#its not impossible for this to happen again.

[holmoris]

I think it's worth describing how absolutely insane that achievement is because it's above and beyond the level of catching munchlax in pokemon d/p/p and may be the single most painful achievement I've ever seen in a videogame.

TL:DR: Catching every pokemon in a Pokemon game and then doing a series of nuzlocke runs that results in every single pokemon appearing in the hall of fame at least once would be significantly faster than getting this achievement.

Balatro's got a bunch of stakes that function as its analogue to Slay the Spire's ascensions, difficulty levels you have to beat sequentially that make the game marginally harder in some way that compounds with the previous difficulty increases. Gold is the final stake and it and the stake or two before it are difficult to the point where the dominant strategy involves restarting the game over and over until you have perfect RNG on ante 1. Even playing optimally you need a significant amount of good luck to be able to win a gold.

For people who haven't actually played Balatro, it has a sort of inventory system with five slots that you can fit special cards (jokers) into comparable to an RPG where all five pieces of equipment just give you random bullshit effects instead of stats. The core strategy over the course of the game is setting up and refining a ridiculous triggered combo between your jokers and on gold all five slots are basically required to be involved in each hand in order for you to have a shot at winning (often you need more than 5 slots to put together a combo on gold as well, as there's a rare way to increase your slot count for the game that gold tends to require).

So, here's where it goes off the deep end. There are 150+ unique jokers (each split into rarity tiers like a CCG) and winning a run will add a little sticker of whatever stake's color to the corner of each joker you were holding when you finished. A good chunk of these jokers require you to unlock them by winning a run with particular criteria for them to even enter the pool as well. The criteria for the gold sticker achievement is getting a gold sticker on every single joker in the game, and a chunk of jokers in that 150 are ones that can't meaningfully contribute to a combo, can self-destruct, or are just ridiculously hard to build around. If you're playing one of the easier decks and have perfect luck you *might* be able to win a gold with a 3-joker combo and two bullshit deadweight ones, but it's going to be a rarity.

Put all this together and you get a picture of the absolute sisyphean hell that is this achievement. At the minimum you need to 100% everything else in the game just to get the jokers unlocked, and then you're looking at having to do the following runs on gold, hypothetically (ballpark numbers; I'm not doing permutation statistics at 8AM ever again):

30+ winning gold runs with absolute perfect luck assuming you can pick up 5 unstamped jokers each time somehow and pull the jokers that destroy themselves close enough to the end of the run for them to be alive in-hand when it ends (this is impossible)

140+ winning gold runs assuming you can pull a four-card combo and manage to pad the last slot with something that doesn't have a gold stamp.

Balatro being Balatro the latter isn't going to happen either, and the reality is probably 1000+ gold run wins just to get 80% of the cards stamped and probably 20000+ more getting the other 20% to spawn into a build strong enough to carry them. Those are runs that WIN, too, in a game that can end your run whenever it feels like it with one or two extremely unlucky draws.

Welcome to hell, enjoy your complimentary +4 mult.

[porcelaininkpot]

What happens when a vampire goes too long without blood?

{Throwing my own take on this into the world, its an idea thats been bouncing around my head from before I even got into redacted sooo I hope you enjoy the read!}

[Tw: Horror themes and descriptions of mild body horror]

Vampire culture is one of pristine nobility, their class is something they pride themselves on. Refinement, boundaries, customs, rules.

This strive for elegance however, is not borne out of nothing. Underlying the jewels and manners, and impeccable grooming and aesthetics, lies the potential for something much more monstrous.

It is this monstrousness that drives vampires to work so hard to distinguish themselves from the beasts laying dormant beneath their velvet over iron limbs, one bout of hunger away from snapping.

It begins slowly, at the onset of starvation. Darkness begins to glaze over their eyes, blackness swallowing them whole, their night vision becomes impossibly enhanced, it's their body's attempt to become better predators.

Then comes the stretching of fangs, canines growing incomprehensibly long so as to sink deeper into flesh.

If starvation is prolonged, vampires begin to lose their semblance of humanity, hair slowly falling off as the colour drains from their flesh, limbs growing disproportionate as their backs hunch over, skin stretched thin over jutting bones.

At this stage, it's still possible to bring a vampire back from the edge, albeit through much wrangling and hardship; deep within their psyches is still a seed of consciousness.

Past that however, is the point of no return.

Bone juts out from fingertips in arching claws, and the vampire begins to move on all fours. The body no longer has control over speed, so their lightning fast movement slows, becoming haphazard and clumsy. The only thing they can think of now, is blood.

Worst of all however, is the fangs. In a last-ditch attempt to scour for blood, the vampire jaw grows rows upon rows of fangs, jaw splitting for a wider bite. It's their body's dastardly hope, that somehow maybe, if their limbs are long enough, claws sharp enough and fangs numerous enough, that they'll somehow be able to quench their thirst. No sliver of the person the vampire used to be remains, they have succumbed wholly and entirely to the vampire curse.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹*​𓆩𓆪*𓌺⋆. °⛧

In ancient times, it was the most severe of punishments. Those found guilty of crimes beyond vampire comprehension were sentenced to solitude, locked away in high, distant mountainous caverns, never to feed again. Other cultures had their criminals sunk, shackled with the densest of silver and left to drop to the ocean floor where no human blood would ever reach them, and because vampires don't need oxygen to survive, and because no light reaches the ocean floor, they had no choice but to remain there, submerged, watching themselves turn into wretched creatures.

Its these imprisoned vampires that were the catalyst for nigh every human monster folktale. When earthquakes displaced boulders just enough for thousand year old creatures to escape into surrounding woods, they became "wendigos, skinwalkers and rakes".

When science developed enough, and the humans sent their machines to explore the ocean depths, it's these pale beasts that hunted their ships down, tearing metal like papyrus and becoming known as "sea monsters". They're the reason the human world fears the sea depths, terrified of uncovering the kind of beasts that could cause such carnage.

In recent times however, this form of punishment has been outlawed due to the risk to covert it poses, and to vampire youth it is but history. The old blood however, still remembers the trials and judgement, the imprisonment and sinking, the rarest of rare exceptions when an ally turned beast would surface again, the vampire curse reducing them to their most primal form.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹*​𓆩𓆪*𓌺⋆. °⛧

Despite their scorn of humanity, it is humanity they emulate, because even they fear the monster just beneath the skin.

The line between humanity and monstrosity is drawn in blood, and no matter how fervently vampires may suppress it, they are acutely aware of the beast hidden one hungry stomach away.

[one-green-frog]

Yandere!Muzan story where the reader is running through the infinity fortress dimension, trying to escape. The other Demon Moons are searching for them, but it’s ultimately Muzan who finds them.

Yandere Muzan x m!Reader

Crimson Love

The echo of your footsteps resonated through the endless, shifting corridors of the Infinity Castle. Your breathing was short, panicked, gasping for air, as you darted around another corner, your heart pounding against your ribs. This place was a nightmare, its architecture a cruel labyrinth of sliding panels and impossible geometry. The second you looked away from one corridor, it would be gone, replaced by another set of doors or and endless drop into what seems to be nothing.You’d been running for what felt like hours, every turn leading you deeper into this inescapable hell. Every turn felt like you get closer to escaping and every second turn felt like you further traveled into the spiderweb

Captured by the demons. The thought sent chills down your spine.

You didn’t even know how you got here. One moment, you were traveling with your companions, and the next, you were dragged into this twisted dimension, simply falling through doors. The Upper Moons lurked somewhere in these endless halls, their sinister laughter occasionally echoing through the void. You couldn’t let them find you.

Your legs burned, your body screamed for rest, but fear propelled you forward. Stopping would mean certain death, it felt like it at east Every shadow felt alive, every creak of the shifting walls made your stomach churn. You turned another corner, heart hammering in your chest—and then froze.

The floor dropped away into an abyss.

You stumbled backward, your foot slipping on the edge. Your hands shot out, barely keeping your balance. The void below seemed endless, a certain fall to death. Despair began to creep in. There was no way out. No escape.

But you couldn’t give up. Not yet.

You turned to retreat, only to hear soft footsteps approaching. The sound was deliberate, unhurried, and far too calm for someone hunting you. Your pulse spiked. Upper Moon?

You pressed yourself against the wall, holding your breath, praying the shadows would conceal you. The footsteps grew louder, closer, until—

A figure emerged.

It wasn’t one of the Upper Moons. No, this was far worse.

Muzan Kibutsuji.

The King of Demons stood before you, his presence suffocating, his crimson eyes gleaming like twin flames in the dim light. He was immaculate, his sharp features radiating an unnatural beauty that only made the terror he inspired more profound. His pale lips curled into a small smile, one that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Ah,” he said softly, his voice like silk and poison. “There you are, my darling.”

Your knees nearly buckled. You tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. Back already pressed against the wall, bottomless pit next to you, the only way out blocked by the monster right in front of you. Your options dwindled to nothing.

“Stay back!” you stammered, your voice trembling.

Muzan tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Why would I harm you? You should know by now, Y/N, I have no intention of letting anything happen to you.”

Your breath hitched. How did he know your name?

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” he continued, taking a slow step closer. “Your strength, your spirit—it’s captivated me. You, my dear, are… exquisite.”

“Let me go,” you choked out, your fists clenching. “I don’t belong here!”

“Oh, but you do,” Muzan said, his tone deceptively soft. “You belong with me. Don’t you see, Y/N? The world out there is cruel, fleeting. Humanity is weak, fragile. But here, with me, you’ll never have to fear pain or death again. We’ll spend eternity together.”

You shook your head, panic clawing at your chest. “You’re insane!”

Muzan’s smile faltered for a brief moment, but his composure returned quickly. “You’ll understand, in time,” he said, his voice lowering into something almost tender. “You’re special, Y/N. You were meant for this—meant for me.”

He reached out, and you flinched as his cold hand brushed your cheek. The touch sent ice through your veins, but Muzan’s expression softened, as if he were cradling something precious.

“You’ve been running for so long,” he murmured. “Aren’t you tired? Stop fighting, Y/N. You can’t escape me.”

Desperation surged within you, overriding your fear. With a burst of courage, you swatted his hand away and turned to run again—but it was futile. The walls shifted again, the only chance of freedom changed into a prison wall, closing in, forcing you to be trapped with this monster.

Muzan’s patience seemed infinite. He stepped forward, his movements fluid, predatory. “Why do you resist?” he asked, his tone calm but tinged with something darker. “I’ve been so generous, letting you roam free. But if you insist on making this difficult…”

You spun around to face him, heart hammering. “I’ll never stay here willingly!”

Muzan’s eyes narrowed, the faintest flicker of annoyance crossing his face. Then he sighed, as though disappointed. “So stubborn. But no matter.”

Before you could react, he closed the distance between you in a blur. His hand gripped your wrist, firm but not painful. The sheer strength behind his touch rendered you immobile.

“You’ll learn to love me, Y/N,” Muzan whispered, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “You’ll see that I’m the only one who can protect you, the only one who truly understands you. And when you do… we’ll be happy. Together.”

Tears stung your eyes as you struggled against his grip, but it was no use. Muzan was unyielding, his gaze soft yet terrifying.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said, almost tenderly. “And you’ll never leave my side again.”

The world around you seemed to dissolve, the Infinity Castle bending to Muzan’s will. You felt the floor shift beneath you, your prison cell shifting into what looked to be a normal room. The last thing you saw before darkness consumed you was Muzan’s cold, possessive smile.

And then, silence.

Eternity had begun.

[growthhyp]

Hey I found this nice gold pen how much?

The Gold Pen

"Hey, I found this nice gold pen," you called out, your eyes lingering on the glint of metal amidst the clutter. The muscular man looked up from his work, his biceps flexing slightly as he raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"How much?" you inquired, your voice betraying the excitement that bubbled within you. The pen was sleek and shiny, and you couldn't help but wonder if it was a rare find, something that could make your collection of writing instruments just a bit more interesting.

"Actually," the muscular man replied with a grin that made his eyes sparkle, "It's free. Take it."

Your heart skipped a beat as you reached out to take the pen. His fingers brushed against yours for a moment, and you couldn't help but feel the strength behind them. "Cool," you murmured, sliding the gold pen into your pocket. It felt heavier than you expected, the weight of it a comforting presence against your thigh. You continued to browse through the garage sale, your eyes occasionally darting back to the muscular man as you pretended to show interest in the random knickknacks scattered across the tables. In reality, you had no intention of buying anything else—you'd come solely to admire the man's physique, the kind of body you aspired to have, despite the countless hours you'd put in at the gym with little to show for it.

As you meandered through the aisles, you noticed his eyes on you. The smirk on his handsome face grew wider, his teeth flashing in the sun. You felt your cheeks flush and turned away, deciding that it was time to leave. You mumbled a quick "thanks" and began to make your way to the exit.

That evening, you found yourself in your bedroom. You collapsed onto your bed and pulled out your gym journal, flipping through the pages of your painstakingly detailed progress. For the past two weeks, you'd been pushing yourself harder than ever, but the scales hadn't budged as much as you'd hoped. The frustration was etched on your face as you scribbled your latest weight and measurements into the book. Your hand hovered over the page, the tip of the golden pen poised to make its mark.

"I don't know if I can do this anymore," you whispered to the empty room, the words echoing in your head. You thought back to the muscular man at the garage sale, his rippling muscles taunting you from afar. "How I wish I could look like a bodybuilder like that," you murmured, the envy thick in your voice. Before you could stop yourself, you wrote those very words into the journal. The moment the ink hit the paper, something peculiar happened. The pen grew even hotter, and your hand began to tingle, sending waves of heat up your arm.

In a sudden rush, your forearms began to swell. You stared in shock as the muscles grew larger and more defined, your skin stretching to accommodate the newfound bulk. You looked down at your hands and noticed that the one holding the pen was significantly larger than the other. Panic set in as you compared the two, and that's when you saw it—a streak of gold ink smudged on the page. You looked at your arms again, and sure enough, it's like someone has lathered a golden cream on your right forearm.

The pain grew more intense, moving up to your biceps. You let out a guttural grunt, the kind that came from deep within your chest. You could feel the muscle fibers stretching and multiplying, the ache becoming almost unbearable. But you couldn't look away, couldn't stop watching as your body transformed before your very eyes. The right bicep began to pulse and throb, the veins in your arms becoming more pronounced.

"What the fuck?" you gasped, your eyes wide with shock and awe as your body grew stronger, more powerful. Your shoulders widened, filling out your right sleeves shirt until the seams strained against your newfound size. The sensation was like nothing you'd ever felt before, a mix of agony and ecstasy that was impossible to ignore. You could almost feel your clothes ripping apart as your neck thickened and your chest swelled.

Your back muscles bulged and rippled, the gold ink seeping into your skin and leaving a trail of gleaming power in its wake. The pain grew more intense, but you found yourself pushing through it, eager to see how far this transformation would go. Your left arm began to match your right, the bicep inflating like a balloon until it mirrored the mountainous peak that had formed.

Your traps grew wide, pulling your shoulders back and making your neck seem even more defined. The gold ink spread to your chest, turning your pectorals into a sculpted plateau, the fibers of your muscles clearly visible through your skin. The discomfort grew, but you gritted your teeth, feeling the power surge through your body. The veins in your arms became more prominent.

You sit up, as the pain dropped down to your abdomen. "Huugh," you grunted, feeling your stomach muscles tighten as if they were being vacuum-sealed. You watched in amazement as your belly fat disappeared, replaced by a set of abs that seemed to be etched into your torso. Each abdominal muscle bulged one by one, the gold ink outlining them as if they were drawn by a master artist. The sensation was strange, almost ticklish, as your body reconfigured itself.

Your legs began to quiver, and you realized that the transformation wasn't stopping at your upper body. You felt your quads expand, stretching your shorts until they could hold no more. You looked down to see the material tearing away, revealing muscles that looked like they belonged to a professional bodybuilder. The gold ink flowed down your legs, turning them into a canvas of power, your calves bulging and your feet feeling as if they could crack the floorboards beneath you.

With a moan that was equal parts pain and pleasure, your cock grew, pushing against the fabric of your underwear, which struggled to contain your newfound size. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of fear and arousal that had you frozen in place.

As you stood there, you felt the last of the gold ink seep into your skin, leaving a faint shimmer that made you feel like a living, breathing statue. Your eyes snapped open, and the room around you spun. You were no longer in your cramped bedroom but instead found yourself standing on a vast stage, bathed in the unforgiving glow of spotlights. The scent of sweat and tanning oil filled your nostrils as you looked down and saw that you were now wearing nothing but a pair of gold posing trunks, smeared with gold tanning cream that gleamed against your new body.

You flexed your arms, feeling the power surge through them as your biceps and triceps bulged in a perfect pose. The crowd roared, and you realized that you were in the middle of a bodybuilding competition. The golden ink has also rewritten your history, the years of painstaking work had paid off—you were now a contender, the envy of every man who'd ever picked up a weight. You felt a rush of confidence that you had never experienced before. The doubt and inadequacy that had plagued your mind for so long were gone, replaced by a fierce determination to claim victory.

[allinduetimethefirst]

Of all the things I go back to to make a fucking chaos internet post response to its spontaneous hyperfixation hours

I'm telling you that Jonathan Sims originally was a terrified man amongst people infinitely more confident and experienced than he in a role that he could barely believe he deserved, so much so that he forced himself to put on a brave front to the point of outright rejecting any reality of the things he read having any grain of truth, and slowly but surely that rejection of the truth was whittled down or used against him until every single point of his being was covered in evidence of what scared him and it consumed him entirely.

I'm telling you that Martin Blackwood was a man who so absolutely cared for those around him to the point that he would sacrifice himself for those people no matter the consequences of doing so, and it left him entirely out of the loop of what could be happening to those that he loved and those that loved him to the point that his idea of protection became completely and utterly flipped on its head.

I'm telling you that Jonathan stumbled upon something he should never have had the chance to have, because of the foolish whims of mortals and the devious plans of a being outside of his scope, and became hopelessly trapped by a plan that gently nudged him in all of the right ways towards the ending that Jon's every move in life was tainted, and rather than believe that he could possibly rid the world of the mess he caused and live among people again with it, he decided the option that would bring it all to a complete stop would be the only way to handle it.

I'm telling you that the closest they could get to escape was a cabin in the woods and even then it was brought with them because Jonathan had been manufactured to feed off of the very thing he hates, and because of that fact the closest thing they had to an escape was cut infinitely shorter than it could have been.

I'm telling you that without the trauma that they both incurred together and everything that they had to go through, Jon and Martin would not have even been compatible with each other. Martin's crush may have been around, but Jon's opinion of Martin took the elimination of basic social norms to even lighten considerably. The only path that brought them together was the path that led them to devastation.

I'm telling you that Sasha was swept out from under their noses, causing Jon to desperately cling to the concept of keeping the rest safe. Martin didn't discover it until much later, and was left to mourn a memory he could only be sure was false. They both lost Tim in the same incident, Jon living through it happening, and Martin thought he lost Jon too. Daisy was nearly entirely doomed and Jon nearly died trying to make sure she wasn't lost forever, only for her to sacrifice herself for everyone else and be killed in front of their eyes later. Georgie and Melanie both withdrew from the group before things got too bad and left them isolated and alone for the umpteenth time. Basira left Jonathan so many times that neither could consider themselves close enough for more than bare trust. Everyone they were ever close to disappeared or died and the only things that became reliable and known and certain were the other.

I'm telling you that Jonathan brought the entire universe to the end and was pulling it over a cliff, and his love for Martin was all that stopped him from destroying it, granting him an act that would be considered selfish by the standards of the multiverse but in every other sense saved the lives of billions, and it meant that Martin had to destroy the only person that had been there through it all and shown him that love could be pure and sweet and giggly and not just the uncertain and conditional situation that his mother had left him in.

I'm telling you that they both expected to die forever in that moment, Jon and Martin, together, and that escape was impossible from the moment Jon entered the archives, and that if either of them lived, together or alone, they would continually be haunted by what had followed them, if not actively be tousling within it yet again, and that the tragedy lies in that their love was there, but it could never survive when it was created solely to die.

That is what I am telling you.

So. I just finished The Magnus Archives.

You’re telling me that Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, began his journey from such a place of uncertainty and desperation to prove himself worthy of the title, and ended as the embodiment of everything that tormented him?

You’re telling me that Martin Blackwood, who held so much love for the people around him, unintentionally paved the way for his lover’s desperate martyrdom?

You’re telling me Jon was marked for this from childhood, manipulated by forces older and greater than civilization to bring such harm upon the world that the only solution he could see was to end it?

You’re telling me there was no escape for them?

You’re telling me they could have lived happily together, but they could never have taken that path because it lies contrary to who they are?

You’re telling me Jon and Martin had everything and everyone slowly and agonizingly ripped away from them until they had nothing left but each other, until neither one could fathom surviving without the other?

You’re telling me that Martin and Jon kissed at the center of a collapsing reality, then Martin felt the life leave Jon’s body as he stabbed the only living person he loved?

You’re telling me there is a chance they are Somewhere Else, but that would mean they never escaped the Fears and never will?

You’RE TELLING ME-

[monosanimegenericzone]

Hunter x Hunter: Being bitched by a dude half your age

okay so can we talk about these two

and i cannot stop laughing how silva fucking zoldyck. in his prime at something like 42. getting his shit absolutely rocked by a "tee hee im not a teenager anymore" chrollo.

anyway. this is a breakapart analysis of how chrollo bitched him for a second time in the fight in yorknew.

side note: omg look its shalnark hiii

anyway

yap ahead. it got really long so proceed at your own risk

so the yorknew fight starts with the two zoldycks walking in on chrollo after tracking him down as fast as possible. and i mean as fast as possible. yes zeno probably could have used his 100m En to flash scan the whole building, but to parse out information from that- considering zeno has never met chrollo- would be pretty much impossible.

plus they had to deal with mafia grunts being idiots.

this is also a viable strategy. if chrollo was a pussy, he could have easily jumped out of a higher story window.

at this point neither the reader nor the zoldycks know what chrollo is doing in the building. they know the merchandise is intact and that they lost contact with 8 assassins so far, that's it.

we find out later that chrollo was playing for time, so if illumi was taking his sweet ass time taking out the 10 dons chrollo could have easily led the two zoldycks on a wild goose chase, but no, he's waiting for them.

getting into speculation territory. we don't know how long the fight actually lasted. the animated fight lasted like an episode and a half, but in hxh, time is irrelevant. the fight could have been 20 seconds tops.

minor point but- slightly relevant.

chrollo probably wanted to wipe out the assassins before making his next move and i cannot tell if he knew it was the zoldycks or not. again, him and zeno have never met, so even if zeno used En, chrollo would have no idea it's him.

point is. chrollo was waiting for the assassins to come to him. he wouldn't waste the time looking for them, so he wasn't even trying to hide as he just. casually meandered up the cemetery building.

but as soon as chrollo sees who it is his face does the iconic dark shadow. that- imma be honest- 2011 did him so dirty with.

for reference. he greets the other assassin like this

dawg is not playing

im giggling bcs its one of those "you can see the exact moment when he locked in" type things. its so funny

now this next part i will just present as a silly moment

but chrollo literally pulled a knife just to shank silva specifically. the grudge here is so real

how petty are you that you're trying to shank the guy and not his dad. this is so disrespectful

(satire)

anyway.

zeno earns chrollo's respect by being an actually seasoned fighter and able to break chrollo down for all he's worth.

those are eyes alright.

chrollo knows that silva is not going to attack him directly anymore, but he will have to keep silva in sight so that he never gets an opening.

chrollo is playing for time.

and- i did not notice this before-

ZENO FIGURED THAT OUT TOO.

THIS OLD MAN IS TOO OP. EXCUSE ME.

i can skip the rest of this fight otherwise i'll be here for 5 years glazing zeno for being the goat he is.

but chrollo's plan was to capture zeno alive. he can't secure abilities otherwise, and we assume fun fun cloth is inescapable once closed.

now picture this for a second. chrollo knows what silva's hatsu is most likely. and if he wanted to, he could have captured silva and gotten a hatsu out of him easily. silva is poisoned, slower than zeno, and the less obvious threat.

but no.

chrollo is more interested in zeno because silva is not worthy of his respect. even if silva had a really useful hatsu, i doubt chrollo would want anything to do with him. he won't even look at silva if he can help it.

also i realized that they were fighting in the basement. j'accuse.

but the really juicy part is what happens after the fight.

so i have a theory.

what if silva didn't know who illumi got a contract from. that would be the best troll ive ever seen out of chrollo in the history of ever

consider: chrollo knows about silva's warning to his kids. he and illumi have known each other for a long time, and because silva fought chrollo at least 3 years ago, i think it's reasonable to assume that chrollo and illumi already knew each other by then.

obviously we don't know for sure, but for my delusion let's go with that.

illumi is suddenly harder to reach, so chrollo tracks him down and illumi being illumi was just like "yeah dad said not to hang out with you anymore" so, chrollo, who knows illumi is a good asset, is like "bitch you aint going anywhere. imma pay you just to hang out. stick it to your old man"

so with that in mind. illumi ringing in asking for his client- who isn't zeno nor silva- and silva realizing in 0.2 seconds that it's chrollo. the immense fatherly sigh that woulda left his old ass man would have been fucking hilarious.

(based on textual evidence i dont think this is canon but its still too funny)

regardless, it's proof that illumi has either gone behind silva's back or got his reluctant permission. assuming the 'no phantom troupe' rule still applies at this time

"JUST BARELY"

SILVA BE FOR REAL I SWEAR TO GOD XDDDD

"JUST BARELY" ALIVE MY ASS.

anyway. real disrespect is chrollo only speaking to zeno. like zeno and chrollo are best buddies after going toe to toe for like 2 minutes and chrollo clearly respects zeno.

but here

right here

THIS RIGHT HERE. THE DISRESPECT IS ABSURD.

chrollo asked this question on purpose.

notice how silva isn't even in that question. SILVA IS NOT A THREAT TO CHROLLO.

AND WHAT'S WORSE.

ZENO CONFIRMED. INDIRECTLY. THAT CHROLLO COULD WIN THAT 1V1. IN FRONT OF HIS POMPOUS ASS CAT EYED SON.

LIKE LOOK AT HOW SILVA LOOKS AT CHROLLO.

HE'S SO MAD AND HE CAN DO FUCKING N O T H I N G

CHROLLO JUST BITCHED SILVA WITHOUT EVEN SAYING A WORD TO HIM, BY DEMONSTRATING THAT HE HAS CONNECTIONS TO AND CAN KILL EVERYONE SILVA RESPECTS IN THE FAMILY.

and chrollo is satisfied. he's done. he's out.

bro hit the deck waiting for his pals to show up.

and we know how pissed he was at the beginning of the fight. to be able to let it go like this- because chrollo's ass petty as hell-- he would not let it go-- means he KNOWS he made silva look like a bitch.

AND GOD DAMN. HE'S RIGHT.

thats my rant for the day. tata

[himluv]

The Incident, pt. 2

Impossibly, this is Chapter 30(?!?!?!) of my Rookanis fic Say My Name (Say it Twice). Thank you to everyone who's been reading along and leaving such wonderful comments. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Read The Incident, pt. 1

Read from the beginning

With Embria sky-high on gingerwort truffle tea, Lucanis's night has been thoroughly derailed. But... is that really such a bad thing?

The trip through the Crossroads was slow, and stressful. For the most part Rook was in a good mood, marveling at the magic all around them, and laughing at things Lucanis could neither see nor hear. But Spite was furious, spitting and hissing and shouting the whole way about her being poisoned. It did nothing to help Lucanis focus on helping her. And then she burst into tears as he tried to get her into the Caretaker’s boat.

“I can’t swim,” she cried over and over. 

“I know, Embria, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” She sniffled. “It’s embarrassing! What kind of person doesn’t know how to swim?”

He shrugged. “Plenty of people.”

She looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Do you know how to swim?”

He winced. “Yes.”

Her face crumpled and two delicate tears fell, one down each cheek. He tried to guide her into the boat, but she just shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Dweller,” the Caretaker said in its soothing voice. “You are safe here.”

She sniffed and wiped at her face. She looked at the spirit for a long moment, as if she couldn’t see it correctly, then she looked back to the boat and stepped right in. 

Lucanis sighed and thanked the Caretaker as he sat down next to her. She instantly put her head on his shoulder and sniffled some more. 

“What’s happening to me?”

His heart clenched at how small and frightened she sounded. “The gingerwort truffle tea, remember?”

She chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Worms.” She snorted. “Creators, Assan is so funny.”

He had never heard her use the Elven gods as a curse, or even invoke them in reverence. She’d given that up when it became clear the Evanuris were not the benevolent beings the Dalish had always believed. So, Lucanis knew she was very, very impaired for it to fall off her tongue so easily, and without notice. 

Mierda, he was going to kill Davrin. 

“Lucanis?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

He peered down at her, frowning. “For what?”

She heaved a disappointed sigh. “I don’t think we’re going to meet in the music room tonight, after all.”

He chuckled at that. “No, probably not.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pressed the corner of his mouth to her forehead. “But, that’s all right.”

She peered up at him, her pupils still so, so wide. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Embria, I’m sure.”

They were quiet for a moment, the Caretaker rowing them through the Fade. It was almost peaceful, until Rook sniffled and wiped at her face. 

Rook. Is crying! Again?! Spite howled. He was handling Embria’s impairment much worse than she was. 

Lucanis froze, momentarily unsure what to do. Then he gently rubbed his hand up and down her back. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…” She shuddered and shook her head. “I’m sad.”

He took a deep breath, knowing this was going to be a long evening. “About what?”

Her face crumpled as a fresh wave of tears overwhelmed her. “I really wanted to see you tonight.”

He smiled, but bit back his chuckle. It wouldn’t do to hurt her feelings now. “I know,” he said. “But, I’m here, now.”

She sat up so she could look right at him. She was a mess, her cheeks wet and blotched red from crying. Her eyes were swollen and her chin wobbled with the force of her frown. “Will you stay with me?”

He blinked at her for a moment, not comprehending the question. Did she think this little incident would chase him away from her? “What do you mean?”

She sniffled. “When we get to the Lighthouse,” she said. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He let out a relieved sigh. “Of course,” he said. He’d already planned to stay by her side – she could not be left on her own like this. 

The Caretaker brought the boat up to the dock at Beacon Island without a word. Lucanis helped Rook up and carefully guided her back onto solid ground. Her grip on his elbow was so tight, he knew that, if not for his leathers, she’d leave bruises. 

Only when they stepped through into the Lighthouse, did Lucanis think about where to take Rook. She was right, he couldn’t leave her alone in this condition. The Lighthouse was a perilous place on a normal day – he couldn’t imagine navigating it while hallucinating. 

But, he also knew he couldn’t sit with her in her chambers. Not even two weeks ago that room had unraveled him completely. And while he was improving daily, he wasn’t ready to spend hours facing that wall of water and its pale, shimmering blue light. 

There was the music room, but there wasn’t anywhere comfortable to lay, and he knew Rook would need to sleep this off eventually. Which left the pantry. His room. His cot. 

His mouth went dry at the thought. He’d fantasized about bringing her to his room, about retrying that mortifying almost-kiss, and where that might lead now that they were together. But, he had never imagined her in his room like this.

Spite settled now that they were back in the Lighthouse, the demon’s anger relegated to faint hissing and growls. He circled Rook protectively as Lucanis led her through the library and out into the courtyard. They were lucky, for once, and no one was outside. The last thing he wanted was to explain to the others what had happened, and where he was taking her. 

He led her into his room without incident, but once he closed the door, she stopped and blinked around the room. 

“This is the pantry,” she said.

“It is,” he said. He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”

Embria smiled at him, slow and sweet. “Thank you, Lucanis.”

He nodded, then ducked down to grab the spare blankets from under his cot. He laid them out and made an attempt to fluff the thin, sad pillow he sometimes used. His bed was uncomfortable by design, to make it hard to fall asleep. But it would have to do for now. 

“Get comfortable,” he said. “Have you eaten since breakfast?”

She nodded, shrugging out of her Halla leather overcoat. “There were snacks with tea.”

He did not even want to try to imagine what Davrin thought passed for snacks to pair with his atrocious tea. “Are you hungry?”

She shook her head, and now that her tears had subsided, Lucanis thought she looked a little pale. Right. Strife had suggested a bucket, and he should probably get a carafe of cool water and a washcloth. Just in case.  

“I’m going to get us some water, all right? I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, but it was a slow, dazed motion. He was not at all sure she’d heard him, but he needed to get that bucket, so he stepped out quickly and gathered some supplies. When he returned to the pantry Rook stood bent over a basket, her arms elbow deep in coffee beans. She was giggling and swirling her hands through the beans, and her pants were on the floor. 

Lucanis stood and stared for a long moment, processing the sight before him. 

She still wore her long-sleeved linen tunic, which was long enough to reach her mid-thigh. Though, the slits at the hip showed a hint of the brown fabric of the shorts she wore underneath. She wasn’t technically indecent, but he was certainly not prepared to see so much of her skin. 

He might be taller than her, but Embria carried more weight, her body full and curved. Her legs were pale and looked so smooth and, Maker help him, there was no gap between her thighs when she stood upright. He desperately wanted to run a hand up the inside of her leg, to know how soft and warm her skin would be just beneath the hem of her tunic. 

And these were wildly inappropriate thoughts to have about her at this moment. She was impaired, as good as poisoned by one of Viago’s concoctions. She was vulnerable, and he would never take advantage of that. 

But, mierda. She looked good. 

He closed the door behind him and pointedly did not look at her as he stepped past to set the bucket beside the bed. He pulled a carafe of water, a bowl, a washcloth, and two glasses out of the bucket and set them on the side table nearest the cot. He poured some of the water into the bowl, and soaked the washcloth in it. Then he poured her a glass of water. Only then did he clear his throat and turn to face her. 

She was still playing with the coffee beans, a wide grin on her face, but her eyelids drooped and her skin was quickly losing color. 

“Embria,” he said. “Do you want to lay down?”

Her brow furrowed as she considered his words. Then she nodded, and tottered over to him. Lucanis was very, very careful to keep his eyes on her face as she approached him. He expected her to sit on the cot, to perhaps even collapse onto it as her exhaustion caught up to her. But, Embria did neither of those things.

She stepped up to stand before him, her gaze fixed on his mouth. She was so close, he could feel the heat from her body. She was always so warm. And she still wasn’t wearing any pants.

“Embria.” Her name was hardly a whisper off his tongue. He felt transfixed, rooted in place with nowhere to run. No desire to run.

She lifted her hand and traced her index finger along his bottom lip. “I never noticed this scar before,” she said. There was no heat in her voice, no intent. She sounded in awe of the the little echo of the slice on his lip. He’d bore it for so long he didn’t even remember how he’d got it. 

Maker, he was trembling. A deliciously vicious mix of anticipation, worry, and lust rattled through him. He needed to stop her, now. 

“Rook,” he said, his voice low and sharp.

She blinked and looked up at him. Her eyes went wide and she drew her hand back from his face. “Oh! Oh no. Lucanis, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean–”

“It’s all right,” he said. “Just–” he exhaled. “Just drink this–” he handed her the glass of water “–then lay down.”

She took the glass and sat on the cot. She took careful sips until the cup was empty. He took it from her, refilled it, and left it on the table within her reach. She let down her hair from its usual half-up, half-down bun, running her fingers through it and sighing. Her tunic lifted dangerously with the motion, baring just a little more of her thighs.

Lucanis cursed under his breath and shook his head. This night was going to be a special brand of torture. Then he helped her slide under the blankets and settle in to rest. 

He crouched beside the cot to look her in the eye. “If you start to feel sick, there’s a bucket right here,” he said. 

She scrunched her nose at the idea, but nodded. “Thank you.”

He smiled at her and brushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. “I’m happy to care for you,” he said. And it was the truth. This wasn’t how he’d expected this evening to go, but he was happy to share it with her regardless. “Now, sleep,” he said. “You should feel better when you wake up.”

He stood and made to go, but she took his hand in hers. “Will you lay down with me?” She whispered, as if she was afraid to ask. She winced. “Just until I fall asleep?”

Lucanis sighed. He knew he shouldn’t. His self-control had already been put to the test tonight, but her eyes were heavy with sleep and glimmered in the candlelight. He knew he could never tell her no.

He blew out some of the candles, dimming the light in the room, and quickly changed from his leathers into his usual shirt and slacks. He skipped the vest and boots, then he climbed onto the cot behind her, his back to the wall. 

It was a small, uncomfortable cot when he was alone. Sharing it with Rook was an improvement, even with the blanket firmly between them, but there was no way to lay together without his front pressed to her back. They lay curled together, her under the blankets while he stayed on top of them, and Lucanis marveled at how naturally his body fit around hers.

It would be such an easy thing to bury his face in her hair, to press a gentle kiss to the back of her neck. He wanted to, just as he wanted to wrap his arm around her waist and breathe her in. Lucanis had not shared a bed with someone since he and Illario were boys. He’d forgotten how comforting it could be, knowing he wasn’t alone.

 She was so warm, even through the blanket, and the rhythm of her breathing was as soothing as the sound of water lapping in the canals back home. In the quiet, half-dark of the pantry, Lucanis listened to Embria breathe, and imagined a lifetime of nights of just that. He smiled at the thought, and it didn’t take long for him to doze. 

He didn’t know how long they’d laid there, if he’d even really fallen asleep, when she moaned. Instantly, he was awake and alert.

She moaned again, lurched, and then heaved over the side of the cot and into the bucket. 

He sat up and swept her hair back from her face as she heaved again. He rubbed her back in gentle circles, something he remembered his mother doing when he’d been sick as a boy. He didn’t know if it actually helped ease the sickness, but he knew it felt good. 

It took a few moments, and Rook’s retching was not quick or efficient – each heave seemed to take tremendous effort – but eventually, the sickness passed. She lay panting, her face hanging off the cot, over the bucket as she spat the last of the sick from her mouth. 

“Fuck,” she groaned. She rolled onto her back, one bare leg off the cot with her foot firmly planted on the floor. 

Lucanis reached over her for the glass of water. “Here,” he said. “Little sips,” he reminded her as she took it. He watched her take a few swallows, then took it back and set it down. Then he wrung the washcloth out into the bowl, and laid it across her forehead. 

She sighed. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“How’re you feeling?” Her whole body quivered from the exertion of expelling Davrin’s terrible tea, but her voice sounded clearer. More like herself.

“Uh,” she said. “Better? I’m not seeing things anymore.” She blinked, then frowned at him. “We’re lying in your bed.”

He smirked. “Don’t worry, Rook,” he said. “I’ve been a perfect gentleman.”

She snorted. “Of course you have,” she said. “I’m more worried I haven’t been very ladylike.” She shifted under the blankets, then froze, her eyes going wide. “Lucanis?”

“Embria.”

“Where are my pants?”

His smile widened. “Somewhere by the coffee beans.”

She glanced around, then put a hand to her head. “What the fuck was in that tea?”

He frowned. “How much do you remember?”

She scowled, but wouldn’t look at him. After a moment she said, “all of it.”  She covered her face with both hands. “Lucanis, I am so sorry.” She made to get up, but he pressed her shoulder back down. 

“You need to rest,” he said. 

But, she wasn’t listening. “You asked for slow and a week later I’m half-naked in your bed? Puking?! What is wrong with me?!”

“Rook,” he said, again using that low, sharp tone.

She looked at him, her eyes wide and her brow pulled low with concern. 

“Enough,” he said. “Let’s go back to sleep.” He removed the washcloth from her forehead, setting it back in the bowl. 

She watched him, her eyes shining in the candlelight. “Okay,” she whispered. She rolled away from him, onto her side with her back pressed flush against his front. 

This time, Lucanis brushed the hair away from her face and pressed a gentle kiss to the crook of her neck. This time, he let his arm drape over her waist and she laced her fingers through his over her stomach. This time, it was perfection 

“Goodnight, Embria,” he whispered against her neck. 

“Goodnight, Lucanis.” Her voice was thick, but he couldn’t tell if it was sleep or emotion that made it so. Either way, he pulled her closer, breathed in that smoky-sweet scent of her hair, and smiled. Sleep came quickly after that, for them both. 

Sniiiiiifff. Faint stink of sour dirt. Sick. Poison. Gone. Now, smoke and berries. Salt and coffee. Together. Rook is soft. So soft. Hair between fingers, against his face. Our face. Smells good. Smells nice. Like FREEDOM. Like home.

Hmmmmm. Take care. Never hurt. Our Rook. 

Rook sleeps. Lucanis sleeps. Spite rests and will watch. 

Always. Take care of. Our Rook.

[mycosmicsage]

Lesson Two: Moon Signs for Beginners

Welcome back to your next lesson! Today we are going to take a walk through the moon signs.

For a recap there are twelve signs in astrology:

-♈Aries 

-♉Taurus

-♊Gemini

-♋Cancer 

-♌Leo

-♍Virgo

-♎Libra

-♏Scorpio

-♐Sagittarius 

-♑Capricorn

-♒Aquarius 

-♓Pisces

Each sign has its own special spot for personality when looking through the lens of different planets. Today we are going to be looking at what those planets look like through the lens of the moon.

Your moon sign is how you react emotionally to the world. When your ego (the sun) interacts with the world, it is then taken by the moon internally for how you are going to feel about it. 

To figure out your moon sign, you can look at which sign the moon was on the day you were born. The moon has a transit of 2.5 days through each sign, finally reaching the top (Aries) again on the 28th day.

If you don’t know your moon sign there are two ways to go about it. You can either make a lunar calendar, or look up a calculator online. I hope to one day have this tool available, but unfortunately today is not that day.

Now that you know your moon sign (or not I don’t judge), we’ll take a walk through what is going on, on the inner level of self with the moon.

The Zodiac through the Moon

♈Aries- The Ram

With Aries being in the moon, the best way to describe it is the feeling of needing to get somewhere incredibly important really quickly. However, it never seems like anyone else in the world got that memo, so you are stuck in impossibly slow Sunday drivers, day in and day out. Nothing happens fast enough. Aries in the moon is like the sign of instant gratification, needing something and needing it now. No matter what that means for anybody else. Aries is still an incredibly passionate sign, with tempers flaring fast in this planet. But as tempers rise quickly, they so do fall. Emotions aren’t a mainstay in this sign, and will continue on continuing on as though you didn’t say something to set them off. 

♉Taurus- The Bull

In the sun, Taurus enjoys kicking back and feeling all the luxuries that the world has to offer them. In the moon they’re a bit different, Taurus’ ruling planet is Venus, or the planet of love, and Taurus’ tend to love, love. They keep an eye out for where they can find peace in their day to day and tend to avoid things that might get a bit… messy… It doesn’t mean that they aren’t up for a bit of drama, but, they rather prefer the stability that they can create in a day to day life. However, as much as it may be peaceful, it can also be incredibly stagnating and Taurus will need to watch themselves to avoid a rut. 

♊Gemini- The Twins

Oh the Twins. Flighty as a personality, and flighty with emotions. One moment they can be happy and laughing right along with you, and the next their stewing because your tone seemed off. Unlike Aries, or Taurus- Gemini does try to keep it to themselves most of the time, not wanting to make their issues anyone else’s problem, but if asked they will share. A Gemini moon could be dealing with some of the worst hardships, but make it seem as though there is nothing even special going on in their life at the time. A quality shared by the other air signs as well (Libra and Aquarius), all of them seeming more aloof then the other zodiacs, and as though there couldn’t be anything beneath the surface. 

♋Cancer- The Crab

Just like with Leo in the Sun, a Cancer in the moon is in its spotlight. Cancer is at home in this sign, their emotions coming and going like the waves that the moon so pushes. They hold on deeply to the things that they care about, it's because of this that they can sometimes hold on to a past argument or diss for a little too long. Cancers can hold a grudge like no one else (save for Scorpio more on that later). They can bring up an argument again and again, and reiterate how much you hurt their feelings over and over. All that a Cancer in the moon truly seeks though is security, and comfort that comes with the shell. Reassurances that their feelings are not invalid and you’ll have a Cancer back up and feeling good in seconds. 

♌Leo- The Lion

Leo’s in the moon are a bit different from their sun counterpart in that while they enjoy attention, they aren’t necessarily wanting their emotions broadcast out to the world. Just those close to them. This can be a fairly dramatic placement with Leo sometimes having emotional outburst that seem to come from nowhere, and can be a bit bossy to boot. However, just like their sun counterpart they want to make people feel good, this can often be a class clown placement, wanting to make people laugh. Sometimes even taking on more of a parental role in their friend groups and just wanting to make sure everyone is doing ok. This sign like its fire brethren can be quite temperamental, but it is the easiest fire sign to reason with as they do have a good sense of fair headedness. 

♍Virgo- The Maiden

When it comes to the moon being in Virgo, this can be an incredibly unsettled position. The moon is a very mental position of the inner self, and Virgo is a sign that is ruled by the mental capacity. This position can be incredibly anxious and reserved, not really wanting to put themselves out there for the world to see. Instead choosing to sit back and watch the tide roll so to speak. Virgo in this position is also seen to try to control the little things at home, creating a safer environment for themselves to exist in. They will constantly be looking for little projects or things to do that will make their day-to-day life that much simpler, keeping a fairly tidy and organized space that they can lose themselves in. 

♎Libra- The Scales

Oh Libra, you hopeless romantic you. People with Libra moons, just like Taurus (they’re both ruled by Venus), love relationships- however, unlike Taurus, a Libra in this sign will feel empty without having a significant other and tend to latch themselves on to people quite quickly. Relationships move fast with people in this sign, often hearing wedding bells a few months into a new relationship. Because this sign is all about balance, they may end up letting their partner walk over them a fair few times. However, that’s not to say they don’t know when they need to “fix” something so to speak. Libra is a very aethstetic sign, and if they find something that's out of place in their head they will throw everything at the wall until it's “fixed” often leading to a lot of their relationships ending fairly early. 

♏Scorpio- The Scorpion

What a dramatic placement. Scorpios are already an intense sign and in this position they tend to get even deeper. Water signs and the moon are typically more in their element and a bit more intuitive. So with Scorpio being a sign that is all about rebirth and seeing through the curtains as it were, this sign in the moon can often see through other people's B.S. and often lift the veil. This sign can also hold a grudge like no one’s business when it comes to the inner self. Whereas Aries' temper is flashy and a bright explosion the heat quickly dying off, Scorpio’s can sit and fester in a cold, uncaring rage for those who upset them. 

♐Sagittarius- The Archer

Still as flighty as ever Sag., especially in this placement. Sagittarius is a fire sign that is all about self-expression and freedom. Finding their passions in the free world. In the moon this expresses as a desire to not be emotionally caged in, and wanting to escape. They’re all down for having a partner join them, don’t get me wrong, but the moment that things start to feel too cagey for their liking all they want to do is dip out faster. These signs do not enjoy confrontation, and will often avoid it to the best of their abilities. A Sagittarius in the moon is all about finding their own inner passion, and figuring out how to share it with the world surrounding them. 

♑Capricorn- The Goat

Unlike Cancer, this placement was not meant for you Capricorn. Capricorn in the moon is to its detriment, not a happy placement. Capricorn is strong and stable, and emotions and the inner self are not. So oftentimes when you find a Capricorn moon you can see that they have troubles connecting with their inner emotions and truly expressing themselves and their desires. They want their focus to be on the outer world, and the prestige that it can bring them, more than what they want from themselves. In order to feel more secure, and to reach that ability to “let go” of their tight reigns around themselves a Capricorn moon often just needs to feel valued and secured in order to truly feel at home. 

♒Aquarius- The Water Bearer

You kooky little aliens you, this is an interesting placement in the moon. As stated the moon is all about inner self and true desires, Aquarius as a sign is very detached as an outside observer looking in. This sign in this placement is very analytical. Often observing the why of why other people behave versus looking in at themselves. They can often alienate other people from seeming so detached from their emotions, however, this a humanitarian sign and they want to try to help others work through what they consider to be the messier states of being. On the other hand it is also a placement that does not take critique well, and can cause them to stand back and remain aloof if they feel as though they can’t be their true self with you. Almost like trying to catch the smell of winter in a glass jar, these ones, near impossible to capture.

♓Pisces- The Fish

Let's take a not set in reality sign, and then let's go into their headspace, what do you think you’ll find? Heavy intuition, and a dreamy personality. This placement can often look through doors and imagine scenarios to see the actual truth of a matter, often calling things before they happen. This is a very soft, and kind hearted placement (don’t get me wrong they still know how to play a manipulation angle at times), but really one of the main cornerstones of Pisces is that they believe in the better half of people. Oftentimes these signs are wearing their hearts on their sleeve and can get hurt a lot. It’s child-like innocence, and a dreamy quality that you don’t see in many people. 

That's all she wrote on the moon signs, stay tuned for more to come!

Stay groovy,

The Cosmic Sage

Check me out on my other internet spaces:

www.mycosmicsage.com

www.instagram.com/mycosmicsage

www.ko-fi.com/cosmicsage

[noctomania]

Donald Trump became the first former American president to be convicted of felony crimes Thursday as a New York jury found him

guilty of all 34 charges

in a scheme to illegally influence the 2016 election through a hush money payment to a porn actor who said the two had sex.

Amurica: Land of...whatever the fuck this is.

Let's do a quick run down.

Trump

who was already infamous as a liar and schemer and through being a complete asshole on a terrible flop of his tv show

weasled his way into a 1 term presidency only through massive manipulation that included hush money to a porn actor.

Yet there are still people who support him.

Lest we forget trump is an american, it is america that formed this criminal. He isn't an outlier. He is a product of the system built full of loopholes and double standards and veiled discrimination woven into its very founding documents. Celebrate for now but we have work yet to do.

Anyway, seems an great time to once again say: support sex workers.

all thirty four counts. LFG. (source)

[deoidesign]

Time and Time Again comes back tonight!

Thank you all for being so patient with me, I know it was a long hiatus.

My health was struggling, my arm was (is) hurting, and I decided it wasn't worth it. I'd rather be slow!

So thank you for giving me that grace, and I hope you'll be there with me for the rest of the series.

[biblically-accurate-dca]

moon n ballora

[ping-ski]

pahinga ka na, JJ (CW: VENT POST)

i finally found the courage to write to you, i'm sorry it took so long.

(feel free to ignore the note under the cut)

We weren't perfect, I know that.

I was and still am your crybaby older sibling.  Your “Ate”.

You'd be 18 by now. Isn't that terrible?

Every so often, I dream that you came home that day and that nothing had changed.

I still wish I thanked you for every time you protected or stood up for me, even if it was in vain. We both know that woman never cared.

Honestly, I was angry at first. Angry, you left me behind to survive alone. Angry, that you got an “easy out” and I was stuck with her cruelty. My anger fizzled out pretty quick and for so long I was numb or believed it was my fault for not being able to do the impossible. I couldn't come to an answer that wasn't my fault for not being able to miraculously save you. I don't blame myself much anymore though. I'm meant to be here, even if I don't know the reason.

You'd probably tell me to let it go, but I wish we had played one last game together like you wanted instead of arguing the night before.

You wouldn't know, but that morning I really was working on my apology. I was finding the courage to tell you that I was wrong. And I was. I'm so sorry.

Running away wasn't anything like we imagined as kids. I didn't have a cool plan drawn in crayon. It wasn't even a good one. I had to leave everything behind and never look back.

I'm not sure if you'd recognize me now. I've grown to be more patient and more empathetic. I think holding your cold hands humbled me. Though, you'd be more proud to know I finally have a sense of humor or maybe I stole it from you? Who knows.

I'm trying to live for the both of us, even if it took me 7 years to decide that. I hope you know I still miss you and always will. I hope you miss me too.

[r0setyler]

thinking about the roses on this makes me -

[felicitywilds]

"that's what I like about you, the domestic approach" immediately followed in the next episode by "i'd have to settle down. get a house or something" / "i'd have to get one, too. we could share"..... you just. you really get a sense that ten is changing his mind. that rose is different than anyone else. the way he adamantly denies when rose says she's going to die in battle. as if it isn't a Rose Tyler Classic to continuously charge in head first into danger to do the right thing, even and especially against her own well being. as if Believing In Her really will be enough to save her every time.........

[malewifesband]

i must be honest with you all i think if eyes started turning towards kabrus womb just bc its near laios to start producing heirs for the throne hed be scheduling a hysterectomy that afternoon. and laios would take him there

[jazzically]

i love the fear domains dont get me wrong but when i first heard about "bringing the world closer to all the fears" i kinda imagined it would be like... experiencing every single fear at once. staring at the unimaginably endless sky filling all of your corners while poised, frozen, clamped to the infinite earth by knives and guns and chains and silk and roots, feeding upon nothing but memories of raw and impure butchery, praying for your body to decay, dreading those who overcome you no matter what remains, who make your blood into their home, your soul and skin inseparable; and all the while your eyes can see nothing and nothing but black like smoke and yet you feel your own gaze spread among every particle of the universe; watch as you wonder whether it is real (whether you are real; what is a you? maybe everything and nothing were you all along) and lose every one of those wanderings of your mind to taut strings which steal your breath and open your mouth and force you to speak their mind, meaningless words resonating for nobody; the only occupant of an unforgiving planet, levelled smooth by loss, every inch of it covered with absence, wishing with all your heart that your release never appears to assert its final and complete conclusion... yknow?