#you guys truly are God's strongest soldiers.

[darklight-owl]

Whenever people online go "Woah Christmas in the summer I can't imagine what that's like" I just show them this song:

[femmeknitted]

working on my wips even though I want to cast on a new project and i'm being so brave about it

[leggylift]

in my 25 years on this godforsaken earth I’ve known no greater suffering than 90% of my fav character’s fanart depicting a ship I’ve hated for like 10+ years

(if not the common runner up is one I hate even MORE but thankfully this one isn’t very popular in the western fandom)

bonus: the art is almost always amazing

[bubaboos]

a tragedy: couldn't fit a nap in my schedule

[uselesssomebody]

𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕦𝕡 - post!d&w!logan howlett x reader

complete masterlist | logan howlett - coming soon!

words || 𝟚.𝟡𝕜

summary || in which the reader gets stood up, and logan consoles her - in more than one way

a/n || self indulgent :)) guess what happened to me guys !!

➵ i know i've been literally dead but i may be back! not sure fully yet lol but i've missed writing. shocker, college is in fact hard and i've spent a whileeee adjusting. that also means my writing is prob a bit shit here but i just wanted to get this out

➵ first time writing logan - i watched deadpool & wolverine and oh my godddd this man can fucking get it. haven't watched the x-men movies so i kinda had to guess his accent, sorry if it's inconsistent. this is set after the events of deadpool & wolverine

➵ shall i revamp the blog theme guys? i don't have any ideas but idk if you guys are bored by it haha

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/smut/a wee bit of angst

➵ fingering

➵ age gap (not a plot point)

(tell me if i miss anything)

having 2 people in a one bedroom apartment was already cramped. 3 is insane. as much as wade tried, he felt bad for poor hugh's - *cough* logan's back for constantly swapping between the dingy couch and the mattress on the floor to sleep.

and the wolverine was never the type to ask for help, it pissed him off. they had been nearly atomized together for christ's sake!

another room on the floor had opened up, and as much as wade wanted to kick blind al off to that room instead, he knew the old lady wouldn't be able to pay the whole rent herself, and he had to make sure she didn't use too much fun-time sugar under fox's watchful eye. luckily, neither did logan have to live alone, as wade was quick to find a down-on-her-luck college girl who needed cheap rent.

so, now wade's stuck with an ornery old woman, and pretty-boy - well, man - logan got to have a cute girl as his roommate. just his luck. he checked in on his fellow invincible often, and as much as logan didn't talk, wade knew he didn't mind her one bit.

she tried to be a good roommate - cook breakfast for the both of them, pick up a sweet treat for him too if she was getting one for herself, and trying to keep to herself with the studying. but she couldn't help the little crush that she had on her roommate. like, come on.

older, mature, mysterious, downright yummy? what's a girl to do? she kept it to herself, but seeing him smirk or chuckle when she realizes she's accidentally been staring at him in that leather jacket or shirtless going to bed. at least she doesn't make him uncomfortable, but it feels pretty dismissive - how he sees her as such a fucking kid that he can't even take her attraction seriously.

logan took it very fucking seriously.

every day was a mental challenge - truly, god gives his worst temptations to his strongest soldiers. the liquor on his breath was still strong, not now because his life was ruined, but rather because his mind was.

this cute, young girl who looked at him like he was the solution to all her relationship issues, like his old-man body was good enough to fucking eat? it was a miracle that he hadn't taken her. and she just looked so beautiful as she got ready for bed, or as she bobbed her head to music while she studied, or as she buzzed around the small kitchen to cook her third cheap pasta for the week.

it didn't help how she'd always ask how he is, buy him little things to keep his mood up, and always offered to take the couch. he'd rather eat glass than let her sleep on the couch, but nonetheless, she offered every day.

fuck. it was impossible to sleep when she was just behind the wall, in her fucking shorts and tank. unbelievable. he needed a fucking drink.

some nights, he'll come home in the evenings to an empty house. it's rare - she doesn't have too much money to go out, but when she does, she'll usually warn him she'll be home late. he always makes sure to stay awake until she gets home, and even had the privilege of going into downtown to pick her up after the friends she was with had managed to lose her. she had hiccuped, tearing up in embarrassment as she watched him approach her drunk form leaning on a tree outside. she had thought the stern arch of his brow was because of her calling him so late, when really, he was just angry that her friends had the audacity to put her in such a dangerous situation.

"it's windy." he grunts, and she looks down at her short, strappy dress, ashamed.

"s-sorry. we drove here." she tries to explain, and logan relents, brow going from angry to grumpy.

"yeah." he finally sighs, walking with her back to their place. seeing her hands go to cradle her elbows, he places his leather jacket over her shoulders, and she swallows thickly.

"you don't have to-" but he's lighting a cigar as she speaks, in just his wifebeater he'd been lounging in. she decides to shut up, silent until they reach the house.

he helps her in and then waits outside to finish the cigar, and after she gets in, she sighs softly, carefully placing the jacket down. she starts trying to make logan some dinner as a thank-you, but passes out at the dinner table half-way through. luckily, she hadn't had the stove on, and logan's heart melts as he sees her, halfway through mixing a few eggs, head lolling off the chair as she drools a little.

cutie, he thinks, separating her fingers from the fork and bowl, and carrying her into the bed. as he tries to set her down, her fingers clutch his arm, and a small, sleepy whine leaves her.

logan's not a man to blush, but hearing that little beg for him to stay makes him fucking burn. he looks down at her, a hand running through his hair, and he gently tries to let her down again. she just holds on tighter, groaning, "warm..." a little mumble escapes her, and logan huffs. of course it's not that she wants him, she's just cold. he sighs, sitting down and letting her cuddle into his arm.

he had planned to leave once she'd passed out, but it was late, and he was old, so he had ended up just sleeping next to her anyways. the sun's rays the next morning pierce his eyes, and he sighs softly, waking up next to her. he swallows thickly, watching the way the sun hits her form, bathing her exposed skin in orange and amber.

the moment is broken by her startling awake. for a moment, she sighs happily, thinking that this was just a continuation of her dream about logan, where she wakes up next to him after a night of great sex, and they both live happily ever after. then she blinks.

his bicep feels bigger than in the dream, his face looks a little more real, he's- real?!

she squeaks, immediately sitting up.

"logan?"

"don't go getting any ideas in your head." he immediately defends, sighing. "you called me last night."

she bites her lip.

"you took me home?"

"put you in bed too. then ya fucking kept me on ya like a boa." he's joking, but she still struggles to tell between his grumpy voice and his joking grumpy voice.

"fuck, i'm really sorry, must have ruined your night-" she starts, and he gets up, ruffling her hair.

"it's okay. better knowing you were safe." it leaves her a little star struck, especially when he then goes to continue making the omelette she had tried to make last night.

he's cooking for her for once and she gets such a nice view of his broad back in that wife-beater. maybe things aren't that bad.

knowing how she always texts if she's out late, he's a bit confused to come home to an empty room. he huffs, trying not to panic, but he can't help how much he care for the girl. he leans back, lounging on the couch.

as an hour passes with no texts, he's about to get up and ... do something. look for her, call her - something.

just then, she walks through the door, purse dropping on the floor with a thud.

that's an attitude he hadn't seen before. she looks like a deer in headlights when she notices that he is in fact home.

"o-oh." she blinks, quickly picking up the purse, as if to console it. "wade said you weren't home." logan raises a brow, a little curious why the other man would say that.

"long day?" he finally comments, and she breathes out.

"shit day." she corrects. logan's brow furrows.

"hmm." he murmurs, stretching his arm out over the back of the couch. an open invitation. she hesitates but... he looks warm.

conservatively, she sits beside him, hands in her lap. she's not even paying attention to whatever channel logan has on as background noise.

theres maybe 5 solid minutes of silence.

finally, she sighs.

"i'm gonna go to bed." she murmurs softly, getting up. logan wraps his fingers around her palm.

"talk to me." he mumbles gruffly, and she knows that's a pretty big first step for him. she bites her lip, sitting back down, and takes a deep breath.

"got stood up." it's little more than a whisper, and she feels a pout forming on her lips, which she tries to reverse, to little avail. it's silent again, and she wonders if logan heard her.

of course, he did - spending a moment processing who the hell would stand her up.

"i'm sorry." his rough fingers press over hers, comforting, and she can't help but sink more into him than the couch cushions.

it feels nice, more right than the kisses she'd shared with the guy she'd been seeing.

"whatever." she tries to mumble, trying not to show her hurt.

"he's an idiot." his hand slips around her shoulders, and he can feel her pulse quicken.

"i'm an idiot."

"he's an idiot." he repeats sternly. "who was he?" she bites her lip.

"some... guy." logan suppresses a scoffing bark.

"not if he's got you like this." he looks down at her. she's ashamed to look up at him.

"i don't know... i just really liked him. i thought he liked me too." she feels a tear slip out, and logan's fist squeezes in anger as he sees her quickly wipe it away.

"he should be singin' his prayers that he even got your attention." that makes her giggle - strained, but there. he prefers the sound to her defeated mumbles. "look at me." he murmurs, taking her chin and angling it to face him. his eyes travel down to the cute dress she'd put on for her date - low cut, perfectly form fitting, "he's a fucking idiot." he whispers, hand slipping down to her waist.

"yeah?" she whispers, significantly less focused on aforementioned 'fucking idiot' now.

"yeah, princess." he murmurs, hand gently running up and down her side. he knows he shouldn't, but he can practically feel the jump of her heart at the endearment. "you like that? princess?" his voice almost has a teasing lilt, and her lids flutter at the difference in tension from 2 minutes ago.

"a little." her face looks so bashful, so unsure. after that depressing feeling of not being wanted - god, he wants to pull her out of that so bad.

"should be treated like a princess." she shifts imperceptibly closer.

"got a guy who'll do that for me?" she teases, and logan scoffs softly.

"you know i do." his voice carries that gruffness even with how quiet he is, speaking into the small space between their lips. "you know, princess."

she breathes out shakily, leaning forward, when logan pulls her chin, pressing his lips to hers. she whimpers softly, finding her hands and placing them at his nape, not wanting to let go. it's not rough, but needy, his other hand slipping to the hem of her dress on her thigh. she hums into his lips, as he pulls away, a little breathless.

"don't - we shouldn't." he whispers, and a pout graces her lips - a proper one.

"why?"

"yer upset." he sighs, but doesn't move away.

"about?" she says playfully, having fully forgotten about her evening; she'd been waiting for this for so long. he lets out a gruff bark of a laugh, pulling her closer, and she adjusts, getting on his lap.

"come on, bub." he scolds again, and she hums, leaning down to kiss him.

"please?" she whispers, against his lips. he groans.

"jesus, what're y'doin' to me?" his head tilts back, and she giggles, exhilarated that she's got him like this. her hands trail down his arms - god, his arms - tracing the veins, somehow always bulging, as she gently leans forward again, kissing him. this time, theres a bit more tongue, and he pulls her closer roughly, gnashing their teeth together. she moans softly into his mouth, fingers finding his rough palm. he grips them tight - not enough to hurt, but just enough to show that he's holding back.

"i'm not made of glass." she teases, and he scoffs softly.

"i could snap ya'n half." his mumble finds his way back into her lips, and she has to control herself to not showhow much the little quip affected her.

"maybe i want you to."

"jesus." he flips her over, onto her back, "got this pretty little dress on, fuck, that guy's an idiot." his hands travel down her thighs, and she bites her lip, a massive grin on her face.

"you like it?" she murmurs softly, playing with the strap of her dress.

"whadya think?" he huffs, and she giggles.

"and if i told you i got it for you?" logan presses a hot kiss to the side of her thigh.

"i'd tell ya to get a dozen more." his lips move up her thigh slowly, and she lets out a shaky breath.

"god, logan." her whispers of his name are like music to his ear, and he leaves a small bite by the hem of her dress.

"gotta tell me if i hurt you." he mutters, more seriously, and she smiles.

"only fun if it hurts."

"i'm serious, princess." she relents.

"i'll tell you." he sighs in content, gently riding her dress off.

"this okay?"

"more than okay." she helps him, pulling the dress over her hips, her lacy panties peeking under the fabric. when he spends just a bit too long staring, she giggles, "you can touch." she affirms, and he barks out a gruff lap.

"could'a guessed that much." his fingers trace the hem of them, travelling down her inner thighs. her breath hitches, and she gently rolls her hips, desperate for more.

"please, logan." she whispers, breathing a bit labored. though he'd love to tease, he's getting desperate too.

"gotta tell me what ya want, princess." he murmurs, and she bites her lip, almost shy again. it's cute.

"touch me?" she murmurs, almost like it's a favor she's asking. he kisses her thigh again, before gently peeling the panties off. he lets out a soft groan at how slick she is, fingers catching her arousal as they travel down her slit. she lets out a shocked gasp - practically a moan - and he fucking loves it.

`'need them, princess?" he smirks at her, and she nods, almost pathetically.

"god, i do." he obliges, gently prodding her entrance with his middle finger. he slips in with little resistance, but jesus, he can feel how tight she is.

"fuck, yer gonna be the death of me, princess." he groans softly, and she lets out a breathy giggle.

"thought that doesn't happen to you?"

"well, never had a girl as pretty as you." he murmurs, slipping another finger in. she flushes, back arching as his fingers do, body warm as she rocks her hips in time with his ministrations.

"faster?" she begs softly, and he could never say no to those big doe eyes. he starts moving faster, her slick absolutely coating his fingers, and she moans louder, hips moving in a more stuttered rhythm.

"like that?" that teasing lilt is in his voice, and she nods furiously.

"j-just like that-" she stammers, mind already foggy, "god, i'm close, please don't stop."

"not in a million years, princess." she lets out a loud moan as she can feel herself unraveling, the orgasm so powerful that her thighs shake around him as she cums. she pants as he helps her ride through it.

"good girl, just like that, princess," he consoles, "so fuckin' pretty for me, ain't cha?" he grins, as she starts to come down. as her breathing slows, so too do his fingers, before slowly sliding them out of her. he gently rubs her clit, just to see her jolt at the stimulation, before chuckling, and placing his soaked fingers onto his tongue.

she lets out another moan as she watches him, with lidded eyes.

"i'll cum again." she warns, playfully, and he's gleeful. she tastes like fruit.

"i plan on it, princess." she feels her cheeks warm.

"that's the hardest i've cum in a while." she admits shyly.

"sounded like it." he teases, but before they can get anything else out, there's banging on the wall that connected them to wade and blind al.

"these walls are paper thin!" al's screech sounds a little traumatized, and her scolding make both her and logan whip around, embarrassed.

"for once in my life, i agree with her! shut up, lovebirds, i wanna fucking sleep!" wade's voice is equally exasperated.

there's silence, until she calls back a bashful, "sorry!" she turns to logan, almost laughing, but still flushed with shame. "maybe we should stop. he scoffs.

"nah, just means i gotta teach ya to be quiet."

safe to say, she's not thinking at all about her date tonight.

[fishingisuniversal]

Imagine you're a mentally ill twenty year old who had to move out of your parents basement because you and your dad had a violent falling out after your mom's death. You spend the next year taking depression naps and ignoring all your problems till two, admittedly hot, assholes break in, try to beat the shit out of you, then recruit you into a quest to kill your dad who is now on a suicide mission to irrevocably fuck Up the entire world because of what happened to your mom. They're trusting you, looking to you for answers you don't have, to kill a man you don't want dead, but you're just twenty years old and the only thing you're sure of is that you miss your mom. You travel across the country for weeks fighting monsters created by your Evil Dad who you have a Complicated Relationship with, and grow closer to the guys that broke into your house, relearning what family and love mean, and maybe accidentally getting into a situationship with both of them until you do actually succeed in killing your dad. Well, your dad dies. Actually, he kills himself in front of you while sobbing and apologizing for everything he did wrong in your life, but he's dead now! Then your only two friends in the world confess their love to one another and fuck off to go fight more monster while you're stuck in your now empty childhood home that's somehow haunted by you as much as it is your dead parents. After slowly spiralling back into depression and having to kill two people you thought cared about you, you rediscover your purpose and save a town full of people, bringing them back to your castle for safety just as your besties (really seems like you're part of a polycule now but communications never been a strong suit for any of you) return and help you save the world again.

But also you're immortal and soon everyone around you dies and you're forced to be content protecting the lineage of your closests friends as you desperately try and stop their children and their children's children from making the same mistakes.

My point is that Alucard is truly God's strongest soldier because I probably would have made Trevor and Sypha vampires.

[tartagilicious]

8:17pm / kiss me until my lips fall off, kiss me until i start to rot

heyyyyy guys :hehe: thank GOD i still have access to this blog because i've been back in my genshin player days for the past month or so, and i FINALLY WANNA WRITE FOR IT AGAIN IM CRYIUNG!!!!!!!!!! missed all of u sm, hopefully this will be more of a regular occurance now :') going back to my beloved seasons series, also with the last installment, capitano + winter !!

the strongest has never been an easy title to shoulder, both in times of need or peace, sanctifying a never ending cycle of authority that he had been entertaining for centuries. the captain. a newer adornment to his identity, but a significant one nonetheless. once an icon to a legion of soldiers, his place with the archon of ice beckoned a need to keep himself trained, as frigid as the nation he had learned to call home.

and truly, it was with a sword gripped in his gloved hands that he felt most at home -- strong despite the rot that had woven its way into his skin like a disease, whole despite all that he has lost in his centuries of life.

however, it was in your presence alone that he felt most meek.

everything about you seemed to strike him, digging into the innermost dips of flesh in the cavern he called his chest, searching for a heart that had long been subdued. you weren't gentle in your search, oh no -- you never were.

capitano bled for you. although, for once, it was not in a warrior's sense. your smaller hands never struck him, your words never aimed for his weakest points. never once did you aim to worsen the wound you were so often responsible for tearing open. how could you, when you were unaware of its existence?

he bled for you in grumbled words of affection. during those quiet nights it was too cold for you to stand it, when it was simply out of the question to be anywhere but within his broad embrace. he bled for you when you yearned for your homeland, in a way that he had never ceased to mirror, even in his wearier states.

and perhaps most of all, he bled for you when his helmet was discarded.

having grown used to the piece of metal that aided him in shielding the abyssal rot of his features, he was entirely unprepared for the magnitude of emotion that overran him when it came time to expose himself to you for the first time.

but you had never been one to shy away from life's rougher aspects.

your breath escapes your mouth in small white clouds, puffs of air to display your exertion as you walk along the edge of the zapolyarny palace's frosted edges. the grand building melts into the landscape of ice and snow much like its hotter counterpart, the pale mosiac of bricks embodying the chill of its inhabitants.

at the very least, there is one within its depths that you can count on to return the warmth to your worn body. the cloak your lover had gifted you long ago shields you from the rougher elements of snezhnaya's winter at face value. but it's the excitement festering in your chest that keeps you warm enough to find your way through the snowy night. it's the adoration in your heart that lights up the space around you as you step into the harbinger's abode, leading you home.

yet, it's his arm that slings around your waist when you step quietly into the house, the other half of your warm embrace, simply manifesting in a larger form. an appreciative smile is beckoned to your lips as you stretch within the confines of his large arm, your own cloak dropping to the floor as he wills it.

"...you are late." are the words that finally escape from him in a mumbled fashion, voice smothered by the heated skin of your neck. capitano leans over you like a creature out of myth, taking the opportune moment of your hand resting on his back to bury his nose in your hair.

no helmet.

a pleased sound is drawn from the back of your throat as you lean into him, head tilting to follow the path of his lips before you're returning, "...the snowfall is heavy this time of year."

a large hand trails down to your frostbitten own, the action of his fingers intertwining with yours mimicking a blanket of warmth. despite his state of otherworldly decay, you've found that your lover can run quite warm.

spurred on by his own heart, you're sure.

he speaks softly into your hair, tugging you until you're against his chest, no longer your own half -- but now part of a whole. "...you must dress accordingly. your fingers are freezing."

"they will warm up quickly." you promise under your breath, head tilting up to take in his face. no longer is there a quiet sting between you, like the contact of your gaze pains him. all that has been left behind is a dull, and ever-present warmth. "you will warm them up quickly." you add almost cheekily, seemingly proud of your own response.

a rough hum of acceptance replaces a verbal response as he simply pulls you closer, his arms falling to your torso. a once strained action has long become comfortable, and you relish in the familiarity of it as you sink into the harbinger's embrace.

despite his strength, capitano has found that being weak is not terribly bad, either.

[inchidentally]

seeing some headloss on twt over oscar cropping out lando from his post-qualifying instagram post 💀

we haven’t gone through the trenches with this season and bounced back from it for people to discredit their partnership based off of a cropped photo.

anyway here’s a video from twt of where you can see osc clapping for lando as he goes for his f1tv interview, people should touch some grass honestly 🫵🏻😧

https://x.com/ln4norris/status/1865414347817693444?s=46

this is why I don't personally use twt at all - I feel like there's a whole alternate reality going on there that doesn't exist in any other part of fandom lasfgajlfglaf I feel for the decent ppl who use it bc damn, y'all are gods strongest soldiers! just today I've been told that ppl decided Lando was "distracted" by Carlos when he said he couldn't hear what Hinch was saying when it's clear he was referring to how loud the crowd was and the god awful reverb from the PA system. then apparently people said Lando looked "serious" with Oscar and "happy" with Carlos but when I watched it back he's smiling with Oscar but also clearly strategizing bc… teammates ?? fighting for a championship ?? and like, he shook Carlos' hand and they had a giggle ?? like yea if I wanted to go rpf and be stupid I could pretend that meant smth other than them being very good friends but in real life that's genuinely all it is ! and Lando does that with fully half the grid bc he just makes men love him like that!

and like, this is so so cute ;__; watching the guy he's fanboyed over for years and that little clap he's doing bc he just wants to and not bc he thinks anyone will even notice by zooming way in on it like we have <3

so how does it play out in the rpf competition !! when Lando wants to make Oscar laugh just the day before?? what about Lando’s maybe a lil bit pointed speech about team loyalty even when tempted with better offers while Carlos is sat right there ? ooh and Lola grabbed Lando and Oscar giggling and talking together while Carlos was answering questions - does that mean Lando betray Carlos oh jail for Lando for a hundred years ??!! like I need people to get a grip and realize that if rpf is stressing you out then a)you're taking it too seriously and b)you're stressed over an invented narrative that doesn't exist and will always be ruined by reality. it's why these people end up in fresh rages over Carlos so annoyingly proving that he not only loves Rebecca, he actively wants her with him even when he's doing normally Boys Only stuff. that even when Lando is around or available, Carlos has the audacity to for example, choose to spend a quiet dinner with her and Hulk and his wife rather than go out for Lando's win. that Carlos asks her to come to the Netflix Cup and keeps checking in on her while Lando third wheels a bit while they talk before leaving early to go hang out with his own friends. that Carlos ends up wrapped around Rebecca at a club after Singapore last year and Mexico and Melbourne this year even tho Lando is sometimes right there or didn't go out with them. how can carland0 be special and secretly gay if Rebecca not beard who Carlos hates and Ferrari/insert superpower here is paying and forcing to be with ????????? and don't even get started on the rages over Carlos daring to treat Charles special and express deep emotions over their relationship and all the time he says they spend together off of work talking about "every subject you can imagine" and doing things together with no PR or Ferrari benefit. that considering how often their own families are openly warring and taking sides unchecked by anyone, Carlos and Charles have defiantly chosen to truly like each other and stand by each other. but they'll never be carland0!!! they just caaaan't be !!

ITS SO WILD like I wanna shake these fans and remind them you rly can indulge in rpf and still maintain a full grasp and appreciation for real life friendships where no one is stuck in middle school and "competing" for which friend they like best lsafhglsafgjafg

and omg this whole social media stuff - yes, McLaren's socmed admins prefer Carlos and Daniel over Oscar and it's very clear even if it's for no deeper reason than Oscar doesn't do PR at all well and won't schmaltz up his friendship with Lando for fan service. which is fine bc honestly I don't mind being pandered to sometimes with certain ships (obviously) but I also do kinda wish they "got" Oscar better bc so many of us rly do adore his humor and his natural, unpolished personality. and they're clearly stumped when people enjoy landoscar content despite no queerbaiting and no memeable jokes. we just like watching them be cute and smile all crinkly eyed at each other :3

but yea, this whole season has been a PR festival of Emotions About Carlos for McLaren and Lando (and Netflix, if you've been watching how the boom follows these moments around) and when combined w their not unkind but definite ambivalence toward Oscar means there's times social media kind of forgets that Oscar's also there with just as much reason to celebrate him too. like I'm not at all moved by these millionaires moving team to team in itself but yes in certain cases it's very emotional for different reasons and therefore ofc going to fill up sm feeds! they were also like that about Lewis when it was carland0 at McLaren. we just wanna see more of Oscar even if he doesn't lend himself as well to popular narratives!

BUT reminder that Oscar outed himself twice in just the last two months as usually not being the one in charge of his social media content and that he isn't even for a second measuring his own personal presence or impact on social media ! Lily takes all their holiday pictures, Kim or one of the PR ladies takes the pictures at races and his new PR manager Sarah grabs any other content and uploads pretty much everything you see to Oscar's accs. if a post has a sarcastic caption like the driver's group dinner or is unusual like when he filled the top row of his instagram with photos/videos of him and Lando at Silverstone (for poignancy) then you know it's him. but that's probably about six to eight times in a year ngl. the rest of the time he's personally using social media to look at benign memes and sports updates while other people maintain his presence on his own accs.

also, as a charlos girlie I've got to say that ppl need to start calming down the emotional rollercoasters bc even when Lando and Oscar inevitably start to have issues that can be seen publicly, they'll blow over just as fast! the teammates who end up truly hating each other always have an existing past that makes them incapable of separating on track from off track in a healthy way. it's why Carlos immediately brought up the fact that he and Lando have never had their friendship tested by the kind of competition he has with Charles and to not compare the two relationships. and as I always say every time some idiot wants to banish Oscar and jam Carlos into his spot for the power of frandship or delusional rpf, Carlos and Lando's friendship is exactly the kind of foundation that leads to bitter rages and fall-outs that last years (sometimes longer). those gifs, bro - they weren't even teammates when that happened so do we rly want to watch that unfold every weekend by making them teammates locked in intense WDC battles??

whereas both Oscar and Lando and Carlos and Charles have formed their respective friendships alongside intense direct competition with each other. they negotiated how to cope with each other's temperaments and reactions at the same time as learning who they were as people. time and again that's proven to be the best way to preserve friendship with the guy you're battling with for wins and a WDC.

so there's no point flipping a table over the occasional fight in situations like Lando and Oscar battling each other sometimes. unlike like the cases of hideous erosion of affection into hatred that happens when long time besties suddenly fight for the same prize for almost the entire calendar year. that literally never ends well.

/rant

[notyouraryang0dd3ss]

hi, indian anon here ( I think I used the ⏳️) ig you can say I'm an ex swiftie, but in the sense that I was never exposed to western music until evermore and I listened to it and loved it. I never engaged with the fandom or anything, and didn't even know all these things taylor did, and I thought taylor was a decent person because of the documentary. This was until ofc, the matty healy incident which opened my eyes to her behavior, but idky I felt like I couldn't openly dislike her. Everyone in my school was obsessed with her and if you're a girl, and you hated her, or even disliked her, you were a pick me, and I didn't wanna get hated on more by my classmates (long story there). The last straw for me was prolly when 1989 tv was released (after the mh incident I just called myself a swiftie cuz I liked her earlier work) and I had joined an online swiftie group chat, and the people there were so vile and hateful. I remember saying it's wrong hating on harry styles for cheating on her cuz she did the same, or that Joe alwyn is just a regular dude, and so are all her other exes, except prolly matty and the John Mayor guy for dating a 19 y/o (SHE ALSO DATED MINORS THO??? no one talked about this shit) and I mentioned that she's not god and that she has done bad things, and the gc, which had 50 active members everyday, collectively not only hated on me, but also these people had access to my private insta acc. My face, my friends, my address, they knew it all. It was so scary, and while I have been in plenty of toxic fandoms before (my first death threats were by the hp fandom, which I've left long back), I actually felt threatened. It actually felt like a cult, and it was scary until my insta acc got shut down (idky), and the ppl couldn't find me anymore. The swiftie fandom is weird at best, and potential criminals at worst, because wtf. They don't have any sort of individual thinking, and if someone does, they will find a way to shut it down. Even now, when I interact with a swiftie and taylor Swift comes up, and I say I don't like her, their behavior is just like the ones online. Ik ppl get more confidence to do bad things online cuz of anonymity, but swifties are the same irl, too. They completely believe it is okay to treat ppl terribly, harass and spread disgusting rumors and even doxx a Palestinian woman and give her details to Isreali organization. Like that actually happened. I regret that I didn't leave the fandom sooner because I can't believe I was associated with something like this. Ik celebrities make mistakes, and that fandoms always have one toxic portion, but this is too much.

Sorry for the long rant tho 😅

- ⏳️

sorry it took me a while to respond, there is SO MUCH HAPPENING in this ask. like 3 diff asks rolled into one omfg

1. peer pressured into “continuing” to like taylor swift you are a different kind of victim im so sorry you went through that (and all to prevent you from being bullied…im so sorry)

2. THE SWIFTIE GROUPCHAT: that is horrible and TERRIFYING. all you did was practice critical thinking and you feared for your SAFETY. their reactions are not logical nor rational and speak to how dangerous her fanbase is.

if you feel like you cannot call out your fave for their behavior without your safety being threatened, that is not a fanbase, that is a cult. i think we should actually did a venn diagram of swifties and cults we’d have a perfect circle.

3. SWIFTIES IRL: this is so true about how they behave. ive had friends tell me theyre scared of saying they hate taylor IRL cause of the backlash they’d receive. THAT IS NOT NORMAL. even when BTS was at their peak ppl never felt threatened by the ARMY to that point 😭

you NEED to send more info/links/ss about the doxxed palestinian. i need the #SwiftiesforPalestine to see wtf their mutuals are doing. that is ABHORRENT behavior. that poor woman!

thank you sm for this ask, u are truly one of god’s strongest soldiers cause wtf!!!! is wrong!!!! with swifties!!!!!

(p.s. if you are a repeat anon go ahead and sign off your asks with an emoji so i can keep track! thank you!)

[locationvoid]

AziraCrow

Demon Aziraphale -> Demon name: Zira

Angel Crowley -> Angel name: Raphael

~°~°~~°~°~°~°~°~~°~°~°~°~°~~°~°~°~°~°

You don't have to read this part but this is my take on demon Aziraphale and Angel Crowley

So we don't have a whole lot of context on Crowley's past as an angel but we know he helped create the nebulas, helped out the start of the universe in place, and even participated in the Battle on the Plains of Heaven. We also know angels can have their memories wiped and tampered with and Crowley has stated how he doesn't remember everything about being an angel but he remembers he was high ranking since he had access to Gabriel's files and he remembers making the nebula cluster. He even remembers starting up the universe since he has the same crank tool he used to get everything started for the big bang.

I'm into the shared idea that Aziraphale, upon turning into a demon, will have gone blind for at least the first few weeks of becoming an angel. There's a theory that Crowley HAD to fall to be able to become the snake of Eden, which makes sense but still very f***ed up. But I believe Aziraphale would Still be a snake for there to be a snake of Eden. Snakes are seen as untrustworthy, sneaky, fast, tempting, and deceitful which would go well with my idea that after the first day Aziraphale and Crowley met each other, Aziraphale goes back to his own duties and can't help but think about what Crowley said, about how the angels who are also contributing to working on the Great Plan should be able to have a say in things as well. Conflicted, I can see him going around to other angels, innocently asking them what they think of the idea. Soon enough, instead of Satan and the guys finding angel Crowley, they overhear Aziraphale asking questions and invite him to hang out, so he does, not wanting to be rude but so genuinely curious to hear what Satan has to say. Then I can see Aziraphale slowly forming his own thoughts, wanting to show the other angels and God that they can all work together as equals and all get the credit they deserve.

This is where the war would come in. Originally, Aziraphale became guardian of the East Gate of Eden so I think it's safe to say he had a somewhat important role during the war. And Crowley was said to have ridden Furfur's back during the war which may seem like he did absolutely nothing but mess around during the war but the actual terms used for Crowley's role can honestly be referred to in a way where Crowley also played an important role on the opposing side. But I can say for sure until S3.

The idea for demon Aziraphale is that word would get around about Aziraphale asking questions and hanging out with Satan and he would be "tried" for his treason. But he knew there wouldn't be one and that he would be cast out so he joins the war on the opposing side, knowing how corrupt Heaven truly is. His last ditch effort to stop God's abuse of power and hopefully get someone new in charge but it's no use. I imagine the "war" is more like a civil war instead of a full on world war. And after, all the angels involved were cast out of Heaven, Aziraphale included. One of her strongest, most loyal soldiers betrayed her so when he falls, he's forced into his new life blind and afraid. Aziraphale's hands are now adorned with sharp claws and the whites of his eyes have darkened and his iris has turned to snake-like slits. He's forced to be a snake, not because it means he won't see the stars again but to remind him that he refused to trust Her and the Plan.

I can see Aziraphale still wanting to be an angel but not with Her in power so he accepts his fall to an extent.

Demon Aziraphale would still like his Tartan clothes, just in darker form, with the addition of dark blues. He would still like reading books but would be more open to other hobbies as well.

I can also see him hesitant to fully change his name so he may go by Zira as his demon name or he may use a demon name while in Hell and/or talking to Satan or the other demons but use the name Zira when talking to Crowley.

/////////////////////////////////////////

Angel Crowley will have thought about what Angel Aziraphale said to him, about how he shouldn't be asking so many questions because he wouldn't want to see Crowley (Raphael) fall. He would finish his duties of starting the universe and report back to God. He would try to put it out of his mind and continue on his duties like normal and, with Satan and the guys being occupied with Aziraphale, Crowley wouldn't have the chance to hang out with them.

I believe Aziraphale and Crowley (in the original story) still talked to each other at least every now and again when they were both still angels. This would be the same in this timeline but with some differences.

Every now and again the two would see each other and chat, carelessly, not wanting to talk work with each other, Aziraphale too scared of losing Crowley's friendship to bring up the fact that he's hanging out with Satan.

Then the rumors would start. Crowley will have heard about Aziraphale talking to Satan, other angels would see it as treason but Crowley would be genuinely intrigued with Aziraphale's new life. He would want to ask him questions, try to, but Aziraphale would refuse to answer, not wanting Crowley to get in trouble.

The war would happen and Crowley would be out in an important position (just like Aziraphale had been) and Aziraphale would fight on the opposing side.

Afterwards, upon Aziraphale's fall, Crowley is placed as guard of the Eastern Gate of Eden and given a flaming sword.

I believe the story would play out similarly as it did in the show except Angel Crowley would be a bit more confident than angel Aziraphale and wouldn't second guess giving his sword away. This lack of hesitation would intrigue Zira and it would be the start of a long friendship.

Angel Crowley would also be confident in his clothing style as well, switching up clothes each day/week to satisfy his need for change. Instead of a bookshop there would be a greenhouse attached to an apartment where people can buy plants ranging from decorative flowers and ferns to spices to fruits to vegetables and so on. He would also be a big fan of space and would have many space-themed pictures and objects around the place. Aziraphale would have a library space in his own apartment and a place for his music. He and Crowley both enjoy classical but I can see them both enjoying other genres as well that you wouldn't think angel Aziraphale or even angel Crowley would even like.

//////////////////////////////////

When it comes to the two of them together, I can see them being clingy, like in the books. Angel Crowley wouldn't be as hesitant to touch Aziraphale and wouldn't be as embarrassed to be nice to demon Zira since Crowley's angel side would be more confident in that sense. I can even see demon Zira being quite the passive aggressive demon while Crowley would be a very blunt angel, at least especially after the Garden of Eden when God has fully calmed down from the giving-his-sword-away thing. He will be more confident in his Earth work and thus a bit more blunt regarding what he wants. They would eat together, Crowley happily being introduced to human food by Zira, they would drink together, and they would sit close to each other. They would often show little signs of affection through touches and I could even see Crowley hugging Zira out of excitement sometimes.

I can see, even though angel Crowley is more confident, there are situations where he gets overwhelmed or outnumbered or just stuck and Zira is happily coming to his aid to help in any way he can. Not caring what the mission is, he just wants to be able to be by angel Crowley's side and help him, no matter how dangerous. He does like detective books.

But confessions of love would still be something that would happen later since, well, they're ineffable idiot lovers, they take their time.

(If you're wondering what the tattoo is on Aziraphale's face in the drawing, The Bowl of Hygieia, is one of the symbols of pharmacology, and along with the Rod of Asclepius, it is one of the most ancient and important symbols related to medicine in western countries. Hygieia was the Greek goddess of health, hygiene, cleanliness, and sanitation, and the daughter of Asclepius, who she is often closely associated with e.g. in prayers and hymns. Asclepius' symbol is his rod, with a snake twined around it; correspondingly, Hygieia's symbol is a cup or chalice with a snake twined around its stem. Hygieia was also invoked, along with her father Asclepius, and Panacea in the original Hippocratic Oath.)

[purgemarchlockdown]

Truly wonder how you people stand me sometimes. Like, at night I'll be like "Oh yeah the transcendental furriness of Amane Momose" and you guys have to listen to me. Like thank you but also your god's strongest soldiers.

[holly-fixation]

Fallen Silver

Summary: Sephiroth is MIA. Second Class Rhapsodos and Third Class Hewley are tasked with locating and finding him. The public does not know of this disappearance. No one was prepared for the truth. 

Further inspired by my ask to @altocat. 

Please enjoy.

…

The plains of Wutai raged with the never ending war against the Shinra Electric Power Company and their newest military program: SOLDIER. Even the most recent entries of this program decimated enemy forces under the simplest command. Of course the strongest of these SOLDIERS was nicknamed The Demon of Wutai: Sephiroth. Most enlistees joined to follow in his footsteps and become SOLDIER First Class for fame, strength, or riches. 

Sephiroth, in reality, was more ‘down to The Planet’ than anyone outside Wutai knew. His closest friends, comrades he made on the battlefield, knew him as the awkward and sheltered super soldier he truly was. The public admired his strength, but his friends cared for his innocence. Even their first few interactions revealed the truth, but more than one audience with the Silver Soldier was incredibly rare for normal recruits. It took time for him to open up. He liked pasta. He liked reading. His cat-like pupils widened to saucers when he spoke about the stars. He was… normal. A little weird but yes, normal. An awkward, normal guy. Genesis and Angeal were teaching him how to fit in simply by being his friends. Everything was going well for so long, until…

Shinra locked down any rumor of Sephiroth’s disappearance through their troops. Even the simple thought of losing their trump card lowered morale at this critical time. No one knew exactly what happened. One average battle in the forest, one average day and tactic for success, Sephiroth running ahead as always to take down or distract any large threats.

An average, normal battle. But Sephiroth didn’t return. 

“It’s been a month,” Genesis stated as he paced in their tent.

“We’ll find him,” Angeal countered simply as he continued cooking their meal.

“Something’s wrong. There’s no ransom. There’s no negotiation.”

“You don’t know that-”

“Yes I do.” It was a snippy and childish response but not at all inaccurate. Genesis was under strict order to keep this any and all news within the tent. No one could know of Sephiroth’s situation until all was well. “They’re doing something to him. This isn’t normal interrogations, I can just feel it.”

“They might be waiting until morale’s shaky. It’s the perfect time to strike.” Angeal kept his gaze on the meal, forcing himself to stay calm and collected for his friend’s sake. “You’ve been captured before. You know what they do.”

“I know exactly what they do, and This. Isn’t. It.” His truth cut like a dagger, and silence claimed the tent. 

“...we will find him.” That was the only promise Angeal could make. His condition? That was another story. “We will, Genesis. We’ll find him…”

* * * 

It took three months to take down the correct fortress. Every troop fought savagely, desperately on both sides. The rivers of blood were nothing new. The rain put their foreign forces at a heavy disadvantage but they eventually broke through. While most troops and squads celebrated this great victory, the Second and Third Classes searched high and low through every centimeter of the fortress. 

Their efforts paid off. Finally months of effort bore fruit. They located a hidden trap door to an ornate staircase, patterns of gold and silver lining the walls deeper and deeper as they entered. At the bottom, stone and marble statues of the Wutaian water god constricted the room. The scales surrounded them like a victorious snake. Altars, fountains, torches, candles, shackles, weapons that could never be useful in battle with carvings dry with crimson, all kinds of ritualistic objects lined the edges and led the SOLDIERs to their desire. 

Sephiroth.

It was Sephiroth.

They couldn’t stop themselves from running to his side, but they rapidly searched for any uninjured place to begin. 

Sephiroth wasn’t dead, but that was the only detail that didn’t claw at their hearts. His uniform was long torn from him, replaced with barely concealing garb of snakeskin and brown leather straps. Each open section of ghostly white skin exposed deep blue scars and the tiniest of bleeding cuts. Injuries that small should heal in seconds to the average SOLDIER. Sephiroth’s body would heal too fast to process the injury at all, yet he bled and he couldn’t stand. Gold shackles at his wrists were the only thing keeping him upright. His bare feet slumped against the ground. 

How was he still bleeding?

Why was he still bleeding?

“Sephiroth!” Genesis was the first to speak as they searched for any opening that wouldn’t cause more harm. But there wasn’t any.

“Sephiroth, can you hear us?” Angeal questioned before giving up his search and lifting the Silver Soldier. 

They heard his reflexive, pained gasp from his weight being moved from the chains, his lungs both free from strain but crushed in adjustment. 

Genesis cut the chains with his red rapier and immediately casted cures and healing spells. But they did nothing. Not the tiniest cut responded to the magic or resealed. 

Though Sephiroth's face was only marred by two perfectly symmetrical lacerations down his cheeks, his sunken eyes and dried lips claimed their attention. Wutai left him down here to die of starvation and dehydration along with whatever rites they conducted. 

His friends watched his lids flutter as they adjusted his body onto both of their shoulders for support. 

“ah-ah…!” A pathetic moan left his lips as he winced and tried to force his body to respond, the slightest tensing and moving of muscles. 

“Don't move. We got you. Just breathe, Sephiroth. You're safe,” Angeal reassured. 

“What did they do to you…?” Genesis mumbled aloud the thoughts plaguing his mind. “What did they do to you…?”

“G-Genesis…?” His voice was so broken, so shattered, stuttering and struggling through his raw throat. “A-Angeal…?”

They stopped at the bottom of the stairs, giving him the moment he silently requested. Sephiroth focused his strength and carefully pried his eyes open. “I-I…”

Genesis unconsciously grabbed his face and forced the Silver Soldier's eyes to his. The mako in them had vanished, drained, as if he never stepped foot in a tank or opened his arm for an injection. But his pupils… they were small black circles, struggling against the light. 

Circles. Not needles. Human. Not snake-like. Not cat-like. Not Sephiroth. The eyes were crystal blue. Wrong. Utterly wrong. They fell closed again, but Genesis saw it clear as day. 

“Genesis, let's move.”

Finally the redhead got control of himself and both SOLDIERs lifted the MIA Demon of Wutai out of the chamber. Only in the cloudy light of the moon did they spot another horrifying change. The silver mane the entire planet recognized did not reflect light as it once could. The defining difference between silver and gray had fallen. 

Sephiroth looked too human. Dangerously human. 

Genesis flung off his red coat and covered Sephiroth in it for both protection and covertness. They couldn't let anyone see him like this. They snuck Sephiroth into their tent and made sure no one caught a glimpse. Once he was set down, Angeal stood back up. 

“I'll get communication to send a message about 'SMIA'. Just get him comfortable and get him clean.”

“Angeal-”

“don't go…” The broken baritone pleaded. It was so dramatically different from what they knew, they assumed he was in a trance or a dream or an adrenaline induced hallucination.

Genesis forced his initial reaction back down and overrode his friend. “Get back here. ASAP.”

“please…”

The begging froze the Second but forced the Third through the opening faster. 

“I swear on all the gods I will destroy them all for this,” He muttered as he grabbed the hidden medical kit and pulled out all kinds of wraps and disinfectants and cleaning products. He only stopped when a hand wrapped around his wrist. 

“Genesis…” Sephiroth was looking away. “stay close… please stay close…”

Without thinking, he shifted all materials closer and began cleaning the lacerations of his cheeks first. “I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere.”

“...I… don't know what they did…” He struggled to speak. “but I can't… heal…”

Genesis grit his teeth against the truth leaving his friend's mouth. Sephiroth clearly didn’t know it was much more than his healing factor. “We're taking you to Midgar. They'll be able to do something. They definitely know a lot more than me.”

“don't leave…” Another childish plea, trying to ensnare the wrist in his weakened state. “I'm so alone…”

Now the Second really did stop in his tracks, clutching the silver soldier's chin to make him repeat. There was something in his voice that was just wrong. This wasn't the basic shock from torture; this was something emotional as well. 

But Sephiroth was impossible to break. Interrogations with him even in the rare instances of capture were useless. He was silent, not giving up any information or even a cry of pain. When he returned, he kept his silence as a defense while he healed until he returned to his normal self. 

So who was this? Who or what was speaking through Sephiroth?

“please don't go…”

What did they do to him!?

“I'm not going anywhere.”

Any time the Second’s touch left the captured man, the First pleaded without fail. Even if it was only the moments between wringing out the bloody towel used to clean his skin, he spoke. He needed touch and no one knew why. Presence alone wasn't enough. 

Genesis couldn't help but think of the moments they've spent together as friends. Sephiroth was incredibly avoidant of any and all contact. He forced himself not to think about the reason this changed as Angeal returned and received the same treatment. They were both trapped in his grip or by his voice. Sephiroth hated this desperation in him but the very same desperation overpowered his thoughts. 

“don't go… please don’t go…”

* * * 

The healthy soldiers were initially commanded to stay on the front lines, progressing through Wutai until new orders said otherwise, but their presence was the only thing keeping Sephiroth calm. The Silver Soldier nearly screamed when medical personnel tried to take him alone. His friend stayed with him on the helicopter to Midgar to keep him quiet. Shinra still did not want anyone knowing of his condition. Screaming in an ambulance cot would not help that goal. They didn't leave his side in Medical. They even forced their way into the Science Department, and for a short time, the doctor allowed them to stay. Anesthesia wasn't working. No chemical knocked him out long enough for Angeal and Genesis to leave his side before he reacted, not like they wanted to. The staff surely didn't want them in the way though. 

“Take them out…” Sephiroth tried to explain as he fumbled through his torture stained memories. “They have to be the source…”

“What are?” Genesis questioned immediately. He would fix anything without question. 

“The blue sheets… the slabs… They're in…-” He winced sharply, and Genesis instantly grabbed the hand on his arm. 

“I got you.”

“They're in here…” His arms shook as he pointed to the blue scars at his side. 

“Try not to move so much,” Angeal suggested calmly, trying to keep the hushed tones of the lab around them. 

Sephiroth just turned to his dark haired friend with his horribly human eyes. “Have they tried to already…?”

He nodded. “They discussed removal in the medical wing, but they said something more is going on. They didn’t elaborate.”

They went quiet after that, Angeal scanning the walls to give Sephiroth some privacy, but Genesis refused to move his eyes from the horribly human form.

The very moment Sephiroth was okay, Genesis would burn Wutai to the ground. 

A moment later, the doors opened and Professor Hojo strided through holding some kind of sealed, opaque container marked with yellow biohazard tape, muttering something about finally getting ‘them’ out of here. Without warning, he placed the box on Sephiroth’s chest, not even acknowledging the two soldiers in the Demon of Wutai’s grip.

Instantly Sephiroth’s persistence collapsed. He curled around the container as a child does with their favorite blanket, all but putting his thumb in his mouth, releasing both of his friends as relief flooded his features. 

“Now that that's taken care of, you can leave.” The scientist wasted absolutely no time kicking the SOLDIERs out. 

Angeal grabbed Genesis before he could throw a punch or say a word. 

“We need to begin the procedure. If you truly care for Sephiroth's well being, leave my laboratory now.”

Genesis really did swing that time and Angeal blocked it, grabbing his fist and guiding him away. 

“Let's go.”

“I really wanna hit him,” his voice was ice.

“So do I. But for Sephiroth's sake, let's go, Genesis.”

That was the only comment that convinced the Second Class to leave, the Third following behind to make sure he didn't break anything. 

* * * 

Pacing. Pacing. Pacing. Pacing. 

“Sit down.”

“No.”

“This isn't helping, Genesis.”

“Nothing's helping.” He crossed his arms and his finger tapped anxiously. “He's been in there for seventeen hours and they won't even put us on missions to clear our heads.”

“Because we can't go overkill in Midgar, it's incredibly dangerous.”

“Not in the slums.”

“Knowing you, you'll cause structural damage to the pillar right now.”

“Then don't put me near the pillars.”

Angeal sighed. “I am literally the farthest from assigning you missions.”

“You can put in a good word.”

“I'm a Third.”

“And they trust your judgment more than mine.”

“Genesis.”

On and on they went with their childish worry. Genesis threatened to burn down the building multiple times just to get a glimpse of Sephiroth. Every passing lab technician was only saved by Angeal's level headedness. They panicked with no updates, no knowledge of what was truly happening.

Deep within the lab, the horror of truth was worse than the uncertainty of the unknown. 

The Wutaian Water Defense Ritual was merely a legend, folklore passed from generation to generation as far as Shinra and its Science Department were concerned. ‘Incapacitate any intruder with the strength of Leviathan’. Simply the necessity of Leviathan scales made the rite next to useless. To gain these scales was no easy task, and storing them posed an incredible risk to thievery. 

Apparently, Wutai was smarter than they thought. While Shinra swept through the country, Wutai gathered all resources to take down the Silver Soldier, including items of legend. Every item in Sephiroth’s imprisoning chamber was taken back to Shinra for analysis and all were a major piece in completing their goal. Though no one currently knew how Sephiroth was captured in the first place, this ritual crippled him. Ceremonial spears cut him open long enough for Leviathan scales to be inserted into his ribcage like CDs piercing his lungs. The first five healed over with terrible blue scars. The last two eroded into his bloodstream, tainting his very genetics. Like the ancient belief that tempering swords with the bones of your enemies imbued them with their spirits to make them stronger was truly the result of the bones’ carbon and the iron of the blade creating primitive steel, Wutai clearly had no idea why the scales weakened the Silver Soldier so. 

As the scales degraded from Sephiroth’s incredible healing factor, they blocked critical connections with his Jenova based cells. His hair, eyes, and body becoming as weak as a human’s were direct results of this severed connection. This permanent severance even began killing his enhanced cells. Hojo’s current theory grew from his Reunion theory. Sephiroth no longer felt the subconscious presence of Jenova, or however he felt it, and his body and that desire panicked. The failed results of Project G were the closest connections he had before he was given the container of J-cells.

After removing most of the scales, the lab hooked Sephiroth up to a type of transfusion machine. This slowly and painfully restored the mako and Jenova cells Sephiroth had lost in the ritual, but too fast or too slow of a procedure was critical to correct. 

He was fragile. Human. Hojo hated seeing him like this.

Unbeknownst to the friends of the Demon of Wutai, Hojo remained at Sephiroth’s heavily medicated side. With the container, medicine and chemicals finally took their desired effects. Sephiroth wasn’t mentally present, but he refused to release the container of cells. The doctor watched achingly as the molasses of silver claimed his hair once again. Then his weakened health returned to that of a new SOLDIER. Lastly his eyes adjusted to their enhanced needles, and he let go of the container. Hojo took the box and left before Sephiroth could open his eyes.

Twenty two hours of procedure passed, and Sephiroth was finally back to himself.

Angeal and Genesis ran to his side the moment they were allowed entry. They stayed with their silver haired, cat eyed friend for the entire month it took to regain his strength. Genesis couldn’t describe the joy he felt from Sephiroth’s victory over him in the training room. 

He liked pasta. He liked reading. His eyes were saucers when he spoke about the stars.

His friend was finally back. He didn’t care about the legend or his second place reputation. His friend was back to normal. That’s all that mattered. 

.

.

.

.

.

Thanks for reading!

To be continued...

Chapter List

[rickybaby]

Love and light to the dirlies on twitter, you guys truly are god’s strongest soldiers but it’s really not necessary to engage with every single hater

[catpissbongwater]

truly blessings to every single friend who survived my situationship era bc i read through my old journal entries from back then and i was full on tweaking like the pepe silvia scene in always sunny. you guys are god's strongest soldiers fr

worth it though i stay winning forever

[buttercuparry]

Thoughts about S2 :

Victor is my fav but I'm afraid they will kill him

Randall the fucking Conspiracy theorist can just suck my imaginary dick *pardon my language*

Jade god damn it just think before you speeeeak and buy yourself some Empathy™

Sara I misjudged you

Elgin u are my second fav don't die

slowwwwer season I prefer the 1 , also because the supernatural layers became a looooot but without any sense. I preferred it when it was about clues and they were going somewhere, here it seemed a bit too much with the dream dimension. You cannot establish rules and change all rules on the go

If Fatima's baby is a monster I riot

Ellis scared me I thought he would be dead by now

If we were in my nightmares omg it would be frogs everywhere and moths for u T_T brrrrrr

Not a fan of new characters in general

I would ship Sara and Kenny if they had not screwed that

Tilly is scary as fuck I never trust a granny in horror movies I have seen the visit

god damn it, Christopher!

Jimbojim is the stupidest guy in town ding dong new flash

Tabitha - Jade - Victor = my golden trio

Ethan : annoying kid in horror movie - video game trope

They will not need that much food with the pace they all die

Jade god damn it give back that bike

I miss Hot!Priest

It doesn't change anything to put Tabi out of the equation, it just feels like a potiential end if they had no budget for S3

Victor, my boy. He is trapped in that town since he was a kid, but it is also his home. He lost his mom, his sister, but he is trying, he is trying as he did but failed all those years ago. And people think that he has something wrong with him but he is trapped in his memories- but he forgets and so he draws and it is all so heartbreaking.

Randall can go fuck himself.

Jade is an asshole, selfish fucking prick, but I love him and he screams at haunted dolls and wears kitty t-shirts and has hallucinations of soldiers and dead men :3

Sara is the tortured oracle but she did pull a knife on a kid, following the instructions of those voices and I know being trapped in a town that won't let you leave will make you desperate but yeah...i haven't been able to look past that.

(She is desperately trying to make up for it and she feels so guilty and so much pain...maybe next season I will warm up to her again)

Elgin may you have the strongest plot armour.

Yeah totally, season 1 was more structured. I think in trying to mount horrors upon horrors, they over did it. It could have been the night creatures + something about the dream dimension. Or night creatures + the mystery of the forest. But they went creatures + lighthouse+ radio + dreams + ballerina + dolls and + and + and + and +....

It didn't really settle. Hoping season 3 would be better.

Prayer circle around Fatima. Let her AMD Ellis and their baby be happy.

Amelie please don't talk about moths being everywhere omg. Omg. OMG! OMGGGGGGH!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I knew the moment they had another paramedic on the bus, that she would know Sara somehow. That she might even be her lover!

I don't know if I remember Tilly...

Jim is truly so stupid. Like ugh ugh...and the way he got led by Randall! UGH

YES! TABITHA-JADE-VICTOR!

Ethan is that special kid from every horror movie. He has got that something the forest wants!

Hot priest you were gone too soon and left behind your husband Boyd :(

I don't think they have put Tabitha out. In Tabs may now get to move around in the world and research why and where she got stuck with her family and how is it she got out. She isn't just going to sit around while her kids are still trapped!

[joons]

As someone who knows very little about the Beach Boys but is curious, I would love to know all the tea on Mike Love.

"Mike Love isn’t just not rock … he’s actually in the red, like the anti-rock. He’s in rock debt and should spend his next life wearing golf pants and selling hairpieces." — Tony Hicks, Riff Magazine

A real article.

Let me take you on a journey.

Every Beach Boys fan starts to hate Mike Love as a joke, and then it gradually becomes real. (Mike Love defenders, I am truly sorry; you are the devil's strongest soldiers.) The traditional narrative is that when Brian Wilson (the eldest Wilson brother and de facto leader) stopped touring and began spending all his time writing music for the band, Mike Love (Brian's cousin, lead singer, lyricist) became worried that Brian would go off on his own and leave them behind. Mike had good reasons to worry; when the band came back from an extensive tour in Japan, Brian excitedly showed them what he had been working on: Pet Sounds. Widely considered their best album, and one of the best albums of all time, Pet Sounds is chamber pop music, with a wall of orchestral instruments and complex vocal harmonies, interspersed with really off-the-wall sounds, like bicycle horns and theremins, all in service of a "concept album" (the first ever such thing) about a young man entering adulthood and struggling to manage a relationship. Oh, and Brian had already recorded all of this with the Wrecking Crew (professional session musicians, who adored him), written all the lyrics with a new guy, Tony Asher, and then ushered the Beach Boys in to record the final vocals.

Mike Love was probably justifiably a bit peeved that Brian had just like ... done the thing without him and without the band, but that was Brian's job; that was the deal they had worked out when Brian decided he couldn't handle the pressure of touring anymore. Brian was already considered a savant composer at the time and the key to the Beach Boys' success; the Beatles adored his work, and he was in a constant battle to do something as spectacular as the Beatles were doing with albums like Rubber Soul. But when the band came back and got to hear the full thing (Mike was consulted on some of the lyrics beforehand), Mike was like, "This isn't us, this won't sell." (Other members had similar concerns, especially about having to recreate these elaborate orchestrations with a few guitars and drumkits on tour, but they trusted Brian.) The stressors between Mike and Brian continued when Brian started doing an even more ambitious album, Smile, using a really avant-garde lyricist who dealt in poetic imagery rather than concrete stories. Mike once again spent all the recording sessions whining about it and resisting any push toward psychedelic imagery. Legend has it he said something like, "Don't fuck with the formula" (of cars and girls and surfing), and basically shat all over what would have been the most innovative pop album of all time (purely from a production standpoint, it was a beast, needing to be constructed in tiny segments and then edited back together using analog recording equipment). It would have been, as Brian described it, "a teenage symphony to God."

Brian, being mentally fragile, did not do well with conflict like this, (he had already, with great struggle, gotten his father, Murry Wilson, fired as their manager, after Murry's abusive, controlling behavior made it impossible for them to record) and the disappointing reactions from the band and from the public toward Pet Sounds and Smile essentially killed his confidence, meaning that he soon retreated from being the band's leader and took less and less of an interest in writing. (He was more involved than popular imagination might think, but it was certainly a turning point in his creative output.) The pressure quickly became too much, and Brian, who was struggling severely with his mental health, shelved the entire Smile project. It was not released in any complete form until 2004, when Brian had the support around him (hint: not the Beach Boys) to let him put it into an acceptable shape and release a legendary lost piece of media. And it was incredible.

Now, at this point, most fans are like, "Aw, that Mike! Always sticking to the formula!" while acknowledging that he was right about how big of a risk these albums were. Points were made, and Pet Sounds didn't actually sell as well as their other stuff! Smile was very weird! Pet Sounds was so influential among rock musicians at the time (the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was a direct response to it), but it wasn't a commercial smash. And music does need to be somewhat concerned about the business side. So maybe some fans are like, "Well. We give Mike too much grief for this, Brian had to be responsible for his own confidence, this stuff happens, whatever."

But there's never really a moment where Mike Love is vindicated. He is never satisfied to be "right" about one thing; he must be right in all things. As you keep learning about him, you're like, "Mike is just an asshole."

Very famous picture of Mike and Brian. You can see the whole relationship here.

The main reason the clashes in '66-'67 are still a sore spot is because they're a microcosm of the decadeslong war for the soul of the band. In the 1990s, Mike wrested control of the Beach Boys name from the other surviving band members after the death of Carl Wilson, Brian's brother (a saint, a diplomatic soul who kept the band together when they would otherwise be at each others' throats). This gets into complicated legal weeds, but basically Mike won the rights to tour as "the Beach Boys" even though he only toured with one other member. All of the members share in the profits but are not allowed to do their own tours with the name. Brian had no interest in touring with him at the time, and neither did Al Jardine, another surviving member, but Mike went after Al for touring as "Beach Boys Family & Friends" and successfully sued to prevent any of the other boys from doing anything similar. At the same time, he excluded them from working with him on the official tour. He has kept the band in stasis, rarely playing songs beyond the 1962-1966 eras, and keeping the band's image as a good-time surfing group, when they are so much more, and it grates that they are not more known for how musically significant and groundbreaking they were (I count the entire band's contributions in this, not just Brian, as many of them are great songwriters in their own right and did wonderful production work in the late '60s and early '70s). Mike stands athwart that deserved legacy because he finds it difficult to share the spotlight, and his contributions in the later years were simply not good. Mike isn't solely responsible for the Beach Boys being classified as a nostalgia act; that impression began when Capitol Records, their first label, put out a greatest hits album that sold far more than anything new the band was making in the early '70s. But Mike leaned into that, and instead of capitalizing on renewed interest by showing how the band had grown, Mike wanted to show that the band was exactly how you remembered them.

He is also known for being bizarrely abrasive at times, to the detriment of the band's reputation. When they were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1988, Mike interrupted Brian's sweet statement and wound up going on a ramble lambasting other Hall of Fame members for suing each other (THIS IS DRAMATIC IRONY) or for not "showing up" for that year's event because they've "always been chickenshit to get onstage with the Beach Boys." I have never been able to get through this video in one sitting, I have to stop because the secondhand embarrassment is too much.

ELTON JOHN: Thank FUCK he didn't mention me!

He later blamed his tirade on not meditating that day.

In the 1990s, Mike began to sue the other members for damn near everything. While Mike was somewhat justified in regaining songwriting credits from the Beach Boys' early work (Murry Wilson had something to do with wanting to keep the credits for the Wilson brothers), he went on to claim that Brian including a picture of the Beach Boys in the album sheets for his version of Smile "damaged" the image of the band. Jesus wept. He also sued Brian for how he was portrayed in a (to be fair, mostly ghostwritten and bad) memoir without having read it.

The surviving members of the Beach Boys reunited in 2012 for the band's 50th anniversary. They put out a new album (it was great!) and toured together for the first time since the 1990s. David Marks, an early member who left during the first year, was invited back to play with them. It was healing to see them together and genuinely enjoying performing. Audiences were thrilled. Brian Wilson and Al Jardine both expressed how excited they were to keep it going, not just as a one-time anniversary tour but something they could conceivably do year after year, healing the split between Mike's band (with Beach Boy Bruce Johnston) and the tours that Brian and Al did together. But before any of that could be worked out, Mike just ghosted them, along with David. He announced that the tour was going to go on without them without doing a joint release. Brian and Al wrote a freaking letter to the editor stating they hadn't been told. So it's definitely another "Mike is why we can't have nice things" moment. He has described his exclusive ability to tour as "my nourishment and my revenge," framing it as a way of recovering lost royalties after being cheated out of songwriting credits for a long time, even though he was already awarded monetary compensation for that. In actual fact, he just cannot handle being upstaged.

Some other things that Mike gets flak for: getting obsessed with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi and Transcendental Meditation movement, writing songs exclusively about the concept and trying to turn the Beach Boys into an official Maharishi touring group; overclaiming writing credits for his small contributions to certain songs; playing for Trump's campaign events; playing for a trophy hunter guild (these last two in spite of public disavowals from Brian and Al). There are probably other, more private things that I don't think are necessary to get into. None of the band members have completely clean hands in how they've treated one another. What sets Mike apart is that he makes it public and cannot move on.

Everyone has a different breaking point with him, I think. For me, it's his continued digs at Brian, particularly relating to Brian's mental illnesses. Even extending some grace to him for dealing with difficult working conditions as some of the band members spiraled, I cannot excuse how disgusting his language is and how much he clearly wants to erase the empathy and love people have for Brian, with whatever tool he has at hand.

For context, Brian Wilson was locked into an unspeakably abusive conservatorship with his psychologist, Eugene Landy, for a decade, up until 1991. The abuse involved improper prescription treatment that continues to affect Brian to this day. (He is lucky it did not kill him.) I don't even like to think about it much because it's so dark, but Landy controlled what Brian could eat, what he sang, and who he could talk to. He sold off Brian's publishing rights and represented him in public and corporate matters. Thanks to a longtime fan and music journalist, David Leaf; Brian's future wife; and intervention by the family (who had been cut off from communicating with Brian), he was given control of his own life again and eventually properly diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. He has gotten to lead his own life again, making music that helps him deal with auditory hallucinations and depression, and working with who he wants to.

With that background, it's absolutely fucked for Mike to say this:

"He’s not in charge of his life, like I am in mine. His every move is orchestrated and a lot of things he’s purported to say, there’s not tape of it. But, I don’t like to put undue pressure on him, either, because I know he has a lot of issues. Out of compassion, I don’t respond to everything that is purportedly said by him. I’ve noticed where he says he really regards me as his greatest writing partner and that he loves my voice. Even on the 50th (anniversary tour), he made it quite clear he really liked watching me do my thing while he was at the piano. So, there’s a lot of positivity there.” (X)

So many layers there. He's so comically up his own ass, but the things he says about Brian upset me so much. He's so vile for no reason. Even if this were a criticism of Brian's PR or legal team, he could say so, instead of using Brian's past abuse to brush aside his opinions. He always does this thing where the Wilsons' addictions and illnesses are the result of bad choices, while he's never done anything wrong and was victimized by them. It's so infuriating, but it's also hard to get too upset with him because he's genuinely blind.

The thing about Mike is that he's so ... bad that he's fun to hate. Is he truly the worst person in the world? No. But is he actually the worst person in the world? Yes. His terribleness makes me laugh. That might have more to do with the cerebral way Beach Boys fans cut Mike Love clips, but goddamn, it gets me. (Beach Boys fans have had to deal with an awful lot of kitsch against their will, and I think this is their way of coping.)

LISTEN TO THIS MANIAC, I AM WHEEZING AT WORK.

(It's so crazy, he even added in that psychedelic riff at the end of the video! That's not in the song! It's just to emphasize how weird he thinks "Good Vibrations" is and how much he has to "apologize" for it. What is happening. Even when he is "joking," there's such a dark energy about it.)

In conclusion:

A real article. "His memoir leaves him neither vindicated nor convincingly tolerable as a human being."