) under the cut

Secondary warning of a LOT of text lmao.

hgsib variable.... i am obsessed w/ u.

You are Hollow Ground. You wake up in the middle of the night because you're a little parched. You untangle yourself from your polycule to go to the kitchen and get a drink.

There, sitting on your kitchen counter, is the villain that had previously refused to show up to the meeting you invited them to and send their assistant instead. They are in full armor, you are in your robes (a little underdressed for this meeting).

They offer you a cup of your own coffee that they just made.

Personally? I would be alerting my bodyguards polycule to the intrusion. But no HG just, rolls with the punches. I respect that.

But to get into the actual nitty gritty and the Connections(tm) to sidestep, focusing on the friendly + mind conversation because that's what I saw in my run.

In the friendly conversation where sidestep takes their helm off you get so much insight into HG's relationship with their sibling.

"Believe it or not," you start, *if ((suit_terrifying) or (hgterrified))   realizing how absurd this must sound, "I do believe it will be more advantageous to work together than be enemies." "You have certainly proven that you would be a bad enemy to have," Hollow Ground admits. *if hgreveal   "And I'm glad you're being sensible about this." The smile is real, as is the relief.   *if hgmind     "I wouldn't want us to be at odds. Not now."

a boss or hunter also gets this piece of dialogue that im unwell about:

  "Oh I know exactly who would," Hollow Ground says, voice sharper than it has been so far tonight. "Lord Ember. That San Francisco fuck has been making moves on my territory. I wasn't sure if you were one of his plants until tonight."   *if hgreveal     ${hghis} ${eyes} meet yours. Certainty. You're on ${hghis} side in this.

'Certainty. You're on [their] side in this.' <- homie immediately willing to believe step is on their side because they're probably his sibling, why wouldn't they be?

With a thief step, this dialogue comes up

  "Sometimes I can't be bothered though." You stare ${hghim} down, seeing how much leeway you have with your little stunt. "With the whole research thing. Is that going to be an issue?"   "You..." Hollow Ground groans.   *if hgmind     "You really haven't changed one bit, have you?"   *elseif hgreveal     "This feels far too familiar."

and the mindtalk + being defensive:

    "So what?" Your tone matches ${hghis}, because you have never once backed down from an argument. "Are you seriously surprised?"     "I shouldn't be, you always were a little shit." The words are out, flat on the table between you, coins not heads or tails but on the edge, spinning freely.

HG's youngest sibling confirmed to have been a little shit. (this dynamic was made for River 'born to be a shithead little brother' Becker fr fr)

Although my favorite part of the mind talk is this:

  *selectable_if (protected) #"You saved me," I gasp, focusing on that. "Why?"     "You saved me," you gasp, trying to swallow the taste of blood and drowning. "Why would you do that?" $!{hghe} must have known what you were trying to do. You're not sure if Hollow Ground is a telepath, but there is some form of mental powers at play here, that you could feel. Something...     "Hell if I know," ${hghe} @{hgsv lies|lie} and you know that now. Can taste the lie, not because your minds are entangled but because you can see it in ${hghis} eyes.     *if hg_relationship = "dangerous telepath"       "I should have let you drown like last time."       "But you didn't," you retort, wiping your mouth. "You know something."     *else       "Liar," you retort, wiping your mouth.

"You don't know?" You can sense the disbelief, ${hghis} eyes narrowing. "Fuck. Of course. That makes sense. Too much sense." "No it doesn't," you protest. "Do you remember anything?" Hollow Ground leans forward, too insistent now, almost reaching out to touch. You lean back, putting space between you despite the protection of your armor. "About what?" Why are you the one being interrogated? What did you see in there? What did you feel? "Your childhood." The words land heavily, and you almost laugh. As if you were ever a child.

The way that i am obsessed with ["dialogue" he lied] in texts. ALso ugh, HG leaning forward, wanting to touch sidestep. To make sure they're real? to comfort them? to comfort themself? They want sidestep to be their sibling so bad, need it to be true.

In fact is sidestep dismisses it (our memories got entangled. it's nothing more than that), then HG begs them to answer the question anyway, and are very clearly unwilling to let it go even though they won't force the answer because they're at a disadvantage.

  #"No," I say, which is technically not a lie. "Why?"     "No," you say, which is technically not a lie. No childhood unless you count being newly decanted, fumbling your way through the world before your memory implant. "Why?"     "Because you remind me of someone." Hollow Ground looks directly at you, eyes narrowing. "Someone who I thought I had lost long ago. Someone who should be dead."     "Some people don't stay dead forever," you joke with your grimmest smile, but ${hghe} @{hgsv takes|take} it the wrong way, eagerly leaning forward.     "Could it be...?" A pause, ${hghis} fingers tapping nervously against the table. "You would have been in your early teens. There was an... attack. They called it an accident, but nobody was fooled. You had been arrested, they said you suffered an overdose. They never let us claim the body, so I always figured it was police brutality. Didn't want us to see the evidence. I never thought there was a chance that you were alive?"

You can feel the hope radiating from ${hghim}. An old wound, reopened. Someone who loved ${hghis} *if afab   little sister *elseif amab   little brother *else   younger sibling and is now hoping that ${hghe} had been wrong all along. That there is a chance there had been no death. No body. Just someone disappeared into the system for whatever nefarious purposes. Someone who might be sitting at the table across from ${hghim}. Maybe. Hope. The most powerful and addictive of drugs. *if (((amab) and (gender = "woman")) or ((afab) and (gender = "man")))   You know in your heart that it is wrong. Not just because you are a Re-Gene and never were a child. But because the child you saw in ${hghis} mind had been a @{amab little girl.|little boy.} And you never would have been. Not back then.

Hollow Ground loved their younger sibling, Hollow Ground hopes that they are wrong. They want to be wrong, they need to be. For a chance that their sibling can still be alive, sitting in front of them now, breathing.

I could go on but this is already long enough lmao. Thanks for coming to another one of my TEDtalks ✌️.

[jungkookslipring]

Heyy! Love your tk fics! Could i request a lee seonghwa, ler yeosang? You can choose the plot/storyline etc... I don't think i see the seonghwa/yeosang dynamic enough...

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AHHHH

Summary: Yeosang is exhausted and is in need of some cuddles. His oldest brother is willing to provide just that and more.

Pairings: Lee! Yeosang, Ler! Seonghwa

Relationship: Platonic

Side note! I tried to do my research to see who rooms with who and I got a lot of different answers so lets pretend everyone has their own room even though I know they don't hahaha.

Sleepy Sangie

Once all 8 of the guys got home, they kicked off their shoes and didn’t even try to fight for who got to shower first. Practice kicked every single one of their butts today. After an hour it was lights out and everyone was in bed snoring, except for one. Yeosang.

The young one tossed and turned in his bed and as much as he was tired, he couldn't slip into dreamland as quick as everyone else. He has too much on his mind and he was frustrated he couldn't turn his brain off. Yeosang wasn’t one to initiate cuddles, but after today, he had a strong urge to just be held. Everyone in the group, even the younger ones encouraged him to come to them for anything, understanding how shy he could be. Worrying that Seonghwa might be asleep, he oh so carefully knocked on the door, enough to where someone could hear but didn't want to be too loud. There was a questionable “hmm?” on the other end of the door, and Yeosang took that as permission to walk in.

“Hi hyungie,” Yeosang whispered. Seonghwa sat up in his bed.

“is everything alright?” He asked the 99 liner. Yeosang nodded.

“yah im fine, I just wanted to ask if i could maybe cuddle with you?” He asked shyly. Seonghwa’s heart warmed at that.

“Of course Sangie, get in here,” he said as he lifted up the covers. Yeosang walked over to the bed and slowly got under, pushing his way towards the middle where Seonghwa made room. The oldest threw an arm around Yeosang’s waist and an arm under his neck. The younger one cuddled up to his hyung and let out a sigh.

“Sleepy?” Seonghwa asked. Yeosang nodded with his eyes closed.

“Are you sure there’s nothing bothering you?” He asked as he rubbed a hand over his waist, causing Yeosang to twitch a little.

“I guess I’m just worn out from work. It’s nothing extreme I’m just more tired than usual, and it’s getting a little harder to sleep,” Yeosang whispered. Seonghwa nodded as he rubbed his waist again, Yeosang giggling slightly. Seonghwa realized what he did.

“Oh I’m sorry Sangie that wasn't intentional,” he said chuckling to himself, aware of how ticklish Yeosang was. Sangie blushed at that and snuggled further into Seonghwa’s hold. The older one decided an alternative and chose to rub his back so it wouldn’t tickle the younger one as much. Yeosang sighed but would occasionally giggle when Seonghwa would either use his nails to scratch his bare lower back or accidentally stray too close to his side. Yeosang giggled more and more when Seonghwa kept up with these actions.

“I think I know how we can get you to sleep,” Seonghwa sang when Yeosang rolled onto his side to face his hyung. Small giggles started bubbling from his mouth when a hand started scratching over his tummy. He curled upon himself and hid his face in Seonghwa’s neck, trying to be as quiet as possible but the more he suppressed his giggles the more ticklish it became. Yeosang’s arm was still under his body so the one free arm he had was used to cover up his face, grateful Seonghwa couldn’t see how flustered he was.

“Awww let me see that cute face Sangie,” Seonghwa cooed while propping himself on his elbows, pulling Yeosang’s arm away from his face. Yeosang giggled louder when his arm was pinned to his chest, and a sneaky hand gently squeezed his exposed side.

“Is Sangie getting attacked from the tickle monster?” Seonghwa said doing his best aegyo. Yeosang’s sweet giggles filled the room as he squirmed as much as he could on Seonghwa’s bed. He scrunched his eyes shut and hid is face in Seonghwa’s shoulder when fingers wiggled on his torso again.

“So cute,” Seonghwa smirked. He decided to use two hands and latched onto the boy’s sides, eliciting a squeal from Yeosang and another flow of loud giggles that he so desperately tried to muffle behind his closed lips now that none of his hands were free. Once Seonghwa decided Yeosang had enough, he let off and rubbed his tummy with his palm, a content sigh leaving the younger's lips.

"Thank you, Hyung, love you," murmured Yeosang as he was already half asleep. Seonghwa smiled and pulled the younger one close.

"Love you too, Sangie."

...................................................................................................

taglist: @felixmainacc @felixburneracc @myforevermelody143 @dunno-wut-to-do @itzsana-kiddingmenow @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae

[lucksea]

ok i will write out some things ... i may come back to this and edit later but it's getting very late and i spent like an hour and a half writing this AND i dont want to forget about it in my drafts so ill post it once im done. god bless

SECTION ONE: PHYSIOLOGY

i mostly ascribe to the idea that ultras are quite adapted to the fact that they are made of light. it's usually easier to have physical bodies, and certainly they must be born into the world as such, but their true essence is shapeless. they can turn themselves into light, or humans, so it stands to reason they could probably turn into anything else, too, and just don't want to. they were born in a shape, and that's the shape they see as Themselves. the light is them, but not in the same way- they seem too materially involved. it's a temporary form, for utility, when their physical bodies aren't good enough. it should be noted that their ability to change size seems to be distinctly scientific, and not something that they can do naturally- the beta capsule technology implies this, but i feel like it's also implied in cosmos, when the human task force gets shrunk down, and thus when Cosmos appears, he is human-sized, which i assume is due to him having inadvertently been struck by the shrinking effect as well. (i guess one could say that he made himself smaller on purpose to fit in the building, but then he leaves the building, so i'm unconvinced. i say it's science. i'm aware that this contradicts something i've written involving zero making a human form, but i'm willing to go against my beliefs if it makes for a good story.)

all this to say, their biological makeup is thus very complicated, and i honestly have a few different ideas that i waffle between. if i want them to have internals, then i give them bones and things, muscles and organs. some of their organs work, and some of them are just leftover shapes in their guts. mouths and stomachs and genitals are included there (unless i want to write something that uses them). i figure the detailed specifics vary from bloodline to bloodline, or even from individual to individual. they evolved via intense magical radiation, after all, so there's bound to be a lot of weird nonsense going on with their internals if you were to actually take a look. they also canonically have organs we don't have, i'm pretty sure? i think it was stated somewhere that the reason they can fly is due to anti-gravity organs in their legs and feet, which is why the soles of their feet glow when they fly away. which is pretty cool. it would make more sense if those organs were somewhere in their core, though, considering an ultra can fly in any position and usually do so horizontally, not just standing upright in the air, which i don't think would work as well if it was just in their legs and feet. maybe they also have them in their arms or something. is that also how they fire beams? is it the same organ? can they fire beams from their feet? is that how Leo does his flaming kick thing? more research must be done on this.

as for their faces and things, i do think that in the reality of the world, they have stiff, unmoving mask faces, like the real suits do. i just think that's more interesting. i like how it's animated in Ultraman Rising especially, and think of it often. you can see his pupils quite clearly, and the way he moves carries a lot of expression, but his actual face is a solid plate. i love that! i love that the eyes just turn off, rather than close! it's so fascinating, and i definitely think that's true in my world, too. however, i am a cartoonist, and i like drawing silly faces, so i draw them with expressive ones anyways. i justify it by saying that ultras, speaking to each other, can just sort of tell the way each other is feeling, from their voices and the telepathic auras they carry. and so when ultras are speaking together, they may have a sort of mental image of the expression the other person might be making. but if i were to actually commit to this, and draw an ultra speaking to any other creature, i would give them a flat, inexpressive face. (this is partially why i draw tregear with no mouth, because i usually draw him interacting with ember. i also just draw him like that because i think it looks better. i dont know why. drawing him with a mouth feels wrong. i think it might be because for some reason i naturally draw his face similar to depth charge's, and i dont draw depth charge with a mouth? but now i'm getting off topic.)

also, i have the unique experience of being plural, and being friends with many other systems, so i've had some fascinating conversations with ultras that have given me plenty of other ideas. Zero in particular described their bodies as empty shells, keeping the light inside. their skin is sort of strange in that it's hard in some places, and malleable in others. it gets softer the more you move and stretch it, so an ultra's fingers would become more flexible than, say, the middle of their shin. but if they were to practice, they could theoretically bend their body in any sort of way (hence, why blazar can twist his spine like a screw). this is why they bleed light; they have no real internals. the light is their true form, and their bodies are like shells to keep them all together. this would also be an explanation for why they prefer physical forms- perhaps in their light-shape, they're more vulnerable, at risk of dissipating or something like that, so they only take it on occasionally. (that was not a question i asked him.) this idea makes injuries more complicated, but i would assume that simple pain is one reason why they're adverse to getting hurt, and also that it must still be hard to do things if your shell's been ripped open and you're leaking out everywhere, even if there were no bones inside to break.

(there is a very old poster showing ultraman's internals that implies he's some kind of massive cyborg with metal bones, and most interestingly, that his outer layer of skin is followed by an interior layer of skin, almost like he were wearing a suit. as far as i know, this is no longer canon, except in one the spinoff universes where they are literally people in suits. but it's still interesting. the bones made of spacium in particular. that would make seven's mangled leg an even more serious injury...)

on the topic overfeeling brought up of some people thinking the ultras can remove their armor, i just do not think that's true. it's part of their body. it's fused to their skin like a partial exoskeleton. you'd be ripping part of their bones off. don't do that.

as far as timers go, i think it's gone back and forth on whether they're natural or surgically added, and it might even depend on the planet, which is fascinating. i think i naturally lean toward them being more tied to their biology than a simple danger timer, and reacting to other things like emotions or outside stimuli, so i guess my usual answer is that they're born with their timers. it's just such a weird thing to have that i think the surgical aspect also makes plenty of sense. like, why would you need a lightbulb on your chest to tell you you're about to die? would you not just be able to feel yourself getting tired and hurting? can ultras, like, suppress those feelings somehow, leading to them needing an exterior reminder...? it's pretty clear that they do feel pain and get tired. i don't know! it's a very television-air-time trait, so i haven't quite decided the ways i want to rationalize it, i guess. like, even in showtime, allegro's timer is biological (although he's a clone and perhaps shouldn't count) while marize and lyle's were attached, which is why theirs are the same shade of blue. i do like that each ultra timer has their own distinct shape and sound effect if it's a surgical thing, though, because that means each soldier gets their own custom made timer, and i think that's cute. RESULTS INCONCLUSIVE!

now, i dont want to talk much about my opinions on their beams and the various materials theyre made out of, because i'm not a scientist and also because i dont think anyone ever bothers to think of it at all beyond what sounds cool. i have no idea how they can turn any number of made up materials into plasma and shoot it from various places in their hands and arms (and possibly feet). i'm not going to stand here and try to come up with a reason for it. zoffy can turn it into fighting lightning. SO CAN TREGEAR! they can shoot lightning at people like palpatine! that is not something i can speculate on. ultras can just do that. whatever manner of stuff they pull from the air and condense inside their bodies in order to weaponize is simply none of my business.

SECTION TWO: CULTURE + SPIRITUAL IDEAS + IT'S MIDNIGHT SO I START RAMBLING MORE

i must preface this with the fact that i am a white man and i have the capacity to say things that are stupid. i try not to, but it might happen anyways.

we dont know a lot about the way the Land of Light works, to say nothing of any of the other planets. i think it's stated somewhere that they do, in fact, have their own commerce and currency and jobs (i think maybe in 80? i havent watched that one yet...), and that there are A LOT of them, and only about a million or so in the defense force. so we're really quite disconnected with how things work on their home planet, which gives us a lot of liberties to think about how it might work.

in the tags of my earlier post i mentioned that i have some thoughts about how ultras might interact with life and death, especially after Hikari earns his marks for inventing a way to reverse death, which is how Ultraman is able to revive Hayata, and Zoffy the both of them, and probably how every other ultra is able to revive every other human. and i just want to make sure we all take a moment and think about how... baffling that is. if it were just something ultras could DO, that they had the innate ability to bring people back to life, that would be one thing. i would go "okay, sure, they're something like angels," and write something about how fascinating it would be that they choose to honor the dead anyways, when they are inherently deathless things. but no. this was a scientific achievement made by an individual, who went on to be so outraged and disgusted by its misuse that he left his planet entirely (and then watched a different planet die, which is pretty ironic in a sort of horrible way). i think that makes the ultras' concepts of death make so much more sense. namely that it's a concern to them at all. of course it is, because it's natural, and their ability to reverse it is unnatural. if someone were to die, the first response would be grief. only after that might you go "ah, but wait, i can fix it!" and although it never really happens, it is at least implied to be a little unreliable, or something like that. it seems like not everyone can always come back. maybe it doesn't work every time, or multiple times in a row on the same person. we dont know! but the fact that it exists at all, as a work of genius and not a natural ability, is really noteworthy to me. hikari INVENTED IMMORTALITY! isn't that fucking crazy? not to give zoffy grief for his own achievements, but he got star marks because he was a child soldier, and hikari got star marks because he made death obsolete. and i dont have any idea what melos got marks for at all. those just seem like such wildly different accomplishments. like yes zoffy fought in an incredibly important history-changing war when he was canonically, distinctly underage, and went on to become a very important figure because of it. but hikari figured out how to bring people back from the dead. that just feels so different. my god. anyways

i like the idea of them being made of light and returning to it. i've made passing jokes about them seeing King and Noa as kind of like gods, and swearing on them, as well as swearing on the Spark because that's what gives them life. there is a graveyard, in Blue Shadow, with holograms of dead soldiers, so we know they definitely do honor the dead. id really like to know more about it. ultras dissolve into light when they die. from my understanding a gravestone is, traditionally, for marking the location of a body (as well as other things, like naming the dead and their deeds, etc). what's the significance of their placement, here, if ultras have no body to bury? did those soldiers die where that forest later stood, and so that's where they're honored? what do they do for ultras that die off-world? is there a specific spot for them? is that forest the specific spot? i want to know...!

i also find it interesting that we dont know much about the dead at all. nobody ever talks about it. to me, it's almost like there's some kind of taboo about that, which could be interesting to explore. ive said before how fascinating it is that ultras are simultaneously creatures of genuine purity and astounding violence. there are plenty of things to be said about that, both in and out of universe (because like any work of art, it carries the politics of its time and creation), which i think might be better placed in a different post. but nevertheless, their ideas of justice and righteousness are fascinating, and id like to know more of what they think of death. the idea that it's something that shouldn't be spoken of fascinates me, because it fits the implication that darkness and questionable ideas are also not discussed on their home planet.

honestly it's kind of disturbing when i think about it too long, cultish almost, that they are dedicated so deeply to the idea of light and holiness. which itself is only more fascinating because it's permanently played straight. to put a spin on that is to destroy what ultraman means- he is a hero of light. if he isn't a hero, then he isn't ultraman. he can struggle, he can be reluctant, but he will in the end always be pure of heart, because he has to be. it's part of the narrative. it's a universal requirement. (which, i think, is why i find the villains so interesting, even moreso than usual; here, arguably, at least in this way, they're right. light cannot exist without darkness. so a planet of light, devoid of darkness, is a suspicious thing indeed.)

there's probably a lot more to discuss but now it's midnight and i was supposed to be asleep 2 and a half hours ago so i'm going to post this and answer any other questions people have separately. goodnight