#and he most likely never would've lived past 20

[victim9d]

i am thinking Very Hard ab the way that i think if tate were to show someone he recently met photos of him as a teenager (there arent many) they would struggle to really see it as the same guy or at the very least have that kind of. Moment of thought before the oh wow you look different

[mikansei]

As ambiguous as ages are in hoyo games I really love that Ratio nation collectively agrees he's at least 30. I've seen aven fans hc him in his 20s but for Ratio? Never under 30.

Me personally I settled for 30 for Aven and 33 for Ratio.

eyy, that's pretty close to my own HC!! 30 for ratio and ~27 for aven!! but then i also HC there being 5yrs between final victor and penacony, erring on the side of "world's most incomprehensible slowburn," and i think more of the fandom leans toward "whirlwind >6mo u-haul situationship" lol. so All Of That™ would've started when they were 25 and ~22 respectively.

imagine a 25yo ratio who thinks he's finally got his life together. having survived the ordeal of being an insufferable 20yo, he's got it made. he's figured it out. and then comes along this little blond maniac and he has so many revelations all at once he can't keep up with them, to the point that sexuality doesn't even make the top 5. the fact that he likes men is SO much less concerning than the fact that the gun might've turned him on a little. he's got so many new issues to work thru he may as well compile them into volumes. congratulations, that's ur future husband 🩵🩵🩵

meanwhile i think aven was brought before jade post-egyhazo at about 20yo, had a year of intense acclimation and training, made stoneheart at 21 (at which time he abruptly learned all his people were dead and thus his entire motivation for surviving the past decade was moot), had a terrible horrible year where he was saddled with an executive job he couldn't quit without being disappeared but had no reason to live - poster boy of going thru the motions and trying to fill the void with thrillseeking - and THAT'S the state ratio met him in. whew

also this means half the reason the egyhazo incident stung so much for the intelligentsia guild is the fact that the scammer was, like, 19. wdym we got had by a teenager. humiliating

and even then i feel like my HCs are on the low end of plausible... realistically i should shorten the situationship era so those ages are less bonkers (igss the evil space monopoly is fine with 21yo execs and ratio can earn 8 doctorates in 10 years lol)... but situationship era is my faaaaavorite 🥺💕 i need them to be the most irritating slow-motion gay trainwreck for longer than anyone in their lives would've thought humanly possible

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 07 TAEHYUN FROM 3RD GRADE

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes, some more anti daegal agenda from haechan, jaemin is still a bitch but trust that will change shortly

NOTES | written cut ahead!! also just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's reading and interacting, I love reading all the comments 🫶🏼🫶🏼 +++ just a warning to be careful and stay safe for everyone in the uk with the ongoing violence :( please take care of yourselves!

Jaemin sighs.

Luck hadn't been on his side today, not when he woke up 20 minutes after his alarm, with the worst bedhead of his life and his hungry kittens practically hissing at him to be fed, not when he was late to school and the first class of the day and certainly not now.

Now as campus feels suspiciously empty, almost too empty, considering practise had ended only 5 minutes ago, jaemin stares up at the sky, thunder clashing, grey clouds looming overhead.

It doesn't take much longer for the rain to come, not a light drizzle but a full blown storm, the wind making the rain splash in his face, his pink hair matted to his forehead. A frown lines his lips.

And as if luck hadn't fucked him over enough, the bus service was cancelled all week.

If it wasn't for your slow, cautious footsteps, jaemin would've found himself trudging through the rain for the next half an hour to get back home.

He sighs in relief, convincing himself he'll ask the student approaching for a ride home, and like most students, who he was pretty popular with, he'd get a positive answer.

Jaemin's relief is short lived when he realises, that student is in fact you making your way over.

The way the concern paints your features and you rush over in the rain, not too bothered about getting yourself wet but still offering an umbrella out to him, the way you feign selflessness, the way you seem so innocent, it all convinces jaemin that maybe walking back home in the rain isn't too bad. He's already turned around before you can say anything.

He doesn't know why he stops when he hears your voice call out for him

"Jaemin" he doesn't know even more why he turns around to face you, holding perhaps the most eye contact he has with you in years.

"Do you need a ride home?" you ask, smiling as you wait for him to take the umbrella from you. He only shoves it back into your hands

All jaemin can focus on is that one word, did he need a ride, need?

Jaemin had never and would never need anything from you. He'd like to make that clear, but it's a lot less validating when he knows you won't respond the way he'd like. His bitter remarks were always met with silence on your end.

"I don't need anything from you" he spits the words out anyways.

You nod, but you don't let up, and apparently neither does the rain, it's speed doubling by the second and the size of each falling droplet growing.

"Would you like a ride?" you try again, despite the fact that you could barely make out jaemin in front of you and all you can hope is that he'll say yes.

His facial expressions telling you otherwise.

"Fine" he says, walking past you and towards your car, you can't help but smile, even if you had gotten completely soaked in the process of convincing him.

For a moment, you're close enough to blowing your cover, forgetting to ask for directions, but jaemin seems a step ahead, taking the initiative to put his apartment address into your satnav. Now you couldn't pretend that being next to him was easy, even if you tried to, jaemins presence left you in a constant state of uneasiness, like you were hyper aware of every sound you made, every word you spoke, worried you were breathing too loud or something completely out of your control would tick him off. It wasn't that jaemin was a horrible guy, he wasn't— you knew that better than anyone else, you just never knew why he had decided to be so horrible to you.

You choose to sit in silence, phone connected to the aux but no music playing as you drove. For just a second, you remember how comforting the silence between you both had once been, how there was never an awkward moment or thoughts of self doubt in jaemin's presence. Now it felt heavy, unspoken words and underlying emotions lingering in the space between you.

"Don't think we're friends just because I accepted your ride" he says, his tone sour.

"I know we're not friends jaemin, just doesn't hurt to be cordial"

You're not sure if he even hears what you said, but if he had, jaemin chooses to ignore your words. You don't say anything of it either.

He turns to face you, concentrated on driving through the heavy rain with a heavy grip on the wheel. You seem stiff for some reason, though he can't figure out why.

This is the first time, jaemin realises, that he's let himself look at you completely.

Your hands grip the steering wheel, some fresh red scratches on them, he wonders where they came from but moves on from the thought quickly, supposing you were just as clumsy as you once were. It's the only similarity he can notice, everything else seems painfully different to the old you.

Your hair is tied back in a ponytail and seems longer than he'd last remembered, perhaps a couple shades darker too, your facial features seem more mature and your eyes seem more tired.

For some reason each change, large or small, still manages to suit you well.

"Good game out there" you say and jaemin notices the changes that came to your voice, you've developed some confidence but speak in a softer tone than before, the smile on your face seems permanent, a realisation that makes his eyes roll.

"Can't say the same for you"

You nod, this really hadn't been your best game and the lack of sleep last night really hadn't helped.

"I hope you're not going to continue the rest of the season with the weak shots and shitty playing" he clicks his tongue, "it's not exactly best player of the year material is it?"

Most days you'd let jaemin take these shots at you, the wordless ones, the bold ones, and the quite frankly unnecessary ones, but today something urges you to defend yourself just a little.

"We all have our moments jaemin" you sigh, and despite wanting to say more, you decide against it, besides you were almost home anyway.

"Too many of those moments and we're in the same situation we were last year, wouldn't want to let the team down more than you already do would you?"

You don't respond, the car coming to a stop outside the front entrance to your apartment complex. You're glad it does, tears pricking your eyes as a smug jaemin steps out of the car.

"Thanks"

When the door shuts behind jaemin you can't help but let the tears roll down your face.

You wonder why you even make an effort.

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[mee30p]

Comfort me

A/N: This one is for my PTSD girlies! we are amazing and sexy but also tragic at times but nonetheless amazing. This so could've been out earlier but i decied to go on a 2 day drinking bender and proceed to forget all the english i've learnt since i was 11. It's okay i have risen again and i can write in english again or this would've and could've been in french

This fic is probs more dramatic and traumatic than @dixondisease, imagined for their the prompt which is hereHERE! but oh well. go check them out they are amazing.

☽ Summary:

☽ Warnings: mentions of child abuse, sorta graphic detail of injury to 5 year old, goreish, screaming, PTSD, Medical malpractice, unintentional self injury.

☽ Word count: 1.1k

“You okay, woman?” Daryl's gruff voice asks but it carries a hint of worry as he approaches you. His words snap you out of your hazy staring contest with the concrete outside the C block. “Hmm? Oh yeah i'm fine , just tired is all, the supply run today took a lot outta me” You nod, your body is tight and stiff with tension and your eyes are hazed over and glassy, jaw ticked tight. “Uh huh” Daryl nods, he knows you better than this, you’re his girl after all. “You been havin a starin contest with th’ concrete for the last half hour”

“I was winning” You quip back but your voice is missing it’s usual sexy overconfidence and smugness instead replaced by a beat up, groggy and slightly shaky manner. “I’m fine really Dar, don’t need to fuss.. I’m gonna go to bed anyway” You sigh as you look down at your watch it’s 20 past 9 at night. 

You’d been feeling off and on edge for most of the afternoon, it started when one of the ex-woodbury residents who you do not know the name of made an off handed comment about you avoiding the doctors that live in the prison at all costs and that you need to see one of them about your nasty cough. They were not lying or being malicious as you have been but it still stung, you have avoided Dr S since he arrived and you’ve steered clear of Hershal for the most part after the farm. The very thought of seeing a doctor even though you do have a nasty cough makes your blood run cold.

 No one knows why, you never tell and you most likely will take it to your grave as it seems so stupid to most people, a small insignificant fear of doctors to most but to you it’s life changing crippling. Even before the outbreak you hadn’t been to the doctor in almost 10 - 15 years, stepping foot into even a GPs office makes your nerves shot and blood run cold, even the smell of sanitizer or sterile rooms makes your heart beat quicken. You decide what's best for your sanity is to go to bed early so you ask Glenn to fill in for you at watch tonight which he happily does, he knows your situation. As you make your way to your cell Daryl starts to trail behind you to your shared cell, you both peel off your clothes before slithering into bed and into each other's embrace. You’re so mentally drained the moment you hit your pillow and Daryl wraps his arms around you your eyes shut and sleep takes you under.

Suddenly you're back in that hospital room, the bright white sterile roof, the strange semi-coloured faded kids mural on the walls, the vinyl green floors meant to replicate grass. You’re back on that exam table, cross legged like the innocent five year old you were not knowing of the horrors about to occur. You’d broken your wrist about 6 weeks prior and to your knowledge you were back there just to get the cast removed. You look down at the stuffed unicorn in your lap, your mama there a second ago when you look up she’s gone and you’re alone in the room with the man you’ve come to despise and fear. 

He’s gloved up, mask on, face shield on and he now has two nurses clearly students. “Now have either of you two removed a cast? No perfect” The Doctor who’s name is now a blur hums too cheerfully for the crime he’s about to commit. 

It was all painless, the cast removal at least, that part was more of a slow blur. Now you’re on your back, left arm and both little five year old legs pinned to the table as the doctor who you trusted grabs your freshly healed arm and chuckles cheerfully, “ladies one thing about children's bones are that they are easy to break but… they are so darn resilient” He chimes as he places one big hand fully around your elbow and one around your wrist. The snap of your little arm is engraved into your brain, the vision of your bone piercing your skin and the blood pouring out is burned into your eyes. 

Suddenly you’re watching in third person as your current self, your piercing screams echo through the night terror they seem so real because they are. You are screaming in your sleep, now sat upright in bed clawing at your own arms until they are red raw and a bit bloody. Daryl is by your side in bed already trying his best to wake you and comfort you but as he touches you, you’re too out of it and you scream more “Hey hey hey, I’m here s’ me Daryl, you’re safe s’ okay” Daryl says desperately as he grabs both your arms roughly to hold you still, a tactic you shared with him. “No no no no.. stop.. Please make it stop.. Mummy help me” You sob, as you rock trying to claw at your arms although Daryl is holding you still. He’s never seen you this bad before he’s scared and unsure what to do but he pulls you into a bear hug which serves to be working. Your sobs and pleas turn to quiet mumbling which turn to you slowly coming out of it, once you get your bearings after 10-15 minutes the embarrassment hits you hard. “Shit… m’ sorry dar.. Fuck” You whisper as you look at Daryl who is only looking at you with love and concern. “Do not be fuckin sorry sweetheart you can’t help it” He whispers as he kisses you on the temple so tenderly and softly you wonder if it’s even real. 

Daryl lies to you both back down again. You’re now enveloped in his arms, your safe space. Daryl rubs his hand up and down your back slowly and softly as he whispers sweet words to you so soft and delicate you can only make out a few soft “it’s okay… safe now… I ain't ever gonna let anyone hurt you”. As you lie in his arms you can’t help but feel an immense amount of guilt for waking him up and carrying on. “Daryl-” You start to whisper. 

Daryl, wonderful but annoying man he is cuts you off with a soft but gruff “Don’t even think about apologising it ain’t your fault” and that's the last thing you hear before you start to slowly drift back into sleep as you are so utterly exhausted.

[velvetlilith777]

Cedar Smoke

Sebastian x Reader

Author's Note: Another practice drabble! This one was loosely inspired by a plot post I saw on tik tok that was so cute it stayed in my head rent free. Also wrote this one gender neutral and I think I did pretty okay if that's chill to say.

Synopsis: Neither you or Sebastian sleep well, so you decide to spend the nights hanging out together since there's nothing better to do. It's just a way to kill time, right?

CW: Fluff mostly!!! They aren't in a relationship. Swearing bc it's a Seb fic so of course there is. Mentions and descriptions of anxiety and mental health problems. Oh also cigarettes because - Sebastian <3

Word Count: 2k

Tick. Tick. Tick.

It was enough to drive a person mad. An incessant reminder of every second you weren't resting.

You were tired, of course you were. Operating a successful farm and carrying the needs of a small community on your back wasn't for the weak. Every part of your body and mind ached for rest at the end of every day.

Each night followed the same routine: get home, bond with your dog, eat dinner, shower and head to bed. At the end of it, you always felt like you'd be able to fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. However, when your head would finally lay and you'd begin to drift off, the last second before the sweet release of your dreams was met with what felt like a hammer to your chest. Knocking the wind out of you, you'd shoot upright upon being greeted by your old friend, anxiety. It wasn't the normal kind you dealt with on a daily basis, manageable with medication and some methods Harvey had taken the time to teach you. It was much worse and much heavier in your body. You weren't sure what the root cause was, just that it had been happening every night for months now matter what you changed or how you tried to cope.

You'd been lying there for hours, the clock finally hitting your last nerve. Sighing, you rolled over in search of your phone, finding it shoved under your pillow from when you gave up on a video or a game helping you calm down. The screen illuminated far too bright as you turned it on. Noticing you had a text notification from 20 minutes ago, you already knew who was trying to reach you at such an hour.

Seb: sleeping?

Of course he wasn't either. Though he would never fully share what was on his mind, you knew similar circumstances kept him awake well past most people too.

nope 🙃

Seb: same. wanna chill again?

yeah, you can come over here if you want

Seb: cool, be there soon

Standing up from your bed, you started fumbling around in the dark looking for something to change into instead of your pajama shirt. Settling on a sweatshirt, you threw it on and left your pajama pants for your bottoms before remembering that everything would've been easier if you'd just turned a light on. You really weren't sure how you were able to get about your day anymore with the effects of sleep deprivation in full swing.

The first time the two of you had spent the night in each other's company was accompanied by a symphony of frogs surrounding the lake by his house. The familiar pang of nighttime anxiety pushing you to search for any solution, you'd taken a walk under the stars to try and work through the tightness in your chest when you stumbled upon him smoking in search of similar relief. Since that night when you'd both realized you had similar luck around sleep, spending the dark hours together had become common, happening most nights of the week.

Padding out to your living room, you turned a single lamp on and plopped down on your couch while you waited for Sebastian to arrive. You began to scroll through instagram to pass the time, only making it through a handful of posts before you heard a knock on your door.

"It's open!" A half shout left your throat.

Creaks filled your ears as the programmer swung the door open letting himself in. A smile crept across his lips as a greeting.

"Hey, are you cold?" His nose was covered in a flush of red, reflecting the chill beginning to settle in for the upcoming season.

"Always. We can start a fire?" Your head tilted towards the stone fireplace his mother had carefully installed in your home during your last renovation.

"Thank god, it's fucking freezing out there" he let out a low chuckle while shutting the cabin door.

"I can make us some coffee too? Decaf, though, unless you want to commit to this whole 'awake when we shouldn't be' thing?" You poked, hopping up and striding towards the mug cabinet in your kitchen.

Sebastian glanced up from the fireplace where he'd already achieved a successful kindle over to where you had sat two of your favorite mugs. "Decaf is fine, but only because we should be sleeping. Don't give me that shit during the day."

The two of you locked eyes, the emo giving you a snarky side smile.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

With your mugs full of your shared favorite beverage, you returned to your spot on the sofa and pulled out the giant, chunky blanket Emily had knit for you last Feast of the Winter Star. Sebastian followed not long after, the fireplace crackling with the sounds of warmth.

"What's the vibe for tonight?" Your usual cheery tone coated your words even at this hour.

"Mmhm, we could start The Witcher over again? It's been awhile." Fabric slid across your legs as he tugged the blanket lightly to join you in bundling up.

"I'll never say no long-haired Henry Cavill!"

Taking a swig of his coffee, he snorted a laugh and shook his head at your thirst. You met his gaze with a giggle, reaching for the remote on the table beside him. The familiar dum dum of the Netflix intro sound filled your living room as you flipped on the series you'd rewatched a dozen times now.

Feeling a familiar cramp start up in your thighs from the hours of labor you put into your work each week, you decided you hadn't picked the most comfortable position to rest in having sat cross legged on the couch. Sebastian caught you wincing out of the corner of his eye as you adjusted your legs for any alleviation from how taught your muscles had become.

"You okay?" It came out almost a whisper, so quiet you weren't sure if he meant to ask at all.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Just sore from the farm. Sitting like this isn't helping either" a light laugh followed your words as you attempted to deflect from how unpleasant your pain had actually become.

He studied your face for a moment, your eyebrows had begun to furrow at the burn throughout your body while you continued to squirm in search of comfort. How you had overworked yourself to this point of exhaustion and still were wide awake with him he both did and did not understand. You should be passed out by now, but mental health was a bitch that took no prisoners, he knew that well.

"Would it help if you laid down?"

Shaking your head while giving him a tired smile, you returned "no, I can't watch the show from my room and I can't sleep either, remember?"

"No, on me" the emo blurted out so quickly he didn't realize how timid he should've been. "I meant, would it help if you laid on me. Out here."

Your mouth parted in shock briefly before finding the wit to respond. "Oh no, I really wouldn't want to do that to you I'll be f-"

"I don't mind. Promise" his face was straight aside from the worry lines on his forehead, giving away his genuine concern for you as he cut you off.

"Here." He gently helped you stand up before positioning himself horizontally on the cushions, resting his head on the arm. Once he had settled, his hand tapped against his chest beckoning you to him.

"Okay, fine, but this is better for your neck," you sighed a small laugh before tossing a throw pillow at his face. As you moved to crawl on top of him, he adjusted the pillow behind his head and moved to bring the blanket back over the both of you.

Stretching out, it was as if your body began to melt into his. Scent overwhelmed you in the best way. The air smelt of cedar from the fire, while the smell of tobacco smoke lingered on his hoodie. You weren't sure what cologne he wore, but something spicy and warm enveloped your head. Beams of light danced on the walls as the fire flickered around. Moment by moment, the ache in your chest grew lighter.

Geralt and Stregobor had just begun speaking in the illusion of the mage's tower when your eyes started to flutter shut. Sebastian's heartbeat thumping in your ear with the comfort of your favorite show in the other was enough to finish lulling you off with the anxiety now at bay. Once you allowed yourself to surrender to the exhaustion that was now your biggest worry, waking you up wouldn't be possible until morning.

"Want to watch the next one?" Sebastian quizzed as episode one came to a close.

Silence. Not even a twinge of movement left your body. He pushed your hair out of your face while he peered down at you in hopes of getting your attention. Greeted with the most peaceful he'd seen your face in months, the reality of the situation washed over him. You actually fell asleep. The corners of his mouth crept upward, relief brought to his mind that one of you was able to rest after all.

Seb pressed play on the next episode. Checking the time, he decided he'd put you to bed after this one and head home. His thumb mindlessly rubbed circles on your back and in your hair. Tension grew on the tv, but he found himself yawning when he should've been paying the most attention. Shit. He was about to fall asleep too. Realizing he wouldn't be able to make it through the rest of the hour, a wave of guilt hit him - he wanted to stay. Your body felt like the kindest weighted blanket on his own. The smells of amber and vanilla from your shampoo had been filling his nose as he played with your hair. His brain was quiet, and he couldn't remember the last time it was.

No. It would be wrong to overstay his welcome just because both of you had found peace in this moment. You weren't awake and able to ask him to stay and he wouldn't let himself cross any unspoken boundaries you may have had.

His elbows found the bottom cushions. He began to push both of you up in an effort to carry you to bed. As he slowly started moving, so did your head. Your arms wrapped around little tighter around his back. He froze, hearing you grumble something incoherent while your eyebrows furrowed together. Fuck. He wasn't sure how to get out from under you and keep you asleep.

Pulling an arm out from under him, he began to stroke your hair again.

"Hey, I need to get you to bed" he cooed.

You lightly shook your head, your brows still knit together. You muttered a small no along with it, but it was quiet enough to leave room for doubt.

He wasn't sure what to do. If he kept going, you were bound to wake up fully. You weren't actually awake enough to make a sound decision, but the small gestures you did manage made it seem like you wanted him to stay right there and stop moving. It went against everything in his moral code to stay without welcome, and he didn't want to put your friendship at risk. But god, his brain was calm and you were so comforting.

"Fuck it" he whispered to himself. If this was the wrong decision, he would gladly pay the price in the morning. His head met the pillow you'd given him as he wrapped his arms back around you. He swore he saw a smile tug at the corners of your lips in response. Hitting play on the show again, he let the quiet of his mind and the serenity of the moment soothe him away.

For the first time in years, he got a full night's worth of rest in your company.

[meimi-haneoka]

Shocking: English edition of Clear Card volume 15

I'm very pleased to inform you guys that a friend showed me some pages from the English edition of volume 15 of Clear Card (which has just been released) and they fixed a whole lot of translation mistakes I had pointed out when the relative chapters came out in simulpub!!

(all images courtesy of Sarah/Rainbowbee - reposted with permission)

I saw around 20 pages and I was so happy to see not only the fixed translations, but also some lines rephrased in a better way to explain things more properly.

The one above made me emotional because in that correctly translated "that makes me so happy to hear!" there's the emotional load of an underlying "I have no idea how my daughter will look like once grown up and I'll never live enough to find out, so at least learning that from you makes me happy" that a "thank you!" just didn't convey (and then again, it was just incorrect).

Like, seriously, they even rephrased what Lilie said as to make more clear what Kaito's goal has been the whole time, and it conveys better that the lie he told Momo was for a good cause (because he knew she was a kind creature, he didn't want her to grow worried and try to stop him).

Finally they have mentioned Lilie's ring was a price she paid to save everyone's derriere!!!

Akiho was not supposed to remember about Momo, and that's been correctly restored here.

This is the volume where Lilie and Momo explained to Sakura part of what was happening to her, included some concepts difficult to understand, and it was pivotal they nailed it right.

This hasn't been the case with the past releases (the mistakes of the simulpub stayed most of the time, and some lines that were changed only ended up being more wrong), so I wasn't really hopeful or anything, but today they shocked me in a positive way.

I remind you that in this volume there are 2/3 pages that have been partially redrawn by CLAMP (with changed dialogues) in the part where Lilie talks, so I warmly suggest you to get it and check them out when you have the opportunity.

Now, I can't help but wonder if the japanese side got any hand in this sudden care for the translation. If the long months between releases (english volume 16 will only come in March 2025 despite the japanese one has been out since April of this year) is because Japan wants to supervise the translation. After all, Ohkawa did say in that famous Space (where they mentioned being aware of the translation mistakes) that she would've liked to try talking about this issue with the translation team.

And I can't help but also think about what we could've had if they had just put this amount of care from the beginning.

If they had proofread from the start. If they had translated all the words in a sentence and not lost some along the way.

If they hadn't stubbornly chosen to phrase everything regarding a certain character in a malicious way.

I'm crossing my fingers that Volume 16 will get the same amount of care, if not more. 🤞

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Part 3

Danny would guess they'd gone about 20 miles by the time he'd stopped. They were well within Siren Territory by then, not that that was any comfort, considering the source of most of the trouble in the last six months, but distance was distance. Thankfully, none of his usual enemies bothered to rear their heads, likely licking their wounds from their last encounters.

In a tiny cave blocked off by kelp and coral, Danny leaned back against a wall and caught his breath. Damian had been silent for most of the swim, which was a small blessing. It let Danny think; think about what happens next. The tiny siren loosened himself from Danny's arms, and did a few cursory flaps of his fins.

"Where have you been taking me?" Damian mumbled.

"Around. Can't exactly double back to Amity right now." He hoped Bruce Wayne was an accepting man. He'd adopted kids from all manner of backrounds, but that didn''t help the same nagging uncertainty that plagued him whenever he thought about his own parents. If he'd just doomed Damian to a life without his father, he didn't know if he could live with himself.

Damian floated to the other side of the cave, his eyes on Danny the whole time, arms crossed in a scowling expression.

"And then?"

"I don't know. I give you back to your dad? I wasn't exactly planning out every step earlier."

"Then what were you thinking?" Damian's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Do you suggest I return to the public, to school looking like this? I can hardly breathe over water, let alone walk."

"I don't know! I just..." Danny poked his finger webbing. "I've been doing this for six months. And the whole time, even if it was hard and painful, I never lost someone. No one ever, well." Danny swallowed thickly.

Damian huffed. "You are a poor excuse of a hero."

"I failed you, there's no denying it. I was too late, and I let you drown. I'm sorry. There was no other way, I swear."

Danny looked up to Damian again, but the smaller boy looked away, his expression unreadable. "Take me back."

Yeah, that wasp probably the best he could do for Damian now. Bruce Wayne was probably having the mother of all freakouts, and if Damian never wanted to see Danny again, then that was fine. He was sure the world's richest man would be able to accommodate Damian's needs just fine. Rich people were weird like that.

It took some begrudging glares, but Damian at least allowed Danny to take his hand and use his much better swimming skills, but Damian didn't look very happy about it. Then again, today was probably the worst day in the kid's life.

They were approaching the island at rapid pace, its lustrous palm trees swaying in the distance, a promise of stability, and safety at last.

Motors hummed in the water. Danny's blood froze. Immediately he submerged and ducked near the sea floor.

"What is this delay for? Let me see." Damian pushed against Danny's hand, but the older boy kept firm.

"Patrol boats. Dozens of them. And they're all on high alert. And they've got Fenton tech. Shit."

"Can't you swim past them?"

Danny sputtered. What was this kid thinking? He wasn't some god of the sea! "I can't fight thirty boats by myself! They're gonna skewer us both!"

"What about your camouflage?"

"That would've worked a couple months ago, but these guys have got Fenton Sonars."

Damian did a double take. "The Fentons? You mean the town crackpots?"

Ouch, his parents were a little obsessed, but they definitely weren't crazy. Not anymore. "The town siren hunters. And yeah maybe Jack's not great at hunting, but their inventions work. I've got a scar or two to prove it."

"My father is on that island." Damian growled. "You have to do something."

"But it's not your dad on those boats, is it?" Danny furrowed his brow. "Those guys don't see you as human, or even sentient. They think you're another monster to be studied."

"No thanks to you." Damian challenged.

Danny growled back. "I was saving you! And now you wanna be un-saved?"

They glared into each other's eyes. Danny should really feel bad about squaring up to this literal child, but man was he difficult not to get annoyed at. Deep breaths, Danny, deep breaths. This was going to be more difficult than he imagined.

Damian glared at Phantom, the supposed siren superhero of Amity Park. He wanted to scream, to yell and to cut something open, preferably Phantom, if he weren't his only ticket home, and if only he had his weapons on him.

Such a loss of composure would be beneath him, so he remained stubbornly defiant.

As much as he wished for it not to be the case, Phantom was in all likelihood correct. This horrid, horrid body was new to him. Dozens, no, hundreds of foreign sensations flared from every part of his person, each impulse sending his body wobbling in new, unexpected directions. He would never get through the blockade on his own, which killed half of his initial plans. These blasted sonars killed the other half.

Damian grit his teeth. "Fine." He said, despite the embarrassment welling up at having to admit defeat. "But this conversation is not over."

"I bet." Phantom said, the infuriating cur.

By Damian's estimates, it should have been around midnight when Phantom stopped. They took refuge underneath a larger cave, filled with sparse furniture, a rug and some tables, with dark green curtains over the entrance. Small glowing jellyfish provided faint light. It seemed like the hopelessly domestic scene Jonathan would enjoy.

Damian slithered (He didn't crawl or shuffle. He was too dignified) into the corner of the cave, where he assumed a defensive position and poured all his seething hatred into glaring at Phantom.

"Welcome to Casa de Phantom! Or at least one of them. I've got a couple hideouts here and there. I'd say 'make yourself at home,' but I guess you beat me to the punch." Phantom said with a laugh. How dare he!

Damian hissed. "Tt. I am taking advantage of the opportunity for respite while taking necessary precaution against a rogue element."

"A rogue element? I don't know if you're serious or just pulling my tailfin."

"Do not test me, Phantom."

"Right. Look, I'm gonna go get us some food, so just stay put or something or other. I won't be long and then we can talk about where we go next. Oh, and don't touch anything!"

Damian growled at him again for good measure. Phantom exited the cave in short order, leaving Damian with ample opportunity for investigation. He wouldn't be a Robin if he didn't seize this opportunity.

Damian uncoiled himself and pulled his body along the soft sand. The grains tickled and pricked at his scales. The tables held a number of different gadgets and tools. Human clothes like t-shirts, a few vests and belts were scattered around. The bench held various strange devices, like a glowing blue lipstick, and a thermos of all things. Damian knocked on the thermos, the clanging sound confirming it was hollow. The most incriminating detail of all, however, was the distinctive F logo branded onto the side of each and every device.

How does a siren with no legs acquire so many inventions from siren hunters? He supposes they really are better siren hunting inventors than proper fighters. It was a miracle Jack Fenton hadn't drowned by now, considering how he conducted himself in a fight.

The thermos was lightweight, its metal settling gently against his webbed hands. Videos of Phantom's exploits have been scarce, and grainy, showing very few useable details. Various buttons and lights adorned the thermos, showing it was no ordinary soup holder.

Damian popped the cap off. The thermos' interior contained a circular mechanism of some kind. "What in the world?" Surely this could not be a weapon. The cylindrical design and lack of handholds would have made it too unwieldy. The kickback from any shot would throw off the wielder's aim every time. As Damian peered and tried to get a closer look, his finger slipped on one of the buttons. Blast.

The thermos whined. Its interior glowed blindingly bright. Before Damian could react, a blue beam engulfed his body. Damian felt his body warp and compress into a tiny space, before his vision went dark.

Damian awoke, vision blurry and head pounding. Phantom's smug face floated above him.

"And that's why I told you not to touch anything."

Damian shook off the grogginess and sat up, almost colliding with Phantom's face. "What manner of trap was that? Were you attempting to disfigure me once again for your sick pleasure?! En garde!"

Damian was no good swimmer in this form, but it was easy to launch himself off the floor and into Phantom. Phantom, for his part, didn't sit idly like the last time. He raised his arm and blocked off Damian's access to his neck, a shame, but that did not stop Damian sinking his teeth into Phantom's flesh.

That is, if he could actually penetrate his skin.

Damian blinked in shock. Sirens were supposed to have razor sharp teeth. He'd seen those fangs in Phantom's own mouth. He should be drawing blood right now, but as he was he was barely denting Phantom's scales.

Phantom laughed, as if it just tickled. "Dude, I literally let you out of the thermos. It's not a 'trAP to diSFiguRe yOu fOR mY sIcK PleaSuRe,' it's just a containment device for sirens. Also can you stop that please, it tickles."

Damian flung himself off of Phantom's arm, retreating back into his corner. "How have I not drawn blood?! This is madness!" Damian sucked in breaths through his gills, an endlessly foreign and vulnerating sensation. "The only useful thing about this body was supposed to be its natural offensive capabilities, yet it is unable to achieve even that!"

"Siren kids just have blunter claws and teeth. Youngblood's the same."

"Do not call me a child!"

"Your claws will grow in over time, it's just the nature of things."

"You say that as if you will not return me to my true human form."

Phantom shifted uncomfortably.

Damian pressed. "Well?"

"Yeah about that..."

"Do not tell me you have no way to reverse it!"

Phantom's look of guilt sealed it. Damian's heart sank. Goodbye Robin, goodbye previous life. All his hard work and sacrifice for naught. Phantom had saved him from death by drowning, but suddenly Damian felt as if he were better off dead anyway.

Tears built up. What was happening to him? He hadn't cried since he was five years old, a show of weakness that grandfather had beaten out of him. Then again, he was really one year old back then, artificially grown to a competent age.

"H-hey, d-don't cry or anything, I was just-"

"I am not crying!" Damian shouted. He turned away from Phantom and stuffed his face into his tail, praying somehow the tears would go away on their own. He was Damian Wayne, son of Batman and daughter of Talia Al Ghul, there was no such thing as crying for him, none at all. There had been nothing, absolutely nothing he had been unable to overcome. He was going to overcome this, no matter what. These things he knew.

Why had this feeling not abated?

There had to be a solution, there just had to be. There had to be some kind of surgery that could split his tail into legs again. No that was absurd, what kind of quack surgeon can completely alter someone's species? Perhaps magic instead? Normally he hated the involvement of magic, but if it was the only way. Perhaps Zatara could assist, or he could pawn something off to that Constantine. But nothing ever good happened from associating with that man. Or maybe Aquaman would have a solution, someone well versed in oceanic magic, except Aquaman's claim of being king of the ocean was doubtful considering the siren attacks that lead him and Father to this forsaken resort town in the first place. What if... What if....

Damian felt lightheaded.

A weight pressed on Damian's body. Warm scales against his own, their individual texture segmented, but smooth, like a kind of weighted blanket. A hand laid on his shoulder. Damian remembered where he was, remembered to perform the mental exercises Father had taught him.

Slowly, his breathing evened out. His fins steadied into a gentle lull. Damian's eyelids felt heavy. His chest vibrated in a strange rhythm he couldn't place...

Suddenly the weight disappeared, and Damian blinked himself awake. Phantom retreated a sociable distance away, looking sheepish.

"Sorry, about touching you without your consent, I just saw you were hyperventilating, and I remembered a few classes about this stuff, and I watched that film too, Puss in Boots 2, it was great and-"

"Do sirens watch human media often?" Damian said. He gripped his tail, something solid to keep him anchored.

Phantom seemed to freeze for a moment. "Uhm well, maybe they do! just because we're sirens doesn't mean we're uncultured!"

Damian would have loved to pick this information apart, scan it for weaknesses until he knew this person in and out, but at this moment, he simply sat and let it settle underneath the shame of expressing similar, or even more weakness.

"Speak of this to anyone, and I will have your head."

"Yeah that would be a dick move, so if I ever did that, feel free to take it."

[thecurioustale]

The "Middle West"

I was recently watching Trump speak (not something I typically do 🤢), and the most interesting thing he said had nothing to do with anything he was actually talking about: It was that he used the term Middle West to refer to that generally north-central part of the United States, centered on the Mississippi River, that is neither the South nor the Northeast (nor the Mid-Atlantic, but that's really just a subcategory of the Northeast that Northeasterns use to not get lumped in with each other).

We all know it today as the Midwest. But in times past it was much more commonly known as the Middle West.

(Tangent: It is also one of many geographical region-name reminders of our national East Coast beginnings, as America has like six different kinds of "West": the Midwest, the Southwest, the (Pacific) Northwest, the Mountain West / Interior West, the West Coast / Pacific West—and that's not counting the deprecated terms (such as "Far West," i.e. distinguished from the Midwest) or the old Northwest (which would've referred to places like Ohio and (what we know as) West Virginia)!)

Over the course of the 20th century, "Midwest" became an increasingly common form of the term, eventually overtaking "Middle West" in popularity and, by our lifetimes, completely replacing it. The only people who still use "Middle West" today are very old. I'm only aware of the term's existence because I'm a fan of midcentury media and if you go watch (for example) old Dragnet episodes from the 1950s you'll hear the term used.

I was looking at the Google Ngram Viewer to get a sense of the relative usage frequencies of these terms, and I noticed something interesting: Not only has "Middle West" been driven almost extinct from active usage, but "Midwest" itself has also declined precipitously in the 21st century. People today are not calling the Midwest the "Midwest," at least not with the frequency and relevancy they once did. I was curious if this was another permutation of the usage, so I also looked up "Midwestern" (which I included in the link above), thinking that maybe people nowadays are calling it the clunkier "the Midwestern states" / "the Midwestern US," but the adjectival has declined in step with "Midwest." It really does seem to be that people are just using this geographical category less often.

Perhaps unsurprisingly: the sociopolitical cohesiveness of the Midwest has significantly diminished over time. I think most Midwesterners would still recognize and affiliate with the term if you applied it of them to their faces, but increasingly I think many of them do not think of it in their daily lives as a personal or cultural identifier. Which has many fascinating implications that I'm not going to get into.

(Another Tangent: I feel like I've talked about specifically this "Middle West / Midwest" thing on Tumblr before, but I feel that way about half of everything because after all I've been writing down my thoughts for over 20 years and I've been having thoughts for considerably longer than that, and it's often not clear to me what I've talked about publicly and where.)

Anyway, this entire post is really just me scratching the itch of verbal brain noise about the orange guy using a term in a public address that I never hear people use in the present day. A little piece of lost language, hearkening back to a completely different era and world.

[youremyheaven]

on the topic of malefics and sensuality, i'm martian and unsurprisingly celibate. but one thing that i think is unique to martian celibacy is hating men and let me tell you... i sure do 😭 i've had a few experiences as a teen that were like okay at best but as i've gotten older i find men so disgusting and stupid and quite frankly sinister that i just cannot bring myself to even flirt with them. i think there probably is a man out there who won't make me feel this way (venusian munch man if you can hear me please save me) but in the meantime me and my misandrist martian friends (i'm like a mars magnet) are gonna be locked UP

and also, i have mrigashira moon and i think that mrigashira specifically makes you fantasize about romance/sex a lot but not wanting to actually do it. my mrig rising and venus friend feels the same way! we both spent our teen years on wattpad 24/7 😭 mrigs love escapism and fantasy!

omg BBG you spilled 💅🏼

I've noticed the man hating tendency with many Martian women lmaooo, everytime I hear it, I do feel a bit shook ngl, it's like Saturn men hating women

Venusian man save me is so realllll 😩😩😭🤣

Honorable mention for Jupiter men (esp Vishaka) they're the sweetest guys except they're kinda sexless (except Vishaka) they're romantic but not sexual??? If that makes sense??

My friend dated a Vishaka Moon man for a year and he apparently never ever touched her 😭😭😭and she thought it was because he found her unappealing lmao (dating within the Indian context means a man who doesn't touch before marriage is a good man etc so she felt too "slutty" to ask him for anything bc most men are sleazy and would've tried to pull something and him not doing so meant he was a decent guy and she was the problem 💀🤡)

I'd say Venus & Jupiter men are the ones who know how to treat women right 😌😉 (obviously how evolved they're as individuals also matter, there are sex addicted Venusians and party everyday, constant thrill chasing Jupitereans)

Lmaoo the Mrigashira fantasizing about sex and never actually wanting to do the deed is so true. My 60yr old aunt (Mrigashira Moon) has been separated from her husband for like 20 years (and she's thrived as a girlboss ever since) and she often talks about finding a handsome man etc 😌😏🤤 for her company but when my dad says "okay let's try matrimonial sites and find a guy for you 😌🫶🏼" she's like "🤮🤢🤢EWWW"

A gang of Martian misandrists is so funny 😭🤣😳😶‍🌫️💀🤣😭 I feel like Martian women are so unimpressed with me bc I seem like a deranged lover girl to them lmao,, my friend in college had Mars in Mrigashira atmakaraka and she literally acted like my mom and shooed away any man who approached me (since many of them were creepy, I was grateful for it ngl) but the WAYYY she spoke about guys always felt a bit unhinged to me like ??? it can't be normal to walk around with this much rage and angst ??? And I always tried to gauge if there was something in her past that made her this way 😔😶‍🌫️😶 but girlie never dated, never had a crush, never went near a man, was never assaulted/harassed/abused by men etc so I figured it must just be a hating Indian men thing bc who can blame her for that 😔🤡💀she did however feel like her dad was a patriarch with a misogyny issue but that's just every brown dad tbh :/// everytime I told her about a crush or about something some guy told me 🤪😜, she'd start the character assassination on him and make him sound like the worst person to have ever lived ,, and then lowkey make snide remarks that made me feel stupid for having my moment of fun😔like damn ma chill outtttt, I'm not having his babies!!!! We had a very homoerotic friendship so I feel like there's that as well 😬😶‍🌫️😬

[yurtb0y]

GNAWING ON THAT OC GIVE ME INFORMATION

YESYES OKAY!!! *inhale* SO.

(this all might change later since he's still pretty new)

General info I guess (haven't fleshed out his backstory much yet.)

was a Catholic priest before the AM takeover (obvis)

he's roughly in his mid/late 30's- early 40's

he doesn't have a name yet because I'm stupid.

He lived in the United States when AM attacked. He was born in Poland and moved to the US in his mid 20's. (probably someplace like Texas or Utah... )

probably gay or in some way queer but DEEPLY in denial. (also in my mind IHNMAIMS takes place in the 60s/70s somewhere around that time so like... y'know... also makes room for the religious guilt plotline.)

Kinda stopped believing in god after long enough in AM's complex because like really who wouldn't. throwback to Ted's entire spiel about AM being god y'know the one.( Ik that wasn't meant litterally but the sentiment still works.)

As for his relationship with the other survivors and his torture.

Ellen- He'd most likely be less harsh on her and not really like.... *ahem*. use her. He'd always been a pretty compassionate man he was never like the freaky creep kind of priest/pastor. He can most likely sympathize with her past a bit as well- or atleast as much of it as she's willing to share which I imagine isn't much.

Nimdok- This mf is Polish. He does not like Nimdok. (If we're talking game Nimdok which is what I'm basing this... AU, I guess? off of.) I don't think they'd actively beef but they'd prolly just try to avoid eachother within the group. In terms of book Nimdok I think there's a slight possibility they could've gotten along. Honestly for Nimdok like... (Idr if where I saw this I think it was from a fic somewhere) but I like the idea that he wasn't actually a n*zi but since it's mentioned his memory is fucked AM just convinced him and the others he was so pin them against him and fuck with him some more. idk man allied mastercomputer behaviour. It also makes me dread thinking about him a little less.

Gorrister- Surprisingly, I think they'd get along. Even if they don't share a religion I think they'd find solace in confiding their guilts in eachother, esp with Gorrister's guilt over what happened with Glynis-- also since it's mentioned in the book Gorrister used to be an activist (which I think is more interesting than his trucker backstory from the game so I'm sticking with the activist storyline.) I feel like he's the least likely to be quite as homophobic as the others (cause let's be real here.) so maybe. MAYBE. He'd eventually try talking about some of those buried up feelings with Gorrister. Unlikely though. Overall I think they could be the closest thing to friends I can imagine with their situation.

Benny- I think they could've gotten along pre-monkey'd, (For Benny I like to combine his book and game backstory in my mind so tldr he was a professor and was later fired when it was discovered he was gay and then the enlisted in the military and killed 3 people. boom.) I think Priest oc would've respected them but after the monkey moment I feel like he'd kinda treat him like the family dog just as the other survivors do.

Ted- Ohhh boy. I have some words I'm not sure I'm allowed to use on Tumblr. They'd either get along or beef or some secret third evil and more sinister thing. Toxic without the yaoi. They make eachother worse. I need to map my thoughts out better before I write anything about them out. giggles but not in a good way.

wow I really used this as an excuse to dump about my ideas for the other survivors too huh.

Whilst I haven't sat down to ponder how AM would fuck with him I do know I wanna play off the theme of guilt somehow. I can imagine him being ripped apart by wolves for some reason that's just been like stuck in my head the whole time I've been typing all this out. Also maybe almost something with sacrificial themes? I'm kinda thinking about how Benny's part in the game ends for inspo on that it's hitting the right vibe. Please don't cancel me I'm Polish and all my family is Catholic.

Annon I hoped you liked reading this cause I had fun writing it. Also here he is again for anyone who's seeing this but didn't see the og post.

also I'm SO open to name suggestions for this freak cause I've got NOTHING.

[amayaonly1]

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 20

About: Eminem and Genji find themselves sharing a rare moment of quiet reflection in the former's hometown, opening up about their past struggles and the places that shaped them. Over a late-night diner meal, their connection deepens, revealing an unspoken understanding between them. As the evening comes to a close, the weight of industry expectations lingers, leaving Eminem to question just how much control he really has over who he lets in.

"Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey" Chapter List: Verse 1 | Verse 2 | Verse 3 | Verse 4 | Verse 5 | Verse 6 | Verse 7 | Verse 8 | Verse 9 | Verse 10 | Verse 11 | Verse 12 | Verse 13 | Verse 14 | Verse 15 | Verse 16 | Verse 17 | Verse 18 | Verse 19 | Verse 20 | Verse 21 | Verse 22 | Verse 23 | Verse 24 | Verse 25 | Verse 26 | Verse 27

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

"You ever just stop and look at this city?"

Standing near the rail overlooking the Detroit River, Eminem stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets. The night pressed in around them, city lights reflecting off the dark water. The air smelled like the river — or rather, like a city that never fully slept.

Beside him, Genji tilted her head slightly. "Not like this."

Eminem exhaled through his nose. He'd spent his whole life trying to survive this place. Now here he was, standing still and admiring it for once. How strangely hypocritical.

"This is where we used to come when we had nowhere else to go," he said after a moment. "Me, Proof, the guys... Back before I had anything. We'd just post up here, talk shit, try to figure out what the fuck we were gonna do with our lives." His jaw tensed slightly. "Didn't think I'd ever make it out."

Genji didn't say anything right away, which he appreciated. Most people would've filled the silence with some forced reassurance: "But look at you now" or "You proved them all wrong". He didn't need that. He already knew.

Instead, she just leaned on the railing beside him. "What made you keep going?"

Eminem exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "I dunno. Stubborn as hell, I guess. I hated feeling like I wasn't shit." His lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "And I was broke as fuck. That helped."

That got a small laugh out of her.

He glanced at her, observing how the city lights softened against her skin and the wind barely stirred her hair. She was always so damn composed, like she could just exist at any moment without trying to control it.

But he wasn't like that. His mind never shut up. Even now, part of him was analyzing the fact that they were here together, that this wasn't just some night; it was something. He just didn't know what the hell to call it yet.

"You ever feel like that?" he asked. "Like no matter what you do, it's not enough?"

Genji was quiet for a beat. "All the time," she finally whispered. She kept her gaze on the river, fingers resting loosely on the metal rail. "I never really got to stop and think about it, though." She let out a small breath, almost like a laugh. "Maybe that's why I don't look at cities like this."

Eminem frowned slightly. "What do you mean?”

She was quiet for a moment, like she was weighing her words. Then, without looking at him, she said, "I grew up in San'ya. It's not the kind of place you admire from a distance."

The name didn't register. He knew Tokyo had rough spots, every big city did, but he'd never heard of San'ya. "Where's that?"

Genji tilted her head slightly, as if debating how to explain it. "It's... the place Japan pretends doesn't exist." She tapped a finger against the railing. "It used to be where day labourers lived. Men who built the city but never got a place in it. By the time I was born, it was full of the ones who didn't make it. Alcoholics. Homeless. People who'd given up or been forgotten. No one wanted to admit the slums were still there, so they just stopped putting it on maps." Her fingers curled slightly against the metal. "I didn't think about making it out... I just kept moving. If I stopped, or even if I let myself feel like it wasn't enough, it would've swallowed me whole."

He absorbed that, the weight of it settling in his chest. Detroit had its own places like that: neighbourhoods people avoided, and streets that felt like dead ends in more ways than one. But at least they were acknowledged. The thought of a whole area being erased as if it hadn't existed hit differently.

Genji exhaled softly. "I did everything I could." She hesitated, then added, "Stopped school after elementary, worked whatever jobs I could find, travelled at least an hour back and forth to run with the underground rap scene in Shibuya when I was thirteen. Didn't matter what it was, as long as it meant papa wouldn't be stuck in that place forever."

Eminem turned his head slightly, watching her. She didn't say it with pride or bitterness; just fact. It was as if something had to be done, and she had done it, no questions asked.

"You were just a kid," he muttered.

Genji gave a small shrug. "So were you."

He didn't know what to say to that. It hit somewhere deep; a place he didn't usually let people in.

And that was when he realised it — He wanted her in.

Suddenly, a quiet rumble cut through the moment. Eminem needn't long to let the corner of his lips curl into a smirk. "That you?"

Genji, ever composed, simply exhaled through her nose. "It appears so."

That only made his smirk widen. "What? Too caught up in our deep, soul-baring conversation to eat beforehand?"

She glanced at him, expression unreadable except for the slight flicker of dry amusement in her eyes. "Something like that."

Eminem huffed out a laugh, pushing off the railing. "C'mon. I know a place."

The diner looked nothing special from the outside. It was just another old joint with a neon sign that had probably been flickering since the '80s. But stepping inside, it was like time hadn't touched it. Vinyl booths, the smell of frying bacon and coffee, a jukebox in the corner that nobody had used.

"You used to come here?" Genji asked, taking in the well-worn familiarity of the place.

"Used to work here." Eminem slid into a booth, nodding at the menu already waiting on the table. "Back before, y'know, when I was still trying to keep the lights on."

She didn't ask if he meant at home or in his career. Probably knew it was both.

A middle-aged waitress appeared at their table. Her sharp eye gave the impression that she wasn't the kind that put up with any bullshit. She did a quick once-over of him, eyes narrowing slightly before recognition clicked into place. "Well, damn. Look who's slumming it with us regular folks."

Eminem gave a lazy shrug. "Didn't feel like five-star dining tonight."

The waitress snorted. "Like you ever did." She turned to Genji, who had been quietly observing the exchange. "You new, or he finally convince someone to put up with him?"

Genji tilted her head slightly. "A bit of both, I suppose." The man sitting across shot her a look, but she just picked up the menu, completely unbothered.

The waitress laughed. "I like her. You want the usual?"

"Yeah." He nodded at Genji. "And whatever she wants."

She scanned the menu for a moment, then set it down. "I'll have the same." That earned her an approving nod before the waitress walked off.

Eminem leaned back, folding his arms. "You don't even know what I ordered."

"I assumed it was something you used to eat often." She met his gaze. "Or it meant something to you in some way."

He exhaled through his nose. "You always this sentimental about diner food?"

"Only when I'm hungry."

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. When was the last time he had such an interaction so easy? And for the first time in a long while, he wondered if this wasn't something he should keep trying to figure out, and that he just had to let it happen.

The food arrived, and they ate in comfortable silence. The occasional clink of silverware filled the space between them. Yet, it wasn't awkward. Halfway through his burger, Eminem found himself watching her. The way she took small, thoughtful bites, her shoulders relaxed, as if she was settling into the moment rather than just getting through it. Every so often, she let out a soft, almost inaudible hum, and a subtle nod of approval before taking another bite. It wasn't performative, as far as he observed. Just a quiet, unguarded habit. He wasn't sure if she even realised she did it.

When they finished, he leaned back against the booth, sipping his coffee. Genji cradled her cup of tea in both hands, fingers tapping absently against the glass mug in an unspoken rhythm. He was getting better at picking up on those. The world outside felt distant, muffled by the hum of old neon lights and the low murmur of conversation from the counter. For once, he wasn't thinking about what came next or what came before; just this.

Then something flickered in his peripheral vision. A quick movement just beyond the window.

His eyes flicked toward it, instincts sharpening. At first, it was nothing but parked cars and the glow of streetlights. Then, just as he was about to brush it off, a figure ducked behind a mailbox. Another one crouched low behind a bench.

The hell?

His shoulders tensed before recognition settled in.

Three familiar, not-so-subtle figures were peeking out from their various hiding spots. They seemed to be whispering to each other in hushed excitement, completely unaware of just how obvious they were being.

Eminem sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Unbelievable."

Genji tilted her head slightly. "What is?"

He hesitated. She hadn't noticed them yet, which was actually kind of impressive given how bad they were at this. He could probably get through the rest of the night without her realising, but then Hailie, in her infinite wisdom, decided to stand up and fake a casual stroll past the diner. Her not-so-stealthy glance through the window sealed it.

"My daughters are outside," he muttered, nodding toward the window. "Looks like they're having fun following us."

Genji blinked, then turned slightly to look. He tensed, waiting for her reaction. Amusement? Annoyance? Awkwardness?

Instead, her lips parted slightly in surprise before softening, her fingers still wrapped around her tea. "Oh."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She glanced back at him, then at the three girls ducking behind poor hiding spots. A light exhale escaped her nose. "They must be curious."

"Yeah, no shit," he grumbled, watching as Alaina pulled Whitney down behind a mailbox with the grace of a badly choreographed spy movie. "They ain't exactly the sneaky type."

Genji let out a quiet hum, the closest thing to a laugh she ever really made. But there was a kind of fondness in how she looked at them. "Would it make them feel better if we waved?" she asked.

"Nah, 'cuz they'd know I saw them, and I'd never hear the end of it when I get home."

She nodded, accepting this without further comment. And that was it. No teasing or awkwardness. But it threw him off more than he wanted to admit.

They finished dinner, and as they stepped out into the cold night air, Eminem instinctively glanced around. The street was mostly empty, just a few cars rolling by, headlights casting brief silver streaks over the pavement. The sky had that deep, endless stretch of black, the kind that made winter nights feel quieter than they really were. Still, he didn't trust the silence.

His daughters were out there somewhere, probably thinking they were blending into the scenery like secret agents. He sighed through his nose, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he subtly led Genji in the opposite direction of where he'd parked. She didn't question it. though. As she followed, her gaze flicked toward the streetlights, her breath visible in the cold.

"You're taking a different route," she observed.

He shot her a glance. "So?"

Her lips curled ever so slightly. "Your daughters must be persistent."

"You have no idea."

She let out a gentle exhale, one of those quiet laughs he was getting used to. He wasn't sure if she found his paranoia amusing or if she just liked the idea of his daughters caring enough to spy on him. Maybe both. Either way, she didn't seem put off by it. If anything, she almost looked charmed.

By the time they reached his car, he did one last glance over his shoulder. No movement. No not-so-stealthy figures peeking from behind trash cans.

Huh... Maybe they actually gave up.

The drive to her hotel was quiet, yet comfortable. The streetlights flickered past in long, golden streaks, the city moving at its own unbothered pace. He snuck a glance at Genji, who had her hands in her lap, fingers lightly pressed together, as if she were sorting through her thoughts in silence. She didn't fidget or ramble just to fill space. But for some reason, he found it hard to look away.

When he pulled up in front of her hotel, the engine hummed low between them. She didn't move to get out right away. Instead, she turned slightly, watching him the same way she did when he wasn't sure if she was reading him or just observing the moment.

He cleared his throat. "So, uh... guess I'll see you around."

She tilted her head slightly. "You sound unsure."

He scoffed. "Yeah, well, you never know. I might get banned from seeing you again."

She blinked, then hummed in understanding. "Paul?"

"...yeah..."

A beat of silence. Then came a soft, "Would that stop you?"

Something about the way she asked it caught him off guard. It wasn't teasing and challenging; she was curious like she genuinely wanted to know.

His grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel. "Dunno. I guess we'll find out."

She nodded, as if that answer was enough. But she hesitated before reaching for the door handle. "I enjoyed tonight," she said simply.

It wasn't a grand statement. But how genuine she said it settled in his chest before he could stop it.

He exhaled through his nose, nodding. "Yeah. Me too."

She stepped out, closing the door with a soft click. He watched as she disappeared into the hotel, his fingers still gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary.

"You're seeing her too often," he recalled Paul's words before Eminem left for dinner. His manager had made it a point to sit him down and give him a familiar talk, which started with logic and ended in a headache.

The rapper had rolled his eyes. "Didn't know there was a limit."

Paul crossed his arms. "You know what I'm talkin' about. The press, the fans, the industry; it's only a matter of time before people start asking questions. If they start digging into her past-"

"She ain't done shit wrong."

"Doesn't matter. You know how this works."

Eminem had clenched his jaw, biting back the immediate instinct to snap. He knew Paul wasn't saying it to be an asshole; he'd seen it all before. And sure, maybe there was truth to it. But that didn't mean he had to listen.

As he pulled into his driveway, he exhaled, feeling the weight of the evening settle over him. His conversation with Paul still lingered. He should be more careful, or even take his manager's advice for once. But when he thought about tonight, he knew it didn't matter. He wanted that ease, how he and Genji talked to each other like regular folks, and even that tenderness she held when she looked for the girls outside the diner; he craved that normalcy since he signed with Dre.

He made up his mind: he'd her again. Paul, the media, the industry, the fans; whoever the fuck else be damned.

The second the door clicked shut behind him, Whitney came sprinting from the living room, practically vibrating with energy.

"So?" she grinned up at him, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "How was your date?"

Eminem blinked. "Huh?"

Before he could finish, Hailie was already leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "That's what we're calling it now, right?"

He scowled. "It wasn't a date."

"Uh-huh," she said, unimpressed. "Then why do you look all thoughtful and stuff?"

"She seems cool," Alaina remarked, grabbing a water bottle off the counter like this was just casual conversation.

He paused mid-step, frowning. "What?"

"We like her," Whitney added brightly. "She doesn't seem, like, weirdly fake or anything."

Something in his chest twisted at that. His girls were good at reading people; too good, sometimes. They'd watched him crash and burn enough times to know when someone was playing a role or in it for the wrong reasons. They'd seen through every carefully curated smile, every empty promise disguised as something real.

And now, here they were, telling him they actually liked Genji. He wasn't sure what to do with that.

Hailie studied him, then her smirk widened. "Sooo... are you actually gonna make things exclusive with her, or are we just gonna pretend this whole dating thing isn't happening?"

He scowled. "You three got way too much time on your hands."

Whitney giggled. "That means he doesn't know what he's doing."

"I know what I'm doing," he shot back instinctively.

"Do you, though?" Hailie raised an eyebrow.

Eminem opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no good comeback for that.

Alaina stretched, smirking. "Well, we've done our part. The rest is on you."

Whitney gave a cheerful wave before following her sisters upstairs, leaving him standing there, more rattled than he had any right to be.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "This is gonna be a thing, isn't it?"

Somewhere upstairs, laughter erupted.

Yeah, this was definitely gonna be a thing.

[acaplaya-musings]

A random selection of old VoicePlay live performances

I had vaguely considered making separate posts for each of these, but eh, let's just throw em in together.

Want something to help entertain yourself while you wait for any new VoicePlay/Geoff content? Well here's a small selection of live show recordings that I stumbed across over the past month or two! I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

4:2:Five - Frankie Valli Four Seasons Medley

This one isn't technically VoicePlay - it's pre-VoicePlay! Aka the group under their former name, 4:2:Five. Apparently this was for some "Celebrity Cruises, CLIA award dinner" (just based on the first couple seconds of the video), all the way back in 2010! So we have Geoff, Layne, and Earl all looking very young (baby Geoff! 💜), and then they're also joined by former members Danny Alan and Ryan Reed (shoutout to one of the Patrons in the Discord server for identifying them for me!)

I knew every song here, and I loved both the singing and the bits of choreography, but the first time I watched this it took me an embarrassing amount of time to fully realize that "oh wait this isn't actually acapella" 😅😂

VoicePlay - Boy Band Medley (Acapella) (from 2013)

Last month (back in December) I happened to hear What Makes You Beautiful by 1D on the car radio. My first thought was "god this song must be over 10 years old now" (correct - it's 13 years old), but my second thought was thinking that VoicePlay would be great at covering the song. I said this in the Geoff's Patrons Discord server, and someone else was like "they have covered it", and of course I was like "link???"

I still think a cover of "What Makes You Beautiful" done by the current lineup now would be amazing (with either Omar or Anthony as the collaborator maybe?), but this was definitely fun as well! Honestly it's kinda fun to go into a medley like this, not knowing for sure what songs are gonna be used, and so you have like one or two seconds of uncertainty when a new song starts, and then it clicks and you're like "oh my goodness"

If you're reading this without watching the video and you're being like "what do you mean you weren't sure about the song lineup? Isn't it just more or less the same as their 2019 boy band medley?" Nope, there's only three songs here that also make it to their Boy Bands In 5 Minutes video (also the 1D song they replaced WMYB with, Best Song Ever, hadn't even been released yet when this live performance was done! As it came out in July 2013, while this was January 2013).

As I watched this video, I quickly realized that if I had somehow known about VoicePlay in this early era (and had been like 2 or 3 years older than what I actually was in 2013), Geoff wouldn't have been the one who would draw my eye the most… I would've been giving most of my attention to Tony 😅 (what can I say - he can dance and he looks great in eyeliner)

Kinda amusing to see that apparently the joke about Geoff being "old" has been going on even since his short-hair days.

'WOW HITS' VoicePlay on The Sing-Off Tour 2015

When I asked for the link to the previous video, this video ended up being shared in the chat soon after as well, and I was like "alright sure, might as well watch it", and yeah it's pretty great 😄 (And also Utterly Ridiculous)

Was so blown away by getting a Layne rap section that I kinda hadn't fully processed what song it was, and so the drop into the "chorus" with the background choreo movements from the other four guys fully kicked me in the face 🤣

I wasn't fully familiar with every song here like I was for the previous two medleys (never heard of "Drunk On A Plane" before in my life), but hey, it's still overall a good time (even if I feel like I'm missing a bit of context with the "WOW album thing, lol)

Voiceplay - Oogie Boogie Song Live 12-20-19

This one was also shared in the VP Discord server back in December last year, though the original video of course comes from 2019, and it's a live Disneyworld performance! (I think)

Look, if you're a big VP fan like me, then you likely know Oogie Boogie's Song off by heart. And if you watch as many reaction channels as I do, then you perhaps may even know it inside out and backwards. But this video is still worth a watch in my opinion! (Though note that the audio is a little iffy, and there's a bit of a feedback noise when Geoff goes for the E1 sub)

I've mentioned this back in my Voiceplay Visuals post I did for Oogie Boogie's Song, but basically that video is one of the few videos where my brain struggles to fully comprehend Geoff as "Geoff". It's hard to explain. I still know it's him, obviously, and it's not like a Song Of Durin situation or a Hide And Seek situation, but with the heavy face makeup and the costuming and the in-character theatrics and all, he's very much being a different person (or, well, Boogey Man, I suppose).

All of ⬆️ the above point to say that this video is honestly really something! Like seeing Geoff looking like his regular self (no costuming or face paint), but with him still acting in-character and just looking like he's having a good time? Man it's almost too much for me to handle, I love him so much <3

[stargazet]

listened to the view between villages and i'm back in this building AGAIN. when you grow up in small villages, the idea of leaving is as painful as the idea of staying and i think the nbnc gang encapsulates this like nobody else. More than that, it drives me insane how these characters are characteristically so opposite of their locations and movements, in this essay i WILL explain.

Stan, Kenny, Marjorine: Staying means staying behind. it means watching people pass the village border with all their belongings, never to return. How many of their friends and classmates did they watch leave and nothing could ease that pain?

Stan: Apart from Kenny, everybody left him. The two closest people in his childhood simply up and left when they concluded that they couldn't save him. Sure, he doesn't remember the day they left, but they didn't even have to leave the city. That was just symbolically drilling it in that they have left. and Stan, who burned down his father's farm, who, technically, destroyed all roots that would've kept him tethered to this ugly redneck town, stayed. This town keeps him prisoner. The ruins of that farm are a cage and Stan is shackled by a canister and a box of matches.

Additionally, he struggles the hardest with finding his footing exactly because of that. When nothing keeps you tethered, how could you possibly not lift off the ground? Kenny had to keep him grounded until Stan found means to do so himself (which, ironically, was Kenny loosing his footing in turn).

I always felt like Stan moves the most. Between houses and people, he was always somewhere on he run, so to speak. And yet the character that moves the most is the one that remains so firmly rooted to this city despite the fact that he deliberately went and destroyed whatever could've tied him down here. This is a hell of his own making, simply because he's a character that holds onto things. It's not his fault but it's his undoing nonetheless; he could kill off every last physical thing that keeps him in this town, he couldn't leave it behind anyways.

The one character who has no more ties left in this town, who has every reason and chance to leave, didn't go. He couldn't. He didn't manage. He never will. The fact that he's moved to the edge of South Park represents that - "back between villages. a minute from home but I feel so far from it.", neither truly here, IN town, neither truly out of it, either. This nether, where he technically belongs to with every earthly thing (apart from Kenny) gone.

Kenny: The opposite of Stan, if you will. The town doesn't keep him prisoner, but he does. Kenny has deliberately always let everything and everyone pass him by and leave him behind. When you don't think you're worth keeping around, you'll cast yourself into the shadows. Nobody hates this town as much as Kenny, and yet he never left. You could say this is because of the ties he has here, but what ties are those if not weights and burdens he gave himself? His family is gone, Karen's in New York, the town borderline hates him, othering him because of his family name. Truly, Kenny has every reason to leave, and he tries, is the thing.

He lives outside of South Park, past the town borders and away from everyone and everything he's ever known. But not far enough. He keeps coming back every day. There is an attempt to leave this town behind, but unlike Stan, Kenny who certainly is the character with the most freedom, given that he got himself a car at 18 and everything, never manages to make it further away than 20 minutes outside of town.

Not all of it is Kenny's fault, of course. He's also a McCormick child and he has learned young not to have hopes or big dreams. He doesn't think he could pull it off. He doesn't think he'd be worthy or good enough to do such a thing. Instead, he runs. Metaphorically only, ironically. From everyone that would represent freedom and love and everything he's ever longed for. He runs from everything and ties himself down with ghosts of the past in the hopes he can lie to himself just long enough to numb the pain of giving up without ever even trying.

"The things that I lost here, the people I knew, they got me surrounded by a mile or two. Left at the graveyard, I'm driving past ghosts. Their arms are extended, my eyes start to close. The car's in reverse."

No ties here, but 3 graves and 2 other people who cannot leave. But Kenny isn't stuck the same way they are. He squashed any hopes and dreams before even trying so he couldn't be disappointed by failure. Which is how he approached Craig, Marjorine, and pretty much everything else in his life.

So Kenny stays. Staring through the fence he built himself at the life he always wanted. He could leave. Tear the fence down, grab his car keys and vanish from South Park - but he doesn't even think about giving himself the grace of trying because he believes he couldn't pull it off anyways.

Marjorine: A prisoner in every sense of the word. I think she's the only one out of the three of them that doesn't actually want to leave the town. It's as if that lifts the curse, because she has left before, went to College for 3 years far away from South Park.

But Marjorine is tied down by the people around her. Not only is the love of her life and his best friend stuck here, that wouldn't be such a terrible thing to her, but she's forced into a place and position she doesn't want.

Despite being able to leave, she's the character that is shackled by others. Her parents first and then Cartman. She's also the character with the most secure ties in this town as she owns a whole house in the heart of the town, if you will. She belongs here, you think, but not like that. It's not the town in this scenario but the people, and due to their decisions, Marjorine stayed (forcibly), watching most of her friends move on to their own lives while hers was dictated for her. I cannot imagine the pain of that. Consequently, this means she also has no actual ties left in this town except the 2 other people that express the desire to leave but can't manage.

Ironically, while rooted the strongest into the town and its community out of the trio, she has all the means to leave, except permission. She has the money to just up and leave, but she is not allowed. She could leave if she wanted to, but it's not the town she needs or wants to escape, ultimately. And almost symbolically, the town allows her to roam freely, allows her to leave and go if she so desires. If only the people around her would allow her that with regards to her life.

Kyle & Wendy: Leaving means new beginnings means letting go means freedom means grief

They are the same to me in this regard. They're the ones that managed to leave the town at the first chance. Unlike the 3 who stayed, these 2 left despite the ties that should've kept them there. They've got family there and, most importantly, Stan is still there.

So, ultimately, that means the characters who move most freely about are the ones that actually are tied to the town. Are they truly free, then?

Wendy and Kyle left because they wanted more. Still, they left together, as if scared of doing it alone. They had each other in a whole new, big and unknown world. They wanted more but they weren't ready to do so on their own. Having someome from the same town as you follow you along the road kind of shows that the town never truly left you to begin with.

As someone who loathed my childhood town, I've always wanted to escape it, so I see myself in these two. Which is why I know how scary and painful it must've been. You leave your whole world behind when you get in that car. You watch everything you know and everything that has formed and shaped you shrink as the distance stretches until it eventually disappears behind the horizon. There has to be something so heartbreaking in this act of leaving even if you want to go. You leave not just what you loathe but also what you love.

More than that, they're leaving something behind that still calls out to them. Wendy and Kyle have unfinished business in this town, they leave with open ties - Stan.

The two characters who managed to leave don't ever truly escape the town they all grew up in. They really try, unlike Kenny, go to colleges far away and then live in a big city. They try. But they are haunted by the ghost of their own making and roughly ten years later they have to face him. Have they ever been truly free if they never let go to begin with? Even if they live in downtown Denver, can you call South Park gone when you keep finding the shadow of someone you left there in every nook and cranny of your new home?

They saw him vanish in the distance (metaphorically) but he still followed them all the way to college and Denver. They are the ones who "made it" and yet they also utterly failed although they have put, physically, the biggest distance between themselves and South Park - whereas Stan, on the other hand, seems to be the most detached from this town and yet stays tied within its physical borders. A true attraction of opposite forces, if you think about it.

TL;DR: I just adore how each of these character's location and space stands in stark contrast to their desires/wellbeing. The space they find themselves in reflects the problem(s) they need to overcome or the challenge they have to face.And none of them manage to start that process unless pushed into action by someone else first. They only start healing through each other. Isn't that beautiful? They find a community in a place most of them wanted to escape, amongst people they long deemed gone.

Funny how the world works, isn't it?

[alsoanyways]

@transgender-scout @1ight wait fuck now i have to compile them okay okay okay i have a feeling this is gonna get long so I'm gonna put it under a cut haha but for real thank you for asking!!

First things first! This is how I imagine the flock is able to disguise themselves. There's no going undercover at an actual school for them, but I don't think anyone's looking twice at a bulky coat, especially if it's set in the future. Not too far in the future though, still in the 21st century. I have no ideas for a plot restructuring or anything, I never read past Nevermore and I barely remember anything past the fourth book, so most of my headcanons are character dynamics and such. I do have some that aren't focused on the flock but not many. Anyways.

(also idk if most of this can even be considered headcanon bc its basically fanfic at this point)

A couple things I should've added to the design post are Toto's Total’s nonexistence (I'm sorry if you like him but I do not lmao) and the fact that their hair is feathers. Like those very fine and very long feathers that roosters get. The flock also doesn't develop superpowers.

In my version of things, there's a small town close-ish to the E shaped house. Far enough that no one in town is gonna drop by for a visit, but close enough to fly down to for some groceries, which they'd do after Jeb left and until the money was gone. I think he would've taught them how to forage for things and that's how they get by since then.

Max (21) isn't The Leader TM either, I think leadership is shared more with Fang/Friday and Iggy. She likes volleyball and usually the one to go foraging. She's never thought about it but if she did, she'd probably consider herself agender.

Fang/Friday (22) gets his name from a Friday the 13th DVD cover, Jeb thinks he wants to be called Jason when he first points to it. He used to help Nudge/Dora and Angel with their hair when they were little and still does occasionally. He likes to draw and he's the go-to when someone needs to be comforted. There's no way in hell I would let him be anything less than bisexual.

Iggy (20) is the one that probably hears Friday's voice the most. He was also taught braille and Jeb got them a labeling machine. He's still the best cook and he's very protective over the vinyls/tapes/cds in the house. He mourns the loss of them when they have to flee the house, but he is excited to finally have access to new music. He's also gay. Because I said so.

Nudge/Dora (17) still wishes she could live a normal life, but has accepted that it's just not a possibility. She clings to "Dorothy" when she learns it. Being talkative and into fashion are still part of her character, but now she also loves bugs. She tags along when Max goes foraging so she can try and get pictures of any new bugs she hasn't seen before. Friday often gets to hear which bugs and what they were doing when they're sketching together.

Gazzy/Gizmo (14) gets his name when he watches the Gremlins movie for two months straight and starts mimicking the mogwai noises. He almost kills everyone when he mixes a couple cleaners from under the kitchen sink. He's quickly enamored with the chemistry books he's given afterwards. Like any other teenage boy, he likes video games and has too much energy for his own good. Max offers to race him when he's particularly amped.

Angel (11) is the only one out of the group that wasn't experimented on and she doesn't get the protectiveness or why they never go anywhere. She likes sitcoms and never refuses an offer to forage with Max. She also took a liking to helping Iggy cook things. She was very quick to tell people she wasn't a boy once she had the vocabulary.

Ari (15) has chronic pain. Being turned to goo and rebuilt into something different will do that to you. It doesn't get better the second time. Nor the third. He used to live in the E shaped house, before Jeb brought Gizmo, back when he was a regular kid. He's always liked animals, caring for them. He wanted to be a farmer or something when he grew up. After he joins the flock, he and Gizmo are fast friends. (Watching him and Gizmo dick around is what makes Friday realize that he really is just a kid.)

Maya/Em (21, kinda) my identity issues queen!! Cloning keeps the original memories intact and then they were further messed with to ensure her allegiance. She has a hard time coming to terms with that, with not being Max, not being who she thought she was. Her friends aren't her friends, she didn't watch Gizmo and Angel grow up, she didn't go to Friday after another nightmare, or call Dora to come catch a spider. That wasn't her. Having time away from them before she joins the flock helps. She renames herself Em during that time, distinct enough from Max but not removed from it completely. She learns that she likes cooking and she discovers cheerleading. She thinks she'd like that if she got the chance to participate. She's also aroace. She wants nothing to do with any of that.

Dylan (21) sticks closest to Em, but he eventually grows close to Iggy as well. They share a soaring/gliding wing shape and Iggy is grateful to have someone who can fly as long as he can (recreational flying is always cut short in his opinion, because the others have to work harder to stay airborne and get tired). Dylan likes to tinker around with motors and mechanisms, trying to get them to work again or building them from the ground up. Not that he has an abundance of opportunities to do that, but being able to fix a busted car comes in handy. He's one of them gays that can drive.

Lastly, I do have ideas on Erasers and different classes of them and their usages but jesus christ this did in fact get very long and I need to go eat something lmao so that'll have to be a separate post for another time.

[weirdtvland]

Brian jones was a racist, sexist, violent, abusive, child molesting piece of shit and I'm glad he's dead it should've happened sooner before he could hurt so many women and girls

I've never read anywhere that Brian was a racist, actually he was the exact opposite. He never was prejudice, he was spoke up for many different races especially black people. He admired black music and even obsessed over black singers. As far as him being sexist, I've also never read anywhere or heard from anyone that said Brian was sexist. Actually Anita herself always said that Brian never shut her down from speaking her opinions, and treated her like an "equal" which meant she was allowed to have opinions on things and influence several things surrounding the Stones which wasn't popular in those days (considering men didnt even want their women in the studio or on tour and they definitely wasnt allowed to make decisions for the group like Anita did). Brian was very violent and abusive towards several women and men, and not only because of the drugs (for the most part) it's because of his insecurities with himself. Keith Richards said that the early days of living with Brian was fun but he often like playing practical or humiliations rituals on their roommate, Alexis. He often locked him outside without a coat during the "coldest winter" while living in their fucked up apartment, and Brian would go to the bar with him and made him pay for everything even though they barely had money to spare. Brian also bullied Mick for being clean which was weird to me (both him and Keith made him feel like the woman of the house because he liked to shower and wanted to keep the house clean but that obviously didnt work), even laughed at his own baby momma with Anita because she needed money for their baby. Brian was full of different emotions and personalities almost like he didn't know or love himself which often caused him to worsen over time. The drugs didn't help at all either, Brian would be hospitalized for days after taking multiple pills. We would never know what would've happened to Brian if he did live on but I would never wish death upon him even though he needed to rest. I'm very sorry for the women he hurt in the time being, no one deserves to be beat because he was always on one of his trippy highs or nervous breakdowns. Even though he hurt several women, most women blamed Anita for his actions. People like ZouZou, Suki, Linda, Marianne, and most of his baby mommas pointed the blame on Anita for his rampages on drugs. Most said that Brian never acted that way until she arrived on the scene, which I don't fully agree with this because like I said he was always super insecure and rapid from the very beginning. Though Brian had a lot of faults, child molestation wasn't one of them. I know times are very different from what they were back then and what is considered age appropriate today is not the same as yesterday. It's disgusting to hear when a 20 year old is with a 14 year old today (makes me gag) but yesterday it wasn't, most women that was with Brian consented being with him at that time being and came out with stories about how their not victims. Some even had their parents consent for them (which also wasn't far fetch in those days 😵‍💫). Brian was imperfect and human just like everyone else in the band, and in my opinion all of the band members have dirt on their hands too. Brian shouldn't be exempt from history because of his past, if so the band wouldn't exist.

[gregoriaofnyssa]

Men Used to Die Before They Worried About Getting a Wife

Men in the modern day, post-war, have been sold this terrible lie that not only are they all entitled to a wife, but that they inevitably will fall into having a wife by some kind of happenstance. This is an absolute falsehood.

"Most men in history were married." No, most men in history died before they became men. Male infants die more often than female infants, and male children are more sensitive to disease. Adolescent men and boys cull themselves through risk-taking, ambition, and violence. Boys who survived this slaughter and became men were not only more likely to be married because there was less competition, but also because marriable traits (health, composure, gentleness or aggression, etc.) were positively selected for.

Men in the past had more of a chance at marriage because the ones who never would've gotten any play anyway never even got the chance to be upset about their lack of chances. It's not because the world was more traditional; the world was more dangerous.

Today, thanks to advances in medicine, infants rarely die in the Western and developed world. Praise be to God. It's also hardly socially acceptable to send children out without supervision. Even roughly supervised camping trips where things are likely to go wrong are discouraged. Mothers direct the social lives of their sons, ensuring they don't fall into the wrong crowd and die by gang or interpersonal violence.

These are not bad things. These are good things. I am against infant boys dying of disease, I am against 7th graders dying in horrific accidents, and I am certainly against 20-year-olds dying in war and through gang violence. It's astonishing that I feel I need to offer this disclaimer.

This is just a statistical reality.

A world where boys are not culled is a world where there are more men, and that is a world where men need to come to terms with an unfortunate reality: many of them will never marry.

This does not mean you, gentlemen reader, but you must understand that it could mean you. A wife is not a prize for existing-- they used to be a prize for surviving the disease of infancy, the accidents of puberty, and the danger and warfare of adolescence. When antibiotics and concerned mommies eliminate these factors, not only are unmarriable men left alive to experience this new world, but men who would be otherwise improved by surviving these factors are left unsharpened.

Men who have been saved from the reaping of their sex must work to sharpen themselves in the way they would've been sharpened naturally. This does not mean, as some authors have written, that men need to be chiseled slabs of man-meat (or twink-meat, as those authors seem to prefer), but it does mean they need to hone the core characteristics of survivability: intelligence (or if you can't, then general know-how), strength (any kind; women's preferences are wide and varied), jaw alignment, balance/agility, conflict-resolution of some kind, and disease resistance.

There are, thankfully, few men who have totally lost the genetic lottery. Most men can min/max whatever they've been given. For your study, I'll describe three of the most handsome men I know (still very low behind my fiancé).

The Thin White Duke

He has a well-dressed and lithe body, unstyled yet always lovely blonde hair, high cheekbones, and a great smile. He's charming and disarmingly funny. He's kind and shy, which is a stark contrast to the company he keeps. He's brilliant and organized. He's of English and German descent.

I think I've seen him eat one piece of real food in the whole time I've known him-- the rest of the time, I think he exclusively eats Diet Coke and vanilla cake. Despite this intake as a college student, his jaw belies a childhood of being forced to eat his vegetables. Either that, or he has genetics so good they couldn't be stopped. Both are attractive traits.

He can't throw you across a room or lift rocks into the air, but he is exhausted by nothing. If he put effort in, I bet he'd be a fantastic runner or swimmer. I will try to convince him to take up swordplay, which would be appropriately aristocratic for his personality.

He will manage a woman's life like he manages his own, and his method of conflict resolution is purely intellectual. It would be miles beneath him to throw a punch.

Because of his less-than-stellar nutrition, he is probably low in disease resistance, but none of his physical form shows this. But perhaps down the line, it will. So watch out.

Xerxes

He's Semitic (Yes, I am aware the actual Xerxes of Persia is not Semitic)-- from a Lebanese crime family. He's dark featured with a striking nose, dark and rough eyebrows, and has greasy shoulder-length hair, ran through with waves. He's bearded, because, of course, every "Xerxes" must be. He's got a Mediterranean body type, and by that I mean moderately muscled with some amount of flesh. Of course, you must have flesh if you sit around drinking Arak and eating hummus all day. He has sharp teeth. His height is moderate, as are most of his other features.

What is immoderate about him is his personality and his arresting gaze. His eyes go from narrow and piercing to wide and entrancing in less than a second, and he always looks interested in what you're saying; his face is reactive. He, like The Thin White Duke, is funny and kind. I remember a moment where he pulled me out of a group where I was being talked about disparagingly, and comforted me about it. He does very good impressions and is a fantastic storyteller.

He's ambitious and well-connected. He has an anger problem and is not above coming to blows over a serious matter, especially one involving the women in his life. The only people who should feel totally "safe" around him are women and children. He's very comfortable with his masculinity and thus his femininity.

He's athletic enough to be alright at any sport he'd need to play to impress someone in a business or academic context. His vice is laziness and risk-taking. If he were unlucky or less well-formed, he probably would've been one of the few men to be culled as adolescents.

The Warlord

He's 6'6, but in my brain, he's 7 feet tall. He's built like a refrigerator, or like the side of a mountain, or some Chinese money-wasting statue, or something equally hulking. He's a power lifter and played hockey in high school. He's a Haitian and Dominican Bantu with a Cheshire smile that reminds me of the Totoro spirit from Studio Ghibli. Let's say he's well-marbled or "strong man" in his body composition. He could throw a woman across a room, and given what I know about his romantic life, probably has.

He's a great writer; pedantic, obstinate, contrarian, and creative; and one of the most politically well-informed people I know, both in terms of historical and contemporary politics. He's steady and tolerant, and a refreshingly straight shooter. He, like Xerxes and The Thin White Duke, is hilarious, somehow cracking offensive jokes in a way that makes everyone feel included.

The Warlord is immoderate in all things: in his athleticism, in his diet, in his attitudes, and in his opinions. Admittedly, I don't know his propensity to anger in the least, but I assume it's equally immoderate in the sense that it's like a switch that goes on and off. I'm probably lucky not to be acquainted with it. This Warlord's personal vice is Atheism, which he should get around to fixing, but this is not necessarily a vice of his archetype.

None of these men are the golden sun god or euro-tribesman that exist in the imagination of "Ancestral," or "Primitive," or "Trad" online posters. The Thin White Duke, Xerxes, and The Warlord are not pretending to be something they aren't. They aren't trying to convince the world or, worse, themselves, that they're a living copy of some mythic beast. Whether they know it or not (The Warlord certainly knows), they are embracing their genetic destiny.

A man in his natural environment (anthropologically speaking) will not necessarily look just like one image of a "peak-performance" man in Greek sculpture (none of whom were based on real men-- they were all fantastical idealizations). Rather, he will look like a full expression of his genes, which are influenced by the environment of his ancestors thousands of years ago. There is no reason a Nord should look like an Indian, nor an Ethiopian like a Southern Italian. These genes are not the same-- not built for the same environments or societies-- and none of them should try to rend themselves to fit the genetic code of the other.