#from parts unknown

[reneeawross]

There are terrible men, I’m one so I should know

A little Will Graham doodle I did for my room since I can’t afford posters lol. I just threw some random shit on there so I guess it’s kind of a collage… may or may not be real blood. 🪡🩸

Lyrics are from Moor by Every Time I Die

Instagram: @reneeawross

Twitter: @nightbirdzvinyl

[beatsforbrothels]

see it now, see it now shift the absurd and the reasoned around make it so, make it so build holy places with towering stones

[muchalucha-art]

An Introduction to Los Campeones de La Lucha Libre

Here’s a novelty...Back around 2012 in Los Angeles, myself, Lili Chin and writer Keith J. Rainville filmed a short video for an Australian screening of Los Campeones de La Lucha Libre.

We obviously had a ball doing this, and we also touched upon why we wanted to specifically make this film and the aspects of it that set it apart from Mucha Lucha!

I also make reference to Jamie Leonarder - AKA Jay Katz - who ran a quirky and influential subculture organization called the ‘Mu-Meson Archives’ in Sydney, and was the person who first introduced me to ‘Mexican Masked Wrestling’ in the early 1990′s.

[betterlovers]

[captainswan618]

there is a person standing 73 yards some distance away, watching you. they look like they’re trying to tell you something. you can’t get away from them, nor can you get close to them. they’re just...standing there.

so your friends and loved ones try to help you by talking to them, and the person must be saying something to them, because they look at you differently now. but you have no idea what it was, all you hear is static.

you try to tell them not to listen to the person, but no matter what you do, no matter how much you plead with them, they look up at you with suspicion-hatred-fear and just run. they don’t care where they’re going, just that you’re not there. and you can’t do anything to stop it.

the more that the people in your life care about you, the worse it is, because anyone who tries to help is turned against you. so you are just gradually shut out of your own life by the people you love the most, until eventually you no longer recognize your surroundings.

there is a person standing 73 yards some distance away, watching you.

[skeletoninthemelonland]

"The Exocannis Ressurection"

[fawnforevergone]

what absolutely floors me is the way "Unknown (Nth)" is the song for Treachery, and yet is more about betraying ourselves rather than being betrayed. hozier says that, when the break-up happened, it felt as though his lover was chewing on his heart while it still beats, but he can only blame himself because entering a relationship is acknowledging the chance it may fail and still going through with it. AND THEN HE SAYS "i'd walk so far just to take the injury of finally knowing you" - meaning he would do it all again with the knowledge of failure because isn't that what he risked in the first place anyway? ,,,"Unknown (Nth)", the weapon that you are-

[lunarharp]

What led to this (orufrey comic, cw an uncomfortable/creepy scene)

[chronicowboy]

when hozier said "the bliss of not knowin' yourself with all the mirrorin' gone from the world" and when hozier said "i'd still know you, not being shown you, i only need the workin' of my hands" and when hozier said "the soul, if that's what you'd call it, uneasy ally of the body" and when hozier said "my life was a storm since i was born, how could i fear any hurricane?" and when hozier said "if you need to, darling, lean your weight on me" and when hozier said "let me put my lips to something, let me wrap my teeth around the world" and when hozier said "but i know being reckless and young is not how the damage gets done" and when hozier said "so someone with your eyes might come in time to hold me like water or, christ, hold me like a knife" and when hozier said "we didn't get it right, love, but we did our best" and when hozier said "as natural as another leg around you in the bed frame" and when hozier said "and have your guarded heart be lifted like a child up by the hand" and when hozier said "if i had his job, you would live forever" and when hozier said "the moment i knew i'd no choice but to love you" and when hozier said "you know the distance never made a difference to me" and when hozier said "i can scarce believe what i'm believing in"

[hpdabbles]

The Empty Bottle

Harry Potter can say with certainty that he has seen a lot in his life, but he knows that he has not seen everything. In fact, he wonders how much he missed in the war he ended and how many lives he dismissed and failed to witness. There were times when the echoes of the war would play in his mind, catching him off guard, not only by the bad but by the good that slipped through his fingers while he struggled.

It would take him a minute to remember that it was all over. He had left the cupboard behind in the nightmares of his childhood; Tom Riddle lay dead, nothing more than ash in the wind, and he mourned those he lost but lived for those he kept safe.

He did everything he could to uphold the morals and expectations of a true Gryffindor. Not in some misguided ideal of house rivalry- he had outground such foolishness- but to honor the memory of those who adore the house.

He did it for his parents, godfather, werewolf uncle, grandfatherly headmaster, and mischievous brother-in-law. They were the ones who made him proud to wear his red tie and cheer for lions.

But he also met people who made him proud of the other three colors. He thought about the clever potion master whose bravery made him reconsider the evil of Slytherin. He thought about the woman who ran away from her family to be with the man she loved and now raised her godson due to losing both her husband and daughter. He thought of the mother who lied to protect him and her son.

He thought of the whimsical, loving girl who smiled even when harassed by bullies who did not bother to get to know her before passing judgment. He thought of a cheerful and kind boy who merely wanted to represent his school and life cut for being in the wrong place and time.

He thought of the different colored ties that decorated the floor after the fallen fifty bodies were gathered in the grand hall.

Sometimes, while taking breaks from Auror training, he would ponder what life would have been like to not be a Gryffindor. Would that have changed anything? Or would it all have been the same since he was Harry Potter and a prophecy had hung over his head long before his birth would decide that for him?

It was useless to focus on the What-ifs. He knew this. He spent his whole life wondering- what if my parents were alive?- and that was long before he knew of magic. There was nothing to gain from pondering them for too long.

Nothing at all.

He had a life to live—one that so many died to ensure he would experience. He would not let their sacrifice be in vain. Harry spent years trying to find peace with himself, to smile at family gatherings, to stop and watch the leaves fall off the trees, to feel the sun rest on his skin, and to simply breathe.

He learned to compliment his reflections and started to believe them for the first time in his life. He learned to stop and listen—truly listen—when asking someone about their day. He learned to lower his walls, to speak about his hardships so that the youth who gawked at him in the streets learned it was okay to ask for help.

Even heroes needed moments of weakness.

He married the woman who knew when his eyes turned dark with unknown horrors but still held his face in her warm palms to ground him. They built a home together where they used to hide from killers, twisting the rooms until only warmth reminded them.

She brought three wonderful buddles of joy for him, and sometimes, when he would sit outside, listening to the rain mixed with his children's laughter, Harry knew that if his story ended now, it would be a happy one.

The hero had done his duty, and now he rested. He had a really long life, but he was young in age, and sometimes Harry swore it was unfair. Yet other times, he felt content with the simple, quiet life. He was alive, but he would welcome death, as he did the day he marched into the forest toward Riddle with no regrets.

This is why, the day he woke to find a floating black dog made of smoke above his head, he only had a moment to reach out and gently kiss Ginny's face one last time before the Grim took its claim.

It was gentle and peaceful in the end, even as the dog gently bit down on his neck and carried his soul. He felt no pain, just relief—like gentle rain on his skin on a spring morning and the sense of complete and utter freedom. The Grim pulled his bodiless soul until they were back at the King Cross, where Harry reformed. This time, there was no crying baby, twinkling eyes, fear, or confusion.

Just a man walking alongside a dog, hand resting on the canine head as it leads him to a train. He knows he is to board, and with one finally pat on the Grim's head, he does so.

Harry finds a comfortable sit in first cart, sliding into the plush cushions with a sign. He stares out the window, watching the mist roll by as the train departs. The Grim is happily watching him go, black tail wagging, and Harry can't help but wave at it as the rattling of the tracks gains volume the faster the speed picks up.

For a moment, there is nothing to view. A part of Harry always assumed that the mist would clear once he left King Cross', breaking way into a beautiful foreign landscape like the once fantasies of a boy stuck in a cupboard used to dream about.

He chuckles at his assumptions, for what man can claim to understand death? He leans back into his seat, closing his eyes. There is a moment when he wonders how Ginny and his children will handle his death. It saddens him to know that they will suffer for his loss, but it was Harry's time.

James would start Hogwarts in only three months. He prays his eldest enjoys his time there, even with his father's death so fresh. Harry knows Hermione and Ron will ensure that Ginny gets help to take their son to the train and will be there for his tears just as they had been when Harry was James' age

His death was natural, he went in his sleep, and he was content with it. He hopes they will live on just as he had when he lost those he loved.

Harry's eyes snap open at the sound of a knock on the door of his compartment. Through the small window, he can barely make out the head of a small boy, nervously peaking up at him as though he was standing on his tiptoes to see. It reminds him of Albus whenever his son wanted Harry to read him a bedtime story but was too shy to ask, and it causes a smile to twitch onto his face.

"Come in," He calls, watching the child scramble to open the door. He nearly reels back at the sight of someone so young on this death train before he remembers that death knows no age limit.

The boy could be no older than nine- just like his Albus- and is dressed in a muggle hospital gown. His cheeks are hollow, his skin is unhealthy and pale, and the specific way he carries himself indicates weakness. Seeing as Harry is still wearing his pajamas, he can guess the boy passed in the hospital, likely due to illness.

"Hi, mister. Do you know where we are?" the child asks, his voice rising in an American accent. Harry isn't sure about the region, but he suspects it is somewhere south.

Harry smiles, patting the seat next to him. Without hesitation, the boy climbs up and sits down with a burst of energy that surprises him. "Yes. We're on a train heading to the Beyond."

"We aren't in a train." The boy giggles, putting the window that Harry is leaning on. "We're on a boat! What's the Beyond?"

Briefly, Harry wonders if everyone sees something different when coming to their deaths, but he doesn't correct the young boy. "You're right. Sorry, I was being silly. The Beyond is a surprise for everyone. We know when we get there."

"Is my momma there?" the boy asks with wide, sparkling eyes. I want to tell her I don't feel sick anymore!"

Harry's smile falters for a second. He is unsure if he should explain that they had died to someone so young, but something on his face must have given him away. The boy's dim, and he looks back to the window, watching the mist that Harry sees before he seems to shrink in on himself.

"Oh, I passed away. Momma is going to cry." He hunches his shoulders, and Harry suddenly wants to comfort him. Without much thought, he places a arm around the child's shoulders, bringing him into a hug that has the young child melting into him.

They stay like that for a moment; the only sound is the soft sniffs of the child who mourns his short life and the man who feels he lived long enough. Eventually, the child falls asleep, using Harry's lap as a pillow, small tears covering his face.

He wonders for the child's name as they travel, and a voice whispers into his head.

Hadrian Evans.

Strangely, he felt like he had known that his entire life.

Time moves on, and Harry loses count of it, watching hills of endless mist roll by. Hadrian stays by his side the entire time, sleeping peacefully and clutching his sleeve.

A second knock is made at his door a while later, which could have been minutes or hours. Harry turns to find a man wearing a train uniform waving at him. He's pushing the snack trolly, but rather than sweets and treats, there are various bottles.

"Good day," the man says, in Hadrian's accent. "It's time to choose. Can you wake up the kiddo?"

Harry wants to tell him no since Hadrian seems content with slumber, but something tells him not to question the stranger. He gently shakes Hadrian's shoulder, whispering, "Hadrian, love, time to get up."

The boy's face scrunches up before tiny blue eyes blink open. He makes a confused face at Harry, rubbing at his face, and the wizard's heart melts. He feels oddly parental towards the boy, in the same sense of love he would for his own children.

Harry thinks he would adopt him without a second thought if they had been alive.

The trolly man smiles wider, gesturing to his bottles as the boy finally notices him. Hadrian instantly clings to Harry's arm, seeking comfort from the wizard. "No need for that kiddo. Nothing to be afraid of. I'm just here to help you lads choose."

"Choose what?" Harry asks watching the man push in the trolly, the bottles clinking against each other. He notices that they resemble potions with various shapes and colors, but there are no labels. He isn't what any of them do.

"That's the fun part. You will know once you pick. You can just grab the three ones that seem best to you. Don't think too much-trust your gut." Trolly man chirps and something about his hand motions seems familiar in a way that scratches Harry's brain. Has he met him before?

Harry hesitates, but Hadrian reaches out for the long plum bottle that shimmers when he pulls it towards him. The bottle is almost as big as the boy's torso.

Hadrian giggles as it continues to shimmer and glow, likely never seen magic before. For some reason, Harry knows in his bones that Hadrian was born a muggle.

Then, the boy grabs a small blue bottle that is see-through enough to see the gold liquid inside. Finally, he picks up an empty bottle with a giggle.

The trolly man nods. "Good health. Good Wealth and Second Chance. Wonderful choices, Mr. Evans. Mr. Potter, if you please?"

Harry looks at all the bottles, ranking his eyes over the tall ones, the small ones, the shining ones, the glowing ones, and the ugly ones. Nothing really calls out to him because he hears his wife's lectures about not touching potions, and he does not know the effect of echoing in his mind.

Not only that, but none of them speak to him. None of them makes him want to reach out and grasp. That's not right. Deep in his soul, he knows he should want to grab three of the bottles, but he can't find out why.

He stares at the bottles, repeatedly focusing his eyes on them, trying to decide. The compartment falls silent as he tries to choose before Trolly Man sighs, pushing the cart away. "Again, you make my job so hard, Potter."

"Do I know you?" Harry asks, confused, as the trolly rolls out into the hall, vanishing into ash, all its bottles gone.

"Yes." The man rubs his hand down his face as if greatly inconvenienced. Harry waits for an explanation, but no one comes, and Hadrian plays with his bottles.

"From where?" He asks at last, unable to help himself.

One dark eye- utterly devoid of any features, just darkness. Harry reels back at the inhuman-looking gaze, clutching to Hadrian protectively- peaks at him through fingers. "You escaped me before, and my dog led you here."

Oh.

"Death." He breathes.

"Yes. It seems you escaped me again." Death sighs. "And to think you made it all the reincarnation bottles."

"The what?"

"Reincarnation Bottles. The ones you pick before Life crafts you a new body, and Fate uses the potions in them to create your luck of the draw. You, however, are not going to reincarnate. You would have been going back, but your body has expired, and unlike the killing curse, there was too much damage to fix for Life to put you back in. Guess you will spend all eternity here."

Death glances down at Hadrian with a gentle smile. "Kiddo here is going to stop at the next port."

"Why can't he come with me?" Hadrian pouts "Why does he have to stay?"

"He didn't get a bottle, kiddo."

"He can have one of mine!" Hadrian hands Harry the empty bottle. It's the size of his thumb and has a round golden bottle top. A rush of warmth runs through his body the moment he touches it. Death tilts his head considering before he snaps his figures.

At once, Harry watches as Hadrian goes from a small, sickly child to a healthy, angelic one with sunny curls that fall over his ears and wide blue eyes that gleam. There is a moment where Hadrian stares in wonder at himself before Harry starts to shrink and ends up at eye level with the surprised child.

Death grins. "If it's freely given, then the Second Chance can be transferred. Harry Potter, you will go back, but not as the Boy Who Lived. You will return as Hadrian Evans, an identity and a healthy body bestowed by a kind soul. Don't waste it."

Harry opens his mouth to demand a better explanation, but between one blink and the next, he vanishes into a bright light. He clutches his eyes closed, feeling his body, his soul, and his memories shift in a whirlpool of emotions.

He is Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Slayer of Voldemort, Father of Three, Husband of a Professional Quidditch Player, born and raised in England.

He is Hadrian Evans, a wizard of two Squibs. He was born and raised in America due to his American mother. He was sick all his life up until he was ten years old, when surgery saved his life. He moved to England after his father realized his son had developed magic.

Per tradition, despite not being allowed to carry his magical family name due to his Father's disownment for his lack of magic, Hadrian was to be sent to Hogwarts and permitted access to the family vaults. He was the last heir to the family bloodline, and his father's scorn family portraits would rather a Squib-mutt keep their line of work alive than let the family magic die out.

He is eleven years old and stands before the open door of a compartment Hogwarts Express in 1991, nervous and unsure of his place.

Both memories, personalities, and souls mix until Harry Potter takes over and realizes Death has allowed him to take over a version of Hadrian Evans's life in a similar timeline.

How does he know?

"Are you just going to stand there, or will you come in?" A young boy with red hair demands. Across from a boy with baggy clothes, untidy hair, and deep, deep green eyes staring back at him.

It's himself or a version of himself.

Harry gulps, licking his lips and gathering his thoughts. He smiles hesitantly. "Are you sure it's okay for me to sit here?"

"Of course. There's space enough," Other Harry Potter tells him with a shy smile, and he is suddenly hit with the reminder that he was once reserved and cripplingly socially awkward due to his treatment by the Dursleys. It's one thing to live through it, but to see the effects of abuse on a child is another thing.

"Thank you." He says, pushing in his trunk, memories of his parents helping him pack with childlike excitement flashing behind his eyes. Strange to think of the Evans as strangers and loving parents of eleven years all at once.

Despite the contradiction, he knows that should he ask if they will open their home to Harry due to suspected abuse, the Evans would have Harry's room painted and decorated long before he arrived at their house.

Both adults know what living with a family that hates you is like.

"My name's Hadrian Evans," He tells the boys, accepting the name in a second. He had lived as Harry Potter and had been comfortable with its end. But now he had a new beginning, and that was rather exciting.

"Ron Weasley. Cool accent. You from the States?"

Hadrian grins with a sudden rush for life that he has not felt in a long time. "Yeah, I am."

Ron's eyes widen as a soft blush develops over the top of his cheekbones, and Harry coughs into his fist, looking flustered. Confused, Hadrian tilts his head as Ron stutters about which Hogwarts House they like to get into, attempting to change the topic.

Harry admits to not knowing what that is, and thus, the redhead launches into a fast-paced explanation, grateful for the olive branch. Hadrian settles in his seat, smiling softly, watching the two children speak.

[tinesleftnipple]

After combing through all the trailers, here's my ep 10 prediction

Post shower nosebleed scene. Maybe because of the trauma of what happened earlier. His condition is getting worse

Wei qian comes out from the bathroom and yuan helps him blow dry his hair, and then pulls him down to sleep. Qian lets yuan hold him

Wei qian goes to see doc lin. Some backstory on doctor lin and Le ge.

Doctor lin tells him to go get treated at a bigger hospital. Wei qian continues to keep it a secret from yuan and yuan notices something is up. He tries to confront wei qian about it but to no avail. Convo at the dinner table where yuan takes his hand and asks, in your heart, what am i to you?

San pang comes over and they have a man to man convo. San pang now realizes how important qian and yuan are to each other, and how precious yuan's feelings are. He's trying to talk wei qian through it. "Unless you really can't accept being with a guy, otherwise yuan is the only one in this world who stands by you unwaveringly" "Would you okay with it if you weren't a part of his future?"

Wei qian thinks it's a hard decision to make - he needs to worry about the future, yuan's future (and also probably his Mystery Condition plays a significant role in making this decision). He knows if he accepts yuan's love it will be for life.

San pang leaves and wei qian goes upstairs but realizes yuan was there the whole time

Yuan leaves the house and qian chases after him

Yuan asks if qian is having a hard time dealing because he feels guilty or because he cares. He never asked wei qian to take responsibility for his feelings

Yuan goes to leave and qian grabs onto him. Qian tells him he's terrified. "I really can't wrap my head around it, what kind of love I feel for you"

[dnalt-d2]

Alright-y, so in case anyone missed it, we've recently gotten some information from Quackity that he's most likely doing some new project, that seems to involve multiple languages, once again. Kinda like QSMP?

Maybe EXACTLY like QSMP…????

Or maybe not

Basically, the way I see it, it is pretty likely that this is QSMP-Related, what with the images that he's been posting recently, with the GODDAMN EYE GUY

However, even if it is QSMP-related, there is something that would need to be addressed

And that's that it's incredibly unlikely we'd be getting QSMP back in the form we knew it as

Honestly, I don't really see many of the Admins returning, Egg or otherwise. Whether it's by their own choice, or the choice of the powers-that-be. And I think we all know that all the Admins, Egg or otherwise, were a huge part of what made QSMP special

In addition to that, there's also a chance that with that sort of outcome, a lot of the Creators wouldn't be coming back either. I could kinda see some of them not returning even if the Admins DO come back. I know a few of them had more sour experiences with QSMP than others did, and I couldn't really blame them for not wanting to give it another shot

So even if this is QSMP, there's a HIGH chance it won't be the same server we knew

But I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing. After all, I'm pretty sure the Eggs weren't initially MEANT to be as big as they were, which means that there HAD to be some plans for other stuff at one point or another

Hopefully…

Now obviously this is ALLL just, as usual, ✧˚⊹SPECULATION~!⊹˚✧

I'm not a psychic, and I don't know jack-all about what's been going on behind the scenes regarding QSMP or anything Quackity-related. I'm just making educated guesses and reminding everyone to temper their expectations, and try not to be too disappointed if this isn't exactly what you were hoping for

Because even if it isn't, I think it could still be something pretty fun, and I'll probably at least give it a chance regardless of whatever it winds up being

(Except maybe Purgatory 3, because I think I had enough of those vibes during my recent Purgatory 1 Re-Watch)

…

(Oh who am I kidding I'd probably end up checking out Purgatory 3 at least once I have a problem okay???)

[betterlovers]

[thisonelikesaliens]

omg the scream i scrumpt

watch this MV!

(i may follow up with translations later today)

edit: rough translations under the cut:

對你的好 給你擁抱 Being good to you, holding you in my arms 被我圍繞 是否煩惱 Revolving around you, I know when you're troubled 無理取鬧 我也知道 And I know when you're trying to pick a fight 唯一祈禱 陪你到老 My only prayer is to grow old with you

不明白 不意外 這一切不能重來 I don't understand but I'm not surprised, that we don't get a do-over 不擁抱 不應該 別用說都能明白 I understand even without words, that we shouldn't hold each other 懷抱希望 只剩下無奈 Embracing hope, but only left with a sense of helplessness

要明白 這依賴 卻不是一種關懷 I understand this dependence is not a show of care 別期待 沒期待 期待剩一片空白 No more expectations, only emptiness remains 懷抱期望只剩下傷害 Embracing expectations, but only left with pain

未知的我們 未來的我們 We don't know what the future of "us" looks like 別再掙扎就會很愉快 Stop resisting and we will be happy 拋開了是非對錯 只想與你相愛 Throwing away the notions of right and wrong, I just want to be in love with you 我不會感到後悔 也不再徘徊 I won't regret and will stop wandering 擁有你的 未來 This future with you in it

要明白 這依賴 卻不是一種關懷 I understand this dependence is not a show of care 別期待 沒期待 期待剩一片空白 No more expectations, only emptiness remains 懷抱期望只剩下傷害 Embracing expectations, but only left with pain

未知的我們 未來的我們 We don't know what the future of "us" looks like 別再掙扎就會很愉快 Stop resisting and we will be happy 拋開了是非對錯 只想與你相愛 Throwing away the notions of right and wrong, I just want to be in love with you 我不會感到後悔 也不再徘徊 I won't regret and will stop wandering 擁有你的 未來 This future with you in it

是我偽裝自己獨自心澎湃 I'm putting on a mask, hiding the cresting waves in my heart 忍不住眼淚 轉過身不想讓你看清楚 Unable to hold back my tears, I turn around so you can't see 如果可以重來 想要對你說 If we can start over, I want to tell you 我 和你 永遠不分開 You and I will never be apart

現在你和我 未來你和我 You and I in the present and future 不用掙扎 已經很快樂 We don't need to struggle anymore, we're already happy

未知的我們 未來的我們 We don't know what the future of "us" looks like 別再掙扎就會很愉快 Stop resisting and we will be happy 拋開了是非對錯 只想與你相愛 Throwing away the notions of right and wrong, I just want to be in love with you 感到後悔 也不再徘徊 I won't regret and will stop wandering 擁有你的 未來 This future with you in it

[mochifiction]

If Hozier doesn’t get nominated for a Grammy this year, tears will be shed and pitchforks will be sharpened.

[doodlejoltik]

my favourite writing device is having an un-Rei-liable narrator