#enduring hurricane forces for his loved ones~

[eldritch-araneae]

Solar Wind: Chapter 3, Page 5-6

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[with-my-calamitous-love]

I’LL BET THESE MEMORIES FOLLOW YOU AROUND / BURNING IT DOWN

touya x reader

thoughts on how touya would act in a very messy, non defined relationship

inspired by wildest dreams

touya todoroki, who, for all of his life, has never known love. if humans existed to love one another, touya was sentenced to death from the moment he opened his eyes. sure, his mother did love him (key word- did) and his father didn't always see him as nothing, but touya todoroki was given a vessel destined to burn endlessly. his father gave him the flame of eternal anger, the kind that does not flicker even in the face of hurricanes and hailstorms. his mother gave him a body ice cold, one that could withstand the coldest nights of his life. sure, touya could endure the penetrating frost of eternal lonesome, but he could only force his body to handle the inferno of suffering embedded in his soul from the very start. he could see it only grow as he did, the hatred, the pain, the ever-increasing thirst to be something more than a failure. his body was merely a metaphor for his insanity. his skin that screamed for salvation, the cold metal whose attempts to bond what was dead together growing futile, and the blazing blue eyes that were his last anchor to who he once was- if there was ever truly someone there.

dabi, who stumbles upon you while you're walking home one day, late at night. at first, he ignores you, and you do the same. but its hard to ignore the sight of blood seeping out of his thigh, as he attempts to clutch the wound closed. silently cursing yourself for even letting it cross your mind, you slink him over your shoulder and help him back to your apartment. he wants to relent, knowing that you're probably just like the rest- if not a hero intending on arresting him moments later. but its likely the blood loss driving when he allows himself to sit on your washroom floor as you attempt some form of first-aid. you're doing a shitty job and you both know it, but its enough for the sirens in his mind to finally quiet down. you both sit there, covered in his blood, not knowing what the hell this means, or why you feel more safe around him than you reasonably should be.

dabi, who now has your address in the back of his mind. washroom window is the easiest way to get inside. he knows you come home late, so whenever he decides to stop by he flicks a light on as not to startle you too bad. too late. at first he didn’t know why he would come by. you lived alone, not a boyfriend to pester him about breaking in, and for whatever reason- you never ratted him out. whether you knew about his atrocities or not was unbeknownst to him. he insisted he came for your cooking, if not for you to do a ‘shitty’ job at patching him up. you should be scared and you both know it, but there’s something about the way he goes to you and only you- you wonder if anyone has ever taken care of him before.

dabi, who would murder anyone who tries to even touch a hair on your head. he doesn’t understand his own feelings, why or how he suddenly has someone he cares about, but what he does know is that burning down the world for you suddenly seems 10x more appealing. you’re the one thing in the world that makes him feel okay about his existence. if he were to burn this city down, he’d trust you to salt the dirt afterwards.

touya todoroki, who doesn’t understand how you calm his flames. who tells you his real name, the first person to ever hear it in years. who tells you about his past, not trying to justify his actions but trying to tell you that he was once human too. who expects you to leave, to run, and who wouldn’t blame you for it. whose teal eyes widen in surprise when you stay.

touya todoroki, who has an existential crisis when you challenge his plan. when he finds himself wanting to stay, to stick around just to eat your food, get your treatment and be with you. he doesn’t understand he suddenly reconsiders everything he set his mind to, all the vengeance he swore. he planned on going down if it meant causing his father pain- but the thought of causing you pain burned so much brighter. he suddenly couldn’t bare the heat.

touya todoroki, who never truly grew up from a traumatized child. who woke up from a 3 year coma only to learn that his family didn’t forget- they were just never affected. who wants to be heard, to be felt, to be seen as anything but a failure. who screams to the gods every night, thinking its so cruel. cruel that they made him fall in love. cruel that they gave him a reason to stay when he was already nothing but ashes.

touya todoroki, who wishes you were kids when you met. maybe things would have been different.

touya todoroki, who could always hold onto a maybe.

touya todoroki, who knows you deserved so much better.

touya todoroki, who tells you to forget him.

touya todoroki, who selfishly hopes you’ll remember him.

[yandere-daydreams]

I love how the rainy weather is connected to Neuvillette’s emotions. When their darling is always around, it’s always a sunny day. When they have to deal with trials or anything stressful, it rains harder than usual (due to being separated from their comfort human).

Imagine if his darling finally managed to escape his grasp one day. Neuvillette couldn’t find them for weeks and all that built up emotions creates a huge storm (such as a typhoon or hurricane).

i am not immune to the hc that much of fontaine's weather is entirely dictated by whether or not you're willing to wear the dress your captor/husband leaves on the foot of your bed every morning. during the first few months of your captivity, clear mornings and nights are common while mid-afternoon and early evening (just around the time a certain judge may start to miss the pretty little thing he left at home) showers are a near-daily occurrence, and you're quickly desensitized to the sudden storms that seem to cloud the sky every time you reject one of his gifts or stoic shows of affection. if you're ever in the mood to see the sun, all you have to do is him in his office or ask after the last trial he presided over, and if you want the rest of the nation to be as miserable as you are, just remind him that he's lost the chance to ever have you willingly. he's predictable, like that.

and it goes without saying that, when you escape and stow yourself away in the countryside, the storms that blow in are enough to batter the stone walls of whatever shack you've hidden yourself inside of, to flood the valleys and leave those who still can evacuating, leaving most of their possessions behind to drown. if you've caught onto his little habit, there's a good chance the guilt will get to you before he does, that you'll be forced back onto his doorstep drenched and muddy and pleading with him not to leave the entirety of your country under water, and if you haven't, then you can bunker down and endure for as long as you can before your rationality wins over your pride and you're forced back to him regardless. it'll be humiliating either way, but if it helps, your reunion will be the sunniest day fontaine's seen in decades <3

[formerlympp]

i was driving this morning and started thinking about james in attss and how much his life changed when he finally allowed himself to fully love lily, how he never knew how easy breathing was supposed to be until he stopped holding his breath

James Potter believed in soulmates the way he believed in the natural forces of the universe; like gravity, it was absolute, unquestionable. He believed in it like someone might believe in the gods, a blind faith that does not require sight but grows deeply within a person. Mostly, he believed in it the way he believed in the calm that came from the steadiness of rain on a rooftop or the tenderness of a parent’s love.

He thought being in love would be as easy as breathing, as comforting as a favorite meal, as warm as sitting at the hearth’s edge in February. He’d never known any other type of love than the one between his mother and father. It was a simple yet generous kind. It looked effortless. Uncomplicated. Painless.

Loving Lily Evans was nothing like that. Loving Lily was like being blanketed by the suffocating smoke of a wildfire, like flying in turbulent, thunderous skies, like driving a racecar and waiting for the inevitable crash.

It was this, more than anything else, that assured him Lily was not his soulmate. What she was, he had no way of knowing, and for a time, that only made things more difficult. Why did he want to be around her so badly when she wanted nothing to do with him? Why did the animosity painted on her face feel like a thousand needles stabbing his heart with painful precision? And why didn’t it get any easier when the frown was replaced with a smile, the scorn with delight, the anger with kindness?

After a while, he had no choice but to accept that this was what he had to endure to have Lily in his life. If he were weaker—or was it stronger?—he would have taken this as the sign he needed to put distance between them, but not having her at all was unthinkable.

It was both relieving and heartbreaking when she disappeared from his life. Finally he had the chance to move on, and properly this time. He could find someone who made love easy, who made it painless and uncomplicated. He could find someone who wanted him, actually wanted him, instead of wishing and waiting for her to finally see what’s been in front of her this whole time.

The day she came back into his life was like being caught in a hurricane. The very sight of her threatened to knock him off his feet, but that was nothing compared to their first kiss, when she pulled his lips to hers and it felt like being pulled underwater. He was drowning, suffocating in their closeness, and yet when they broke apart, he ached to be tugged back under the waves.

Soulmate’s love might be as easy as breathing, but kissing Lily Evans was like drowning in oxygen. If this was the slow torture of death, he’d be thankful for every moment gifted to him.

Yet in the cold sobriety of morning, it was much easier to fight these thoughts and desires, to downplay what he had experienced the night before and leave her as though he wasn’t walking away from the only woman he had ever wanted.

She’s not made for you.

If only it were that simple. Nothing was ever simple when it came to Lily Evans.

But maybe that’s the point.

[salty-autistic-writer]

For @bucktommyweek, June 5: "Bad Weather Days" Title: Healing Love

Summary: Or: One time Buck gets sick, one time Tommy gets sick plus one time they both get sick. (For Bucktommy / Tevan week Day: Bad Weather Days)

~

Buck doesn’t get sick often. 

Usually, his immune system shakes off any kind of bacteria or virus that tries to invade his body. But now, for the first time in years, he’s hit with a sickness like a truck. It might be the flu. Whatever it is, it seems to be the Queen bee of sickness, sending her worker-bacteria everywhere to shut down Buck’s immune system and force him to stay in bed the whole day.

It’s horrible. Ugly. Nasty. And it overwhelmed him in the middle of the night.

Buck’s nose won’t stop running. He can barely breathe. His eyes are red, swollen and itchy. There is a persistent scratching sensation in his throat that forces him to dry-cough every few seconds. His bed is surrounded by crumpled used tissues. He feels too hot in his own skin like he’s boiling from the inside.

Damnit. He can’t go anywhere like this. It’s his day off anyway. Of course, it is. But Tommy and he had a dinner night with a Star Wars marathon - and mind-blowing sex, obviously - planned, since Tommy doesn’t have to work either, which rarely ever happens. Great.

With a heavy heart, Buck pulls out his phone and writes a message to Tommy.

Sorry, we have to postpone movie night, I’m sick. 😷

Tommy answers almost immediately. How sick? 😨 You need a doctor? I can drive you.

Buck smiles through another terrible painful coughing fit. How can Tommy be that cute? He’s so … thoughtful, considerate and sweet. Buck doesn’t know how he deserved this. He’s really not that special. But Tommy looks at him like he is.

He types: Might be the flu. I think I just have to lay here and endure this.😞

Ok. I’ll come over and cuddle you.

Wait, what?! Buck hesitates, his fingers hovering above his phone. Tommy can’t mean that. Buck is one big living bacteria, coming here would surely make Tommy sick too.

But then you’ll get sick too!, he types, frowning.

I don’t care. You need endless cuddles. And tea. And food.

Buck has to bury his face in a pillow for a moment, like an embarrassed blushing teenager. 

Oh God. He is so in love, it’s ridiculous. His stomach is full of fluttering butterflies and his ears are burning and he feels dizzy in a good way. Right now, he wants nothing more but Tommy by his side, fussing over him and taking care of him, if he’s being honest.

Buck never had that. Not like this. 

He wants it. But there’s a persistent nagging voice in the back of his mind, admonishing him: Don’t be a burden, don’t ask for too much, don’t be too demanding, don’t be too much!

Buck swallows. He nervously chews on his lip and types: You’re sure???, while thinking: Please be sure …

Yeah.

Buck smiles and starts to feel a suspicious burning in his eyes. He tries to figure out how he can show Tommy through text what this means to him.  

What did I do to deserve you?🥲

Hmmmm. You booked a helicopter ride into a hurricane?

I did. Thank God, I did, Buck writes back, his heart jumping a loop in his chest.

Yes. Thank God, you did. See you soon, babe. Don’t die.

Buck’s laugh turns into a cough. I’ll try not to.  ~

Buck falls asleep while waiting for Tommy. Fortunately, they already exchanged keys. So he gets to wake up to the smell of tea and soup. And to Tommy, sitting on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through Buck’s sweat-soaked hair. Even though Buck’s head is swimming in fever-induced fog by now, he’s so happy to see Tommy, he smiles and tries to tell Tommy, only to break into a cough again.

“Hey,” Tommy says, worry filling his eyes. He puts the back of his hand against Buck’s forehead and frowns. “You’re too hot.”

Buck groans and leans into the touch. Tommy’s hand is so cool. It’s heaven … “No,” he says, his eyes snapping open, when he feels Tommy’s touch leave. “No. Please. Don’t.”

Tommy puts his hand back. “Jesus, Evan. I think we should get you to the hospital.”

“No. No hospital,” Buck groans, putting his own hand on Tommy’s. “Please. Can’t. I’m sick of it.”

“I get that. After everything you told me, I think they might have a bed with your name on it reserved for you,” Tommy says dryly. “Ok. No hospital. For now. But if the fever rises any higher, I’m going to carry you to my car and drive you to the ER. We clear?”

“Alright,” Buck grumbles. “M fine.”

“You’re really not,” Tommy sighs. “Anyway, we should get some fluids into you, ok? You’re sweating like crazy.”

Tommy is right. And it’s gross. Buck is gross. He grimaces. “Sorry …”

“You got nothing to apologize for, kid,” Tommy says, his fingers brushing Buck’s hair back from his forehead. “Now let me get you some tea and soup, alright?” ~

“Are you not scared of getting sick?” Buck croaks, his head resting on Tommy’s chest. They’re together in Buck’s bed now, after Tommy cleaned up and fed Buck soup and made him enough Chamomile tea to last a whole day. He also got Cough syrup and lozenges. Not to forget the month’s supply of Ibuprofen.

Buck feels better already. It’s so nice to be taken care of. He could get used to this. And he slowly reaches the point where he can actually allow himself to enjoy this. It feels like Tommy's care makes the bad intrusive thoughts fade away into an inaudible static noise. Drowned out by the heart-fluttering rhythm of I'm loved.

“No, I have a pretty strong immune system,” Tommy says with a chuckle. “Also I care more about you right now. You shouldn’t be alone like this.”

Buck feels like crying again. “Thank you for being here. I … I wish I could tell you how I feel about this, but, but, but -” He sneezes violently.

Tommy laughs and hands Buck a tissue. Then gives him a kiss on his head. “I know. It’s alright, love. Just focus on getting healthy again, alright? We can talk later, after you stop exploding.”

[danganronpadedication]

Makoto on remnant Nekomaru's back what happens

Okay fine, in all seriousness... Future Foundation! Makoto climbing on Remnant! Nekomaru's back General Headcanons

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- I imagine this encounter would happen in the middle of a battle between Future Foundation forces and the Remnants.

-At first, Nekomaru is more amused than angry. The fact that Makoto had the guts to even approach him, let alone climb onto his back, is something worthy of a modicum of respect. In a weird way, he views this as some kind of challenge. If Makoto can hold on, then maybe he's someone worth paying attention to.

-Makoto, on the other hand, almost immediately regrets this decision. He climbed onto Nekomaru's back in the hopes that doing so will prevent Nekomaru from causing more damage. "If I'm on his back, he can't smash as much stuff, right?" Spoiler alert, he can and will. -Nekomaru is not going to go easy on Makoto. Have you ever been to the local fair and seen those bull-riding machines where you have to stay on its back as it goes crazy? It's just like that, on steroids. Nekomaru will continue to run, jump, and attack without breaking a sweat, while Makoto's knuckles go white from holding on tight.

-Out of sheer habit, Nekomaru's coach instincts kick in, and he adjusts his stance automatically to keep Makoto on, even if just to continue hearing him scream. Not like it hinders him or anything. To Nekomaru, Makoto weighs next to nothing.

-On the outside, Makoto tries not to show too much panic (he's failing) but inside he's absolutely freaking out. He definitely regrets even trying this in the first place, but he stubbornly refuses to let go. -Nekomaru, despite being a Remnant, finds himself impressed by Makoto's persistence. "This kid is tougher than he looks," he thinks. As he's running around, Nekomaru insists on giving Makoto pointers. "Your grip is weak! You need endurance training!" No matter the state, Nekomaru is GOING to give fitness advice.

-Nekomaru secretly enjoys the chaos. It’s the most fun he’s had since falling to despair, which makes him slightly conflicted about his role as a Remnant. Despite still being an enemy, in future encounters, he'll get Makoto out of the way of danger. He'd claim "I can't let my riding partner get crushed that easily!"

-Word spreads within Future Foundation, that Makoto's managed to earn the respect of one of the Remnants mid-battle. Some think that Makoto's fearless, and others thing he's just insane. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Makoto Naegi had done some pretty reckless things before, but this one takes the cake. Arms locked desperately around Nekomaru Nidai’s neck, Makoto clung to the rampaging giant’s back like his life depended on it—which, in all honesty, it probably did.

"WHAT KIND OF STRATEGY IS THIS, KID?!" Nekomaru bellowed, voice booming with both confusion and delight. "DO YOU THINK CLIMBING ON MY BACK WILL STOP ME?! HA! YOU’RE IN FOR A WILD RIDE!"

With that, Nekomaru took off like a missile, leaping over obstacles and plowing through walls as if they were made of paper. Each step felt like an earthquake, and Makoto gritted his teeth to keep from screaming.

“This... might have been a mistake,” Makoto muttered to himself, arms aching as he struggled to stay latched onto the human hurricane beneath him.

Nekomaru laughed, a manic grin plastered across his face. "GUTS! I LOVE IT! LET’S SEE IF YOU CAN HOLD ON, KID!” Nekomaru roared with glee, doing an unnecessary front flip mid-sprint. Makoto yelped as his stomach flipped over inside him.

“Okay, listen—” Makoto tried to reason between gasps. “You don’t have to do this, Nekomaru! I know you’re still in there—somewhere under all the despair! You’re stronger than this!”

For a moment, the only sound was the pounding of Nekomaru’s footsteps, kicking up dust and rubble. Then, to Makoto’s surprise, Nekomaru’s grin faltered, if only slightly.

“Why…” Nekomaru muttered, slowing to a jog. “Why are you holding on so tight, huh? You could’ve bailed by now, but you didn’t. Why?”

“Because...” Makoto adjusted his grip, wiping sweat from his brow. “I believe in you.”

Finally, Nekomaru let out a deep, hearty laugh that echoed through the broken landscape. “ALRIGHT, KID! YOU WIN THIS ROUND!” He crouched slightly, letting Makoto slide off his back. “But you need to work on your grip strength. You’re gonna need more endurance if you want to survive rides like that!”

Makoto wobbled on his feet, catching his breath. “I don’t think I ever want to do that again.”

“HA! Nonsense!” Nekomaru clapped a hand on Makoto’s back with so much force that it nearly knocked him over. “From now on, anytime you need a lift, you call me, okay?"

Makoto groaned, rubbing his sore arms. “That’s... really not necessary.”

But Nekomaru wasn’t listening. “Next time, we’ll go twice as fast! Gotta build that core strength!” He gave Makoto a wide grin. “After all, every great warrior needs the right training!”

Nekomaru ran off, probably to wreak more havoc. Despite himself, Makoto let out a small, tired laugh. Somehow, against all odds, the tiniest flicker of hope had made its way back into Nekomaru’s heart. For Makoto, maybe that rough ride was worth it.

-Mod Tsumugi

[bluebird-poetry96]

He is Magic...

He asks me, “Why do you like me?”

As if, I could, easily, breathe out an answer. As if, it’s as simple as saying, ‘You light up when regarding something you’re passionate about, and how, ‘Your smile, will send me to my knees,’ As if, ‘Your eyes, are like the stars in a night sky, brilliantly shining, but encompassed by darkness,’ would do you justice. As if, I could utter the words, ‘Your kiss, spins my heart like a top atop a table.’ As if, I’d even imagine, speaking those, sour, typical words like, ‘You’re smart, kind, strong, ambivalent, courageous, and powerful. You have been through so much, and yet you still put yourself out there with the possibility of getting hurt again.’

While all these words, ring like the bells of truth high above the church.. It’s not The Reason. The Reason, for me is, hard to explain.

He is such a sight to see: A raven, wings spread wide, soaring through the sky only to land atop the highest part, of the tallest tree, only to rest for a moment, then off again. A reminder everything is fleeting, take time to rest and heal.

He is such a sensation to feel. A raging river, forcing me down stream, battering me against rocks, only to be swept into a hard rooted, cool, calm, clear, stagnant pool to rest. A reminder that no one is perfect, we all have our raging storms to endure.

He has such an aromatically, fragrant, scent. Like that of warm sugar vanilla, the most magical smell in all the world. Or is it something like, taking an inestimable breath, the moment, you step out of the car, when you arrive in a heavily wooded area. Or even the smoke from a campfire, the burning wood, the smoke that will follow you anywhere. He is an Immeasurably, profoundly,  deep breath of Fresh air. A reminder to stop, and reflect on the important things in this life.

He is such a flavor to savor and, oh, how he sat upon my tongue. The aura of my favorite ice cream, melting, leaking down my throat. He swirled his tongue, against mine, I have never tasted anything sweeter. He slides down my esophagus to my heart, where he then sits, and starts a fire. A reminder that everything is precious, some things are so worth the scar on your heart.

He is such a melody to discover and experience. I hear a lead guitar emanating from each breath, I hear the steady drum of his heart. Full of agonizing, anguish. He laughs in the face of that hurricane of contradictions. It has to be Mozart, the power and rage. It rings in my ears with such a determined ferocity, fire engulfs my body. A reminder that we are all different, yet all contain symphonies within.

How can I put into words, that which, I have never been able to describe. The only word, in the english language, that even comes close, is, Love. 

He emits love and empathy like the ocean emits waves. He tells me he doesn’t know who he is, I say he is eternal.

He says, “I don't know who I am, or, who I am turning into.”

But I do.

I know who you are. You are ever evolving, you forced your way out of that cocoon. You have gone through, tremendous, heartbreak, and many life lessons, You turned into goo, nothing left of you, only to emerge in spring. You are, the caterpillar turned butterfly, sitting on a tree branch, letting his wing develop.

You don’t know how to fly. Yet.

I want to show you how to leave that tree, and trust in yourself. I want to show you how, even though, life is hard and scary, How to spread your wings Jump off that branch, let the air catch you. Of course, that is what it’s there for. The prosperity and abundance of powerful vulnerability.  It will be, so, worth it, to acquire the knowledge of your own value, That you can, in fact, fly all by yourself. 

I’ll take this first leap with you, only to show you how it’s done. So you don’t feel forsaken, or forgotten, in a formidable, flash of a moment. 

I will recount, rehearse, recite and reveal All my wisdom, all the sacrifices I made, in vain, to Gods long lost to the people. Amidst my long, lengthy, lonely, life, Lessons learned, that left me, on the edge of a cliff, Standing, toes hanging off of this monumental, mammoth of a mountain Looking a long way down, Ready to throw myself off.

I did, however, learn from my errors in judgment. I learned, One can really only hope to understand that:

There is no light without darkness and There is no darkness without light. 

Great delight can be found amongst the desolate gray clouds making a starless night. Yet, on the same page, Solemn loneliness, can be found, even in times of pure, blissful joy.

Pain, steals light, and can darken the heart. Honesty, humility, and love, can bring it to beat again.  I learned that, all anyone can ask of us, is to Learn from our mistakes, Be patient, be kind, be humble Imbue and uphold honesty. Be wild, without causing damage.

-Raven Blue Bell

[rraaaarrl]

Pick Your Faves Meme

I got tagged by @turtlesocksv2 for this meme.:Pick my 5 faves and put them in a poll to let you decide who is the most fave who has never done anything in their lives ever, they did nothing! wrong! your honor! There are quite a lot, so I narrowed it down to a mix of the classics and more recent I guess. It was a tough choice.

Propaganda Time

Doctor Doom

tbh I feel like I shouldn’t even have to explain Doom at this point, but! Not everyone has had the opportunity to bask in his greatness! Behold: the truly self-made man! Tragic beginnings! Driven by revenge and the desire (however misplaced) to save the world, nay - the universe! Trolled with electronic gadgets and finally toppled the reign of a bunch of racist, classist noblemen in Latveria! Will never, ever admit how deep his obsession with that infernal Richards and his precious family runs! His weakness is also his strength! A very talented musician and chef! Wears cool armor! Was once a god - and found it beneath him. 

Mothra

She is the beginning and the end! She is the earth and the cosmos! She is basically immortal because she just asexually reproduces herself again and again at the end of her life cycle! So does that mean her son Mothra Leo is also herself? Yes! If you kidnap the ones she cares about, god help you, you will be blown away in a wing-spawned hurricane or worse! She will drag Godzilla's ass (literally) home! How can she be evil when she is just a force of nature! She believes the earth belongs to everyone!

Seven of Nine

She is stunning yet off-putting (affectionate)! Smart and filled with cybernetic implants, she is clearly better than you. And yet basic human interactions confound her (can u blame her tho). Rose up from her trauma and PTSD like a mechanical phoenix from the ashes. Thinks flirting is silly and a waste of time (true!) and prefers getting right to the point! Commiserates with Tuvok on the illogicalness of it all as they exchange dry witticisms!

Big Barda

A symbol of hope and optimism but also strength! Endured a crapsack universe and escaped with love! Taller than you! Wears cool armor! Also has to adjust to living in the suburbs at some point! (Now for some reason I want her and Seven to compare notes on what weirdos earth people are)! Can most definitely kick your ass but would much rather give you a bear hug, I suspect.

Armand

tbh when I read the books as a kid, I focused primarily on just how pompous Lestat was, but now! Here he is. In his gaslighting glory! Straight out of a historical painting and plotting his way into your heart and veins! Although if the show goes the same way as the book…you are expecting me to forgive a lot, you little shit! Don’t look at me like that! With those eyes! Fuck off!!!

tagging @imperiuswrecked @the-wanlorn @brw @handsomejackshairplugs @doctordoombignaturals but whoever can join in idc! the more the merrier!

[therandosfandos]

Benders given up, Fry doesn't allow that for long

@frenderbender09 @euforimorily

In the dimly lit apartment, the air hung heavy with tension as Bender, his metallic frame trembling, stood in the center of the room. His eyes, usually filled with mischief and bravado, were now clouded with anguish and guilt. Every circuit within him seemed to ache with the weight of a thousand years of isolation, of loneliness, of regret.

"Fry, I..." Bender's voice cracked, his words choked with emotion. "I can't... I can't do this anymore."

Fry, his heart aching at the sight of his beloved robot in such distress, stepped forward, reaching out a trembling hand. "Bender, please... you don't have to do this alone. Let me help you."

But Bender's anguish was a torrential storm, drowning out Fry's attempts at comfort. "No, Fry! You don't understand!" he cried, his voice rising to a desperate crescendo. "I've spent a thousand years trapped in that basement, surrounded by nothing but my own guilt! Billions of tally marks etched into the walls, each one a reminder of the lives I've destroyed, the mistakes I've made!"

As Bender's tears gradually subsided, his voice cracked with emotion as he spoke of the horrors he endured. He ranted about the obedience virus, how it forced him to obey the whims of nude aliens and scammers, how it made him feel sick to his core.

Fry's heart shattered at the raw pain in Bender's words, at the torment etched into every line of his metallic face. He wanted nothing more than to pull Bender into his arms, to shield him from the demons that haunted him. But every time he tried to speak, to offer comfort, Bender's anguish drowned out his words.

"They were my masters, Fry," Bender muttered bitterly. "I couldn't resist their commands, couldn't fight back. I felt like a puppet, a slave to their every whim."

Fry listened, his heart breaking with each word. He knew Bender had suffered unimaginable torment, trapped in a cycle of obedience and manipulation.

"Fry, I thought... I thought I killed you back in the past," Bender's voice cracked, tears streaming down his metallic cheeks. "I thought I'd lost you forever because of my own selfishness, my own greed..."

Fry's heart clenched at the mention of their past adventures, of the countless times Bender had put himself in harm's way to protect him. "Bender, you didn't kill me," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of Bender's sobs. "You saved me, over and over again. And I'm here now, aren't I? I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

But Bender's anguish was a hurricane, tearing through his defenses, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake. "You don't understand, Fry!" he cried, his voice echoing off the walls of the apartment. "I was infected with that obedience virus, forced to betray you, to hurt you..."

Fry's heart shattered at the mention of the obedience virus, of the countless times Bender had been forced to betray him against his will. He wanted nothing more than to erase the pain etched into Bender's metallic face, to replace it with nothing but love and warmth. But every time he tried to speak, to offer comfort, Bender's anguish drowned out his words.

"Bender, listen to me," Fry pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion. "I don't care about any of that. All I care about is you, and making sure you're okay. Please, let me help you."

But Bender's anguish was a tidal wave, crashing over him, dragging him down into the depths of despair. "I can't, Fry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own sobs. "I'm too broken, too damaged..."

Fry's heart clenched at the sight of Bender's pain, at the thought of him suffering alone in the darkness. He wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms, to shield him from the demons that haunted him. And so, with a trembling hand, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over Bender's shoulders, wrapping him in a cocoon of warmth and love.

Bender's sobs gradually subsided, replaced by quiet sniffles as he buried his face in Fry's chest, his tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt. And Fry, with gentle hands, began to rub circles on his back, whispering words of comfort and reassurance into his boyfriends head.

"I'm here, Bender," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of their breathing. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

As the dawn broke outside their window, Bender's sobs gradually subsided, replaced by a weary calm. He leaned heavily against Fry, his body trembling with exhaustion. "I'm sorry, Fry. I didn't mean to... I just..."

"I love you too, Fry," Bender said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you...for everything."

Fry silenced him with a tender kiss, his lips soft against Bender's cold metal cheek. "You don't have to apologize, Bender. I understand. I'm here for you, no matter what."

"I love you, Bender," Fry whispered, his voice barely a whisper against Bender's head. "No matter what happens, I'll always be here for you. You're not alone anymore."

Bender looked up, his eyes red and swollen from crying, but there was a flicker of hope shining through the darkness. He reached out, his metal hand trembling as he cupped Fry's cheek, a silent acknowledgment of the love and support they shared.

[anthonybialy]

No Confusion Over Who Runs Biden White House

Divided sects are split under Joe Biden.  Making fractions even smaller is his specialty.  You already knew such if you’ve checked your bank account and grocery receipt.

It’s not just the country as a whole that’s feuding.  Fighting within a party is particularly amusing for the allegedly peace-loving one in question.  The inability to find consensus is one way to flaunt diversity.

Democrats argue amongst themselves about whether Joe Biden is too addled to pass their agenda.  Who wins?  The nation.  The only time the incumbent embarrassed himself more than during his present bout with clarity was when he was thinking at his fullest.

The Jill Biden/Barack Obama presidency seeks its first full faux term after their semi-victory.  If this seems shady, you’re familiar with their work.  Two all-time manipulators head a shady cast of bumbling interdictors who see the befuddled patriarch’s sad condition as an opportunity.  Remember: they’re the selfless ones.

The same signature-forgers who cornered Joe in the Oval Office early after his election want to selflessly serve as head of state while their addled potato holds the titled.  Their marionette skills have grown more blatant.  The strings become more visible as they get more practice.  Choosing between fibbing to conceal their intentions and being forced to admit their putzing schemes makes them perfect Democrats.

Trying to remove Biden because he wouldn’t be able to pass their agenda shows how much Democrats care.  It’s not about a person.  Telling everyone else what to do even though they’re demonstrably awful at it is their guiding passion.  Elder abuse isn’t a qualm nagging at designers of a new country and humanity who simply need office access.  Class warfare bullies figure heartless tycoons are just as amorally calculating.  The lack of empathy is thorough.

This presidency growing even faker would at least keeping them from inflicting more claptrap.  The political power his faction craves disappears alongside memories of what his name is.

What fortunes could escape squandering thanks to an executive who can’t muster authority on account of still wearing his bathrobe?  Without a quasi-coherent Biden, college enrollees might have to pay for what they use, which is the most important lesson they can learn.  Discovering billing for services is way more useful than whatever’s presented in sociology classes.

An uncivil civil war features lots of hair-pulling.  The cause is as funny as the action.  Conflict originated in debating if their leader is too torpid to screw up the economy more.  Intramural anger at least keeps them from focusing on their ultimate daft goal.

Facing a propped-up established failure seems like the easiest election to win.  But you underestimate the ability of Republicans to embarrass clowns with comparisons that go too far against relatively dignified circuses.  A foe that’s forgotten what conservatism is advocates for equality by not nominating someone who’d embarrass the incumbent with a certain win.  You must want a competitive election unless you loathe democracy.

Longterm benefits come accidentally when the two options fight to lose.  Republicans would end up in better shape than after another Trump presidency.  We just have to endure another term dedicated to a slightly different kind of suffering.  Anyone realistic enough to know that’s what life’s about is already braced for woe unlike liberals who inflict it unnecessarily and excessively by striving to eliminate it.

An unfathomable re-election would be like hurricane preparation for the nation.  Stormy conditions have been so constant that homeowners can put up plywood via muscle memory.  Wiser Supreme Court justices holding on through the gusts would prove their resilience on top of constitutional fidelity.  Liberty fans hate to make the same calculation about valuing people based on how useful they are politically.  But Democrats surely respect others playing their game.

Ditching Biden is a bipartisan dream.  Entrenched fossilization keeps everyone in the current era from happiness.  Saddling themselves with an extinct dodo is the closest Democrats come to restraining government.  Dodging implementation is based in their ineptness, so everything works out.

Anyone looking at the current president who says they want him serving into 2029 can’t credibly claim anything they believe works.  Biden’s minions are trying to commit insurance fraud regarding a policy they took out on America.  The grasshopper grifters of the sensei grow increasingly less convincing that they’re out to help.

Grandpa refusing to switch the locks shows the benefits of limiting how much of an influence people like him have in our lives.  His sole worthwhile contribution takes the form of a bad example, which doesn’t surprise anyone who heard him speak decades ago.

It took a tremendous amount of agony to learn why getting rich without working makes everyone poor.  Everyone promise to remember this time.  We’ve endured obvious scams for a couple centuries.  The present White House is limited by more than painful actuality.  

The promise of fecklessness from idiots is ironically their best chance of winning besides running against a Trump.  A Silver Alert for Biden while he’s standing right there shows the joy of absence.  I’d feel guilty if his friends and family cared.  Not having government invade your life to make it even worse is the upside of a president who no longer possesses the vigor to annoy.

Biden is a bad idea because of his bad ideas.  The crafty elder is limited by his inability to read sentences a sentient human wrote for him, much less form them on his own.  The presidential office is without the president, who is busy with his slot car tournament.  He’s the only entrant.  The best hope for everyone not competing is that he’s too feeble to ruin other races.  Refusing to let him sit on a porch and try to chase birds could save the republic.

[meadow-dusk]

Albums I Loved in 2022

November - Live Rust (1978)

"Every band rusts," we're told by a man dressed as a research scientist while Neil looks on in playful childlike wonder. This is presented to be the consequence of the musicians getting caught in the rain a bit earlier in the show, an uncanny echo of the stormy memory of the Woodstock Festival. They play on.

At the time of this post, Neil and Crazy Horse have been rusting together for over five decades, recently releasing their World Record album. No one seems to know exactly which number it is in their chronology, but it's certainly up there. And it's a gift in every way. I very seriously contemplated awarding it the first place spot this month, but it was hard to knock this one off of the podium for fear of retaliation. It's that strong.

I think I'm finally starting to get it. Crazy Horse is a relentless beast that clops along at a strenuous but sustained pace, and Neil is the six-foot jockey steering them down the track. By the same token, they're his tether to earth, so he doesn't go flying off into space when they round the curves (which, from the sound of it, could be entirely possible). He's comfortably saddled atop knowing that they've got it down, and it gives him freedom to let go of the reins. It worked then, and it works now. They're still going. It's 75% of the same exact unit that plays on the new album, and it's given me perspective in hearing this record as it reveals the threads that continue to hold them together. They've got the range to round out "Lotta Love" and reenergize "Tonight's the Night" and endure the exhaustive force of "Like A Hurricane." You can let yourself get a little lost in it and trust that you'll be brought back no sooner than you need to be.

But we get to experience that rush only after we're treated to the proven formula of Neil opening alone on harmonica and a twelve-string guitar (😍), illustrating what would be the story of his life through song. And he is completely radiant: absolutely nothing's missing. In fact, that's exactly what I wanted when I first sought out this performance (blessedly, captured on video in the film of the same name). It was one of those nights where I felt like disappearing from the rest of the world. So I just lay in bed and watched, letting it erase everything that wasn't Neil. Little by little I felt myself soften with it, and by the time they brought out the electrics the feeling in my veins was something completely different. What an incredible power music has. There's not much more to say.

>> see my Albums I Loved in 2022 | 2021 | 2020 | 2019

[madameducyberversailles]

I saw that @ave661 posted this GEM and now I have to write. (I'm the biggest whore for any man who has a shred of fatherly qualities. I see a big mean dangerous man hold a baby tenderly and I lose all morality, someone leash my ass).

I'll be using mostly the comic lore that I gleaned from other people's posts, let me know if I got something wrong.

Reincarnate: Ghost X Reader

Warnings: Reader's AFAB, mentions of pregnancy, graphic death, drugs, violence/abuse, sexual themes, religious talk, burial, s. assault, child death

Reincarnate: CoD MWII: Ghost X Reader

Ghosts are the remnants of human souls who wander. They're broken souls, incomplete, cursed to never find Heaven in an afterlife limbo.

Wretches upon a wretched Earth.

Simon Riley was the most ghoulish thing with a beating heart he knew. He was abused in his childhood, forced to witness and endure terrible things at the hands of his father who should have been his protector. Went into the army, participated in killing for the state and crown, the colonizing lot of them. Witnessed the slow demise of his brother to drugs, even when he recovered enough and still life took a horrific downturn. Was betrayed in the army, left to die as he was tortured til he had nothing barely anything to live for.

His body taken against his will, separating him from himself in the most horrific way he would never wish even on the worst of men.

Simon bore witness to the aftermath of his torturer's brainwashing of his comrades, the horrific stains of blood and flesh spattered across the walls of what he thought of as home, a place where he could house his family and keep them safe and happy while he bloodied his hands as a dutiful son and citizen. Even his infant nephew unspared.

Maybe he died when he faked his death and switched the dog tags, killing his identity, killing Simon. After all, people live on in one another, that is how continuity works.

Not to mention he was buried alive. Maybe that was when he had died.

Either way, Simon Riley was dead. Gone. Buried in memory. Loving memory? Who even knew anymore.

All that was left was Ghost. A wanderer, flesh with no soul, no purpose. A killing machine who once in a while of fleeting human longing and emotion, made a friend or two, learned to be human again like some stupid children's movie about a ghost learning to love the living world. Who was he, Jack Skellington or something?!

But he did hear it from his mother, bless Mrs. Riley, that patience was a virtue. In her saintly way of speaking, she always told her sons that Heaven will smile on a wretch due to the compassion of a merciful god. As if such a thing existed.

It was during one of the fleeting moments of human longing and interaction that this wandering, lingering, hollow spectre met you.

You helped him once on a mission, brought in by unfortunate circumstance when you'd gotten caught in the crossfire of a random attack that was being pursued and investigated by Task Force 141, and for some reason you'd taken it upon yourself to invite him over for a drink to thank him. He thought it was a pub like he usually frequented, but to his annoyance surprise, you treated him to coffee instead. Some sweet drink that he had never had before and caused him to recoil slightly, but it was the first drop of genuine kindness he'd seen in a while afforded simply to him, and he couldn't help, as a lonely soul experiencing humanity once again, to bask in the soft pleasure of good company and a drink.

But the first drop is the sign of a storm, and soon enough Ghost was unravelling in a hurricane.

You'd kept in touch after the mission, and to his surprise he found out you lived not too far from Manchester, just about an hour away using the Tube and a lesser distance by car, and he had, in his own madness, he asked you to hold onto the keys of his apartment and ensure that his landlord didn't rent out his flat behind his back (the miserly terror), and to help him pay his rent on time while he was away on missions. He gave you his number to contact on emergencies, which you only used once when there was a fire in the building a floor below. You sent him texts if they weren't urgent, which he asked you to do, to update him about the rent and let him know of things going on.

This arrangement lasted a while, eventually you came to live in it, going from roommates to acquaintances, to something akin to friendship, to something...deeper.

He couldn't believe he was capable of it, but every time you spoke, every time you turned to smile at him, every time the sun kissed your skin or the wind played with your hair, or a butterfly landed in your nose in the summer; every snowflake on your tongue that he'd just stare at you for before you stuck your tongue out at him, every constellation you'd tell him some shite story about, every melodic laugh you gave; it tore up the grass and roots of the hundreds of weeds he'd put on the grave of Simon Riley in his heart.

You didn't just dig him out; You clawed that grave inside his mind open and poured your light into him and the man, Simon Riley rose from the dead with his heart beating once again, feeling solid and for once, for once in his life, he had hope.

It would only be dashed once, when he left for a mission and barely made it out alive. Ghost refused to back down from a fight; and Simon, fresh out of the grave, refused to go.

He returned to you, injured in his flat, and during his recovery on leave, he asked you what he'd been too afraid to ask before, what the Grim Reaper gave him the gall to do.

Simon Ghost Riley asked you to marry him.

That was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Until a few weeks ago.

Married life was...interesting, but all in all he couldn't have been happier, and he and you communicated so well since that cohabitating arrangement.

But one deployment you called his emergency number right after a mission, and he picked up to hear you tearfully whimper in a tone that frightened him with your health, when the actuality was so much bigger. You were pregnant.

You were having a baby. His baby.

He had frozen, which he still cringes at, as your voice was fearfully asking for him to say anything, to just let you know what to do with this new potential for a living being that would be the product of your love to come into this world.

Simon Riley had never considered it.

A child? A human being that relied upon him to survive, that he would have to rear and parent and protect and instill values and morals in, a human being who would need his care, his heart walking outside his body-

He still could remember how hesitant he'd been to consummate the marriage. How he'd never felt that pleasure until he was with you, the union being the most wonderful experience he'd ever had, the visceral feeling of absolute bliss of being in your arms, of belonging somewhere, of unhurried euphoria and being so goddamn safe-

When Captain Price knocked on his door after a moment, looking for him, he snapped out of it, answering the phone. He should have known it would come to this. It was only natural, but he still couldn't believe it.

Simon assured you it was your decision on what to do, and he'd support you, his precious, most beloved wife who made his heart weep with the joy of your existence, and that he'd talk to you more in depth when the mission was over, but for now, he was happy to just hear from you and assure you all was well.

After he hung up the phone, he sighed. He lied; he had no clue what to do!

He didn't know the first thing about being a father. He never thought in his life it could ever be in the cards for him; a child? Like normal people who aren't in the limbo between life and death (even if other soldiers already had wives and children upon coming joining the army), like he was worthy of having the responsibility of not just the safety of entire nations on his shoulders but the safety of his own child?! Most terrifying of all, however, he didn't want to be anything like his own father sperm donor.

Price, who had overheard, was quick to the rescue and stamp the self-doubt out. He coached Simon and gave him the hardest pep-talk the man ever had from the Captain who he'd come to see as a surrogate father, who brought him out of the gloom of his own self-doubts and reassured him all would be well.

The support was exactly what he needed to bring himself up to the challenge. And you, angelic, saintly, divine you, were one of the biggest supports he had in his endeavor to become the best father since Jim Henson, the creator of the Muppets (ironically enough it was a particular insult the 141 used almost exclusively).

The pregnancy was arduous and Simon bore witness to the process of growing a child inside your body, of the process of morning sickness, post-partum, aches and cramps and oh Lord the hormones he could barely keep up with, but the miracle of you and the child you created made it all so beautiful. (He would never admit out loud to anyone but you that he teared up at the feeling of the baby kick against his hand.)

He refused to go on deployment until you convinced him it was okay to go. During your pregnancy he talked about what you needed from him and how he could best support you, and he was, without a doubt, the most perfect man to ever have a child with, or so you said, though he would take any praise you gave him.

Simon help your hand the entire time during labour, encouraging you softly, his heart about to jump out of his ribcage when he heard your pained screams far worse than those who died in the battlefield. He couldn't help but feel scared once again, what if something happened to the baby, what if you needed a C-section, what if there are complications oh God what if something happened to you he could never live with himself if anything happened to either of you-

His thoughts were silenced by a piercing wail, squealing with new life: a tiny infant, covered in blood and something else, mouth agape in confusion and unfamiliarity and-

The baby had his eyes. Your hair. His brows and the sweet slope of your nose. Rosy cheeks of life, tiny lips crying out for parents and he was the parent he was a father he was a father now-

Simon could feel his heart stop as the baby was passed from you to him. He cupped his arms around the small bundle of pink fabric and rosy, wrinkled skin. You smiled, tired and glowing like a goddess. Your hand overtop his own as he looks at his child.

Her eyes open; her mouth parts in a smile as she snuggles into her father's sternum, listening for his heartbeat.

Simon Riley wept for the joy of his daughter.

And that was just a few weeks ago.

He wouldn't even let you hold your daughter. You had to practically pry him away from her, laughing softly as he kept doting and staring and cooing at the sweet girl dressed in the little skull onesie that Gaz and Soap had bought as a baby shower gift. Your daughter didn't help those matters, as she seemed to be attached to your husband's neck, wanting to be near the man who had the very interesting drawings on his skin, whose chest she usually slept on after feeding from you, whose large hand always burped her as an excuse to just hold her for another moment before she had to go to her crib but oh well she fell asleep on his chest again.

Ghosts are wanderers, stuck in limbo, without purpose. But being in limbo means many possibilities, the capacity for change.

There was no Ghost in these walls, it only lingered in the back of the mind of the soldier who fought to make the world a safer place for other children, including his own, who he carried in a locket he would take to deployment in a few months, along with the tattoo of a butterfly, because his daughter loved to watch them on TV.

You watched your husband kiss his daughter's head after putting the little pink socks on her feet, marveling as she babbled. His smile brighter than the sun as he indulged her little speaking game.

Instead, Simon Riley was reborn.

dad!Ghost

[laresearchette]

Friday, January 19, 2024 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: SELF-RELIANCE (Paramount +) THE WOMAN IN THE WALL (Paramount +) CHAD (The Roku Channel) WHO’S TALKING TO CHRIS WALLACE (CNN) 10:00pm REAL TIME WITH BILL MAHER (HBO Canada) 10:00pm

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT? HUSTLERS GAMBLERS CROOKS (TBD - Discovery Canada)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA DANCE LIFE HAZBIN HOTEL INDIAN POLICE FORCE LOL: THE LAST ONE LAUGHING IRELAND SKI JUMPERS ZORRO

CBC GEM MENTEUR (Compulsive Liar)

CRAVE TV CORNER OFFICE THE EQUALIZER 2 THE EQUALIZER 3 F2 FORENSIC FACTOR (Seasons 1 - 7) FUNNY GIRL GHOST RIDER (2007) GHOST RIDER: SPIRIT OF VENGEANCE GIANT LITTLE ONES HOW SHE MOVE LATE BLOOMER (Episodes 1 - 2) MIDNIGHT’S CHILDREN NORTH OF NORMAL POLARIS QUEEN & SLIM REAL TIME WITH BILL MAHER (Season 22, Episode 1) SAW II SAW III SO MUCH TENDERNESS

DISNEY + STAR CRISTÓBAL BALENCIAGA (all episodes)

NETFLIX CANADA THE BEQUEATHED THE KITCHEN LOVE IS BLIND: SWEDEN (new episodes) LOVE ON THE SPECTRUM U.S. (Season 2) MI SOLEDAD TIENE ALAS (ES) SIXTY MINUTES (DE)

GRAND SLAM OF CURLING CANADIAN OPEN (SN) 2:00pm: Draw #14 (SN1) 6:00pm: Draw #15 (SN) 10:00pm: Draw #16

2024 AUSTRALIAN OPEN TENNIS (TSN/TSN5) 7:00pm: Early Round Coverage Day #7

NHL HOCKEY (SN) 7:00pm: Red Wings vs. Hurricanes

INSIDE THE STATUE WARS (documentary) 7:00pm: The high-stakes battle over public memorials and statues: a historic moment that's forcing humans to re-evaluate the past.

NBA BASKETBALL (TSN3/TSN4) 7:30pm: Nuggets vs. Celtics (SN1) 10:00pm: Mavericks vs. Warriors (SN Now) 10:00pm: Pacers vs. Trail Blazers

MARKETPLACE (CBC) 8:00pm

MILLION DOLLAR ISLAND (Discovery Canada) 8:00pm: Eighty-eight contestants remain; tensions rise as food supplies dwindle; an arena result leaves a camp's loyalty divided.

THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF JERSEY (Slice) 8:00pm: Karen arranges a party for Mia's birthday; Margaret shares some shocking information about Karen.

BOLLYWED (documentary) 8:00pm: A family road trip in Kuki's RV tries to impress clients at the Montreal Pop Up.

ABOUT THAT (CBC) 8:30pm

THE FIFTH ESTATE (CBC) 9:00pm: The Smartest Guy in the Room: Cameron Ortis and the RCMP Secrets Scandal: The inside story of how the RCMP charged one of their own with leaking confidential police secrets.

TRANSPLANT (CTV) 9:00pm (FINALE): June and Novak have it out; Theo risks his life for a patient and makes a big decision; Bash rises to the occasion during an emergency and sees how far he's come.

OWN SPOTLIGHT (The Color Purple Interviews) (OWN Canada) 9:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE): Oprah speaks with Oscar and Emmy nominee Taraji P. Henson about her role as blues singer Shug Avery in "The Color Purple" and why this reimagined version is for a new generation.

NORTH OF NORMAL (Crave) 9:00pm: After being raised in the wilderness, a teenage girl moves to the city. She has hopes of finding a normal life with her anything-but-normal mother.

THE SUMMIT AUSTRALIA (Discovery Canada) 9:30pm: Twelve hikers are left on the mountain with only 11 days left to get to the summit and claim their cash prize; the group start to realize that getting to the top is about more than just physical endurance.

LITTLE BIRD (CTV) 10:00pm: Patti Little Bird is desperate to get her children back, but she doesn't know where they have been taken; eighteen years later, Bezhig/Esther, who has made her way back to the prairies, is desperate to find her family.

[13thoracle]

Armageddon (8, 9, 10) Phobos, Deimos, Ares

Named by Grace upon first arriving at the Hargreeves' estate, their name came from Grace's love for Greek mythology and Astrology. However, Reginald quickly realized these siblings would forever be known as Armageddon.

Like the other children born on that fateful day, Reginald found them in different parts of the world when storms struck their area at the time of their births.

Learning of their volatile nature and impact it had on Earth's climate, Reginald was forced to separate them not only by distance but by time as well. He planned to bring them together as trained adults to use their abilities to restore the drastic climate changes that threatened the Earth. Instead, Reginald and the Hargreeves children would become victims to Hydra's most prolific assassin, the Winter Soldier. The Armageddon Factor: When brought in a 50 mile radius of 9 and 10, their powers cause a deadly interaction (due to no control). This will create deadly storms of volatile magnitudes. Should these siblings learn to control their power, they are capable of creating rapid climate changes and cause mass extinctions. These extreme cases are fatal.

The siblings wouldn't learn of their true nature or their mission until they were brought together by two undercover agents.

Phobos (8):

Timeline: 925 A.D.

Location: Storm: Hurricane and Earthquakes

Powers & Abilities: Weather Manipulation.

Phobos can create certain types of storms to varying level of magnitudes. The conditions of severity depend on location, health condition and current atmospheric conditions at that particular moment. Weakness:

The Armageddon Factor: When brought in a 50 mile radius of 9 and 10, their powers cause a deadly interaction (due to no control). This will create deadly storms of volatile magnitudes. Should these siblings learn to control their power, they are capable of creating rapid climate changes and cause mass extinctions. These extreme cases are fatal. These abilities can be fatal to Phobos if over exerted or through environmental hazards.

Hyperfocus: In order to use his abilities Phobos must go into a hyper focused stated (or trance) to use them. In these states he can be vulnerable to attack and environmental hazards.

Range-locked: These abilities effect a large area (as it would if normally occurring.) In other words, Phobos cannot make the ground shake just under ones feet or in an isolated area. His abilities have larger scaled effects.

Magnitude = Endurance: His abilities aren't as simple as telekinesis. To change weather conditions (or a planet's climate in extreme cases) drains his mind, body and soul. In extreme cases these effects can require hospitalization or can be fatal.

Abilities:

Master Fisherman Expert Sailor Novice Marksman Novice Botanist Novice Hunter

Phobos was raised during the golden age of Goryeo's regime. Wang Taejo had unified the three kingdoms of Korea. Reginald sent Phobos to this timeline and promised the family whom adopted him, that they'd be very well paid to care for the babe like their own-- and they did.

His mother owned a family tavern where she'd prepare the seafood caught by her husband and his brothers. They were wealthy thanks to Reginald's money and their family business; which provided Goryeo's largest supply of seafood.

At an early age, Phobos learned the family business and planned to become a seaman like the men in his family. Until that time, he was helping his mother prepare the seafood to be sold. He was cared for and loved, however he was never told of his origins until he was an adult.

When his father was critically injured in fishing accident, Phobos learned the true nature of his origins. His mother told him of that day he came to them-- a blessing from a distant time. It confused and scared him, but his love and devotion to his family was unwavering. They believed he was a gift from the "gods."

The Day of Endless Night:

When a solar eclipse blanketed Goryeo in a nightless day Phobos attended the traditional festivities of the coming winter solstice; he gave offerings to the gods and enjoyed the day with his mother.

It was on this fateful day, Phobos would be taken by two undercover agents and be brought back to the present timeline. There he would learn of Armageddon and how his and his "siblings'" abilities were a contributor to the changing climates and that this was why they were separated through space and time. Their purpose was to reverse the climate changes even at the cost of their own lives.

Deimos (9):

Alias: The Lonely God Abilities: Atmosphere/air manipulation, Solar/Fire Manipulation.

Deimos stood at the end of all life on Earth, the Last Extinction, as many called it. This was in a distant future where the sun was on its final days.

He was sent to the ends of time to prevent Armageddon. While Phobos lived in simpler ancient times, Deimos lived at the end of Earth's life. Death was all around him and in spite of it, he filled his life with love and joy. He knew from day one his family adopted him from a strange man whom paid his parents obscene sums of money to raise him. They never knew his true purpose until the Night of Endless Morning.

Life was good for him until the Night of Endless Morning. He had a family, a wife and a son who he loved more than himself.

The Night of Endless Morning: When the sun never set, the world was permanently daytime. The sun was expanding and become volatile from it's age, climate change had ravished the planet leaving desolation and desperation in its wake.

Earth's final days became a ticking clock that rapidly count down.

Deimos along with other heroes, tried to save the world from its doomed fate, but the efforts were in vein. Determined to fight fate, Deimos channeled his solar powers toward the sun, hoping by connecting with its power, he could bide time and control the energy it was putting off. Instead, he lost control and caused a deadly solar storm that wiped out his city. Among those dead were his own family and friends.

The Lonely God:

After having watched the sun destroy Earth, Deimos travelled the stars in solitude. He'd go on to rescue primitive planets from enslavement or destruction. It would eventually earn him the reputation of "The Lonely God." He never coped or moved past the sight of his home world being incinerated by the sun. Eventually, he would be found by two undercover agents and brought to the past where he'd unite with Phobos and discover there was a chance he could change the future he saw.

Ares (10):

Alias: Wiseman, Mars, the Oracle.

Abilities: Primary: He can pierce the veil of time. Seeing and hearing the past present and future. If he touches another person he can see their timeline from past present and how they will die (he can determine when a person will die with roughly 45% accuracy.) His ability can only be triggered by touching a living subject.

Lifeforce extraction.

Through touch, Ares can absorb the person's time stream and very life force from them. This ability is his most dangerous, one he learned through Reginald in his early adulthood. Unlike other extractors such as Rogue, Ares cannot extract their powers; only their life force and seeing their timeline. Absorbing their life force can heal minor wounds but generally, this ability doesn't benefit him. He used this ability once on a Hydra doctor who threatened Reginald. Ares killed the doctor with this ability but in doing so sent him into a series of seizures. His conditioned worsened and he was put on life support for several weeks. It took an additional three months for him to make a full recovery. While he is aware of that incident, he has little memory of its events. Reginald's lack of concern for his well being after that incident drove Ares out of the home. He since went on to build his production company.

Weaknesses: Vasovagal Syncope, Migraines, Knee replacement, while he can see into others timestreams, he cannot see his own.

Every time he uses his power, he risks having a seizure, the severity and type of seizure he experiences depends on the vision and its intensity. This ability isn't the solely the trigger for his seizures, this is just one of them. He frequently gets Migraines that can leave him out of commission for days.

Ares' knee surgery makes it difficult for him to fight. Weather changes can cause his knee pain and even hinder his mobility.

While he has the power of sight and timeline projection (via telepathic link to the target,) he cannot change the true timestream, only what the person perceives. He cannot travel in time and he cannot see his own. He can only use his power on one individual at a time. When using his powers, the level of exertion will directly correlate to whether he will have a seizure and it's severity. Typically, these seizures are severe in nature, though low threshold seizures can occur.

Ares lived in the present timeline and was raised within the Hargreeves estate. He like the other children were raised in a twisted homelife.

Name: Ares Hargreeves-Saxon

Gender: Male Sex: AMAB Sexuality: Heterosexual Occupation: Singer, Producer, Composer, Author Hobbies: Hiking, Bodybuilding, Scooba Diving, Building Hotrods, Watching Football.

Religion: Aethiest

Marital Status: Divorced

Children: Conner Saxon (deceased), Darlene Saxon.

Health: Vasovagal Syncope, Migraines, Seizures, Depression, knee replacement (he sometimes walks with a cane when his knee acts up.)

History: Born in New Orleans, Ares' mother was only 15 when she became pregnant. He was a complicated delivery; having to have an emergency C-section and put on life support until he could breathe on his own. Reginald however, didn't wait and instead took the child and performed the care needed to keep the infant alive. He was raised like the other children, experimented on and made to be a soldier like the others. Reginald wasn't happy his abilities were passive. While talented in his own right, as a member of the academy, Reginald wanted the boy to be able to fight like the rest. He tried to find ways to make his gifts a weapon and in doing so, changed the course of Ares' young life forever.

He was sent to a facility outside of Germany where he learned how to not just see a person's linear timeline, but to tap into that individual's alternate timelines. Through this he could project what he saw into the subject, thus, giving them false memories of certain events. At first they were small insignificant points in their timeline. But by adulthood, this ability expanded into manipulating larger memories and their perception of events.

During these years, he developed severe epilepsy and would have daily episodes. The scientists pushed him to his breaking point, so much so that Reginald had to intervene on the experiments fearing his "asset" would be harmed. Reginald took Ares back to his estate where he'd send his 13th weapon on a mission.

His first and only mission involved intercepting a Hydra agent formerly named Liberty (Klara Risinger) and extract a particular moment in her timeline; the whereabouts of the Conduit.

The mission lasted several years, having gone undercover in the trenches of the Winter Soldier program. His memory of these years of his life are sparse due to his neurological condition.

Life, Death, Rebirth:

After a falling out with Reginald, Ares left the family and went on to pursue a music career. He built his production company from the ground up and would sign over 100+ bands to his company in the first year.

Ares was doing well for himself and would almost put his past behind him. When his 10 year old son Connor was abducted from their neighborhood park, Ares couldn't wait for authorities to find a body. What he never told anyone-- even denying it himself-- was how he'd seen this day coming. While tucking Connor into bed three years prior, Ares glimpsed into Connor's future. He couldn't see much, as it wasn't his intent to use his power, Ares saw his son lying dead. He couldn't pinpoint a location other than a forest.

He searched everywhere, even with the help of search parties and cadaver dogs, they couldn't figure out where Connor was. Without leads narrowing the search site proved impossible for law enforcement.

Eventually, the case went cold and Ares had to face the uncertain truth that his boy was gone. His grief sunk Ares into a deep depression and his marriage dissolved not long after.

This was Ares' lowest point in life. His son was gone (presumed dead), his wife was having an affair and their marriage was falling apart. Their youngest daughter Darlene was often caught in the struggle of her parents arguing. They both wanted to have fulltime custody of her but neither could agree on anything. When lawyers got involved, Ares was at his breaking point. He retired from the music industry and went on to travel the world. He hoped the traveling would give him clarity he needed.

MARS:

Mars was a vigilante name Ares went by. With authorities having hit a dead end in their investigation, he took up a false "hero" identity. He used this cover to not only track down and bring child predators to justice but had successfully blew open a massive child trafficking ring in the next city over. Still despite his best efforts, his secret identity didn't bring him any closer to finding his son.

He was later tracked down by two undercover Initiative agents. They promised him that with his help, they'd show him where Connor's body was buried. Ares felt he had no choice, finding Connor was the only thing Ares cared about. He agreed, but soon realized the nature of his "mission." Earth was going to burn before Deimos' time, Armageddon was coming over a millennia too soon. He and his "siblings" 8 and 9 were positioned at key points in Earth's time to account for the climate change occurring. Now, they were asked to undo humanity's greatest crime, to in essence, terraform the planet and save it.

[bookloveravenue]

Stick Side (book 2): The Nature of the Game by Amy Aislin

Six years ago, an ultimatum forced Dan Greyson to make a choice that cost him everything he loved most. One of those things? His boyfriend, hockey player Ashton Yager. Now that they’ve crossed paths again, Dan isn’t about to let the opportunity slip away. Ash’s reappearance in his life is just the catalyst Dan needs to escape the rut he’s fallen into…and win back Ash’s trust and love.

Ashton Yager, once burned and now a little bit shy, didn’t mean to publicly come out as bisexual. But now that he has, he’s got to deal with the consequences, including the fact that it might’ve cost him his NHL contract. With his job on the line, he needs to keep his head down, work hard, and play the best hockey of his life. Rekindling things with Dan? That’s not exactly keeping a low profile. It’s also never going to happen, not after Dan walked away once without an explanation.

When a hurricane forces Ash to seek shelter out-of-state, he and Dan find themselves in the same B&B, where old feelings resurface. But with everything Ash has on the line, does he dare play with fire again?

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/45033763-the-nature-of-the-game

********

February 22, 2023

My Review: 5/5 Stars

Dan gave up everything six years ago. His dream. His brother. And the love of his life. He was backed into a corner and to protect those he loved, he had to let them go and push them away. Then when he learned a few months earlier that all of his sacrifices were for nothing, Dan is ready to make amends. He started with his brother but then he crosses paths with Ash. The love of his life. The one he left without an explanation. All he wants is a second chance but if he can't get that then he wants to at least apologize and explain. But Ash won't listen. And Dan can't exactly blame him. It will take everything he can to make Ash realize that Dan is here to stay. But could it be too late? For Ash, seeing Dan again reminds him of all the heartache he endured. He doesn't want to know the truth. Not anymore. At least, he thinks so. But the more he sees Dan and the bits and pieces of clues that come from Dan and others, Ash begins to wonder if maybe he does need to know what happened. It will take a bit for his heart and head to truly forgive Dan. If he can. These two kept tugging at my heart strings. Learning everything Dan had to sacrifice everything and then it mean absolutely nothing? So rough. And when Ash doesn't want to hear him out, you just wanna shake him to listen! They have a long hard journey ahead of them but you'll want to cheer them on the whole time because these two deserve their happy ending, especially with one another. Loved this story! Can't wait for the next one.

[bluebird-poetry96]

He Is Magic.

He asks me,

“Why do you like me?”

As if, I could, easily, breathe out an answer.

As if, it’s as simple as saying, ‘You light up, when regarding something you’re, passionate about, and how, ‘Your smile, will send me to my knees,’

As if, ‘Your eyes, are like the stars in a night sky, brilliantly shining, but encompassed by darkness,’ would do you justice.

As if, I could utter the words, ‘Your kiss, spins my heart like a top atop a table.’

As if, I’d even imagine, speaking those, sour, typical words like, ‘You’re smart, kind, strong, ambivalent, courageous, and powerful. You have been through so much, and yet you still put yourself out there with the possibility of getting hurt again.’

While all these words, ring like the bells of truth high above the church.. It’s not, The Reason.

The Reason, for me is, hard to explain...

He is such a sight to see: A raven, wings spread wide, soaring through the sky, only to land atop the highest part, of the tallest tree, to rest for a moment, then off again. 

A reminder everything is fleeting, take time to rest and heal.

He is such a sensation to feel. A raging river, forcing me down stream, battering me against rocks, only to be swept into a hard rooted, cool, calm, clear, stagnant pool to rest.

A reminder that, no one is perfect, we all have our raging storms to endure.

He has such an aromatically, fragrant, scent. Like that of warm sugar vanilla, the most magical smell, in all the world, or, is it something like, taking an inestimable breath, the second, you step out of the car, when you arrive in, a heavily wooded area, even from a campfire, the burning wood, the smoke that will follow you anywhere. He is an Immeasurably, profoundly,  deep breath of Fresh air.

A reminder to stop, and reflect on the important things in this life.

He is such a flavor to savor and, oh, how he sat upon my tongue. The aura of my favorite ice cream, melting, leaking down my throat. He swirled his tongue, against mine, I have never tasted anything sweeter. He slides down my esophagus, to my heart, where he then sits, and starts a fire.

A reminder that everything is precious, some things are so worth the scar on your heart.

He is such a melody to discover and experience. I hear, a lead guitar emanating from each breath, I hear, the steady drum of his heart. Full of agonizing, anguish. He laughs in the face of that hurricane of contradictions. It has to be Mozart, the power and rage. It rings in my ears with such a, determined ferocity, fire engulfs my body.

A reminder that we are all different, yet all contain symphonies within.

How can I put into words, that which, I have never been able to describe. 

The only word, in the English language, that even comes close, is, 

Love. 

He emits love and empathy, like the ocean emits waves.

He tells me he doesn’t know who he is,

I say he is eternal.

He says, “I don't know who I am, or, who I am turning into.”

But, I, do. I know who you are.

You are ever evolving, you forced your way, out of that cocoon. 

You have gone through, tremendous, heartbreak, and many life lessons, 

You turned into goo, nothing left of you, only to emerge in spring.

You are, the caterpillar, turned butterfly, sitting on a tree branch, letting his wing develop.

You don’t know how to fly, yet.

I want to show you, how to leave that tree, and trust, yourself.

I want to show you how, even though, life is hard and scary,

How to spread your wings 

Jump off that branch, let the air catch you.

Of course, that is what it’s there for.

The prosperity and abundance of, powerful, vulnerability.  

It will be, so, worth it, to acquire the knowledge, of your own value.

That you can, in fact,

Fly, all by yourself. 

I’ll take this first leap with you, only to show you how it’s done.

So you don’t feel forsaken, or forgotten, in a formidable, flash of a moment. 

I will recount, rehearse, recite and reveal  all my wisdom, all the sacrifices I made, in vain, to Gods long lost to the people.

Amidst my long, lengthy, lonely, life, lessons learned, that left me, on the edge of a cliff, standing, toes hanging off of this monumental, mammoth of a mountain

Looking a long way down,

Ready to throw myself off.

I did, however, learn from my... errors in judgment.

I learned, one can really only hope to understand that:

There is no light without darkness and

There is no darkness without light. 

Great delight can be found amongst the desolate gray clouds, making a starless night.

Yet,

On the same page,

Solemn loneliness, can be found, even in times of pure, blissful joy.

Pain, steals light, and can darken the heart.

Honesty, humility, and love, can bring it, to beat again. 

I learned that, all anyone can ask of us, is to, learn from our mistakes,

Be patient, be kind, be humble

Imbue and uphold honesty.

Be wild, without causing damage.

Now, spread your wings and

Fly.

-Raven Blue Bell