#you are not them. you are your own human person

[teaboot]

Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence?

My earliest memory of what I would call self-awareness occurred spontaneously in the middle of my fourth birthday party, where I suddenly became alert to my existence as a separate entity surrounded by other conscious beings.

This presented to me as not dissimilar to simply being brushed along the flow of a river- experiencing life as a serious of flashbang moments and instants and sensations, like meditating to music until the individual notes break into sounds that follow no rhythm and are only noise- no past or future, only now- and then suddenly finding yourself holding a paddle in the belly of a boat with no idea what to do next.

I remember running to the body that felt safest, who I did not recognize as anything else, and asking it who all the strangers around us were. The person that I learned was my mother told me they were my aunties and uncles, and I was being silly because I KNEW them, and why was I so shy all of a sudden?

Learning to articulate myself after that instant, I remember, was immensely frustrating. Learning your first language, as I remember it, is wuite a bit like how Ive been told recovering from brain damage feels like.

YOU know what you mean. YOU know what you're saying. But there are holes where you reach for something you know MUST be there and find nothing, and must find a way to communicate using only what you have at hand. Except there are always faces looking at you, talking down to you, asking you to do tricks for them to prove you really are a real human person.

I loved art, and I'm very good at it, but GETTING good at it was the worst. I'm told I started with scribbles at six months or so, before I could walk, and at three and four I remember being immensely frustrated that I could see in my head exactly what I wanted to produce, and I didn't know how to PRODUCE it.

And simple shit, like drawing shapes and circles, developing fine motor skills. You FULLY UNDERSTAND THE ASSIGNMENT, but your hands are soft and wobbly and don't cooperate. Getting your mouth and body to obey your directions is hellish, especially when all the appliances and furniture and installations around you are built for someone easily triple your size.

Chairs are hard to sit in when you're small and cant touch the ground. Your legs dangle and you cant scoot closer to the table, and the backrest is so far back you cant use it for support, and the table comes up past your chest so your chin is amost in your plate and your dumb clumsy hands cant hold a big spoon or fork in a way that feels natural or elegant so you end up smearing shit EVERYWHERE and getting yapped at for having your elbows on the counter.

Reading people was interesting. Most people are condescending and plastic when you're small, and you can tell when they're being saccharine and fake, but you're told the polite thing is to believe what they say and be polite back. I used to try using big sentences on purpose just to het them to leave me alone. "What a pretty girl! Can you say Hello?" was the most common ask I can recall. Id answer with the floweriest thing I could think of, usually, "I'm very well, thank you for asking, how are you?", because people only ask you interesting questions after you do well enough on their tests to prove you're people.

Being small was very tiring, and very frustrating, and becoming aware of myself in my own head probably made everything a lot worse overall.

No regrets, though. From what I can recall, life is far more enjoyable when you're aware of it occurring. Time can't slow down until you know it's there, I think

Being a baby full of instincts felt like living as a live grenade. Being a child was far harder, but more Full. More Human. A LOT more like adulthood than infancy, and I was very determined to remember that.

If any of that makes sense

[bugbutton]

there are stupid questions, but if you genuinely don't know something, it's better to ask and look stupid than to fuck up and look stupider. and that's something that is conditioned out of us through shame, i think. there's so much shame around people making mistakes and around people not knowing things that so many people (myself included! speaking from experience!) would genuinely prefer to suffer the ramifications of failure than risk making ourselves look foolish, incompetent, or unintelligent by asking a question and thereby displaying our own limited understanding to another person. and that's something I've done a lot of hard work to unlearn and grow from but it's very much going against the grain and against what i have been taught! there is nothing shameful about lacking knowledge that was not taught to you, or about missing understanding when given instructions the first time, or about needing clarification or further explanation on a topic. these things are universal human experiences because we are all born stupid as hell and sometimes you gotta ask stupid questions and sometimes you gotta accept that someone might think you look stupid but also, them thinking that has very little to do with your actual intelligence. you're doing fine; the fact that you have a question at all and that you're thinking about asking for more information is a pretty good indicator that you're not, in fact, stupid, because I feel like actively seeking understanding is kinda the exact opposite of being stupid.

Some people say that there are no stupid questions, which is blatantly false. Of course there are stupid questions, and if you have one, you had better ask it, before you go and do make a stupider mistake. Stupid questions are more important than intelligent ones. I’m willing to bet more people die because of stupid mistakes than because of intelligent ones.

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

Personal Trainer!Toji Fushiguro—”Push through, ma. Do it for me, yeah?”

req by: @sumbarbietingz tyty hope u like <33

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday at 6 AM.

By now, working out is muscle memory—a chore you tick off your list without much thought. You’re not aiming for an Olympian’s physique, nor do you dream of flipping tires or crushing quadruple-digit squats. For you, fitness is about balance, not obsession. The gym is filled with the usual suspects: frat bros showing off one-armed pull-ups, bodybuilders flexing between sets, and athletes moving like they own the place. You don’t envy them, nor do you aspire to join their ranks. In truth, their antics are more intimidating than inspiring.

But lately, something’s shifted. You’ve grown restless with your go-to routine: treadmill sprints, a quick core workout, and stairmaster till failure. It gets the job done, but there’s a whisper in the back of your mind, daring you to try something new. Maybe it’s time to add weights to your regimen. Maybe it’s time to sculpt those glutes and finally chase the coke-bottle figure you’ve been daydreaming about.

For weeks, the squat rack has been your Everest. You’ve watched others load up the bar, their muscles taut with effort, and wondered if you could do the same. It’s not fear holding you back—more like the memory of too many gym bros turning innocent glances into unwelcome conversations. At this gym, you’ve perfected the art of blending in. Headphones in, eyes down, immersed in the personal concert blasting through your ears. The only human contact you entertain is a nod and a quick smile for the woman at the front desk.

Today, though, is different. After your core workout, you finally approach the empty squat rack. Your heart races—not from exertion, but from the thrill of trying something outside your comfort zone. You set down your water bottle, lift the bar experimentally, then add two 20-pound plates on either side. It feels doable. With a deep breath, you duck under the bar, letting it rest on your shoulders. A hype Sexyy Red track thunders in your ears, spurring you on as you knock out your first set.

The burn in your thighs intensifies with each rep, but you keep going, driven by the mental image of your future self: confident, curvy, unstoppable. Sweat beads along your forehead, catching the fluorescent lights above and glistening on your skin. By the time you hit your second set, you’re locked in, laser-focused—until a firm hand lands on your shoulder, breaking your concentration.

You freeze mid-rep, your eyes snapping to the mirror in front of you. A tall, broad-shouldered figure looms at your side, leaning in close enough to be unavoidable. Your stomach twists with annoyance. Of course. Another unsolicited interruption.

Lowering the barbell with a controlled motion, you let out a sigh, already steeling yourself for the usual spiel. You tug your headphones down to your neck, the music fading into background noise as you prepare to deliver a polite but firm rejection. Why is it always men who think mid-squat, drenched in sweat, is the perfect time to chat? And why, without fail, are they never the gym’s best-looking prospects?

Before you can speak, a gravelly voice cuts in.

“Damn, ma, you tryna go deaf? I could hear your music from all the way across the gym.”

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. The irritation brewing in your chest falters, giving way to reluctant curiosity as you turn to fully take him in. You wipe the back of your hand across your forehead, collecting the beads of sweat rolling down your neck, letting your gaze rake upward. 

Crisp white Air Force 1s. Baggy black sweatpants slung low on his hips. A fitted white compression shirt stretched tight over a chiseled torso. Broad shoulders, thick biceps—his entire frame is a testament to strength, and the shirt does little to hide it. You swallow, willing yourself not to gawk, though it takes effort.

When your eyes finally reach his face, restraint becomes even harder. Fine as hell doesn’t do him justice. His sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and the scar slicing through the corner of his smirking lips paint a picture of rugged perfection. Jet-black hair falls messily over his forehead, accentuating dark, brooding eyes that seem to hold an unspoken challenge.

He arches an eyebrow, clearly waiting for you to respond. Too many seconds have passed, and you hastily clear your throat, scrambling to collect yourself.

“And that compelled you to approach me?” you ask, arching a brow of your own. A teasing smirk plays on your lips. “Don’t tell me you’re a fellow Sexyy Red fan?”

His smirk deepens, and he crosses his arms, leaning casually against the squat rack like he has all the time in the world.

“Me?” His voice is low and gravelly, carrying an almost teasing edge. “Nah, can’t say I’m also bumping F My Babydad. In fact, that song’s been used against me in the past. Strongly recommend shuffling your playlist.”

The implication makes you blink. He’s someone’s baby daddy? You glance at him again, and yeah, it tracks. His whole aura screams DILF.

You laugh, breathless from both exertion and his audacity. “My heart goes out to you, but that’s not enough to turn me off the song. It’s keeping me pumped.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling low in his chest. His eyes sweep over you again—this time lingering on your two-piece set, the biker shorts and zip-up jacket hugging your frame. You feel a flicker of pride, knowing the pump is definitely doing its thing. But you quickly remind yourself not to encourage him, no matter how good he looks.

“I noticed,” he says, straightening. “That’s actually why I came over. Hope I’m not overstepping, but your form could use some tweaking. You’re targeting hamstrings more than glutes right now.”

Oh. So he wasn’t hitting on you? Maybe he’s just one of those older gym vets who genuinely want to help. Reluctantly, you concede, eager for the guidance. “Damn, is it that bad? I’m tryna build a dumpy for real. Any tips would be great.”

His brows knit briefly. “A what?”

You grin. “A dumpy. A dump truck. A fat ass. Come on, oldhead.”

His scowl deepens, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Toji. Use my name, not that.” He rolls his eyes, moving to strip the weights from your bar. “But that explains the Sexyy Red. You’re out here tryna Skeeyee or go to Pound town, huh? Don’t worry—I got you. Grab the bar.”

Snickering, you follow his instructions. “Absolutely not. Just help me with my form, Toji.”

Satisfied with your correction, he places a hand on your back, guiding you into a squat. “Wider stance,” he instructs, nodding as you adjust. His hand trails lower down your spine, encouraging you to drop further. “Lower. If you don’t hit a 90-degree angle, you’re not getting the full range of motion.”

You comply, biting back a shiver at his touch. He stays beside you, squatting to observe your form. “When you rise, drive through your heels and tense your glutes—lightly. Not too much.” His hand rests briefly on your hip as you rise, and your focus wavers dangerously.

Somehow, you power through the adjustments and complete your next set, his guidance making all the difference. By the time you finish, you’re drenched in sweat, thighs trembling from exertion, but the burn feels… good.

“You’re a quick learner,” Toji says, lifting the bar off your shoulders and racking it. His tone carries an edge of approval that makes your chest swell. “How’s it feel?”

“Sore, but good.” You glance in the mirror, a grin spreading as you take in your reflection. The pump is real. “You’re a lifesaver. You could seriously be a personal trainer.”

His smirk returns, and for a moment, he almost looks proud. “Good thing I am one. Imagine if you’d said I was trash.” He pauses, then extends a hand. “Hey, doll, this might sound out of line, but I’ve never trained someone on a glute-dominant program. Most of my clients are bodybuilders or boxers, but this could open doors. If you’re down, I’ll train you for free so I can develop a structured workout regimen. What do you say?”

You blink at him, stunned by the offer. Free sessions with this hunk of a man? The decision is a no-brainer. 

“How could I say no to that big guy?” You swat playfully at his arm, earning a chuckle. You retrieve your phone from the ground handing it towards him, “I’m in. Here, give me your number.”

Toji takes the device from your hand, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen. His grin is almost teasing as he hands it back. “Demanding,” he murmurs with a grin. “I like that. I’ll text you over the weekend. We’ll start Monday. That work for you?”

Though you agree, the wait over the weekend feels endless. You check your phone obsessively, half-convinced you’d imagined the whole interaction. But finally, a notification pops up while you’re leisurely sprawled out on the couch, half-heartedly scrolling through your timeline.

Toji Fushiguro (YHPT) Wassup, ma. How about 6 AM on Monday? Tues-Fri, I’m booked mornings, but anytime after 2 works.

You grin, slightly confused by the contact name he’d given himself, but already planning your reply.

You Bet, I’ll be there. We can do 3 PM the other days—I get off at 2.

Toji Fushiguro (YHPT) Bet.

You I gotta ask… what does YHPT mean in your contact name?

Toji Fushiguro (YHPT) 🤣🤣🤣  Young Hot Personal Trainer

You Young?! Sorry I asked. Lemme fix that.

Toji Fushiguro 👴🏼 (PT) Not too much on me, ma. 😒

On Monday, you start to wonder if Toji even needs to develop a new glute routine. He seems to already have it down to a science. When you meet him outside the locker room, he’s surprisingly professional, carefully explaining the plan for the day.

He considers your current fitness level but warns that he won’t go easy on you. “If you want results, you’ve gotta work for them,” he says.

Back at the squat rack, you steal a glance at his backside, confirming your suspicions: Toji definitely practices what he preaches. His ass is… impressive. Bubble butt levels of impressive. If this workout built that, you’re sold.

The session starts with barbell walking lunges. Toji adjusts the weights slightly heavier than you’re used to, staying close as you move through each step. He’s comfortable in athletic shorts and a pullover, barely breaking a sweat while you’re already glowing in your two-piece set. His hands are steady and deliberate when tweaking your form, his words always encouraging.

By the time you’re on weighted step-ups, you’ve shed your zip-up and tee, left in just your sports bra and shorts. When you transition to hip thrusts, you play coy about your familiarity with the exercise. It pays off deliciously as Toji demonstrates.

He drags a bench over, slides a barbell onto his lap, and gets into position. His thighs flex, the barbell pressing into his hips as he slowly thrusts upward, his voice low as he explains the importance of balance and control. But honestly, you’re too distracted by the sight of him—muscles taut, skin glowing under the gym lights, his bangs sticking to his forehead.

“Got it, ma? I’ll hand it over to you in a sec—might as well finish this set myself.”

That breathy ma and the half-lidded look he shoots your way? It’s lethal. You fidget on your feet, suddenly aware of how warm the gym feels.

When it’s your turn, you do your best to mimic his movements. To dispel any awkwardness, you wink at him. “How’s my form, big guy? I’m giving you all I’ve got.”

Toji chuckles, his grin playful. “Someone’s catching on quick.” He places a firm hand on your knee, his voice dipping, returning your wink. “That thrust is second to one.”

You end with sumo squats, a challenge given their deep range of motion. Determined to achieve those coveted “Megan knees,” you complain to Toji, who looks at you like you’ve sprouted a second head.

“Alright, hold up. I know you can nail this—let me help.”

He positions you in front of the mirror, his presence towering behind you. When he steps closer, your breath hitches, his chest brushing against your back as he adjusts your stance.

“Open your legs wider. Angle your feet out,” he murmurs, his hands warm on your thighs. The heat of his breath on your neck nearly sends you spiraling, but you focus on the squat, sinking lower under his guidance.

“Atta girl,” he says softly, his tone making your heart race. “Just like that.”

It hits you then—there’s no way this is just standard training. Especially as you’re keenly aware of the firm press of his body behind yours.

“Toji, how many more? ‘M so tired,” you mumble, struggling through another rep.

“Two more. Push through, ma. Do it for me, yeah?”

His hands guide your hips, and you somehow manage to finish the set. Resting your hands on your knees, you catch your breath while he smirks, handing you a water bottle.

“Good girl,” he says.

Your brain short-circuits.

By Tuesday, you’ve settled into the routine, though Toji remains as hands-on as ever—literally. His physical guidance feels less like training and more like testing your resolve, especially when he throws in casual touches that linger just a bit too long.

The workouts are brutal, but Toji’s encouragement and relentless banter keep you going. You learn snippets about his life, mostly centered around his middle-school-aged son, Megumi—a tech-obsessed, angsty tween with whom Toji is actively struggling to connect with.

You start caring about how you look for these sessions—styling your hair, spritzing perfume, even picking out your cutest gym fits. You tell yourself it’s just motivation, but deep down, you know you’re becoming weak to Toji’s charm.

And Toji? He’s an enigma—a hot, muscular DILF who knows exactly what he’s doing.

On Friday, you meet Toji outside the locker room as usual. His unusually upbeat demeanor is paired with an announcement: he’s reserved a private room upstairs, equipped with advanced machines and, most importantly, a touch of exclusivity to let you experiment with new moves in peace.

“If you wanted to get me alone so badly, you could’ve just said that,” you tease, poking a playful finger at his cheek.

He smirks, catching your hand mid-air before letting it drop. “Can’t a guy be a gentleman and save his moves for later? But if you’re looking for forwardness…” He leans in with a wink, the grin on his face equal parts charming and incorrigible. “I won’t hold back.”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh. “Sure, big guy. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“I took your advice,” he says, leading you up the stairs, his hand warm on your back. “Set up Discord for Megumi. Now the kid can actually game with his friends without me being the middleman. Thought I’d reward you with an advanced workout for that stroke of genius.”

You scoff, withdrawing yourself from his grip to cross your arms. “Reward? Sounds more like a punishment.”

He grins wider. “You’ll thank me later, mama. And if you’re not satisfied, you can choose your own reward.”

Inside the private room, your eyes roam over the space. Polished mirrors line one wall, reflecting sleek machines—a leg press, rowing machine, power bike, and more. A faint scent of disinfectant lingers, blending with the promise of an intense workout. Toji tosses his duffel bag near a large speaker in the corner.

“Look at that—a speaker. Gonna cut on some throwbacks so I can put you onto some real music.”

“Still not helping the oldhead allegations,” you quip, shaking your head as he connects his phone.

His smirk widens. “I’m whatever you want me to be, doll. That’s the business I stand on.” He points skyward with dramatic flair.

You bury your face in your hands, groaning. “Toji, your usage of slang is deteriorating by the minute.”

Stretching side by side, his 90s playlist humming through the speaker, you fall into the familiar rhythm of the glute routine. The effort is paying off; you swear you’re already seeing results. 

Between sets, you’d even started pestering him for diet tips—anything to build that elusive shelf.

But as always, your attention drifts. During hip thrusts, your eyes wander to Toji’s defined arms, the way his shoulders shift as he mirrors your movements. During squats, you can’t help but notice his hands lingering on your hips, guiding you down with whispered encouragements.

“Drive through your heels, mama,” he murmurs near your ear, his breath warm against your neck. You’re panting by the final rep, equal parts exhausted and electrified.

When the set ends, Toji steps back, his absence leaving a surprising chill. He crosses his arms, eyeing you with that ever-present smirk. “You’ve mastered this routine. How about graduating to mine? Fridays are upper body days. What d’ya say?”

You trail a finger down his arm, tracing the veins. “And get jacked like you? Obviously.”

His grin softens into something almost fond. “Bet. Just try not to distract me too much, yeah? It’s hard enough maintaining my professionalism around you.”

You laugh as he pinches your cheek, only to retreat and yank off his tee, leaving him in a fitted black tank. He leads you to the dumbbells for bicep curls, and you challenge yourself with heavier weights to avoid ogling his sculpted frame.

“Look at you,” he says approvingly as you curl the weight. “Getting stronger every day.”

“Thanks, coach,” you reply, though your arms burn with effort.

Toji hoists a 45-pound dumbbell with ease, and your curiosity gets the better of you. “How much can you bench, anyway?”

He pauses mid-rep, considering. “Good question. Haven’t checked in a while. Wanna find out?”

Before you can answer, he’s clearing the bench, stacking plates with casual efficiency. Three 45s on each side—a total pushing 300 pounds—makes your jaw drop.

“Damn.”

He meets your stare, the bar balanced on his lap. “Don’t just stand there gawking. Come spot me.”

You circle behind the bench as Toji reclines, gripping the barbell above his chest. His muscles coil with tension, veins slightly raised under his skin. As you hover your hands just above his for support, you give a small nod for him to start.

Toji pushes the bar upward, arms locking at full extension before lowering it with precision. The rhythm is steady, his breaths growing heavier with each rep.

“Fuck,” he exhales, voice low and strained.

A laugh bubbles up from you, and you instinctively place your hands on his shoulders, feeling the solid swell of muscle shift beneath your touch.

Toji glances at you, eyes narrowing with playful admonition. “What’d I say about distracting me, huh, ma? Cut me some slack.”

Setting the bar down with a controlled thud, he looks up at you, dark locks falling across his face. His smirk is wolfish.

“I don’t think anything could really distract you,” you counter, grinning. “You’re benching 300 pounds like it’s nothing. Feels a little… superhuman.”

“Damn right.” Toji sits up briefly, flexing his arms like a bodybuilder and striking exaggerated poses in the mirror, whistling at himself.

You snort. “Alright, don’t let it go to your head now, big guy.”

He lays back down to begin his second set, but you’re feeling bold. Moving swiftly, you straddle the bench, swinging one leg over and settling into his lap.

His eyes widen briefly as he lowers the bar back to his chest, but he recovers fast, a lopsided grin spreading across his face.

“Guess you’ve got a better view from there, huh?” he murmurs. “You don’t mind counting these out for me, do ya?”

“Not at all.” You plant your hands on his stomach, the fabric of his tank top taut against the solid expanse beneath.

He starts again, pressing the bar up with ease.

“One… two… three… four,” you count, smirking. “You think you can hit twenty?”

“Easy work,” he grunts, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.

But you’re feeling mischievous. Your hands slip beneath his shirt, fingers grazing the hard ridges of his abs. The contrast of warmth and strength makes your breath hitch.

“Five… six… seven…eight…” Toji’s steady rhythm falters as you increase the pressure of your movements. His eyes narrow at you, daring yet pleading for restraint.

You relent—for now—your hands sliding to rest firmly on his hips as he recovers.

“Nine… ten… eleven… twelve.” His reps slow significantly, the strain visible in his taut muscles. 

Sensing an opportunity, you lean into his weakness, grinding your hips down against him deliberately, the friction drawing a sharp hiss from his lips.

“Shit, ma,” Toji mutters through clenched teeth, sucking in a deep breath before lifting the bar again.

“Thirteen,” you murmur, your voice laced with mischief. You rotate your hips in a slow circle, reveling in the way his eyes squeeze shut and his breath hitches.

“‘s not fair—you’re playing dirty,” Toji rasps, lowering the bar with a groan. For a fleeting moment, you envy the steel weight—it holds all his focus while you fight to claim just half of it.

But it doesn’t matter; his body betrays him. You feel him harden beneath you, the friction growing deliciously intense through the thin layers of clothing separating you.

“Toji,” you gasp, biting down on your lip to stifle the sound as heat pools low in your stomach. Your movements become instinctive, grinding against him in search of relief.

And yet, Toji—ever determined—continues his reps, each lift of the bar accompanied by a subtle grind of his hips into you, fueling the dangerous tension.

“Sixteen—shit… seventeen—mhm… ah—eighteen… n-nineteen…” Your counting falters as you ride the edge of control, each syllable more breathless than the last.

“Mf—ma… I can go to thirty,” Toji growls, his voice thick with desire. “Take it out. Use me. Make yourself feel good.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you scramble to shed one leg of your shorts, fumbling with his waistband. Relief blooms when you find him bare beneath his sweats. You flick his chest, the movement playful yet teasing.

“Slut.”

Toji’s eyes darken, the weight of his gaze making your pulse race. “And what does that make you?” 

His voice is a low rumble as he lifts the bar again. “Keep counting, doll.”

“‘Kay,” you breathe, positioning yourself above him. The thick head of his length presses against your clothed center, and the sensation draws a near-whimper from your lips.

“Twenty… fuck—twenty-one… Toji—shit… twenty-two…”

You grind down harder, your movements desperate as you pump him with trembling hands. The feel of his shaft, hot and solid, against your slick sends you spiraling. Toji twitches under your touch, his breath ragged.

“Twenty-three—ah…”

A sharp, obnoxious buzzing cuts through the air, snapping you both out of the haze. The speaker blares with Toji’s ringtone, and he fumbles to set the bar down safely. The sudden motion sends you toppling to the floor in an undignified heap.

You blink, dazed, trying to make sense of the abrupt interruption as Toji curses under his breath. He hauls you back onto the bench, his movements rushed but gentle, before striding to his phone.

“Fuck, it’s Megumi,” Toji grumbles, glancing at his phone connected to the gym’s speaker. He picks it up, the ringtone still blaring. “Kid’s got the worst timing.”

You nod in acknowledgment, adjusting your shorts and ignoring the visible wet patch at the crotch. Toji answers the call, his tone shifting to frustration as he paces.

From his clipped responses, you catch snippets about school, carpooling, and a very annoyed Megumi. Toji sighs heavily, muttering a half-hearted apology before ending the call with a gruff, “See ya soon.”

“Mama,” he starts, turning to you with a weary look. “Forgot it's my turn to pick up Megs and his friends this week. In my defense, he deliberately didn’t remind me this morning just to get me caught up.”

You laugh softly as he digs through his duffle bag, pulling out another pair of sweats. Approaching you, he presses them into your hands.

“Here. Can’t have anyone else noticing the strong… impression I left on you,” he teases, his grin cocky. “Next time, I’ll double it.”

You step into the loose pants, tying the drawstring snugly around your waist. “Next time,” you echo, smiling up at him.

Toji hesitates as if it pains him to leave. He briefly embraces you, firmly squeezing your ass, and planting a wet, lingering kiss against the side of your neck before jogging toward the door.

Hooking up with your personal trainer. Immoral? Yes. Professional? Not even close. Hot? Absolutely.

But hey, it’s still exercise. Gotta see it through.

don’t try that freaky bench press position at home, take spotting seriously—not everyb got a heavenly restriction LOL

[burningembers91]

Freak of Nature - The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The Salesman can't get enough of you, he's drawn to you like a bee to honey. It's just a shame you don't know he's watching you.

A/N: I'm not 100% sure where I want this to go yet, and i've never written for a character like The Salesman before but Gong Yoo's unhinged performance has me hooked!

Warnings: 18+ only!, stalking, The Salesman needs his own warning

He’d always known he was fucked up; had always known he wasn’t “normal”. From a young age, his parents had thrown every penny available at psychologist after psychologist, desperate to find a cure for their little freak of nature. Nothing had worked though; nothing had been able to quell that constant desire deep within his soul.

He’d spent years being forced to subdue whatever demons he housed, fooling his parents into thinking the therapy was working. Nothing could save him though; nothing could rid him of the evil that had taken root. He enjoyed playing with people, relished in seeing how far he could take a person before they completely snapped. Human life was so fragile and fickle; why shouldn’t he be allowed to play with it? People so often wasted their lives; took what little time they had for granted. If anything, he was helping people. He was giving them a chance at a second opportunity for life. The games he played with people, the innocent, childhood games were all completely legal. He never made anyone do anything they didn’t want to, that was beauty of his job. Everyone always had a choice, he just made it hard for them to say no. People were greedy, hungry for fame and fortune. He gave those who sought riches beyond their wildest dreams a chance to make that dream a reality; it wasn’t his fault if they didn’t win the game.

This life he led was a lonely one though. Relationships had never been his forte. He’d always been too much for women, too intense. He had needs, desires that few could meet and those who could only stayed a short time. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of love. He knew he’d never loved his parents, had never loved any of the women he’d fucked. They were merely an object which he used to meet his own needs, all of them too vain and fickle for him. He enjoyed a challenge, wanted someone who could keep him on his toes. But how would he find someone like that when even he didn’t know how far he was wiling to go? How high did his freak flag fly? No one had ever stayed long enough for him to find out. He usually paid for the company of a woman, handing them wads of cash so he could feel a brief moment of ecstasy. He’d never felt anything for these women though; had never felt the burning desire that he felt when he was around you.

He'd watched you every day for three months now, sipping your latte in the same coffee bar, your laptop open as you marked your students work. You always sat in the same spot, right by the window with the view of the park opposite. He’d taken to sitting on a bench in that park, right opposite where you sat. He’d watched as your brow furrowed while you marked essays, he’d smile at the way your perfect pink tongue delicately flicked the frothy coffee foam from your top lip. You were perfect to him, so innocent and excruciatingly delicate. He’d followed you home a few times, keeping enough of a distance that you didn’t notice him in the crowds, but close enough that the floral scent of your perfume wrapped tightly around his senses like a hangman’s noose.

He knew you lived in a small studio apartment, number 235. Your bedroom looked out over a small restaurant, and he’d sit there some nights, watching the shadows of your form through your curtains. He’d never been this enamoured with a person before, never craved a person as much as he did you. He’d listened to you order your coffee a dozen times, your voice more beautiful than any songbird. He wanted to speak to you, but he didn’t want to shatter the perfect vision he’d created for himself. In his head, he broke you over and over again, but you enjoyed it. In his head, you were his, bending to his every will and demand. In his head, you were his perfect girl. But fantasy was always better than reality, and reality never lasted long. He wasn’t quite ready to show himself to you, choosing to lurk in the shadows as you remained blissfully unaware of him.

It was getting harder and harder to stay away from you though. Every day your very presence only fuelled his desires. One day soon he’d have to show himself to you. He just hoped you lived up to his expectations.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Jealous triple s, and how they deal with it, would they be insecure? Would they be unbothered?

take your time!

Jealous Sonic, Shadow, and Silver x Reader

Sonic:

Sonic’s confidence is one of his most defining traits, but when he gets jealous, that cool, carefree demeanor takes a serious hit. He’s usually so sure of himself, it’s part of his charm. But when someone else starts vying for your attention? That’s when cracks begin to show.

It starts small. You’re chatting with someone else, and Sonic catches sight of your laugh, the way your eyes light up. He doesn’t like how that person leans in a little too close or how their hand lingers just a moment too long. Sonic doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s... uncomfortable.

"Hey, Y/N!" Sonic’s voice cuts through the conversation, loud and bright. He zips up to your side, arm slinging around your shoulder in an overly casual gesture. "Whatcha talkin’ about? Anything cool, or is it just boring stuff?"

He flashes his signature grin, it sidnt reach his eyes tho as he just stared at them. The other person gets the hint, offering a polite excuse to leave, and Sonic is immediately all over you.

"Phew! Thought I’d have to rescue you from that snoozefest." He laughs, but his eyes linger on your face, searching. "You’re not, like, too close with them, are you?"

If you call him out on his jealousy, he’ll deny it, waving it off with a sheepish chuckle. "Jealous? Me? Nah, I’m way too cool for that." Before speeding away to not have to deal with his problems.

Despite his bravado, Sonic can’t help but feel a little insecure. What if he’s not enough? He’s fast, adventurous, and fun, but is that all you see him as? These thoughts are fleeting, though, because Sonic doesn’t like to dwell on negativity. He’s quick to bounce back, reminding himself that no one can match his charm.

When his jealousy peaks, he doubles down on his efforts to impress you. He’ll drag you on adventures, race you to the nearest horizon, and show off every trick in his arsenal. Sonic wants to be the one who keeps you smiling, even if it means pushing himself a little harder to outshine everyone else.

Shadow:

Shadow’s jealousy is a bit more on the intense side. He’s not one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, far from it, but he lets himself relax more around you, he valies you for that.

He notices everything, the way someone’s eyes linger on you, the subtle changes in their tone, and how easily they make you laugh. Shadow doesn’t say anything at first, but his silence speaks volumes. His eyes narrow, his body language stiffens, and the air around him grows thick with tension.

"Do you enjoy their company?" he asks you one evening, his tone calm but icy. It’s not an accusation, but the question seemed like a trap.

If you assure him that you’re just being polite or that it’s nothing serious, Shadow nods, but the thought lingers in his mind. He doesn’t understand why it bothers him so much, why the thought of others spending more time with you makes him ache.

Shadow isn’t one to act out of insecurity, but jealousy brings out a possessive streak he can’t quite control. He’s not above making his presence known, standing just a little too close to you when someone else is around or fixing them with a withering glare that sends them running.

"0You don’t need them," he tells you firmly, his voice low. "You have me."

Shadow’s jealousy stems from his fear of losing the one person who makes him feel "human",(mobian? Idfk anymore man :(.) grounded. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he worries that someone else might give you something he can’t. After all, he’s not the most expressive or affectionate person, and sometimes he wonders if that’s enough for you.

If you reassure him, Shadow relaxes, his usually stone cold exterior softening. "I don’t want to lose you," he admits quietly, almost ashamed of his own weakness.

While Shadow tries to keep his jealousy in check, it occasionally slips out in subtle ways.

Silver:

Silver is naturally anxious, and jealousy only amplifies that side of him. He’s not used to navigating these kinds of emotions, so when he sees someone else getting a little too friendly with you, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

At first, Silver tries to ignore it, convincing himself that he’s overreacting. "They’re just being nice," he tells himself, but the knot in his stomach says otherwise. He starts overthinking everything, what if they’re better for you? What if you realize he’s not enough?

You notice how quiet he gets, his usual bright demeanor overshadowed by uncertainty. When you ask him what’s wrong, he hesitates before blurting out, "Do you like them more than me?"

Silver immediately regrets his words, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to-! I just... I don’t want to lose you."

His honesty is endearing, even if his jealousy is a little misplaced. Silver doesn’t want to control you or keep you from talking to others, but he can’t help feeling like he has to prove himself.

If his jealousy gets the better of him, Silver might become a bit clingy, always wanting to be by your side. "Can I stay with you for a bit?" he asks, his voice soft and hopeful.

Silver’s jealousy isn’t rooted in possessiveness but in his fear of not being good enough. He looks up to you, admires you, and sometimes he wonders what you see in him. But your reassurance means the world to him.

"You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," Silver says one day. "I just want to make sure I’m the best for you, too."

[xsoldier]

In case you're feeling conflicted about WHY that assassination didn't bother you — because it's not a moral position. It's your intolerance of the violation of a social contract that should be protecting the lives of others.

That is a choice that said CEOs made where they declared that it's ok for you to die if they can profit from it. That's not the social contract WE all abide by, and thus — they're no longer covered by the social contract that requires us to treat their lives with respect & equality of our other fellow human beings so long as they are in a position of authority that enforces a violation of the social contract.

Justice demands we be intolerant of it, otherwise that position of power will NEVER shift that policy to adhere to the social contract it expects of us — and the power dynamic renders you utterly powerless to attempt any other form of negotiation.

This is why corporations aren't people — but because the government treats them like they are, these positions are a fundamental danger. They weird more power & influence than you can, and they will prey upon your empathy to keep you under their boot heel, so that you can't legislate, unionize, or peacefully protest in a way which will ever impact their decisions. Intolerance is your LAST resort.

And as a reminder, actively taking that kind of position in opposition to intolerance is DIFFICULT because it also means that you know the actions taken will remove your own safety to live in a world freed from that injustice — because if they don't, you're just creating a system that will use intolerance to gain power using the EXACT same tools you're attempting to dismantle it with.

That's why we look at someone who would trade their life to take the life of the type of soullessly inhumane scum who has the power to shape those policies and uses it to prey on the vulnerable as a hero, even while acknowledging that paradoxical position of not tolerating murder.

…—because when they make it ok to murder people for profit, the choice to no longer abide by a social contract where they're protected from that necessary reciprocation was made by the person in the position of legitimate authority, because they expect that the reciprocation of that intolerance upon them is impossible.

Businesses operate to determine the treatment of your health with eager intolerance and profit from it — because Medical staff are beholden to a Hippocratic Oath of tolerance & protection… but the businesses acting as a middle man to your care are not, AND THEY ONLY HAVE THAT POWER BECAUSE THEY ABUSE THEIR POWER TO STOP THE GOVERNMENT FROM MAKING THAT CHOICE ILLEGAL.

This is what an authoritarian corporate dystopia looks like.

We know that. It's why our fiction treats this as a foregone conclusion that we see every. single. fucking. day. Because we do. That's not a part of the fiction at all. It's just showing it more directly, rather than hiding the truth behind a boardroom meeting or the privacy of employee-only speeches. It's why America is a rapidly growing oligarchy still operating in the shell of the democracy that this corporate influence hollowed out for its own ends.

The path to fighting that is a harrowing one that will cost you EVERYTHING because it's turning you into a reflection of that issue. (In Cyberpunk 2077, episode 8 shows that David's mental stability has collapsed to the point where he murders an innocent woman exactly like his own mother during a moment of cyberpsychosis). The ends HAVE to justify the means, otherwise there is no forgiveness to everyone else involved (hence Lucien's position of being knowingly permanently damned from ever having peace for himself as the leader of the Rebellion in Andor).

The people fighting this lose their humanity to PTSD because that's what Moral Injury does to human beings, and all it takes is — A violation of what's right by a person in a position of legitimate authority in a high stakes environment.

And we ALL know what those C.E.O.s are doing is morally wrong, but our struggle to practice intolerance of the SOCIAL CONTRACT we are protecting demands we internalize a paradox. We have no control over this decision, because it is the result of a choice made FOR us in the form of the moral injury.

Hence there is no control over that position, and thus it results in varying forms of stress adaptation disorders which we typically have to protect one another from… but when very carefully aimed is what we collectively embrace as heroic.

It is at the foundation of all Western Literature going back to Iliad which was written twenty-seven centuries ago, and is why that's the book Jonathan Shay used when doing the research on Vietnam Vets that eventually lead us to our modern understanding of PTSD (where most of this research is still VASTLY unexplored, but has been picking up as late-stage capitalism amplifies those effects onto the general populace).

That's why this struggle has been the central focus of my own personal thesis project and the lens through which I analyze modern media as a reflection of our lived sociopolitical existential experience. We live in difficult times, but not unexpected ones, and our storytelling & science often exist in much closer proximity than you'd expect to provide facts to back up our fictional representation of what upholding justice looks like.

Because it's more important now than it has been in a very long time, as we all sit at the brink of an unprecedented level of business oligarch influence & wannabe authoritarianism shifting the power dynamic to stand OVER a democratic government.

—And these are the types of choices they prioritize.

Remember, if you want to qualify to decide what counts as "unnecessary care," don't go to medical school. Go to business school.

[stardust-swan]

What Message Do Moroccan Djinns Have for You?

Pick a picture: 1, 2, 3

This tarot reading is inspired by the Big 3 female djinns (genies) in the Moroccan pantheon. These are general readings. As most people aren't familiar with the Moroccan Pantheon, brief descriptions of each djinn are provided below.

Pile 1: Lalla Aisha 🖤

Lalla Aisha is a djinn who is beautiful, but terrifying. Her story is one often told as a horror story in Morocco. She normally manifests as a beautiful woman in a flowing kaftan - why does her kaftan flow? To hide that her feet are cloven. She can be found lingering near bodies of water after dark, where she may drown men who offend her, or reward those who please her (she may alternatively render a man who displeases her impotent while rewarding ones who please her with supernaturally good sexual prowess). She is a man-eater both literally and figuratively. According to one legend, she is Astarte, reduced to roaming the Earth after her temples were shut; enlisting her own devotees and making her own sacrifices. She can bring madness, miscarriages, illness and death; but she can also bring good health, abundance, fertility and luck. She is simultaneously cruel and benevolent. A woman who is very powerful and demanding; enchanting but unsettling.

What Message Does Lalla Aisha Have for You?

Lalla Aisha is ready to welcome you into her world of beauty and allure, but the path is not without its difficulties.

I get the feeling you're carrying too many burdens. Your own responsibilities and other people's expectations are weighing you down. Aisha Qandisha is a she-demon who does what she wants; like her you need to stop burdening yourself with things that don't serve you. Say no to things that drain you or that simply don't do anything for you.

Something in your life has stagnated. Whether that's a project you're struggling to finish, a relationship that's gone stale (or a sudden breakup or ghosting that left little closure), or finances stagnating as money comes in and then gets immediately spent on bills, you feel stuck. Well, if one thing is true about Lalla Aisha is that she's a go-getter; she will not let anything stop her. If she wants a man she'll make him obsess over her until he's almost mad with thoughts of her. If she wants a particular person to be her devotee she will personally recruit them. If she wants a sacrifice, she has no qualms about doing it herself. Her presence is an indication you need to chop some dead wood and close this chapter.

Although she has a fearsome reputation, she brings great blessings to those who she favours. And you, dear reader, are one of those lucky few. I'm getting a sense that she is bestowing domestic happiness specifically on you. In your future is a household full of abundance, home comforts, and harmony. Reunions and family gatherings will be many. Long-term relationships will be blissful and stable, perfect for bringing children into if you so wish (she also aides with fertility). You will feel content and positive, and those around you will feel your happiness radiating from you.

Advice: Wear black and/or red, take walks in the morning air, wear henna, burn benzoin, go for a swim, eat figs, tie ribbons to trees and make a wish to her (bring an offering to the tree if she fulfils your request).

Pile 2: Lalla Mira 💛

Lalla Mira is a djinn who is associated with fertility, marriage, healing, abundance, and especially love. She also has psychic gifts and is summoned to foretell the future via a spirit medium who she takes possession of. She has been compared to Aphrodite as they preside over similar areas, but unlike Aphrodite she tends to be quite volatile; assertive, aggressive, extremely demanding, and jealous. She engages in relations with human men and if someone she has her eye on is already married... She makes him ask for permission to continue relations with his own wife. However, she is kind to her own devotees (who she may aggressively pursue); healing infertility, finding spouses for them, and preventing illness. Her devotees credit her with their good health, happiness, and the existence of their families. This is a djinn who is incredibly kind to those she favours, but ruinous to those who displease her.

What Message Does Lalla Mira Have for You?

You've been working HARD. Maybe you've just sown the seeds, or maybe those seeds have already grown up into a lush garden. She is telling you that your hard work WILL have results. But she also wants you to let go of perfectionism, because obsessing over small details is making you feel frustrated or stagnated. Make sure you're focusing on the things that bring you joy, instead of fear of failure or the need for every detail to be perfect stealing your happiness. Progress is more important than perfection.

My reading of your future with Lalla Mira was (luckily for you) favourable. She is bringing you happiness, especially in social areas. You will spend time with friends, go on on more dates and get invited to more events. She wants you to have FUN, to connect to your inner child and to embrace what gives you joy, even if it's something you think of as frivolous or juvenile. I feel her encouraging you to experiment with your style - this is a good time to get the drastic haircut you've been wondering about, to update your wardrobe, to experiment with what colours look best on you, etc. Romance is looking good. If you have a secret crush, this is the time to signify you're interested in something more. If you don't have a crush, her presence signals you have a secret admirer. If you're in a relationship, don't be afraid to be romantic and plan dates and quality time - her presence may even foretell an engagement, wedding or pregnancy. Health will be good; and your intuition will become sharper as some of her physic abilities rub off on you.

Advice: Wear orange and/or yellow, dance (especially belly dance or Moroccan folkloric dances), wear henna, take strolls in the afternoon, bathe regularly and be very thorough in your baths (exfoliate when you need to and clean every inch of skin), light candles and incense, spend times around bodies of water like springs, wells and rivers.

Pile 3: Lalla Malika 💜

Lalla Malika is technically a princess as she's the daughter of a King, but her role is that of a Queen. She is a djinn of prosperity, helping her followers gain money, social status, professional success, and success in legal matters. As a very wealthy princess, she's associated with all things considered luxurious - fine perfume, silk kaftans with gold embroidery, gold jewellery, premium incense, beautiful decor, intricate henna (Aisha and Mira also request henna but their designs aren't as detailed or feminine), cosmetics, and delicious chocolates, sweets and pastries. Ritual ceremonies for her look like very lavish engagement parties. Unlike her peers Aisha and Mira, Malika is much gentler despite being just as powerful. If Aisha and Mira set their sights on a man, they will cause him to obsess over them, sometimes to the point of madness, whereas Malika seduces men by chatting to them and calmly stating her desire. When Aisha and Mira want to recruit a devotee, they may make their presence known by attacking or possessing the person, whereas Malika gently reveals herself through dreams, pleasant scents, laughter and tickling. When Aisha and Mira feel wronged they lash out, causing illness, miscarriage, paralysis, or even death, whereas Malika chooses not to attack but withdraws her presence from the situation instead. She is famous for her cheerful spirit, bringing joy and laughter wherever she goes. This is a djinn who is powerful both in status and magical ability, but yet is also soft, joyful, and friendly to all.

What Message Does Lalla Malika Have for You?

There's a sense of mental distress here. Specifically of high stress levels, anxiety or burnout, to the point that you are or will neglect your own needs. Lalla Malika is all about self-care, beautification routines, pleasure and indulgence, so the message here is very clear: you need to indulge yourself! Do what you have to do to make some time for yourself, whether that's dealing out responsibilities you've been burdened with more fairly, working on better time management, asking for help with a task that's overwhelming, etc. And then make sure to treat yourself! Take a long bath or shower complete with a face mask and your most deliciously scented soap and lotion, curl up with a good book or movie and a mug of hot chocolate, partake in your hobbies, or do anything else that brings you joy. Now is the time to pause and recalibrate.

You are in a period of transition, in a positive way - you are overcoming hardship and healing. Your problems will settle down and things will become easier to deal with. There may very well be travel in your future - one of the cards I selected has an association with travel, journeys and vacations, and Lalla Malika herself is associated with travel - she's a flying djinn who often descends from heaven to Earth, and her devotees are often said to be people who travel by airplane.

She is here to make sure you don't neglect your needs, whether emotional or physical. She asks you to consider how you can rest and care for yourself and is welcoming you into her world of abundance and happiness. People who have Malika on their side will flourish in social situations, find they have more money to spend, and will succeed professionally.

Malika's presence is a sure sign you're manifesting luxury and abundance. A life of comfort is coming to you, from every area from fine wine and gourmet chocolates, to good investments and advantages at work. You will cultivate a wide range of skills, hobbies and knowledge that will make you enchant people and make friends easily. You'll also be seen as more beautiful and alluring, both because your confidence will increase and because Malika's dedication to beautification rituals will rub off on you. She wants you to live the high life.

Advice: Wear purple, green or pink, wear perfume, burn incense and purple candles, indulge in sweets, chocolates, and pastries without guilt, dress up nice just because (wear jewellery/makeup if you want too), use creams, oils and lotions regularly, experiment with your style or hair (if you've been wondering about cutting or dying it this is your sign), make sure your wardrobe is organised, learn about business, law or a foreign language/culture, wear intricate henna designs, use your best manners even to people who are rude.

[wandixx]

Date in the Ghost Zone

@seamistagle

Sorry it took so long, I've cjaged ideas, like, five times along the way because my dating expirience is almost none existant. To make up for that, I decided to write them kissing (i also have no expierience in that) but anyway, I hope you'll like it

“Hi starlight!” a voice rang from her ceiling. At this point, she didn't even startle, too used to Danny's dramatics. Popping out of nowhere, halfway through solid objects was so low on the list of shenanigans that she didn't even respond until she finished a scene of the “Hello, Megan!” episode she was rewatching. That's what he got for not using the door and knocking like civilized humans should.

“Hello sunshine“ She leaned back in her chair and smiled at her boyfriend “What brings you to my humble chamber?”

“You're busy this weekend and it's not a question. We're going on a date” he said, determined and anxious in a way that usually translated to ‘I have an unconventional date idea and I hope you like it’. Her smile widened. She loved Danny's unconventional ideas.

“Sure love, do I need to bring something with me?” She started slowly flying up, careful to not be fast enough to bring Danny's attention to it. He took a moment to consider her question but eventually shook his head.

“I'll get everything ready. Just come to Amity on Saturday morning and let everyone know we will be offline whole weekend”

Her smile got a bit softer. Whole weekend with Danny sounded like a dream, especially after a period when life stuff kept them apart for almost a month.

“Alright,” she just needed to stall a little longer. “Can I make cookies though?“

Just a bit higher, less than two feet.

Danny visibly brightened, looking every bit like an angel from an old painting. 

“I'll never say no to your cookies”

“I know,” she said and kissed him. His lips were cold and dry as if he spent just a bit too long on the snow, like always when she made out with him as a ghost. She loved every millisecond of the experience. 

Obviously, she also loved when he was human, warm and soft and breathing.

She just adored every bit of her boyfriend, okay?

She let go to take a breath, relishing in a way Danny blushed and spluttered. He was an adorable mess every time she so much as smooched him. 

(She said, as if she wasn't exactly the same).

“I love you. See you on Saturday“

“Yeah… See you”

***

Danny carefully stared at M'gann when he phased blindfold off her face. It wasn't as much of a surprise as he wished it could be, there wasn’t many places where could he go to from his house, especially ones that she didn’t see already. But he wanted to give her just this little thing, so he lead her in a little bit further.

She seemed to like it, if his reading of her emotional projection was correct. Apparently he should know it instinctually but he was just tad too alive for the instinct to kick in. From what he knew about M'gann, she liked it. Maybe.

“It's… really green”

Danny blinked. How was he supposed to respond to that?

They both snorted the moment they caught each other's eyes.

“I mean… you warned me but wow–” she said, clearly suppressing out right laughter “–even air is green”

“That's Ghost Zone for you! Green over green with green undertones”

That won him a laugh. Ancients, there weren't many things more beautiful than this laugh and he was willing to do far too much for it. 

“Alright, let's go, I have so much to show you. We won't be able to get to Martian sector now, but if you want, we can save more time next–”

“Later. Show me around now, please”

“As you wish”

He grabbed her wrist to lead the way.

***

Danny didn’t stumble when landing on the snow, he didn’t. He just kinda slipped and almost ate dirt or well, ice. M’gann of course was graceful as if she was born in the air. Actually, for all he knew, she could be.

This was not a moment to think about it.

“Welcome to Far Frozen, literally and figuratively the chillest place in the Ghost Zone” he said with a cheeky grin, trying to sound like and overenthusiastic tour guide. They both quite enjoyed when he was in this role.

“This is the Yeti part, right?”

“Exactly! And the main prize goes to- oh!”

Something small and fluffy hit him in the stomach, tiny hands wrapping around him and forcing breath out of his lungs.

“Phantom!”

“Icefang! It’s great to see you kiddo!” he said, hugging little yeti back. “And you guys too!” he yelled, so group running up to them could hear him.

There was something incredibly funny in a fact that there was group of ghost children who treated him as this cool older friend. No way anyone on the living side could ever consider him that.

“Who is that?” one of them asked, pointing at M’gann like there was anyone else they could mean. She smiled and waved at them.

“This is Miss Martian, my girlfriend!” Ancients, they were together for months and being able to call her that still made him giddy “I’m giving her a tour through coolest places in the Realms”

“It’s nice to meet you all, Phantom talked a lot about you”

He wouldn’t say he talked a lot about them, but he certainly mentioned them from time to time… Like the time when he spent half an hour excitedly explaining how Snowstorm managed one fight move he thought them or how Snowdrop made him really cute drawing or… okay, so maybe this counted as a lot.

“Hi, what is girlfriend?” Icefang asked, cocking his head to the side while other kids stopped behind him and also peered curiously.

“Did you say girlfriend?! It’s a special friend with kissing and saying dumb things!” Snowstorm yelled running up to them, clearly winded. Danny hoped they were late because they had to finish dinner or something instead of getting into yet another trouble. They were magnet, really, Fenton Luck wasn’t as bad as- “Like Snowflake and Frost Junior!” nevermind, little shit could be in all the trouble they found. These two were famous among his little group as an embarrassing teen couple and equating him and M’gann to them was an untrue insult, thank you very much.

Kids giggled, because of course they did. Danny rolled his eyes. M’gann seemed to catch enough to realize the weight of the ‘they’re just like Snowflake and Frost Junior’ insult.

“I’d say that Snowstorm is lying but I know you won’t believe me. Sorry I won’t play with you, today I wanted to just walk around with Miss Martian. We will play extra long next time, alright?”

M’gann leaned on him a bit, projecting tiniest bit of playful possessiveness, as if she tried to tell kids ‘mine now’ and barely stopped herself from laughing. Icefang looked up, up, up at her, eyes narrowed and mouth twisted, like she was most hated person in the whole world. Maybe she was actually. From kids perspective she was someone, who was taking away his cool friend.

“We should put her through Trial of Ice” he almost hissed, like it was the worst thing they could do to her. It certainly wasn’t, but he still would prefer to not go through that.

Danny cursed inwardly, because he really should’ve remember about that when he decided to bring M’gann here. It was supposed to be calm pretty date not… that.

There was quiet ping in the back of his mind, a warning that the Mindlink was established.

“Am I supposed to be scared?” she asked, without an ounce of fear.

“You’ve certainly fought harder battles, but they probably won’t leave us alone unless we do it”

“Isn’t Trial of Ice a family thing?”

“Have your family done that?” Snowstorm asked, in this truly condescending way that only preteens managed to access.

“Well, they haven’t met her and they’re human so…”

“You see? We’re picking up their slack. Now, enough yapping, Phantom go over there, to your place”

“We can evacuate if you don’t want to indulge them”

It certainly wouldn’t make kids happy, but he didn’t want to pressure Meg into anything.

“Why would we?”

Well, who was he to disagree with all of them. He walked over to the place Snowstorm pointed.

“How will it look like?” she asked out loud, leaning down a bit to be closer to kids level “It’s probably obvious to you, but I don’t know the rules”

She looked at them like it was genuinely important to her, like it was almost life and death and Danny was once again reminded why he loved this girl so much and that he could and would commit great crimes for her.

Icefang perked up like an overeager puppy. If there was one sure way to buy his favor it was by letting him share his knowledge. Or have cookies, cookies also worked.

“You have to prove your decli- degi- deti-”

“Dedication”

“Right, that, thank you Briarheart, and show that you’re worth being Phantom’s special kissing friend. To do that, you need to get through us and kiss him while we will do all we can to stop you, mostly by throwing stuff at you. You can use your powers but if we hit you ten times you loose and can’t be Phantom’s kissing friend anymore”

“You can’t fly out of the throwing range for more than ten seconds and can’t phase through the ground”

“Alright, I get it. I have one question. One of my powers is that I can move things without touching them, can I just use it to move Phantom to me?”

“No, he has to stay were he is”

“That’s what I thought, thank you”

Snowdrop tugged at small bit of Snowstorm’s fur and started signing rapidly. Danny was learning Yeti Sign Language but it was slow going, mostly because of everything else he had to get done at the same time. But he was learning when he had time! He even understood a few signs! Not enough to actually catch what she was saying but… Yeah, no, he should do better.

“Good point Snowdrop”

“I didn’t see what did she say?”

“You can just say you can’t read yet Icefang. She said that we should put Phantom through Trial of Ice too. It’s always to ways thing”

“Aw, thank you sweetheart”

“We won’t be good for the task though” Briarheart Junior pointed out, always the rational one “Phantom is our friend so we won’t put up good fight against him. Someone else needs to do that”

Yeti kids all started nodding with various levels of enthusiasm. Snowstorm seemed to already think about logistics and candidates since, again, it was Snowstorm, their involvement could only mean chaos.

“Give us two weeks, we’ll be back with candidates by then”

M’gann looked like she tried to hold back laughter. Instead, she nodded and thanked them again. Snowstorm told everyone to move to their positions, with M’gann exactly one hundred twenty three ‘big steps’ away from him. Then Icefang got to use new trick he learned and made wall around Danny. It was less than one feet high, but they really didn’t need anything higher. He was sufficiently praised for it, which made him smile brightly enough to rival the sun.

For all it’s worth, Trial of Ice was pretty boring when he was the prize. Don’t get him wrong, he was proud of the kids whenever they did some trick he thought them and M’gann ‘fighting’ was one of the hottest thing he could imagine, but still. He itched to join.

Or maybe not. He liked what he was seeing. M’gann changed her clothes into something resembling her night suit, just in white and pale blue to better match surroundings. It looked good on her, emphasizing lines of her body and how they changed in the movement, in such way that he couldn’t drag his eye away from her. He didn’t often get the chance to admire her like in action, to look at the way she was in the air, when she evaded attacks, all grace and power and precision. Usually he was right next to her, or if sidelined, too stressed for her life to ever really look.

He could appreciate this chance.

It made him once again wonder how he managed to get someone as amazing to date him. Like, really, how did it happen?!

This train of thought was abandoned when after last refined loop M’gann descended right in front of him. He looked at her face, maybe bordering on staring but how could he not? How could he not stare at her freckles highlighted by the teal blush from all the exercise? How could he not stare at her perfectly shaped lips, now that he knew how they felt against his?

Damn it, he wanted to kiss this girl five minutes ago.

M’gann leaned forward, close enough that puffs of their breaths mixed together.

“You realize I can still hear all of your thoughts?”

He did, actually, not realize that.

“Good thing, I’m not thinking about anything you shouldn’t hear then”

She finally did kiss him after that, though unfortunately it was just a quick smooch (he said as if it didn’t leave him just a little bit brain scrambled for a moment and wait did she use blackberry lip balm? It was hard to tell when their lips barely touched). Then she grabbed his elbow and dragged him up and away before he fully caught up what was going on. Mock noises of disgust turned into open protest when kids realized they were getting away.

Danny and M’gann kinda laughed as they were sprinting away before kids could caught up to them. It took him a moment to calm down enough to scrap whatever he knew about Far Frozen, so he could point them somewhere where they could hide out until kids got distracted (about half an hour at most).

They dipped into some small ice cavern and curled up next to each other, still slightly shaking from giggles. There was enough room to sit straighter and keep personal space but they didn’t want to.

M’gann laid her head on his shoulder.

“This is so weird, you know? Nice, but weird. Like uncanny valley but without uncomfortable part. Or at least not as much of uncomfortable part”

***

M’gann wasn’t sure why she kept talking after Danny hummed with small projection of curiosity. It would probably just sour the mood, but it was maybe a little too late now that she started.

“It’s just… you know, it’s all so similar to M’arzz. Which is great! Don’t get me wrong, I loved it! I missed it, even if I didn’t realize it! But you know, it not the same,” her voice broke a bit, and she felt an arm circling her back. She took a moment to gather herself “They were all so emotive and loud, I almost started reading their minds because it couldn’t not be deliberate. But it was. Kids didn’t look to different from my peers back home, I could certainly imagine them playing with shape-shifting and testing this type of form for longer time. It’s colder than Earth but too cold to actually be M’arzz. Everything is going on above the ground which isn’t dangerous here but I was raised knowing it was not safe. We also have this thing about proving our worth but it’s with heat instead of ice and right before the wedding instead of right from the get go. It’s all just kinda itching.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah”

“Um, sorry. I haven’t thought about it. I should. Do you want to go back? We can chill in Amity if you want to. Or, you know do something else on the living side”

“No, no, no it’s fine, I like it. It’s nice. It’s familiar, but in a good way. There isn’t really a way for me to just go back and it’s nice to have it even if a little bit”

Danny shifted a bit, as if he tried to look at her, but she kept her face buried in is arm. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should’ve swallowed nostalgia and just keep going. It was such a great time before too.

There was nudge at her mind, clearly deliberate even if clumsy. Absolutely incomprehensible, like Martian’s babies and toddlers did it.

Another nudge, more defined but still unable to carry any ideas more sophisticated than vague invitation to connect.

“Danny?”

“Do you want to talk telepathically? To make it better?”

Oh. Oh.

“Sure. Thank you,” she took a deep breath, trying to collect herself once again “Are you trying to make me cry today? You’re lucky I don’t wear make-up or it would be all ruined”

“You would be stunning anyway. I don’t think there is anything you could do to not be, let’s be honest”

“And now you’re trying to sweeten me up, you dork” She roughly dried her eyes against his suit. It’s absolutely useless to this purpose but she wanted to hide for a bit longer.

“I am not sweetening anyone up, it would have to be untrue for it to be that’

“Oh shut up”

“Never~”

“It’s not even my true form”

“M’gann, Meg, my starlight and love of my Afterlife. When I saw your true form I was so enamored my brain ceased higher functions. I watched ‘Hello, Megan!’ because you liked it, but the main character was just… kinda meh in terms of looks. Do you understand? I think you’re beautiful because it’s you, not because of anything else. No matter what form you’d choose to be in, I’ll love it and want to be as close to you as you’ll let me”

M’gann finally raised her head and with small startle she realized that between their faces were only inches. There was still small blush on his cheeks and his eyes were almost hipnotizing, with the way they focused on her like she was only thing that mattered. His hair was ruffled from wind, just asking to run finger through it. Once again their puffing breaths were mixing but this time they were alone. They could savor it, they could-

“Great One? I was informed you came with your suitor?”

Of course. They couldn’t even kiss in peace.

Thankfully, encounter with Frostbite, even if awkward, was quite short. She didn’t have anything against the yeti, really, she couldn’t even begin to tell how much she appreciated help he extended to Danny but still…

It was not the type of moment she wanted to be interrupted on.

Thankfully older ghost caught it, despite both of them trying to be subtle, and didn’t seem to be too angry about it, so soon they were on their merry way to ‘'one more place’ Danny wanted to show her.

He even brought back up the blindfold, which made her stomach do funny things. She was excited to see what Danny wanted to show her, but also…

There was something really intimate about flying blind, not in a way even their deepest kisses were, but in the absolute trust she had to have in him. In the Ghost Zone she couldn’t even navigate with her telekinesis and telepathy like she could try on the living side. In the Ghost Zone, she had just Danny, and this made something as simple as getting off the ground, into the air all more electrifying in the way that would be almost scary, if she was with anyone else.

She got a little worried when instead of lightly holding her wrist like he did before, Danny caught both of her hands and grasped her like he didn’t plan to let go for the rest of eternity.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course”

And then they were off, faster than she’d ever dare when blind, faster than they usually did, faster than they sometimes went when racing even. Danny kept her close, practically clinging.

Then they were falling and twisting and turning like on some crazy roller coaster and it was breathtaking in both best and worst ways because they were close and it was exciting but she had no idea where they were going or when were they going to turn. Her stomach was doing funny things. Actually, she liked that. She liked that a lot. Especially when Danny slowed down a bit and brought her to his chest before kicking off again.

This was electrifying.

She let out a little yelp when they stopped abruptly and gently landed on the snow. For a long moment they both just stood, panting with soft giggles, getting of off adrenaline high.

***

Danny’s breath caught in his throat again when M’gann grasped sides of his face. It was a bit clumsy, with fingers getting on his mouth and ear but it just made it all more… more.

After few months in relationships he should probably get better at handling all the times she did things like that. As it was, he was barely able to focus on anything other than fingers in his hair and cold hands on his cheeks.

“It was amazing”

He shuddered when she whispered in his mind. It used to terrify him beyond belief, the idea that someone could hear all his thoughts, could touch his very being, made him rebel on the most instinctual level. Now, when M’gann did it, when by just being next to him she rewrote his brain to associate her with mind-reading, it was intoxicating.

“I know, you’re welcome” he managed to stuttered.

She leaned closer, obviously aiming for his mouth and it took all of his will to not meet her midway. They stayed just close, with Danny’s eyes fluttering each time warm puff of air hit them.

“Never do it again”

Instead of answering, he put his hands between her shoulder blades to bring her closer, reached up to cross the remaining distance and kissed her.

Oh, it was definitely blackberry lip balm. He loved it. He loved it all so much.

He loved the way her lips felt brushing against his, cold and smooth despite the time they spent in cold. He loved the way he could almost feel her heartbeat, pressed slightly above his own heart, how he could hear it above his own blood rushing in his ears, faster that it was when they were flying moments ago. He loved the way her hand moved through his hair to press against the back of his head, a wordless command to get closer. He happily complied, adjusting slightly and almost locking on her closed mouth. One of his hands moved lower as he rammed forward, kissing her with enough fervor that she had to arch back a bit. Like that he couldn’t reach her without climbing to his tiptoes, but he didn’t mind.

Her mouth opened slightly, so he took invitation for what it was and started to devour what she had. As he was, draped across M’gann’s chest, with her hands barely holding on his neck, her lips against his and her tongue brushing against his teeth, the whole world could disappear and he couldn’t be bothered. Being this close, with her, was all that mattered and all that could fill his brain.

It got sloppy, when hand laid on the small of his back, full body shiver making their teeth clank. Before he got himself at least a little bit together other hand appeared in his hair. It yanked him back on just the right side of painful, while the arm around his waist pressed him forward and all at once he couldn’t find his footing, bend back so much that if his hand didn’t grasp the edge of M’gann’s cape they could probably touch the ground. Other one by miracle stayed on her neck.

He was fully at her mercy and there was nowhere he could rather be, hanging in her arms all nice and docile. He was stuck in almost addicting cycle of telepathic projection of his excited-eager-confident and M’gann's giddy-greedy-restless response and how it made him all fervent-dizzy-thrilled and how much he could feel it, how intimate this type of closeness was, how kiss dissolved whatever it was that made sensing emotions so much harder and more muted at any other time.

He let himself be handled and adjusted sometimes grasping her hair when he felt too much, in the best way he could imagine, but frankly he forgot about everything else after that.

They had to let go at some point, to catch breath if nothing else but they stayed close. Close enough that he could smell the lip balm that by now was probably mostly on him. Close enough that their noses would touch if they turned their heads just right. Close enough that he could count her freckles and connect them into little constellations, as if her skin was map of the space that gave her to him.

It wasn’t rare, for them to be this close, but it never changed the fact, that when he caught her eyes, half closed but striking, sparkling in the cold blue-green light in the way that was almost iridescent, he couldn’t help but think he wouldn’t be mad to get lost in them. He wouldn’t be mad to be trapped forever, like mosquito in amber with which her eyes shared color.

“Okay, you can do that again”

He needed a long moment to realize why that would ever be in question or what she was referencing, or were they were and what they were doing before. By the time he scrambled his brain again, M’gann’s eyes were closed and she was going for another kiss. He tilted her by the chin just slightly away, because they came there for a reason and he wanted to fulfill said reason before he totally forgot.

M’gann looked back at him, slightly dazed, straightening just a bit. She brought him with her, so his position was just a touch less parallel to the ground, which was also nice.

“I have nothing against round to but before that, I wanted to show you something”

He waited for a moment until she full caught what he was saying. It was overwhelmingly exhilarating to see that she was affected by it just as much as he was. When she nodded, he turned her chin to the left, slowly so she could fully admire the view.

He didn’t turn. He knew what she could see, the breathtaking spectacle of Far Frozen, the wonderful mix of futuristic and traditional, shining in the Ghost Zone’s lights like under aurora. He knew this view well.

Arms around him went almost lax, so he slipped and fell on the snow. He could catch himself or stay were he was, close enough to smell her ever changing shampoo, but he preferred it that way.

“Oh… it’s… It’s beautiful”

He propped himself up on his hands and looked up at her, at the curves of her face and shape of her nose and the little scar she could shape-shift away but just didn’t want to. He looked at her hair, the way her red contrasted with Zone’s ambient green and snow’s reflected cold white and how disheveled it was from flight and the kiss and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to brush his fingers through them until they were neat again or ruffle them even more during another kiss.

He looked the golden clasp of her cape, slightly greener ever since they learned he could be summoned and figured out how to make M’gann always have this chance. He looked at the red ribbons crossing on her chest, only thing she kept from her ‘true’ form, only symbol she let herself keep from the home she could both hate and miss. He looked at her fingers, covered in freckles like the rest of her, short and slender, grasping at the improvised railing now that they weren’t holding him. He looked at the way her back curved as she leaned forward to see better. He looked back at her face, at her slightly opened lips and wide opened eyes and her raised eyebrows. He looked at her open, almost child like delight over something he, at this point, seen as almost mundane.

“Yeah, beautiful”

[molotoph]

Not to be dramatic but the idea that the first post is “horror” pisses me off on like an atomic level. You know what those are? Other people.

“What if a person who both is and isn’t you, who both can never share your inner thoughts and wears a nearly identical face, who has their own inner thoughts you will never know, didn’t want to hurt you, they just wanted to live, to be happy, free, loved?” OH YOU MEAN LIKE HOW THERE BEING OTHER HUMANS WORKS IN REAL LIFE???!?!?! HOW IS THAT SCARY?!??!!!

How tf is it scary that other people exist and are just different iterations of me like how I’m different iterations of them, how even though we can never break qualia it literally doesn’t matter and the beauty is that we don’t NEED to break qualia to form community and connections with each other.

“A different kind of horror” ugh. Like idk what you meant by this but it reminds me of those neoconservative tv shows where it’s like “ooh we start to break qualia and then oh no humans get to know each other too well and the woke hive mind virus steals my individualism” no that is not what would happen

I literally never assumed a doppelgänger would want to kill me bc I’m not fucking weird and I don’t want to approach another me with belligerent violent terror of the unknown. Another me wouldn’t want to kill me, they’ve had the same internal conversation about it, and we’re running on the same hardware. I’d have a less clear answer on danger posed by a stranger that doesn’t mirror me visually.

“What if you get a cool new twin that just wants to be loved” “that’s also scary!” H O W

what if your doppelgänger wasn’t evil it was just a person. what if your doppelgänger wasn’t trying to replace you it was just trying to learn to be a person and you were the best model it had. what if your doppelgänger looked at you with your eyes and said with your voice that it just wanted to be loved. what then.

[kinardsevan]

2 + 49 for the numbers prompt

“This was a mistake,” Tommy mutters as Evan moves off of the couch, searching for his pants on the floor. The younger man whips his head up at his words and narrows his gaze at his ex, ire set into his expression. 

“Oh like that’s shocking,” he hisses as he finds his pants. “You need the god damn cover of nightfall to even call me and fuck.” 

Tommy gulps but doesn’t respond. Evan isn’t wrong. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” Tommy rasps after a moment when he stands. he pulls his pants back up and buttons them, looking around his living room for his own shirt. 

“That’s so fucking convenient for you to say, isn’t it,” Evan growls, stepping into his jeans. He looks over at the other man. “It’s a mistake. We can’t keep doing it. You’re weak and you just, what? Need me?” 

Tommy forces down a breath, keeping his mouth shut still. 

“But apparently not enough to fuck me for the rest of my life,” the younger man grumbles softly. “No, apparently I’m not good enough for that. Just one night stands now.” 

“Hey!” Tommy grips his forearm tightly as he spins Evan around, his face red and his jaw tight. It’s taking everything in him not to let the tears that desperately want to come to actually fall. 

“What,” Evan taunts, anger still laced through his tone. “You said you couldn’t be my last, but you clearly have no problem letting me think I’m good enough to fuck. So is that what it was the entire time, Tommy? I was a good place to put your dick? Work out the baby bisexual while I made you my god-damn human diary? Because you have all my secrets now and-…” His voice chokes off as his own emotions threaten to take over, rage ebbing off of him like steam after a hot shower. 

“Walking away from you is the hardest thing I have ever done,” Tommy rasps at him. “You think I thought you were just a good lay? You’re the whole goddamn package, and I knew I was blowing my entire life up the first time I kissed you, because you were never going to pick me. Not in the end, Evan. No one does that.” 

A small amount of the anger coming off of Evan seeps out of his expression, but Tommy shakes his head, glancing up at the ceiling to keep his emotions reigned in as best he can. Tears are swimming in his vision, and it’s all he can do to keep them from actually falling. 

“You think you know what you want, but six months from now-..” 

“I’m so in love with you that I went to bed thinking about what we’d name the kids every night,” Evan cuts him off. “Thought about what color we’d paint the nursery. If we’d have a two-stall garage or if that would even be big enough for the car lift and the muay thai setup. You think I was being hasty? I was bursting to keep it all inside, Tommy. A-and you think it was just bisexual haze? I never thought about all of that with anybody else. Not Abby, not Ali, not Taylor.” 

Tommy stares at him as Evan goes off, feeling stripped by his statements. He’s heard exes talk about feeling that way when they inevitably found the next person after him time and time again, but he’s never so much as gotten an inkling of it from anyone after Abby, and with her, it was never actually going to happen. 

“You say no one picks you, but I was fucking trying,” Evan tells him. “Not for five seconds, or a year, or two. For the rest of my fucking life. But apparently, that’s too hard for you.” 

Tommy’s breath is shallow as he steps forward, his free hand wrapping around the back of Evan’s head as leans his forehead against the younger man’s. 

“Loving you has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done, Evan,” he whispers, his eyes closed as the tears finally fall. “It’s the losing you part of it that would kill me. When I said I couldn’t deal…” He leans back slightly, his fingers wrapped around Evan’s jaw to push him back a few inches, although he doesn’t remove his hand. His gaze runs over Evan’s face and chest and back up. “It ends at you. There’s nobody after you. I don’t move on from here. I was just trying to find a way to make it out alive.” 

Evan lifts his hand up to where Tommy’s is still on his face. 

“Then meet me in the middle, and believe me when I tell you there’s never going to be anyone else,” he rasps. “And let me love you anyway.” 

[doughguts-art]

What is your stance on the "Elsen is one guy who cloned himself a bajillion times" comment from the 15th anniversary livestream

My stance is that I respectfully disagree (for lack of a better term). Since “all elsens are clones of one person” wasn’t ever stated/explored in-game, I find it more fun to explore other Elsen origins for my projects instead. Mortis Ghost has also said in the past that people are welcome to play fast and loose with lore, and that’s what I was doing before I was ever introduced to the clone discussion. It’s easier for me to ignore that newer addition than to overhaul my original ideas, so that’s what I’m doing. I have no issue with people who decide to use that lore for their own works, but it doesn’t apply to mine.

With that being said, what’s MY lore for Elsen? For me, Elsens as we see them in-game are the result of 3 things:

Human’s evolution after the “apocalypse”. Elsens are what Humans are in the far future, as the lingering effects of the apocalypse (cough cough radiation) changed the very essence of what Humans are from the past.

Hugo’s influence as a “god” of this world. What we see is what Hugo specifically makes, so Elsens are the cartoony square-headed humanoids because that’s what we are made to perceive by Hugo.

The Batter’s/Protagonist’s perception. They all look the same because it is just easier for them to look the same. It is unnecessary for them to look any different than each other to the Batter, so we barely see any differences.

In my games, “Tiny Terror” and “Project GoldFinch”, the Elsen are more visually different than the original OFF’s because they are not filtered through the Batter’s practical lens. Non-important NPC Elsen are intended to have more variety, because they are supposed to be more individualized than what the Batter saw. Now I can’t say “everyone’s different” because I think I’d die if I had to make every NPC unique, but I’m trying to change up certain details so you’re not just talking to the same Elsen in a dress-shirt and tie.

“So, that’s how they look, but how are they made, if not cloning?” Glad you asked, I have a few explanations that usually (but not definitively) depend on which Zone they reside in!

The Zone’s Minimum Quota: Each Zone has an undefined number of Elsens that have to exist within it. There can always be more than the set number, and there usually is in any given Zone, but if a death of an Elsen would mean going under, then a fully adult Elsen will appear in another area once that death occurs. This new Elsen will have a basic knowledge of living, but will have to be taught to do specialized tasks. This is more common in Zone 3 than the other Zones, and it's the reason Enoch’s sugar industry has been sustained for so long.

Cloning (via the Big Elsen in the Room): YES OK I have a cloning piece of my lore too, but it’s not exactly what Mortis Ghost described, so I don’t count it as the same. This version of cloning is heavily inspired by tzalmavet’s idea of the Big Elsen. Sometimes normal-looking Elsens will grow and slough off of the Giant One (that I have dubbed Biggs for my story). Some of these Elsen are kept in the Room, but most are sent to the larger Zones. Unfortunately the ones that are sent away don’t survive for long outside of the Room because of genetic instability caused by leaving and the rapid mutations that results from it. All of the Elsen that come from Biggs are genetically the same despite any differing mutations, and consider themselves siblings. They can identify each other as such even if they are meeting for the first time.

Creations of the Guardians: Guardians can create Elsens if they choose to excerpt the massive amount of energy needed to make one. This was done mostly in the beginning of the Zones, before the Quota was established. It is very impractical to perform now that there are other easier ways Elsen can exist. The creation ritual requires “scaffolding” (usually made of plastic, metal, or meat), and a Guardian to infuse energy into it. The scaffolding + energy will create an Elsen with whatever features and knowledge the Guardian wishes to give them. Japhet was the Guardian who created Elsens using this method the most, which is why he considers the Elsen of Zone 2 his children (even if not all of the Elsen within the Zone are made by him anymore).

The Traditional Way: Elsens can just make other Elsens the same way Humans can make other Humans, though infertility rates are VERY high in most of the Zones. Zone 3 is pretty much completely infertile, it is very rare to see a child in Zone 1, and Zone 2 has the most children with enough to have a small school. Elsen babies grow and mature at the same rate as Humans do.

There are also miscellaneous "Special Cases". Some of my Elsens have unique origins separate from the ones I listed above, but I’d like to save the spoilers for my game to when it comes out, haha!

That's all for now, I hope you found my statement and lore explanation entertaining! I am excited to share more in the future.

[gimmeamanateeaftermidnight]

Ya’ll need to get the church out of your head. As someone raised Southern Baptist with a history of self harm, I need to be so fucking clear about something.

You cannot heal another by harming yourself.

Self harm is not reparations. Maybe a victim wants the person that hurt them to suffer. That’s a valid, human reaction. But, ultimately, their healing is reliant on other factors, ones the person that hurt them usually can’t control. Timing, surroundings, seeking help. The person that harmed can help by physically distancing themselves from their victim, but that’s just about the only material thing they can do to mitigate further harm. They need to apologize if possible, but the victim may not be in a place to hear or internalize it. Something the the person that harmed, again, can’t control. Suffering doesn’t clarify or purify. It doesn’t bring justice, it doesn’t prevent injustice. It just means there’s more suffering and serves as a distraction from any actual progress.

You do not harm others by healing yourself.

In fact, I believe the best way to move forward is to build yourself into someone who would never do that harm again. Whether it was sustained abuse, sexual assault or just saying something unkind that one time. If you hurt someone and feel terrible, change. Because you can’t go back. Full stop, time travel doesn’t exist. You cannot undo these things. No one can. So think before you act/speak. The most responsible thing you can do is face the part of you that caused you to harm another. Where did it come from? Why is it here? How do I heal it? Because if you don’t, no amount of guilt is going to guarantee that it won’t happen again. Healing is the only thing that prevents harm.

This may be a bit rambly, but the black and white view of morality that ya’ll have reminds me of all the worst parts of church and it genuinely scares me. There is a difference between trying to do right and trying to be righteous. Humans are grey. We will each of us cause harm and be harmed. We will each of us have reason to rightfully feel guilt at one time or another and telling people that the only proper response is to freeze and sink and mire in their own self-hate is not sustainable or helpful to anyone. And if you yourself have never had reason to feel guilt, well…. I certainly don’t want to be around you.

the thing is, if your younger self was a bigot or an abuser, u can't make people forgive you. but you still gotta forgive yourself, like that's non-negotiable, dude. that happens before u can even ask the question of earning forgiveness from anyone lese

[avelera]

Oh I would love to hear more of your thoughts on Heimerdinger because all of my friends were like "aaw the poor guy, he was right about magic all along, Jayce and Viktor owe him an apology" and I'm like??? Heimerdinger literally does nothing to improve any situation ever! I was so hoping he'd learn his lesson under Ekko, but when he got stranded in an AU and just decided to stay there and permanently take over his other self's body and let his original timeline perish I was genuinely horrified by his complacency (again). TBH I would have really liked to see him confronted with the fucked up culmination of all the fiddling with the Arcane in person, because I think I wanted him to see that he was right, he was right and yet he didn't change anything in the end (I'd even argue that he gets away without facing the consequences of any of his failings, he escapes Jinx' bombs even tho he failed in politics and he escapes the Arcane Apocalypse even tho he failed as a guide to his pupils and Hextech safeguard.)

Heimerdinger is a super interesting character and I'm glad you asked this because the previous meta discussion got me thinking about him but I didn't really know where to begin. I'll try to break my thoughts down with some cohesion:

I do think Heimerdinger learned his lesson within the narrative but specifically with regards to his two demonstrated personal flaws. Heimerdinger's two greatest flaws within the narrative are:

1) A lack of understanding and empathy towards those with shorter lives

2 ) The way his immortality detaches him from actually living his life (which feeds into point 1).

This is going to get long though, so I'm gonna start picking apart what I see as Heimerdinger's flaws and his virtues and how those get addressed beneath a cut:

So as I said, I would argue that Heimerdinger's arc does address his core flaws. His moment of greatest personal cruelty is when he fails to recognize Jayce and Viktor's desperation and, instead of agreeing to help them and guide them to make their experiments safe in the face of their desperation for Viktor to live, he just tries to shut them down. He gets exactly what he deserves there.

Then, in the AU universe, he recognizes this and agrees to help Ekko. He then willingly sacrifices his own life to send Ekko back to the canon universe, where Ekko is instrumental in saving the day. That, I would argue, is Heimerdinger's redemption arc, and he needed a redemption arc.

Also, while he was in the alternate timeline, he learned how to live in the moment, which addresses his second flaw, which feeds into his first flaw. I don't blame him for not feeling urgency to return home, without Ekko, he had no way of doing so. It could be seen as complacency, or perhaps simply an understanding of the reality. Would that world have been a better place if he'd invented Hextech just for a shot at returning to his universe? I'd argue that he was trying to be selfless by not doing so, when we see how much damage Hextech did in the canon universe. I think he was simply at peace with a shitty situation for himself, rather than actively avoiding his responsibilities.

As for the other Heimerdinger, who knows! Was there even one? Do yordles only have one identity across the multiverse? Or was there an element of redemption in Heimerdinger choosing to take his alternate self out of the Council? We just don't know.

As for his political identity, Heimerdinger is super interesting there too. Technically, he's an immortal enlightened despot in Piltover as its founder. I think he hides this fact from himself by allowing a council of humans to sometimes outvote him, in a fig leaf over the fact he really doesn't have the right to govern a bunch of humans, and I think him getting voted out of the Council acknowledges and narratively punishes him for this fact. Piltover isn't as enlightened as he thought it was under his leadership, a fact he realizes when he goes to the undercity and realizes how blind he was. But I'd say those were his flaws, he was always blind and naive, not malicious. And I think the narrative punishes him accordingly by giving him a wakeup call that he was asleep at the helm. He doesn't deserve to be in charge anymore. Jayce was completely right to kick him out BUT, did things get worse without the peaceful, modulating view of Heimerdinger on the council? How would HE have voted for Zaun's independence? I'd be very curious to know.

And I think it should be noted, Heimerdinger does have virtues too! His caution towards Hextech is not only well-founded, he is 100% correct. I think people forget that Heimerdinger was never ambiguous on the subject of where Hextech would lead them, he was completely right that it corrupts, destroys, and lays waste to civilizations. There's no ambiguity there! He's completely correct!

He's also correct that there are scientific innovations that would be safer if they spent more time in testing before being made available to the wider world. It took 100 years for people to realize coal burning factories were measurably altering the world's climate. Another great example of an invention that should have been tested more before it was implemented was freon, which was used in early refrigerators and does measurable damage to Earth's ozone later to the point where it is now banned. What if instead more tests had been run?

Heimerdinger's long view of science is correct and in an ideal world, it'd be great if we could run these tests to their conclusions. However, the long view isn't the whole story, a debate that Arcane actively engages with.

Because it should also be pointed out: the refrigerator also helped improve people's health around to the world. Think of all the food and medicine that can be preserved today because of refrigeration! Literally thousands would have died if we had banned refrigerators until freon could be better studied.

That's kind of where Viktor is at vs. Heimerdinger. If freon-powered refrigerators can end hunger in the undercity, why aren't we applying it now? To which Heimerdinger answers: you don't know what else it might be doing to the world. They are in fact both correct! It's a debate! One the real world is still trying to figure out. Heimerdinger is an extreme case of the long view, and Viktor is an equally extreme case of the short view since he's frantic now that he has so little time to live. Jayce tries to balance the two and gets caught in the middle with everyone mad at him, poor guy.

Anyway, I think that covers most of what I had to say about Heimerdinger? Hope that helps!

[notrebdomine]

Eric Harris medication

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As most people know, Eric was on Luvox, but before Luvox he took Zoloft. "In a visit to his general physician, Eric's medical records indicate "possible depression" and "mild/ minimal depressive symptoms." In small words, both (Luvox and Zoloft) are SSRI, or "selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor." It increases the amount of serotonin, sometimes called the "feel good" chemical, in the brain.

The first Luvox prescription listed by Breggin comes on April 25, 1998 for twenty-five milligrams. It was doubled to fifty milligrams just over a month later, and doubled again another month later, in early July. Breggin writes that three and a half months before Columbine, the prescriptions indicate Eric's dose was increased. Breggin also writes that on March 13, 1999, just over one month before Columbine, the medical record notes, "It's 'OK' to increase the dose to 200 mg. per day."

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

His point of view about taking medication

Eric would go through periods of taking his medication and going off of it. Below is a journal entry that he wrote in regards to his thoughts on being put on medication.

"My doctor wants to put me on medication to stop thinking about so many things and to stop getting angry. well, I think that anyone who doesn't think like me is just bullshitting themselves. try it sometime if you think you are worthy, which you probably will you little shits, drop all your beliefs and views and ideas that have been burned into your head and try to think about why your here. but I bet most of you fuckers cant even think that deep, so that is why you must die. how dare you think that I and you are part of the same species when we are sooooooo different. you aren't human you are a Robot. you don't take advantage of your capabilities given to you at birth. you just drop them and hop onto the boat and head down the stream of life with all the other fuckers of your type. well god damnit I wont be a part of it! I have thought to much, realized to much, found out to much, and I am to self aware to just stop what am thinking and go back to society because what I do and think isn't "right" or "morally accepted" NO, NO, NO, God Fucking damnit NO! I will sooner die than betray my own thoughts. but before I leave this worthless place, I will kill who ever I deem unfit."

Original from his journal, page #6 ↴

In reality, many of Eric's views were a result of his mental health problems, so in that way, he was right that the medication may change his views, but failed to see that it could be a good thing. He also says in one of his personal tapes, "When I don't take my medication it makes me angry. It's working."

He had some problems with the military concerning his status of medication as well, lying about or simply not mentioning his taking of anti-depressants to his recruiter during his medical examination.

[thejournallo]

Explain the basic: how to work with deities.

Working with deities in witchcraft is a deeply personal and spiritual practice, often based on the traditions of Paganism, Wicca, or eclectic witchcraft. The approach can vary widely depending on the deity, the practitioner’s beliefs, and the cultural or spiritual framework they follow.

There are many ways to understand if you’re being called by a deity or if that deity is available to work with you. Over the course of my journey as a witch, I’ve created some questions to help me recognize when a deity might be by my side:

Have I dreamed about this deity? You might dream about a deity, often through symbols or representations, such as animals or other forms connected to their essence.

Have I noticed symbols associated with this deity? Seeing recurring symbolism tied to the deity could be a sign.

Do I frequently encounter angel numbers? Repeated sequences of numbers might indicate divine communication.

Is the candlelight flickering more than usual? Unusual behavior in candle flames can be a subtle sign.

Do I smell something that isn’t physically present? For example, you might suddenly smell fresh oranges in your room, even though there’s no source for that scent.

These aren’t the only ways to recognize if a deity is truly with you or calling you. Sometimes, you’ll simply know. The questions I’ve shared are based on my personal experiences, and I’ve included them here because they might help. However, they’re not mandatory for working with a deity—they’re just a guide to assist you on your journey.

Here’s a general guide on how to work with them:

1. Research and Understand the Deity

Before attempting to work with any deity, it's important to understand their history, mythology, personality, and attributes. Deities come from a variety of pantheons—Greek, Roman, Norse, Celtic, Egyptian, Hindu, and others—each with their own unique qualities and domains. Research their sacred symbols, stories, traditional offerings, and rituals.

Pantheon: Decide whether you're drawn to a specific pantheon (e.g., Greek, Norse, Egyptian). Some practitioners work with deities from multiple pantheons, but others feel it’s important to focus on one tradition.

Attributes: Know what each deity is associated with. For example, Aphrodite is the Greek goddess of love and beauty, while Hecate is a goddess associated with magic, the moon, and the underworld.

2. Establish a Relationship

Working with deities is less about commanding them and more about developing a respectful relationship. Like human relationships, this often takes time, intention, and understanding.

Respect and Intent: Approach them with reverence, rather than demands. Ask for guidance, wisdom, or energy, but be respectful of their time and presence.

Meditation and Invocation: A common way to start is through meditation, where you quietly call upon the deity, focusing on their energy and essence. Invocation rituals, where the deity is formally called into your sacred space, are also widely used.

Dreamwork and Signs: You can ask the deity for signs in your dreams or waking life. This could come in the form of symbols, animals, or even strong feelings or ideas that seem to arise from nowhere.

3. Create a Sacred Space

A dedicated altar or space for your deity is a good way to establish a connection. This can be as simple or elaborate as you wish, but it should feel sacred to you and aligned with the deity’s energy.

Altar: Place items associated with the deity on the altar, such as candles, statues, crystals, or symbols that represent them. For example, if you work with Athena, you might place an owl figurine (a symbol of wisdom) or a spear (a symbol of war and strategy) on the altar.

Offerings: Regular offerings are a sign of respect and devotion. These can include food, flowers, herbs, incense, or wine. Choose offerings that align with the deity’s preferences—Dionysus might appreciate wine, while Demeter could be honored with grains or bread.

4. Rituals and Prayers

Rituals and prayers are a key part of working with deities in witchcraft. These can range from simple daily prayers to more elaborate ceremonial rituals.

Daily Devotions: Some practitioners recite prayers, light candles, or offer simple gestures like lighting incense in honor of their chosen deity. This helps keep the connection alive.

Full Moon or Sabbats: Special rituals can be conducted during significant times, such as the full moon (Esbats) or during one of the seasonal Sabbats (e.g., Samhain, Beltane) that align with the deity’s domain or energy.

5. Ask for Guidance or Assistance

Once you’ve developed a relationship, you can ask the deity for guidance, blessings, protection, or specific outcomes. Remember, though, that deities are not forces to control—they are powerful entities with their own wills.

Petitioning the Deity: Clearly state your request and what you hope for in your ritual. It’s often helpful to frame the request in terms of "please guide me" or "assist me with wisdom" rather than demanding outcomes.

Divination: Many witches use divination methods, such as tarot, runes, or pendulums, to communicate with deities and receive answers. This is particularly helpful when you’re seeking guidance.

6. Listen and Respect Boundaries

Deities are ancient and powerful, and it’s essential to respect their boundaries and listen to any messages or feelings you receive. Some deities may not respond or may decline to work with you, which is part of the spiritual process.

Patience: Don’t expect immediate results. Building a relationship with a deity takes time, and their responses can come in subtle ways.

Signs and Symbols: Be open to signs from the deity in your everyday life. You may see symbols, animals, or experience synchronicities that align with their energy.

Trust Your Intuition: Sometimes the deity will communicate in ways that are deeply personal to you. Trust your intuition when you feel their presence or receive guidance.

7. Balance Your Work with Action

Working with deities involves both spiritual practice and real-world action. If you are asking for help or guidance, also take practical steps in your own life to align with your desires. The deity may offer support, but you need to take responsibility for your actions and goals.

8. End Your Rituals with Gratitude

Always thank the deity for their time and guidance, whether or not you feel you received a clear response. Gratitude strengthens the relationship and shows that you respect the energy you’ve called upon.

Offerings of Thanks: Even if your request isn’t immediately granted, it’s good practice to offer thanks with a small gift, such as flowers, herbs, or a simple verbal thank-you.

9. Work with Deities in Line with Your Values

It’s important to choose deities that resonate with your personal values and goals. Some deities are more chaotic or represent aspects of life that might be difficult to manage (e.g., trickster gods like Loki), so be mindful of their nature and whether you are ready to work with their energy.

10. Ethics of Working with Deities

Respect the cultural context of the deities you work with. For example, if you are working with a deity from a living, closed tradition (like the Orishas in Santeria or Vodou), it’s important to understand and honor the culture and protocols around that deity. Be cautious about appropriating deities from traditions you are not familiar with or initiated into.

Working with deities in witchcraft can be a powerful and transformative experience, but it requires respect, dedication, and mindfulness. Each deity has their own personality, preferences, and energy, so take the time to build a meaningful relationship.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

TW fandom loves to speculate and theorize about mer and beastmen anatomy like how much they borrow from their animal ancestors. How about Miss Raven? What raven traits does she still have?

[Might be referencing this post?]

wiulwoyefapa THIS IS A TOPIC I THINK ABOUT A LOT, ACTUALLY. I think it's really fun to theorize what animalistic traits our non-human characters might have :DD

Here's just some of the raven stuff that stuck around with our Miss Raven:

(Please note: I do talk about bird and human anatomy in this post! Nothing explicit, but figured I'd warn in case this is an uncomfortable area.)

I think Miss Raven's general personality matches that of a raven; they're intelligent yet playful. She's less communicative and sociable than a raven, but I think she makes up for that in her writing.

Birds cannot taste capsaicin, which is the irritant that often registers as "spiciness" to humans. (It's an evolutionary adaptation that helps birds spread the seeds of chili peppers they eat.) Miss Raven has a high spice tolerance because of this, unlike her uncle (who is sensitive to spice).

Likes shiny things; her eye is easily caught by them regardless of value, size, color, etc. (That's her bird brain talking www) She can't wear much jewelry because she might get distracted by it. Instead she keeps jewelry in a little box and stares at it for fun, amusing herself with the sparkle.

This has been mentioned a few times, but Raven sleeps in a manner that's strange for a human. Instead of lying down, she'll form a "nest" of blankets and pillows and sleeps curled up in it.

Miss Raven is a little clumsy on her feet because the weight in her human body is distributed slightly differently than in her bird body.

She equates clothes to a bird's feathers, and being naked like having all your feathers plucked. (Man, have you SEEN a bird without its feathers? Most pathetic looking dry ass babies ever, I tell you.) Miss Raven tends to cover up her skin because, in her mind, she doesn't want to be seen as a crusty ol' naked bird.

Tends to wear skirts instead of pants because pants feel restrictive to her. She's used to having her legs out and feeling the breeze down there.

Miss Raven mostly wears black because she feels like she's kind of obligated to, as that is the original color of her feathers. More recently though, she has come to terms with the freedom her human form grants her and has been more experimental with her fashion.

Likes cuddling and when people play with her hair. This is because actual ravens cuddle with their entire bodies and preen their partners.

Ravens can eat almost anything, even garbage and carrion. Miss Raven has a strong stomach and an adventurous palate because of this.

She's smaller than the average raven, but she has the same protective instincts of one. If she's upset or trying to come off as intimidating, she'll puff up (her feathers stand up) and get verbally snippy (an actual raven would try to nip you).

Doesn't like people touching her things or being in her space. This is because ravens can be territorial!

Bird mouths are actually dry because their salivary glands are in the back of their mouths. This wouldn't work for a human and the kinds of food they eat, so when Raven first gained a humanoid form, it was weird for her to have a wet mouth and teeth 😂 Words felt so strange to speak too.

Initially nervous around predator animal beastmen and actual predator animals, particularly cats. This includes Lucius, Grim, Chenya, the Octatrio, the Savanaclaw trio, Fellow, Gidel, etc. It's Miss Raven's natural instincts letting her know she has to prioritize her own safety! She usually gets over it once she gets to know the other person a little better.

Distrustful of scarecrows since they're the things put out in fields to keep crows and ravens from eating their crops. Also has weird distrust of farmers because of this.

In terms of mating, ravens are monogamous and devoted to their partners, never straying too far from each other. They often go for romantic flights together and even give each other special treats. Miss Raven has that idea of an idealized romance in her head.

When content, ravens make a soft warbling noise (similar to how a cat might purr). Miss Raven does too, but she does her best to actively repress this sound, since she feels it is embarrassing.

Mid-February to late May is an odd time of year for her, as that's mating season for ravens. That's when she's at her most sentimental/emotionally squishy... She doesn't like being in public because it's so easy to make her cry (and those terrible NRC students would definitely do that) 😔

In early summer/late fall, ravens tend to molt and replace their feathers. Now that she has a humanoid form, Raven doesn't have to worry too much about that but sometimes still scratches excessively at phantom itches that come with molting.

Really impressed by skilled flying! This is because male ravens fly to impress females and to find mates. Raven always stares in wonder during Flight class. (Unfortunately, she's not that good at flying in her new form...)

While Raven's bite isn't as strong as Sebek's, she does bite. Birds typically have three kinds of biting: biting to open nuts and berries, biting to defend themselves (which can draw blood), and love bites (which mostly occur in domesticated birds). asbiliafeafia I like to think she gives little affectionate noms...

Insecure about the size of her "breast muscle" (not realizing that humans mostly have fat there). This is because the size of a bird's breast muscle is directly related to their flying ability... and flying's pretty important for her kind. Genuinely believes that the most skilled fliers at NRC must have a certain kind of physique to be as skilled as they are. (Envious of those buff boys/j)

Being a raven, she experiences culture shock when put against the habits and behaviors of others with animal ancestry. For example, aggressive behaviors that are affectionate to a dog or a cat are seen as intimidating threats to her.

Has cute domestic fantasies! That’s because a lot of birds will build nests together and share the responsibilities of parenting. She thinks it would be nice to build a life together with someone like that.

It's not weird for her to eat eggs! Wild ravens do it :>

THERE'S A REALLY SPECIFIC BIRD BRAND OF FLIRTING THAT SOUNDS WEIRD TO HUMANS. Birds in nature are protective of their eggs and typically only entrust their partner to look after them while they do something else, like hunt for food. Because of this, Raven is really flustered by someone asking for eggs in any context. For example, maybe they're eating eggs in the cafeteria and a peer asks her to "pass the eggs".