is very incarnational.)

To those new to the spiritual community

Tumblr can be a dangerous place if you’re not careful. Here are some lessons I learned the hard way:
- If someone gives you a reading that just doesn’t resonate with you, it’s probably not accurate. Trust your gut.
- Think critically. Spirit work can be very exciting and enthralling, especially when you first start out, but remember that the people you’re speaking with are just people like you. People can be wrong in their readings and their opinions.
- If you’re struggling or unsure, get a second opinion. Get a third opinion. You can never have enough opinions.
- Do your own readings, while always maintaining a critical mindset. Always hold your own experiences over someone else’s word.
- Never hold one tumblr user/friend up as the ultimate authority on everything spiritual. That’s a very dangerous mindset
- I know I said this before, but trust your gut and intuition above all else.

If you think you’re being spiritually manipulated, please come to me for advice! I’ll be happy to help

-Seraph Song


-the words taste my tongue, singe my lips; these are not my words to sing now,


-they echo down my throat like a cavern. they are not spoken, they are not whispered,
-they are SHOUTED with the loudest voice on this earth, until i rip myself open with them


-the seraphim song, one of millions, memorized in my past life
-the words make my heart tremble, my knees are waves beneath me, i fall and shudder the loud song


-scream until my throat dies a painful death in my body, scream until i burst open with them
-waves upon waves of voices crash down into my nameless face, i am helpless beneath them,


-i want to fall into the abyss just to taste heaven again


-i want to sing it but the melody is contrived, contorted, not
-it is not for human ears and i shall never sing it like i did back then


-a prayer finalized in the depths of this soggy earth, o hardship, o toil, take me further from heaven
-i want to go back just to see His face one more time


-i cant even begin to utter the words without a shiver, quiver in my bones
-i will scream until i have no more body, until i am just a soul floating above wrecked cartilidge and meat


-o fortune, o grace that led me here to this place
-i will never forget how we sang so harmoniously
-please don’t let me forget
-i’m forgetting


Every time I revisit this story I’m just…. *sniff*

The Cue Cards, and Clara's Narrative Shaping

It occurs to me that the cue cards are really indicative of Clara’s need for control and how her desire for a perfect narrative and an epic story didn’t go away after Danny’s death.

The Doctor is terrible at conforming to basic social niceties (or at least he pretends he is—which is a meta all by itself), but he’s really very good at reassurance, comfort, and inspiration. From “Brave heart, Tegan,” from Five to Ten’s “I am so, so sorry” catchphrase to Eleven’s big Pandorica speech and Twelve’s frankly terrifying psychological deconstruction of the Half-Face Man, the Doctor in any incarnation is very much a people person. One of the main reasons he is considered so dangerous is his charismatic ability to persuade, terrorize, or encourage, as Osgood points out in “The Zygon Inversion.”

Keep reading

So if you watched the final episode of volume four, you were probably a little surprised by the revelation made at the end that immediately sets up the next volume in a big way. Now I have a number of ideas where this idea can go and I thought I’d run with it since I’m actually in the mood to express my thoughts on my blog rather than keeping it to myself.

The rest will be under a read more since many people haven’t seen the final episode and I’d rather not be that guy.

Keep reading

Noragami Chapter 73 Thoughts

Hey there! This month was and has now been confirmed to have been a breather chapter. (Thank goodness, the silliness was a welcome change after all that angst!) But, Adachitoka is never one to not implement something important, so even the sillier chapters have some telling information within. And now, I’m here to dissect that information! Hah.

Keep reading

Saturday Morning [Part 5] (Grayson)

Written by: @keepcalmandlovepotter

Summary: Alyssa is new to L.A. and has a few secrets she’s rather keep to herself. When a famous YouTube star meets her, it changes the course of her life forever.

A/N: This was a submission and this is NOT MY STORY

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4

I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. I sat up from bed and held my head in my hand for a moment before I looked at the time - 11:30 AM. I hadn’t slept in this late in a long time. I normally wasn’t out until 1:30 in the morning either, but this is apparently going to be an interesting time in my life judging from last night.

I got up and trudged to the kitchen, grabbing a protein bar and a bottle of water from the fridge. I threw myself down onto my couch before I realized I had to be at work at 1. I groaned out loud, long, abrasively and unattractively. It actually sounded like a dying cow, which made me laugh at myself a little. 

This was one of the very few days of the month where I had to close the shop up with Ashlee. I regrettably got up to look at myself in the mirror and see how bad the damage was. I had barely slept for more than an hour at a time last night without waking and I had several nightmares about a certain somebody I didn’t want to see. It wasn’t abnormal for me to have nightmares, but these made me wake up in a puddle of cold sweat.

I pulled my hair into a messy ponytail and washed my face before putting on a cat-eye and some mascara. I brushed my teeth, figuring I could have lunch at work and tell Ashlee everything before my shift, so I could actually work in peace.

I put on a pair of jean shorts and a black t-shirt with white trim that had a small alien on the lapel. I tied my white Converse low tops and put on a black ribbon choker and tossed my things for the day in a small backpack before heading out. I decided to walk to work, as it was still a beautiful day out. As I walked, I felt uneasy, like someone was watching me. It was a stark contrast to the feeling I had the night before with Grayson. I looked over my shoulder three or four times as I walked, expecting to see someone I knew to jump out from behind a bush and say “gotcha!” but nobody did.

I kept my head down as I walked into Java Jane’s and made a bee line for the back room. I ran into Ashlee right away and almost collapsed into a chair. I started rambling before she could talk.

“Ash, I’ll tell you everything later, I just gotta get some food in me first. I’ve had the weirdest morning slash afternoon and I’ll tell you everything, I swear, but I just have to have a sandwich or something first.” I dropped my bag in the chair and walked out into the cafe where the tables and chairs were. I grabbed a sandwich from the display case and brought it to the back room, not feeling like being particularly social.

As soon as I got settled and Ashlee marked out my lunch, I told her everything. I told her about where we went for dinner and how Grayson didn’t grill me about being diabetic and he was sweet and a gentleman -

“HE LET YOU KEEP HIS JACKET?!” Ashlee nearly screeched as I told her the story. She was hanging on every word, chewing on the straw of the drink she had made for herself earlier. I nodded as I took a bite of my sandwich, starting to feel a little better about the whole thing. I mean, it was an extraordinary first date and now I had someone to tell me if all these things were normal or not. 

“I know. He told me to keep it until our next date. Is that normal?!” I asked, closing the container the sandwich had come in and tossing it in the trash can under the desk. She blinked and looked at me. 

“For maybe like a sixth date!” Her tone was shrill and it felt like a dog whistle in my ears. I winced and tried to keep a straight face. “Sorry, but that’s serious,” she said, this time in a much more human tone and touched my arm. I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest. 

“Ash, I don’t know what I’m gonna do about this. I don’t even know if I should be dating him! What if all his fans hate me? What if they get jealous or something? What if…” I groaned and let my head hang, thinking about the ‘what if’ I was just about to ask. 

“I know,” she replied, seemingly having read my mind. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, but you can’t live your life according to other people! You have to do what makes you happy.” I looked back up at her and sighed before looking at the clock. It was two minutes to 1. 

“We’ll talk more about it later,” she promised me and smiled, handing me my apron as I dug my sharpie out of my bag. I tossed the halter over my head and tied it behind my back as I walked out onto the floor, singing into the cash register as I usually do at the start of my shift. 

“Well if it isn’t my favorite coffee bean…”

The voice made me stop. It chilled me to my core. I felt my hands go stiff and my mind go blank. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move. After a long minute, I blinked and looked up to see who had addressed me in such a sarcastic tone.

“What in the fresh fuck are you doing here?”

It was all I could manage to say. Normally, I would never say something so awful to a person, much less a customer, but it was highly warranted in this case. Two dark brown eyes stared back at me and held a devious grin behind them. I felt nauseous. It was the very incarnation of evil. It was my ex-boyfriend Joseph. 

“Who even let you in here?” I folded my arms over my chest.

“It’s a free country, innit?” I scoffed and rolled my eyes as he kept his childish grin plastered on his face. His hair had gotten longer and looked dirty - like he hadn’t washed it in days. His (incredibly) tall and lanky frame was clad in his deteriorating brown leather jacket and he was even wearing a t-shirt I had gotten him once upon a time.

“You know what I mean,” I hissed. “What are you even doing here? In California? IN AMERICA?” He shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Got a job writing for a studio in Hollywood, thought I’d drop by and see how my girl was.” My blood ran cold through my veins. I felt immediately sick. I forced myself to keep it down and scowled at him.

“I’m not your girl. And you always said writing for Hollywood was selling out.” He smirked and the other barista handed him the coffee he had apparently ordered. 

“Maybe, but if it means I can live in your neighborhood and torture you, then I’m happy about it.” He sipped his coffee and spoke so nonchalantly that I almost wasn’t taken aback by the sentence. Almost

Joseph was the reason there was a center in my brain containing every bad thought about myself. He had cultivated it and tended to it with care, as if it were his prize tomato garden and not my self-confidence. While we had dated, he slowly chipped away at my self worth and confidence like a prisoner chipping away at a wall with a spoon and he was damned proud of his work. He knew I hated him for what he’d done to me and he knew he was despicable. The problem was that he just didn’t care. 

He was what one might call “criminally insane”. He was a genius like me. He had been through dozens of special schools in England and been kicked out of every one for his attitude. I was a bit more shy and quiet as a child, but Joseph questioned everything. Literally everything, most of the time, purely for the sake of being difficult. When we met, he was charming and sweet, and I thought that nobody could comprehend the things he had to say, but that didn’t last long and I soon found myself trapped. They might’ve called me ‘The New Einstein” but he definitely had more of a ‘mad scientist’ vibe. He was the Hyde to my Jekyll. 

One thing was for certain though: he was smart. His IQ couldn’t be scaled with normal methods. He couldn’t even place on most tests. He regularly outsmarted the people administering them just so he could get his way. It was one of the things I always hated the most about him - the fact that he could manipulate anything and anyone without a second thought. He simply didn’t care about other people, and was very good at pretending he did. I know that sounds a little harsh, but he’s got a track record to prove it. 

“Listen, as much as I’d love to stand here and listen to you all day, I have work to do, so could you please leave?” My tone was less than cordial, but I never really felt the need to be polite to him after we broke up. I put one hand on the counter and one on my hip. He feigned offense and put his hand on his chest. 

“I did buy a coffee and I believe I can stay as long as I drink it,” he said, taking a minute sip of his drink. I rolled my eyes and made a disgusted sound before doing my best to ignore him and starting up with some tasks. Ashlee came out onto the floor after long. I pulled her into the back room and explained the situation. 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S HERE?! EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO BEAT THE EVER-LOVING CRAP OUT OF HIM.” I had to hold Ashlee back by her shoulders, throwing all of my weight against her.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Do you wanna make things WORSE for me?!” I said, my voice just above a whisper. She let out an annoyed scoff and crossed her arms over her front. 

“It is MY cafe. I CAN kick him out, and make sure he never comes back…” she said, looking down at me and I rolled my eyes and shook my head. 

“That would just give him incentive to find out where I live, if he doesn’t already know,” I said, leaning against the wall beside us with a groan. I closed my eyes and for a split second, seriously thought about moving back home. But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t let him scare me away. Not from my own home.

Not again. 

I went back out onto the floor and Ashlee followed me, keeping a close eye on me. Joe tried to approach me again, but neither of us had time to say anything before she jumped down his throat.

“Hi. Joe is it? Look here, Mr. Tea-and-Crumpets, I OWN this establishment and, in America, if you are harassing one of MY employees, I can kick your sorry ass out of here and make sure you never come back. So unless you want a permanent footprint on your ass, I suggest you drink your coffee over there and leave when you’re done, kay?”

The two of us stared at her with our mouths hanging open. Joe slunk away after a moment, scowling and muttering obscenities under his breath. I thought that would be the end of it and he would likely leave me alone after that. 

But then things got much more complicated all at once when Grayson walked in. 

lukeskystroller  asked:

#33 with SS!Zelink?

Ss zelink yessss

Link’s the sleepy head so I had to go with his pov again :P I hope you enjoy!


Lake Floria was exceptionally beautiful today. The way the sunlight reflected off the water’s surface, making it appear to be liquid diamond. It gave me the impression I might very well be dreaming. Maybe it’s the season, Lady Faron told me about that. I think she said summer was the best around here. The water was certainly perfect for swimming. However, the most exceptionally beautiful and perfect thing I could see, had to be Zelda.

Not a few hours ago I taught her how to swim, and she was already better than me! I don’t think I’d ever stop being impressed by her. My goddess incarnate. My very best friend. The woman I loved…

I went through hell and back for her. Fought the epitome of evil. Nearly died along the way many times. And I would do it all again. A thousand times over, if it would protect that smile on her face.

She rose from a dive. Her hair swirled around her in the water like liquid gold. Her lips barely parted to take in much needed air. There couldn’t possibly be a more heavenly sight. My beautiful, kind, fun loving, goddess.

I took the opportunity to dive under while she wasn’t looking at me. The water was crystal clear, of course making it perfect for finding Zelda. I swam below her, watching to see if she’d noticed. I could stay under for much longer than her with my gift from the goddess- her actually. She looked around, calling my name, and I struck. I twirled up just like the Zora’s taught me and launched above the water, effectively catching her by surprise and splashing her.

“Link! You almost gave me a heart attack!” She laughed, splashing me back. I laughed and held up my arms to defend against the attack.

“You’ve given me plenty over the years, figured it was time for a little pay back!” I retorted in mirth, back handing the water. She laughed as droplets collided with her face once more.

A war began. We were splashing, chasing, laughing. I wasn’t sure I’d had this much fun in my entire life. The surface was really an amazing place. I couldn’t wait to spend the rest of my life here, with Zelda. We waded together in the water to catch our breath. “Hey Zel?” I asked, “do you think everyone in skyloft will come down here with us eventually?” Thoughtfully, she looked to the sky.

“I hope so,” she turned to me, a mischievous smile playing her lips. “Although… I wouldn’t mind if we had the surface all to ourselves for a little while…” she swam towards me, eyes sparkling. What was she planning? Her hands ran up my bare chest. I shuddered under her touch. ‘Oh’ I thought ‘that’s what she’s planning’

“Zelda..?” She cupped my cheeks, looking into my eyes, and I was sure I would melt and become one with the lake. Her lips found mine, our eyes closed and our heads tilted in unison. My hands found her hips and I pulled her closer, until our bodies were flush against each other.

Then I woke up.
Of course it had to have been a dream, The only thing that remained so perfect in both slumber and reality was my dear Zelda. She lied in my arms, completely awake, playing with my hair as she did most mornings. “Feel like visiting lake Floria?”

anonymous asked:

Where did the fish lady come from and or what was she inspired by?


thank you so much for asking because the story is close to me heart ;u;

Krie as a fully developed character was created back in September of last year. Her design was inspired by the anatomy of some of my favorite aquatic animals - otters, axolotls, sharks, and Betta fish, with some Kif Kroker thrown in during the stylization stage at the advice of my illustration professor (you can see it if you squint). She was originally supposed to be an aliensona, of sorts, so she didn’t have a personality beyond self-insert at first, but then i started writing about her, and her personality developed with influences from Merrill (Dragon Age) and Mordin Solus (Mass Effect) for that distracted but brilliant and kind and tough-as-nails deal ^u^


the very first incarnation of the teal-and-green amphibious alien character of mine was WAYYYYY back in the early 2000s when i drew this monstrosity heavily based on something i probably saw in one of those horrible Chris Hart books:

i had to go back to my VERY FIRST deviantart account for this you’re welcome. she was originally an evil alien Siren with a sonic scream for a song. i created her as a villain for a stupid fanfic i wrote when i was like…15?? i think???

so you can see she’s come a long way :’)

gatheringbones  asked:

legolas and gimli, a conversation that is secretly 100% flirting

“It is beautiful, is it not?”

Gimli startled at the unexpected intrusion, turning. Legolas hovered beneath the archway, looking uncertain; certainly, he was twisting the signet-ring at his finger, again and again. In truth, Gimli had not expected to see him until morning, at least—Legolas had disappeared with Haldir, that marchwarden, and Gimli understood the longing for one’s kin and kind. (However dear the Fellowship, they were not dwarves, the tongue they spoke among themselves was not Khuzdul, and the Mountain bore no meaning to them. Gimli would not exchange their company for any other’s, but he did oft wish for his cousins, his forge-brothers, those who knew, who understood without question or explanation. He would not begrudge Legolas that same longing.)

“Isn’t it—beautiful?” Legolas repeated, stepping forward into the dim twilight falling over the Golden Wood. “It is said that Lorien lives in the light of Ilúvatar, more than any other place in Middle Earth. Here, we come as close to our creation as we—might, I suppose.”

“It is indeed beautiful,” Gimli conceded, turning back to look at the wooded glade, the shards of starlight disguised as lamps that flickered into being as dusk settled over the valley. “It is not…well. It is very beautiful, only a blind creature could deny as much.”

He felt the pang of uncertainty as Legolas came to stand beside him. He had changed from his livery, Gimli realized dimly—the Lady Galadriel had offered all the Fellowship fresh clothing, but it was of a fit for Men and Elves, not dwarves or hobbits; somewhere he suspected Pippin was still rolling up those long sleeves, Merry inelegantly tucking his jerkin into his trousers.

Legolas, though, looked very fine in green picked with white-gold thread, leaves embroidered along the collar; the very incarnation of the Dream-wood itself. Gimli was too aware of his own rough hands, a smith’s hands, how tightly the fine fabric sat over his broad shoulders—he was a creature of Mahal, not Iluvatar, and this place was not for him. It was not for him.

“You do not like it,” Legolas said, and the disappointment in his voice was too much to bear, however truthful. Gimli could not meet his eye, staring at the thicket of silver-gold mallorn until it blurred beneath his gaze.

“No, no,” Gimli assured him. “It is beautiful. It is—Eru’s light, you have that correctly. And evident is the great power of the lady who rules such undiluted light. But standing here and beholding such beauty…I am reminded that your creation is not mine. For dwarves are that creation within creation, beneath and below; we are not Ilúvatar’s children, but Mahal’s—Aulë, in your tongue. And so however beautiful, this is not for me. It is not mine.”

Legolas was quiet. “I—surely, though, it is from the same wellspring,” he said thickly, at last, and Gimli still did not trust himself to look. “For Aulë was himself a creature of Ilúvatar, and any creation made in his image is likewise made in the image of his creator.”

“That is a pretty thought—”

“Do you think you are not of Eru’s beauty?” Legolas asked, stumbling over himself, and Gimli could not resist looking to him then. Legolas’ expression was a stone mask overlaid his features, but he was still twisting that signet ring at his knuckle. There was the faintest of lines, etched between his brows. 

He was fair as the lamps of Lorien, and wearing the green of its trees against his skin. Gimli had no trouble at all imagining this was what the Father of All had imagined, when he decided to birth life unto Middle Earth; something, someone, like this, tall and fair as a sapling, grave and haughty and bright as starlight.

“I have always been taught that it was the Firstborn who inherited Eru’s beauty,” Gimli said at last. “The brightness of the stars—”

Legolas gave a full-body shudder, and Gimli’s throat tightened around whatever he had planned to speak next. For the life of him, he could not recall it. But it was caught in his throat, beating like his pulse, like the wings of birds.

“Is—ah, I think that your mountain must be very beautiful as well,” Legolas said, clearing his throat uncertainly. “Perhaps, though, it is Aulë’s beauty.”

“Aulë’s beauty?” Gimli repeated dimly.

Legolas was still twisting the ring at his finger, and Gimli had the unmistakable sense that he would blush, were such indignity allowable to the beautiful Firstborn. “Well, yes,” Legolas said. “I am not—I was not so distracted in the flight through Moria that I could not see what dwarven hands have wrought.”

“Ah,” Gimli said wisely. 

“It is not…the beauty of Lorien,” Legolas said, with a strange twitch of his hand, half-gesturing to the dusk filtering through the golden leaves. “But not lesser. Stronger, I think. Enduring and thriving—a gate of mithril can be remade, if there are willing hands for the building. A mallorn tree once cut down is gone forever, so much wood for the fire. That is…there is beauty in the work of one’s hands, the lasting of it.”

“I think you are right,” Gimli breathed, and he saw a taut smile pull at the corner of Legolas’ mouth. “But I also think that—we have need of this too. There is room enough in the world for trees and gates both, yes?”

“I have seen—” Legolas swallowed, and Gimli watched his throat bob, his hands flutter. He offered the next sally casually, as though his eyes were not glittering and fixed on Gimli: “I have seen trees grow together with the work of hands, before. A—a growing thing has freedom, to wind itself through a made thing.”

Gimli smiled. “And so the reverse. Whole great edifices are built around a living thing…We have carved many a hall cradled in the powerful roots of a great oak.”

“Yes!” Legolas laughed, and Gimli could not help a laugh of his own. They smiled at one another, too warm, over-close. (When had they come so close? Gimli was near enough to reach out and fist his hand in the fabric of Legolas’ green-gold tunic.) “Yes, that is…that is exactly right.”

“I agree,” Gimli said. Dusk had fallen, and the lamp nearest them was flickering slowly into starlight, mirrored by the emergence of the bright-cold stars above them both. “Yes, you are correct.”

“Yes,” Legolas echoed, his grey eyes the color of starlight.

stupidsylveoninatophat  asked:

Ten more facts about Dreamy? Shes adorable!



1. Dreamy is French and always keeps a slight French accent that you can mostly hear in the way she pronounces the letter -r.

2. I imagined Dreamy because of an old carousel horse that belongs to my godmother that I have seen around since I’m a kid and that I have always found wonderful. Her first design was directly based off it. 

3. Dreamy was inspired by a huge amount of stuff that I like and I she very much entirely incarnates my aesthetic because of this. Among her inspirations, I would name Bicentennial Man and Isaac Asimov’s work about robots in general (in case you didn’t know, I’m a sci-fi nerd), Pinocchio, Brazil (Movie by Terry Gilliam), the short story L'Enfant des Manèges (the Merry-go-Round Child I guess it would be) by Andrée Chedid (fun fact for those of you guys I shown Matthieu Chedid to: she is his grandmother and a brilliant poet), The Neverending Story by Michael Ende as it is my favourite book, there is a bit of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz in her as well, but she was mostly inspired by my own experience and the wonders of France, the Parisian carousels I used to go to, the places I have visited, and my fascination for machines. She also has a Ghibli vibe to her. Dreamy is a big mash-up of so many things I love, and despite having roots in many things, I do find her very unique and is one of the characters I’m the proudest of. 

4.Dreamy goes crazily fluffy during winter (Thank harmonscorner for showing me a fluffy Akhal-Teke now it’s canon lmao)

5. Dreamy has had different parental figures throughout her life (as she doesn’t have biological parents) but the only one currently remaining is Flora Melodía… and she’s not even actually alive lol.  

6. Dreamy also exists as a human in other verses and was rped with my human ocs. I drew her robot self, Dahana, from what I call the “Rebelverse” (such an edgy name lol) last year (you can see it here) and more recently Alice de Chanteval (who also is a robot despite not looking like it), and if I put my shit together you’re gonna see a lot of this one soon because dang this verse is bomb. 

7. Her theme is Merry-Go-Round Of Life by Joe Hisaishi from Howl’s Moving Castle. She has a playlist though but I need to fill it sigh. 

8. Dreamy is totally unlady-like and she has no idea how to behave properly. She is very random and can jump on someone licking their face out of nowhere. She’ll learn how to behave better in the future but honestly, you can’t really change Dreamy.

9. She deals very bad with defeat, not achieving her goals or being unable to help someone. She has a hard time learning that she is not always the right person to do something. 

10. She is able to build various crazy machines and enjoys conceiving non-polluting motors like bubble-powered engines. She also likes to create life-like automatons and to craft unique prosthetics, she had helped a bunch of ponies who became their friends through this.  

One of my favourite facts I can never quite believe is that Howard Shore was a member of the original Blues Brothers.

The very earliest incarnation of the Blues Brothers was a sketch called “Howard Shore and his All Bee Band”, in which he played the tambourine dressed as a Bee-Keeper surrounded by some of the world’s most incredible blues artists dancing in bee costumes.

salvachester  asked:

idk if it counts as a kink, but use of a sex swing? Also: Roleplaying of some sort? (FBI agent and unruly civilian, boss and secretary, handyman and casheless, yet VERY grateful reader, VERY naughty incarnation of Han and Leia, OBVIOUSLY including the metal bikini. I have like 20 more ideas of roleplay, I'm not kidding :D)

Omg Scar, you crack me up