#are mutilating their healthy and growing bodies

[rosencatholic]

I just cannot fathom how hated J.K. Rowling is online, especially on this app, all because she said that sex is real and that men don’t belong in women’s spaces. Y’all are utter lunatics for that. What she said is a truth that is known in both the past and present and will continue to be known into the future. You cannot change the truth just because it offends your delusions.

Get out of your little imaginary online bubbles and take a moment to breathe the fresh air outside, you people need it!

[mcmeasle]

do you ever wonder what Nathan Wesninski was like as a child? I was thinking about this last night.

Obviously there’s an argument that he grew up in a bad household, trauma, etc

(CW: mild discussions of gore)

But isn’t it so much more interesting to imagine he had a healthy, loving home life growing up. Parents who cared and wanted to support him

But he found an early fascination with knives. Burning ants on the sidewalk with a magnifying glass. Crushing bugs between his fingers or ripping their legs off to watch them slowly die. Moving his way up to squirrels and birds. Neighborhood cats and dogs go missing and turn up in the owners driveway days later mutilated.

Seeking out a crowd of people at school he could use as a wall of muscle until he could escalate to further more extreme torment on other students.

Equally charming to all of the faculty and terrifying to other students lower on the food chain. Getting away with things because no one would rat on him out of fear and because they know the faculty wouldn’t believe that Nathan is capable of something like this. He’s a good kid, with good grades, lots of friends, and extracurriculars! He’s student body president!

People wanted to stay on Nathan’s good side, be his “friend” because if you were someone who he deemed valuable, you became untouchable. They’d all also seen how easily he could destroy someone’s reputation and sense of self. Students who ended up on the wrong side of Nathan were never the same again. He wielded both the power of popularity and fear. They were two sides of the same coin to him.

But his parents knew. Deep down. He scared them. The evidence was all around them: bloodied paper towels, smell of rot in the back shed, an unsettling look in Nathan’s eyes when he’d extend sympathies to the owners whose pets were recently found deceased after he’d helped them put up missing pet posters.

By the time they were willing to open their eyes to it, it was too late for them to try and save their kid. And eventually, too late for them to save themselves either.

[sugartitstownley]

Hay I love your blog!!!

Could you do some relationship preferences for michael and trevor being together cute/hot or just cute?

ABC’s of Trikey

Thanks for the ask! I’m glad you like my blog!! I took some creative liberties with this and ran with it since I’ve been wanting to do the ABC prompt. So I hope you don’t mind. :) I did the fluff version [source], but I’d be open to doing the NSFW version too if someone would want that.

Warnings: Not a lot this time. Typical GTA-esque themes. There is a brief mention in the last letter (Z) about child abuse, but that’s about it. Mostly fluffy stuff.

A is for animals  [Do they have pets? What type?]

No, they don’t have any pets. Neither of them feel too strongly about having them, but the topic has came up once or twice — Michael being the most reluctant.

“It’d be like having another kid,” Michael gripes. “We’d have to clean its shit and make sure it doesn’t tear the house up.”

“But maybe it could teach you a thing or two about loyalty, you snake,” Trevor shoots back. “Plus, it’d give Chop a friend.”

“Can you honesty promise I wouldn’t come home one day to a mutilated dog after it chewed the fuck out of your clothes or bit you?”

“Well, I can’t promise I won’t mutilate you one day, but I still keep you around.”

That didn’t convince Michael. So no, they don’t have pets. They’ll stick to chaperoned visits with Franklin, Lamar, and Chop.

B is for bathroom  [What are their bathroom habits? Do they brush teeth at the same time? Fight about the toilet? Shower together? Have weird toiletries?]

Their bathroom habits are definitely a little bit opposing. Michael, unless he’s in one of his truly depressive episodes, is fairly clean. He often opts for the same routine every day: wake up, shower, shave (unless he’s growing it out, which sometimes he does), brush teeth, put on deodorant, spray on fancy cologne he spent way too much on, and leave.

Trevor, however, has less of a set schedule. He frequently chooses to forgo the traditional approach to “getting ready” unless Michael gets on him about it.

Once they start living together, though, Trevor does start to actively seek out a good shower quite often — if only so he can join his partner in a little morning rendezvous, which, of course, Michael is happy to indulge him in.

They don’t fight too much over bathroom etiquette, but, well, Trevor is still Trevor, so it’s inevitable sometimes.

“Oh, the fuck is this?” Michael mumbles, peering into the toilet below him. “Trevor!”

Mere seconds later, Trevor’s head is popping through the bathroom door. “Mm, morning to you too, sugar.”

“Tell me what I’m looking at here.”

“That,” Trevor follows his partner’s gaze to look inside the toilet bowl, “looks like a finger.”

“Yep, it does,” Michael nods along. “Why the fuck is it in our toilet?”

Trevor raises his hands in surrender. “Excuse me, I tried to get his arm down in one go, but people don’t flush like they used to. Ya know, I think it’s all the healthy shit people eat in LS. Makes their body more immune.”

“Jesus Christ.”

C is for children  [Do they have kids? Adopted or biological? What are their names? Any random head canons you have?]

Michael obviously has Tracey and Jimmy, so that’s really enough for them. Michael knows he’s already a shit father, so there’s no need to bring any more children into his world. Plus, Trevor loves both of those kids like they’re his own anyway.

And, all things considered, they both have Franklin too. Their surrogate child. Sure, Franklin pretends to be slightly disturbed at that mental image, but both men are sure he’s still happy to have them around.

Sometimes, when he’s really trying to embarrass Franklin, Trevor will talk about him to strangers like he’s their child. Michael tries to get him to stop — for the youngest boy’s sake — but he secretly finds it both endearing and funny. So, against his better judgement, Michael joins in sometimes.

“Kids are a handful, huh?”

The woman looks up from the screaming baby in her arms to Trevor, who’s talking over her shoulder. She looks slightly uncomfortable at his proximity, like she wants to push away the cart full of baby items in front of her and make a run for it, but she nods instead.

“They sure are. Got any?”

Trevor mirrors her nod before pointing over at Franklin. “Our baby boy is right there.”

Trevor can see Franklin shrink behind Michael, trying to get out of sight, while Michael stands there smirking.

“He’s just precious,” Trevor continues, his voice cracking with a faux sob. “They grow up so fast. Right in front of your eyes.”

The woman glances at Michael, almost like she’s hoping he’ll save her, but he only puts a hand to his heart and smiles. “They never stop melting your heart, though.”

As soon as the cashier yells “next,” the woman is rushing to the counter, and the two older men are left laughing as Franklin finally moves into sight.

“Fuck you both,” he grumbles.

D is for dates  [First date? Do they go out together regularly? Who usually plans?]

Their first date was definitely weird. Not in the “we shouldn’t be doing this” way. But in the “this feels like our first date and 50th simultaneously” way.

Back in North Yankton, neither of them really went on “first dates” — with each other or other people. A date feels more like a planned time to be romantic, but their relationship was anything but planned. In fact, everything often felt rushed and spontaneous, like neither knew when their life would suddenly end by imprisonment or death.

Now, as older men who feel way too past their prime and have way too much history among them to be going out on said “first dates,” the idea feels a little juvenile and silly.

Nonetheless, they do it. They do it if only for the sake of not being able to do it before. They go out on a first date — paired with nervous sweating, awkward conversations, and careful skirting over any past issues that could put a damper on the evening. It’s a simple dinner at an upscale restaurant in Vinewood, much to Trevor’s initial dismay.

“Out of all of San Andreas, this is where you pick, Mikey?”

“It’s a nice place, T.”

“Shocker that you think that, Mr. Plastic Pants,” Trevor says mockingly. “This place is full of fake celebrities and plastic surgeons. I feel like I’m about to slip and fall and accidentally get a boob job.”

“Can you just humor me for once? Please?”

And Trevor did because, truth be told, he’d go anywhere with Michael. Their first date was good all things considered, but they don’t make it a habit to go out often. It’s just not in their style — unless you count Trevor beating Michael at golf or them chasing down bikers a date, then sure.

When they do officially go out on dates, especially for important dates like anniversaries, it’s usually Michael who plans them. He’s much more of a classic date — dinner and a movie — kind of guy. He likely gets that from the movies he watches.

E is for embarrassment  [Does one get embarrassed by PDA? Do they say things to rile each other up?]

Michael does, at times, get embarrassed by Trevor’s public displays. It’s not that he’s ashamed of Trevor; it’s just harder to kick that religious guilt he’s used to. It has caused a rift a few times when Michael would flinch at Trevor calling him “baby” around strangers or throwing his arms around him and kissing his neck — especially since Michael can see their unapproving reactions in his peripheral vision.

Trevor, usually, reacts angrily — no doubt believing that his partner is embarrassed by him and their relationship. But Michael continues to reassure him until the issue is dropped.

After a few years, and a bit more therapy, the judging glances no longer irk him like they used to. And, as a result, he’ll let Trevor’s fingers snake through his or let his touch linger, even with the prying eyes of Los Santos City.

When they’re in an argument, however, Trevor does take a few liberties now and then to rile him up.

“Fine, Burger Shot it is. But when we get home, I want a blowjob.”

“Oh, Christ,” Michael groans, looking around to see how many people heard Trevor’s loud mouth.

Trevor grins. “Hopefully, I’ll be saying that soon too.”

F is for fights  [Do they bicker a lot? About trivial things? How do they make up after a large fight?]

They bicker a lot. About trivial things. About important things. About everything. But that’s them. It’s how it’s always been, and just because they’re in love, doesn’t mean it’s going to stop.

But, at least for Michael, he almost enjoys fighting with Trevor. Fighting with him only reminds him how much he’s devoted to the guy — how much he devastatingly loves the man.

With Amanda, they loved each other, but they weren’t in love with each other. So when they fought, it left him feeling bitter and lonely. But with Trevor, every fight is born out of caring about his relationship, about Trevor’s health, about their past, about their future. He just cares so violently — both of them do — that every fight starts and ends with him being in love. At least, for the most part.

G is for gifts [Do they give gifts often? Big things or small things?]

Yes, quite often. Michael is a lavish giver, even if he knows Trevor doesn’t really care one way or another about material possessions. If Michael can gift him an “Impotent Rage” comic because he used to have it as a child, even if it’s rare now and worth thousands, he’ll do it. He wants Trevor to have nice things, and he has no problem spending money in order to make that happen.

Trevor, on the opposite side, doesn’t give material gifts very often. Not really seeing the value for himself, he doesn’t much care to buy them for others either. Even so, that doesn’t mean he’s not a gift giver in his own way. Trevor will often show his giving side by actions: making sure the new movie Michael wanted to watch is rented when he comes home, cooking something for dinner (with no eyelids, he promises!), cleaning himself up, going to events he hates just because Michael loves them, and so on.

They have their own ways, and it works for them.

H is for home  [Where do they live? When did they move in together?]

They have several different residencies. Several.

After the divorce was finalized, Amanda moved out to leave for the beachfront property that she desperately craved — and asked for — all throughout their time in LS.

Michael kept the house in Rockford Hills and decided to stay there. Despite some gentle coaxing, Trevor refused to give up his trailer in Sandy Shores, but Michael was secretly happy since it gave them an excuse to drive up there and sit by the Alamo Sea.

Trevor also ended up keeping the Vanilla Unicorn, at least for the time being. Neither man makes too many appearances there anymore, but Trevor’s back office does make for a good bed if he’s mad at Michael.

Officially, though, they live in Michael’s place in Rockford Hills. It’s close to where they need to go, Michael can commute fairly easily to Solomon’s studio, and Trevor is at a perfect distance to wreck havoc in whatever part of the state he chooses day to day. Michael, in the future, would be happy to consider moving somewhere else with his partner. But right now, he’s just happy Trevor agreed to stay with him.

“T, you listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, Mikey. What is it?”

Michael grabs the remote out of the other man’s hand and forces his eyes to leave the TV. “Trevor, ‘m serious.”

“Okay, okay,” Trevor relents. “I’m all ears, pork chop.”

“How would you feel about staying here?”

“Well, considering I’ve already drove halfway across the city, drank a shit ton, and planned to strip you naked later, I’d say I feel pretty good about staying tonight.”

Michael smirks a little. “As sweet as that is, I meant more than just tonight. Like, ya know, stay. Live here.”

“Live here,” Trevor repeats slowly, his attention clearly on Michael completely now. “With you. In Rockford Hills. Here.”

“Yes,” Michael nods, but it comes out more like a question — not sure if Trevor really wants to live here with him.

“Okay,” Trevor agrees.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay.

The sides of Michael’s mouth tick up into a small smile. “Okay.”

I is for illness  [Do they care for each other when they’re sick?]

They’ll definitely care for each other no matter the illness, but their reactions certainly differ depending on the illness at hand.

If it’s the common cold, they’ll both gripe at each other about how “babyish” the other is being. That won’t stop them from picking up medicine, tissues, water, or anything else the other may need to feel better. Some playful banter is just to be expected.

If it’s a more “serious” sickness, a little bit lot more worry and anger is involved.

Trevor growls. “Fucking lay down. I told you smoking all those Redwoods would kill you one day.”

Michael follows his partner’s orders and leans back onto the bed, his mouth open, trying to breathe any air he can get without coughing. “I’m fine, asshole. ‘s just a bug.”

“It’s not just a bug,” Trevor huffs, laying down next to him. “Doctor said it’s bronchitis. That can be bad, Mikey.”

“I’ll be okay,” Michael mumbles, giving Trevor’s hand a squeeze to reassure him. “A lot of people get it.”

“A lot of people die from it, too. Especially if it’s chronic. More than 300 people.”

“That’s not a lot, T,” Michael reasons, shutting his eyes. “Mm, plus, doc said she doesn’t think it’s chronic.”

“Doesn’t think,” Trevor growls. “Fucking doctors. They don’t know shit until you’re dead.”

At that, Michael opens his eyes. “Calm down, T. It’s not that serious.”

“It is, Michael,” he says, spitting out his name. “I don’t want to lose your fat ass just because you can’t let go of your stupid habits, and the doctors in this city are too lazy to give a shit!”

Finally realizing the issue, Michael turns over in the bed to cuddle into Trevor’s side. “You won’t lose me, baby.”

“You don’t know that. I have before.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I’m here for the long haul now. You’re stuck with me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

And when Michael stops smoking — for the most part — and convinces Trevor to try and get clean from the drugs — again, for the most part — he’s there with him every step of the way through the withdrawal symptoms.

The nightmares, lack of sleep, paranoia, irritability — all of it. Those months are probably the most Michael has ever cried, or seen Trevor cry, but it’s worth it in the end when they’re both a lot happier.

J is for jokes [Do they tease each other a lot? Do they have inside jokes nobody else gets?]

They definitely tease each other a lot. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell whether they’re teasing or bickering unless you really know them since most of their teasing is harsher words paired with playful undertones.

“I had an idea for our next anniversary.”

Trevor smirks. “Not sure if you’ll make it to our next anniversary, you fat fuck.”

Or

“Nice outfit, T. I can see you’re finally embracing the ‘I liked it before it was cool’ lifestyle.”

“Fuck off, Townley.”

K is for kisses [First kiss? Do they kiss a lot?]

Their first kiss was long ago, back in North Yankton. It was after one particularly good job in ‘86. They came away with more money than they’d ever gotten together, and it took them half the time it usually does to ward off police presence and make it back to their motel.

“Fuckin’ A,” Michael shouts as soon as the motel door is closed. “We did it!”

“Fuck yeah!”

Both boys laugh, their hearts still pumping with adrenaline. Suddenly, Michael is overcome by the excitement of the success of the job or the smile on Trevor’s face, and so he pushes him against the motel door and kisses him roughly.

The kiss only realistically lasts around five seconds, but it’s enough.

“What the fuck was that?” Trevor asks once they part.

“What?”

“You kissed me.”

Michael nods and shrugs a bit, trying not to blush. “Yeah, so what?”

Trevor doesn’t say anything. In fact, the room is deadly silent for several seconds before Trevor lunges forward and captures Michael’s mouth again.

Between then and the time he meets Amanda, Michael kisses Trevor a lot. If he’s being honest, he kisses Trevor a lot after he meets Amanda too.

When they officially reconcile their relationship and decide to give being together a real shot after the Union Depository job, they — of course — kiss a lot. They have to make up for lost time after all.

L is for love [Who said ‘I love you’ first? How do they show their love?]

Although Michael kissed him first, Trevor said “I love you” first. This, too, was back in North Yankton after a night full of celebratory drinking and sex after a big job.

However, after their reconciliation in 2013, Trevor, once again, was the one to take the lead. When it comes to emotions, Trevor’s always said exactly what he was thinking. Where Michael struggles with expressing himself, Trevor does nothing but express himself.

“What?”

Trevor shakes his head lightly at Michael’s questioning. “Nothing.”

“No, come on,” Michael pushes. “You’re lookin’ at me funny.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Trevor sighs, glancing around the restaurant they’re currently sat in. “Can’t we eat?”

“You don’t want to tell me? When have you ever held your tongue? About literally anything?”

“Maybe I’m holding my tongue because I’m reluctant to say anything since last time I said it, it must have not meant shit because you married a stripper.”

“T, things with Amanda were complicated, you know that,” Michael says, grabbing his partner’s hand that’s resting on their table. “But it’s different now.”

Trevor gives a slight nod of agreement. “Yeah. It is.”

“So? What do you want to tell me?”

“I- I love you.”

Michael looks momentarily shocked, but he quickly recovers and breathes out a chuckle. “Oh.”

“You better say it back, Townley. You’re too old to have second thoughts.”

Despite Trevor’s quip, Michael grins. “I was just hoping I’d get to say it first this time. I love you too.”

M is for meals [Who cooks?]

Surprisingly, Trevor usually cooks. Or, rather, they do it together. Trevor likes the company, and Michael likes the assurance that no part of the food is human.

Trevor is a pretty good cook since he took care of his mom a lot when he was young between her copious amounts of “male friends.”

Although Michael usually is reluctant to relinquish control on a lot of things, he’s happy to sit back and watch Trevor cook, only helping when needed.

And if he gets to kiss the chef while he cooks, well, that’s just a bonus.

N is for nicknames [Do they shorten their names? Pet names?]

God, they never end — at least for Trevor. Michael does use the usual nicknames for his partner: T or Trev. After they started dating, “baby” will become a frequent contender.

For Trevor, he never stops coming up with nicknames — most of them being for his own amusement. Mikey, Mike, M, sugar, sugar tits, pork chop.

Some of them are more on-the-whim ideas: Mr. Plastic City and moneybags being quite popular.

Michael has asked Trevor to cool it down, but he doesn’t have much luck on that part.

“Get in, sugar tits.”

Michael climbs into the Bodhi, shooting Trevor a glare. “Can you stop calling me that?”

“I’m getting déjà vu. Thought we’ve had this conversation before, and I said no.”

“We have,” Michael rolls his eyes. “But I thought that once we, you know, started being together — you’d stop.”

“Aw,” Trevor smiles, linking their fingers together as he pulls out of the driveway. “No such luck, sugar tits.”

O is for outsiders [What do other people think about their relationship?]

Their relationship is a paradox to most — both surprising and not surprising in the slightest.

Amanda, who’s known them the longest outside of Lester, was initially shocked. With the way Michael talked about Trevor if she ever brought him up, it usually seemed like a one-sided friendship that was destined to end.

Though, when she looks back on it after the divorce, she’s not all that surprised after all.

“I should’ve known.”

Michael pauses before giving a half shrug to his soon-to-be ex wife. “I barely knew. It’s just always been … complicated.”

Amanda snorts. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it, Michael. Still, you just … never wanted to talk about him. Even after everything — especially not after everything.”

“I know, Mand.”

“I always thought that maybe it was just because you felt guilty, but, well,” she trails off. “You loved — love — him.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Yeah, I do.”

Lester was even easier. He knew from beginning that the boys had a long history, and even after all the years apart, he knew the barely functioning friendship between Michael and Trevor was just years of pent up sexual tension, betrayals, and love waiting to topple over.

Franklin and Lamar were equally supportive, but Lamar did ask a lot of questions that made Franklin gently kick him under the table.

“Yo, so you and crazy dude are in love?” Lamar asks. “For real? This whole time?”

Michael glances at Franklin, who’s smirking at the exchange, before he meets Lamar’s eyes again and nods. “Yeah, we are.”

Lamar chuckles. “Good luck, homie. Bet that dude is into some freaky shit in bed.”

“What he means to say is that we’re happy for you, dog,” Franklin says while nudging Lamar. “Maybe now I won’t have to hear T bitch about you every time we grab a drink.”

“Yeah, doubtful,” Michael smirks. “I’m sure he’ll find somethin’ new to complain about.”

“Yeah, like how your ass is too fat to get in the sex swing I ordered.”

All three boys whip their heads around to see Trevor stalking up and plopping into the seat next to Michael.

“That’s not- he’s kidding,” Michael fumbles.

Franklin, looking caught between amusement and horror, just nods. “Sure, whatever you say, homie.”

P is for proposal [Who proposed first? How did they do it? A lot of planning?]

Michael proposed first. He values the traditional act of marriage a little more. Not to mention, Trevor didn’t want to ruin their relationship or scare Mike off since he only just got him back. If it was up to Trevor, though, they would have just got hitched immediately.

Although Michael considers himself a bit of a romantic with his partner — a cliché, in Trevor’s words — he didn’t plan a fancy proposal paired with dinner, a moonlit walk down Vespucci Beach, and skywriting asking the big question. No, instead, he just looked at Trevor one night and asked. He asked right then and there because, for once in his life, he just let his emotions take over.

“I understand how economics work and what the working class needs! They want a six pack of beer! An eager girl in their pickup truck! And a depressing folk tune playing on the radio!”

Michael faintly hears the voice of Impotent Rage coming from the TV in front of him, but he’s barely listening as his eyes keep glancing over at Trevor, who’s sitting next to him under their blanket, munching on a bowl of popcorn and watching the superhero chant with full attention.

A soft smile tugs at his lips as he listens to Trevor belt out a laugh at whatever’s happening in the show, and suddenly, he’s speaking without even realizing.

“T.”

“Hm?”

The man’s eyes don’t move from the television, so Michael tries again. “Trevor.”

Finally, his partner’s eyes peel away from the screen and look his way. “What, Mikey? I’m missing good TV here.”

Michael watches him for several seconds, the small smile from before still present. “Marry me.”

At that, the show fades into the background completely, and Trevor’s attention is focused. “You’re gonna have to repeat that, sugar. Think I misheard you.”

“I said, ‘Marry me.’”

“Jesus,” Trevor shuts the TV off and turns to face Michael, the blanket falling off them to their feet. “You serious? You better not be fucking with me.”

“I’m not,” Michael shakes his head, taking Trevor’s hands in his. “We should do it. Get married.”

There’s a long gap of silence where Michael’s not sure if Trevor’s going to laugh at him, punch him, or have another overt reaction. But in the end, he feels his partner’s body slam into his as they topple over onto the couch. And it takes a few seconds for it to register that Trevor is hugging him.

Michael laughs. “Is this a yes?”

“Fuck yes.”

And if Trevor cried a little too that night, well, that’s their business.

Q is for quest [Have they ever been on a quest together? Has one done something completely crazy for the other?]

Honestly, their whole lives together have been nothing but a series of quests. But, outside of the normal robbery, revenge, avoid-dying quests, they’ll absolutely go on day-to-day missions for the other — especially Trevor.

Is Michael out of that one specific product he uses for his hair and no store in Los Santos seems to carry it? Trevor will find it.

Have one of the actors on set gone missing? Trevor’s already got their location.

It doesn’t matter how utterly dumb he thinks Michael is for caring about certain things, he’ll get it done. Somehow, some way.

“You’re welcome,” Trevor says, sitting down the black, sleek bottle on the kitchen counter. “Only one I could find, Mr. Suede Bucks.”

“You got the cologne? The fuck did you find this? It ain’t been at Ponsonbys forever.”

Trevor leans down and kisses Michael, smiling proudly. “I know. It wasn’t easy.”

“Yeah, I bet, it wa-” Michael stops. “Uh, Trev?”

Trevor walks over to the fridge and pulls out a beer. “Yeah?”

Michael wipes at the bottle before holding up a red-coated finger to Trevor. “Is this blood?”

Trevor pretends to inspect it before shrugging. “Not sure.”

“Oh, really? This just happened to be here?”

“Don’t ask too many questions, Mikey. Just accept the gift.”

“I didn’t want it that bad,” Michael protests. “Not at some poor bastard’s expense.”

“I got you the cologne,” Trevor says pointedly. “Just be happy, you miserable fuck.”

Rolling his eyes, Michael smiles and leans up to connect their lips again. “Well, thank you.”

R is for rainy day [What do they do when it’s raining outside?]

What better way to spend a rainy day than a movie session that your boyfriend forces you into? Right?

Michael loves to watch movies — that much is obvious. And, since Trevor loves him, he’ll indulge him on days where it’s too wet to do anything else.

Plus, a bonus of staying indoors all day is more time for … extracurricular activities.

S is for secrets [Do they keep secrets from each other?]

Trevor’s not the type to keep secrets, so anything he does, says, or thinks pretty much goes straight to Michael.

For Mike, though, he has trouble not keeping secrets. It’s not that he actively wants to lie to people, especially those he loves, but he’s done it for so long that it’s become second nature. So much so that he even expressed the worry to his new therapist.

“I don’t want to lie to anyone, ‘specially not Trevor,” Michael admits. “But it’s like I don’t know how to stop!”

“What exactly do you lie about?”

He glances around the office, shrugging. “I don’t know. The way I feel sometimes. What I want. What I don’t want. Christ, I don’t know if I’m lying or if I just don’t know the answers.”

“I think you know the answers, Michael.”

“Maybe. I just … don’t ever want to hurt Trevor again.”

Months in therapy with an actual qualified doctor — unlike Dr. Friedlander — helped Michael find new ways to cope with his knee jerk reaction to lie.

So, no, they both try not to keep anymore secrets between the two of them.

T is for travelling [Do they go on holiday together? On journeys?]

They don’t get away very often. It’s not that they don’t have the money because obviously they do. But they’re busy with their respective jobs. Michael is often working on a movie set these days, and that can take up a lot of time. And Trevor can be found running TPI, the Vanilla Unicorn, and — of course — getting up to various shenanigans.

In a last ditch effort to connect to his kids, he did invite them on a small trip, where they ended up going to the zoo alongside Trevor.

“Ew, daddy, what is that?”

Before Michael can answer Tracey’s question, he sees her reach out toward the animal. “Trace! Don’t fuckin’ touch it!”

“Hey, you better watch out, kid, or it’ll eat you,” Trevor says, putting his arm around Tracey.

“You’d save her, uncle T,” Jimmy pipes up.

Trevor smirks. “We’d just sacrifice your dad. He’d take one for the team.”

Tracey giggles, nodding. “Totes.”

Michael pulls Trevor’s arm off of Tracey before giving him a playful shove. “Yeah, fuck you. If anything, we’d sacrifice your ass. With the way you smell, it’d probably think you’re a dead animal anyway.”

“As if you’d give me up that easily,” Trevor says, brushing their hands together as they walk along the zoo path. “You love me, Michael Townley.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Besides that, they mostly stick with San Andreas. But Michael’s been thinking about planning a trip back to North Yankton. He knows Trevor misses the Midwest, and he thinks they’re grown enough now in their relationship to relive nostalgic, good memories while there instead of being thrown back into painful ones.

U is for urges [Do they pine after each other? How often to they think about each other?]

They do pine — in their own ways. For Trevor, it’s more blatant, obvious longing.

Before getting together officially, Trevor made it a point to drudge up the past or make snippy comments about how much Michael’s changed. Under all the semi-faux anger, all he wanted was for Michael to realize how much he’s missed him.

As for Michael himself, his pining came in the form of silence. He didn’t want to ever talk about Trevor, or hear about him, or think about him. He missed him too, but every thought surrounding the man was laced with guilt.

“We did it, T!” Michael cheers. “Fuckin’ A. Pulled off the Big One.”

“Sure did, Mikey,” Trevor smiles slightly as he whips the car down the LS Freeway. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I know. I figured we’d be settling into prison by now if we ever attempted it. I mean, we-”

“No,” Trevor stops him. “Never thought I’d see the day since you were dead.”

The air in the car grows thicker than it usually does with Trevor’s quips as Michael struggles with how to respond.

Eventually, Michael sighs. “Thought you said we were good.”

“We are.”

“Then why do you have to bring it up? Can’t we have one decent conversation without you always having to mention it? Jesus Christ, T.”

Trevor grinds his teeth, facing Michael with an accusatory finger as the car comes to a stop on the side of the road. “Fuck you! I’m going to bring it up until you’re so sick and tired of hearing about it that you rip your own ears off!”

“Oh, well, if I’d known that was all it’d take to shut your ass up, I would’ve ripped ‘em off months ago!”

“Good! I wish you fucking would!”

Both of them lean back into the silence as Trevor slams on the gas and buzzes past the cars around them.

After pulling into his driveway, Michael gets out and slams the door behind him, leaving Trevor in the car without another word. He slowly starts the trek up to his door, suddenly realizing that — once the door shuts — he’s going to be alone once again.

Chancing a look back, he checks to see if Trevor’s still sitting in the car, and he is — unmoving.

Michael turns around and makes his way to the window, not even having to knock before Trevor’s rolling it down.

Michael gestures vaguely. “Want to come in?”

Trevor gives a curt nod and moves to get out of the car. “You better have beer.”

After popping open a few drinks and settling onto the couch, Trevor’s voice fills the otherwise quiet room. “Look, ‘m sorry. Okay? I know we’re trying to move on. But fuck, Michael. It’s hard. You … you left me, and you didn’t even think twice.”

“Didn’t think twice? You kidding me? I thought twice. I thought three times, four times, a hundred times. But I had a family, and I didn’t know what else to do. I messed up. I know that. And I’ve had to live with that every day. Every day, I thought about you — hoped that you weren’t dead, or when I was really fuckin’ depressed, hoped that you were so I didn’t have to feel so damn guilty. So don’t tell me that I didn’t think twice, asshole.”

Seconds later, the air is knocked out of Michael as Trevor pushes his lips roughly against his. He lets out a small hiss when he feels Trevor bite down on his bottom lip before his tongue brushes against his.

“I’ve missed you,” Michael breathes out against Trevor’s lips.

“I’ve missed you too, sugar.”

V is for virtues [What’s their favourite thing about each other?]

Trevor loves that Michael is, well, Michael. Despite the long list of qualities he could ramble off that he doesn’t like about him: constant sarcasm, hypocritical, arrogant …

He’s also fond of those qualities because that’s who Michael is. He’s an asshole, and Trevor likes him that way. Secretly.

Michael, on the other hand, has a distinct quality of Trevor that he’s most fond of — loyalty. Michael himself has never been loyal. He’s cheated, lied, hurt, coerced, and backstabbed almost everyone he’s ever known. Although Trevor’s physically hurt his fair share of people, his loyalty to his friends is unshakable.

Michael almost hates that about him too. He’ll often wish Trevor gave less of a shit about him because, maybe then, their past wouldn’t cut as deep.

Still, Michael will hold tightly on to every last bit of loyalty Trevor’s willing to give him now.

W is for wedding [Who plans it? Big or small? Does it go smooth?]

It’s a pretty small event considering Michael’s already done the whole marriage thing before. Neither of them really care about a monumental party paired with dancing, catering, and people galore. They really only want to get hitched for the sake of being together forever and, as Trevor jokes, so it’s practically legally required for them to love one another.

Does it go smooth? Ha! If you asked anyone — anyone — that they know if anything ever has gone smooth when it comes to Michael and Trevor, they’d laugh.

It wasn’t a total disaster or anything, but there were certainly hiccups along the way.

“The fuck do you mean he’s missing?” Michael pulls the phone away from his ear as the lady on the other end tries to explain the whereabouts of his suit tailor. “Trevor!”

“But I assure you that we’re trying to find him, Mr. De Santa.”

Michael barely catches the end of what she’s saying as he pushes the phone back against his ear. “Look, lady. I don’t give a shit where your boss is. Do you have my suit?”

“We don’t have it here with us,” she explains. “He likely took it home, but I assure you-”

Michael hangs up the phone as Trevor finally comes strutting into the kitchen.

“What’s up, pork chop? Trouble at the studio?”

“No, trouble with the suit guy. Apparently, he’s gone missing.”

“Huh.”

Michael narrows his eyes. “That was a short answer. And ya don’t seem that shocked.”

“It’s Los Santos,” Trevor shrugs. “People go missing all the time. He probably found the one hot broad in this city that likes 50-year-old men with braces and hit the road with her.”

“How did you know he had braces? I’ve never hold you that.”

“What the fuck is this, Mikey? An interrogation?”

Michael steps around the kitchen table until he’s face to face with his partner, giving him a sharp, piercing look. “Trevor.”

“Fine! I met the guy for a bit,” Trevor relents. “Went to talk to him about fixing up my outfit as well, but we didn’t see eye to eye.”

“Oh, God. What does that mean?”

Trevor’s eyes shine in light amusement. “I think we’re going to have to look for someone else.”

X is for xenia [What’s it like to be their guest?]

Well, they don’t really have a lot of people over. The only people who ever visit them are Franklin and Lamar, sometimes Tracey and Jimmy, and on the rarest occasions, Lester. But that’s usually only if he needs something.

When they’re in Sandy Shores, they’ll have Ron over, and occasionally, they’ll bring Wade when Trevor wants to get him out of the strip club.

Being their guest is like going to a haunted house. It can be fun, but you have a chance of getting traumatized in some way.

“Hey, do y’all two have any-” Franklin stops, throwing his hands over his eyes as he jumps back into the hallway. “What the fuck?”

Trevor’s laughter fills in the room as Michael blushes, fumbling for the zipper on his pants before pulling Trevor up from his knees.

“Fuck,” Michael starts. “Sorry. We ain’t doing anything. I promise.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, dog,” Franklin shudders, finally peaking through his fingers. “Look, I just came to ask if y’all had any beer. But I can see you’re busy.”

“We weren’t …” Michael trails off, knowing there’s no point in denying it. “I’ll show you where it is.”

The three boys walk downstairs, Trevor still snickering to himself as Michael nudges him every so often to try and get him to quit.

“Maybe next time, wait for your guests to leave before you start messing around up there,” Franklin chuckles.

The boys’ heads glance over when Lamar pipes up beside them, apparently catching the end of the conversation. “Yo, you and crazy dude was fuckin’ up there?”

“Kill me,” Michael mumbles while Trevor cackles beside him.

Yeah, they don’t have guests over very often anymore.

Y is for yearly [Any traditions? Anniversaries?]

They’ve picked up some new traditions and brought back some old. Back in North Yankton, before Michael ever met Amanda, there were several years that he and Trevor would bake holiday cookies for Christmas. Were they good at it? No. But that never stopped them. Neither of them grew up in particularly warm households, so it was up to them to create some kind of holiday cheer.

Plus, when Tracey was born, she loved to help out. Oftentimes, you could find her in Trevor’s arms as they used cookie cutters to make the dough into little trees and reindeer.

Deciding to carry that tradition into their relationship and marriage, every Christmas they bake cookies, and every year, they taste a little like shit. But they both love it.

“Merry Christmas, daddy,” Tracey says, hugging Michael and Trevor. “Merry Christmas, uncle T.”

“Merry Christmas, kid,” Trevor pats her back before going to grab a few of the supplies needed for the recipe they’re making.

Michael hands her a bowl for the dough. “Merry Christmas, Trace. Glad you could come over. How’s college going?”

“Good! Classes, like, totally rock!”

He smiles, nodding approvingly. “Good.”

“What about your brother? He too good to hang out with us tonight?” Trevor jokes, setting the butter, milk, and eggs down on to the table.

Tracey giggles. “I think he’s working.”

“I’m still not used to hearing that,” Michael laughs. “What about your mom?”

“She’s good too. She’s, and I quote, ‘finally relaxed now that you’re someone else’s problem.’”

Trevor snorts. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“You wouldn’t want it any other way,” Michael shoves him lightly.

“Maybe not.”

Michael, Trevor, and Tracey work in unison for the next 20 minutes until they finally have some semi-decent cookies that are ready to be baked. Sticking them in the oven and setting a timer, they all get cleaned up and move to the living room.

Michael flops down onto the couch, and Trevor falls next to him, putting his arm around his shoulders. Tracey makes her way to the other side of the couch so she can stretch her legs as they all wait for the cookies to be done.

“We should make this a tradition again! Now that you and daddy are together, we could do this, like, every year. Remember when we used to do this when I was young, uncle T?”

“Sure do, kiddo,” Trevor grins. “With Jimmy too.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess he could even come next year. What do you think?”

Michael sees that Tracey and Trevor are looking at him for an answer, so he nods. “Yeah, we could probably make that happen.”

The three of them talk about the future, Tracey mostly supplying the conversation with her babbling while Michael and Trevor happily sit back, leaning into each other as they listen.

When it comes to anniversaries, they also celebrate those every year. They’re not as uptight as some couples about them, but they tend to mean a lot to Trevor, and it’s a concrete way for Michael to show that he’s putting work into their relationship and cares about it enough to do so. So, they celebrate them every year.

Z is for Zzz [Sleep habits? Who’s the big spoon? What do they wear in bed? Are they coddlers?]

Michael’s never really gotten a perfect night’s rest — not since he was a baby presumably. He’s had okay nights and even, what he’d consider, good nights. But never perfect. Never the full eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Nightmares often plague his nighttime life. When he was a teen, it used to be flashes of his father hitting him — beating him black and blue until he was coughing blood days after. As a young adult, he dreamt of robberies gone wrong, getting shot, going to prison, and so on. As an older man, his dreams are a toss-up between his past worries and his future ones. Hurting Trevor, dying, or, most often, both.

Trevor, in the past, didn’t sleep a lot either. Some nightmares, sure, but mostly from the drugs coursing through his veins at any given time. Since Michael and him got together and he started working on being clean, he’s gotten a bit more sleep than the usual.

The same can be said for Michael, though. Sleeping next to Trevor has helped tremendously, especially for his Trevor-themed nightmares. Knowing he’ll wake up next to the man is comforting.

Because of their shaky sleep schedule, they both take turns being the big spoon/little spoon depending on who needs what.

Trevor gently nudges Michael, who’s restlessly tossing around. “Mikey … Mikey.”

Michael’s eyes fly open, and Trevor grabs his arms to stop them from reaching for the gun by the bed.

The dark room stays silent for a minute as Michael’s breathing levels out before he sighs. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Trevor gives a noncommittal hum. “You haven’t had a dream like that in awhile.”

“Yeah, we’ve been sleepin’ good recently, huh?”

Trevor puts his arms around Michael, feeling his bare chest rise and fall steadily. “Yeah, sure have. What were you dreamin’ about?”

“Just … North Yankton,” Michael admits, pulling Trevor close. “Being back there — what could have happened, I guess.”

“There’s no use thinking about the past since we can’t change it. Ain’t that what your new shrink said?”

“She said I should let it go,” he corrects. “But I can’t.”

Trevor frowns, tracing circles on Michael’s chest. “Why not? Still sad you missed your opportunity to put me down?

“Knock it off,” Michael grabs his hand, scratching where Trevor was lightly brushing before. “And that ain’t funny, T.”

Trevor rolls his eyes but decides not to push it. “Look, sugar, we all have things we regret. But we’re here now, and that’s what matters, right? We’ve got your spoiled kids, Franklin, Lamar, hell, even Lester. We’re good.”

“I know,” Michael says quietly, agreeing. “I really am sorry, though. For a lot shit.”

“Yeah, me too. For a lot of shit.”

Michael leans down and kisses Trevor’s head before pulling the blankets up over them again and going back to sleep.

When they can’t sleep, it’s usually filled with just that — banter, soft comforts, and an insult or two so the other can feel right at home. It’s not always picture perfect, but they wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

[castaway-achlys]

Castor's Backstory!

Warnings!

If you are uncomfortable with dark topics, this may not be for you. Please also keep in mind that this is quite long, around 2200 words, and only really encompasses Castor's background. Please let me know if I have missed anything regarding triggers.

Triggers include: genetic experimentation and modification, medical horror, marital issues, child abuse, racism (their mother hates fae), corruption, manipulation, deception, lying, a narcissistic parent (their mother), monsters (phantoms), body horror, self harm, bodily mutilation, disrespect for the dead, severe neglect, starvation, death, blood, torture, mental trauma, forced hormone therapy, isolation, gender inequality, overblotting, and brief mentions of dysphoria.

Castor and Pollux were born to parents Astraia and Iason Achlys on the 22nd of May under the star sign of Gemini. Though, upon seeing the results of Astraia's alleged modifications in the pursuit of the twins' health, it was impossible to ignore what she'd done. The beloved twins that Iason had waited so long to see... were now freaks of nature.

One twin was incredibly small despite both Astraia and Iason being rather tall, though still average humans. The other? Not outrageously large, but definitely shocking considering the stature of the other.

Iason was a bit outraged at his wife. The small female twin he'd dubbed as Castor, upon closer inspection, had pointed, fae-like ears. It didn't take a genius to also notice that this baby was... strong, despite being a newborn. When Iason provided his finger for her to try to grab, she had an insane amount of grip strength. He wasn't in any danger of being harmed or having it broken by her just yet, but this was not normal.

On the other hand... Astraia couldn't care any less about her husband's opinion now that he'd found out of her experimentation. Her work had resulted in a success. That was all that mattered.

Almost immediately after the discovery of the twins, Astraia's corruption began to seep through the cracks of the elaborate mask she'd designed. Her marriage had been a consummation of her and her spouse's love at the beginning, but now that she was pregnant, it was simply a hoax; another addition to the compendium of deceit she was maintaining to everyone, even her employers.

Iason was kept in the dark, and was none the wiser as to her plans. To him, she was the perfect woman, intelligent and beautiful, and someone he deeply treasured. He was so happy and excited to see the child-- or children, they'd later discover-- that would be born into a home filled with love.

Everything, even down to her employers, became tools which Astraia used to wield her hate and create her own tool-- no, her own weapon. As a top researcher at STYX, she had access to many things, and with every injection, every manipulation of the DNA of the eggs developing inside her, she took another step down a path from which she could not return. The creation of monsters... both her twins, and Astraia herself.

Upon seeing further developmental stages, it became evident that one twin was progressing much faster than the other. Its milestones were much more akin to a developing fae than the other twin, who was on track to becoming a healthy human baby.

From the time Astraia began noticing the fae-like traits of one of her twins, she felt a mixture of delight and disgust. She vehemently hated fae, regardless of what anyone would tell her or say. They were lesser, monsters, vermin. Even as they integrated into the world, and even if some of them had become her "friends," her co-workers... they were nothing short of scum that had taken the lives of so many humans in the past. Having one of those... those pests, growing inside her? Even if it was mostly human, it was still disgusting.

She defiled many bodies, both of her own twins and of deceased fae who had donated their bodies to science, using both in tandem to corrupt the unborn Castor and Pollux into her own monstrosities. Guilt barely crossed her conscience as she asked her husband what she'd like them to look like. Iason was admittedly unnerved by the question, but she coaxed him into telling her what he hoped the two would look like. After being assured nothing would go wrong, that she was simply ensuring their hair and eyes would be as desired, he finally gave into her wants.

One twin, the girl, would have one of Astraia's two eye colors-- bright pink-- and Iason's own dark blue hair. The other twin, the boy, would have her other eye color, a gentle blue, and opposite hair to his sister's, a bright pink. This way, both twins had her eyes, and one of the twins had his hair, and they would always be connected and recognizable by their opposite features.

Her true work began after that, in which she began injecting them with everything she'd prepared; at least, until she hit a roadblock. The larger and more human-like of the two, who would later be named Pollux, had been rejecting most of her edits. It was frustrating, but at least one of them, who would become Castor, was showing signs of success.

Immediately after Iason had a moment with his twins, they were whisked away to be cleaned up, though this was the last time Iason would see either of his beloved children for quite some time. Under the guise of ensuring their health, and now that he knew a little of what she'd done, she locked the twins away.

Despite screaming and crying, pleading with their tiny voices until their poor throats were raw for their mother's love, neither twin saw heads or tails of her. They were merely tests, and only fed enough to be healthy in these critical stages so soon after their births. Neither twin was given the opportunity to become attached to any worker that tended to their needs either; it was a new one each time. 

Nobody could fight back against Astraia, lest she terminate the experiment-- meaning their lives were at risk if anyone so much as snuck in to feed them, and thus, as they grew, neither twin knew how to speak. They only ever cried to alert someone to their needs. No sounds, no babbling, no words. 

The very first time they spoke, and for a long time after, they only uttered jumbled, incoherent medical terms they'd heard.

By the time that they could walk, the torture and torment to their small bodies had long since commenced. One twin, Castor, outshined the other, Pollux, in terms of results, but Pollux outshined Castor in terms of personality. He'd begun speaking a lot more, and had become very friendly, while Castor remained eerily silent. Her eyes were dark and devoid of life despite her young age, though Pollux made up for it with his immense amount of child-like curiosity and wonder for the world. Despite what happened to him, Pollux maintained a kind heart and sweet demeanor, while Castor only grew cold towards the world, except her brother.

Only Pollux could make a shimmer appear in her cruel, calculating gaze.

Around the age of 5, Castor's world would grow a thousand times darker. Pollux was released from the facility to live with Iason, who put him in school and began immediately atoning for the fact both of them had been without each other for 5 long years. 

Meanwhile... Castor began the next stage of experimentation, where Astraia introduced phantom-- monster-- DNA to what she had already been doing, including hormone therapy. She'd been making Castor into a boy as much as she could without touching the child's body to surgically "fix her." Men were simply stronger, and she didn't intend to stop until Castor was more manly. Castor naively assumed this was normal. She was never told her own gender, much less taught about gender and identity.

Pollux had rubbed off on her, and now that she was older, Castor knew how to speak. She copied Pollux, and used her newfound words the only way she knew how-- to scream. To beg. To cry. To plead for mercy, for the torture to cease as her mother injected her small veins with a black tar-like substance that felt like fire, burning her from the inside out. It swallowed her whole, forcing her to quickly accumulate blot and pushing her body to the limit.

Her untrimmed nails clawed at her pale skin, digging into the flesh until scarlet liquid trailed down her arms as she attempted to stop the pain that seared and slowly spread through her body, all the way to her core. Astraia simply watched her daughter's blood spill with an upturned nose and an air of disgust. This pathetic being, begging her for mercy, was something that came from her? It simply wouldn't do.

With a snap of her mother's fingers, workers forced Castor down and strapped her to the cold, unforgiving surface of the medical table, where she'd yell daily until her voice no longer worked, tear stains were plastered to her thin, underfed cheeks, and the tears themselves no longer had enough supply to continue their flow from her doe-like eyes that began, once again, to lose their light in the absence of her brother.

When the experiment-- at least for that day-- would conclude, Castor would be released from the restraints, only to inflict more damage to herself. It was allowed to continue until enough data had been collected regarding her healing process, and then it would begin the worst cycle of neglect Castor had ever experienced. 

Healing wounds, scabs, and scars all adorned her flesh until Astraia had grown sick of her fighting, and ordered workers to keep her strapped down for days at a time. During this period, Castor was denied food, water, attention, everything, and left to make a mess of herself and live in her own filth until people would unstrap her, drag her weak body up, and force her into a shower that felt like ice. Tubes were shoved down her throat without much regard for her safety, and food forced into her stomach, which would inevitably leave her throwing up from too much being fed too quickly after starvation.

As time passed, the workers would regret everything they did to her. Left on her own, in an imprisonment of white walls and artificial light, Castor grew feral, full of hatred and rage that coursed through her veins until one day, it stopped. On the outside, Castor was overblotting and committing atrocities, spilling the blood of workers, both innocent and guilty, but inside her mind was a comforting numbness that set in.

As Castor watched blood and light drain from the bodies of the people who had done this to her, a wicked smile stretched across her face. It was the worst outbreak the facility would ever see, both Castor and her phantom using magic that they'd not previously seen or known of to destroy entire sectors of the facility and squadrons of innocent fighters desperately trying to quell her anger.

Eventually, she was brought down, though not without consequences. As the price for destruction, Castor was forced in and out of an overblot state time and time again until her body could no longer withstand the sheer power it held, and gave out. It nearly resulted in her death, but the experiments simply continued without care from Astraia.

Over the years, visits from her brother became allowed once again, though it was during one of these visits that Castor, who had hit puberty at a young age, was finally informed of the things her mother had done. Normal girls bled, Castor did not. Normal girls did not have a significant change in their voice to make it lower, Castor did.

Once this had sunk in, it would take a few years before Castor did anything about it. Thanks to Pollux, who had grown so much, Castor did discover that she felt dysphoria and a disconnect from her birth gender, which was lucky for her considering the changes her mother had caused to take place in her body. Castor requested surgery to correct his breasts growing and make his chest flat, and had his matted, unkempt hair shaved off.

In solidarity for his new brother, Pollux, who already had longer hair-- though his was actually cared for-- continued to grow it out. If his brother felt down about his body and looks, Pollux would show Castor that his hair was long and pretty, and he was still a boy despite it.

It was small actions like this by his brother that gave Castor the strength to endure anything thrown at him, and to begin to calm the hatred that resided within him. It still very much raged silently in the very depths of his soul and threatened to seep through the cracks, but Pollux held him together despite his darkness.

Castor became much more docile, though not happy by any means. He simply allowed things to happen and trusted that he could make it through until the next time Pollux would be allowed to visit.

12 years passed, and Castor's progress, at least within the facility, had plateaued. In her benevolence-- which was mostly just to appease Iason, who threatened divorce and degrading her image-- Astraia allowed Castor to be freed.

Castor raced through school, absorbing so much knowledge that he graduated on time with his brother at the age of 17-- a mere 5 years spent on education that took most humans over a decade. During this time, he learned so much about the world and how humans worked... though nothing Iason tried-- medicine, therapy, support-- could heal the damage Astraia had done. Only his love and Pollux's could help Castor, who was stunted beyond belief.

[spookymultimedia]

Violated at Birth

Liane confesses the truth to Eric Cartman about his genital mutilation surgery

"What do you want bitch?!" Cartman yelled as he stomped down the stairs to his Mother, who was calling for him.

"Eric, I've scheduled you for top surgery. You'll be able to get those boobs removed before Christmas." She said it like she had found the cure for cancer. He stared up at her with an angry look in his eye.

"WHAT?!" he screamed and threw up his hands.

"You need to get those things removed eventually. It would be better to remove them now while they're still small and easy to remove."

He stared at her and scowled. He was shaking with anger. "DID YOU EVEN THINK TO ASK IF I WANT THAT!??"

"Eric!" She said appallingly.

"I'm fine with my body! I don't want fucking surgery!! Don't I fucking matter!!? Doesn't how I fucking feel about my body matter!!?? What happened to my body, my choice!!??" He screamed and pounded his fists against the table.

"This is for your own good. I want you to grow up into a nice healthy boy. You'll be thankful when you're older, trust me."

"I'M HAPPY WITH MY BODY!! THE ONLY ONE WHO'S DISGUSTED HERE IS YOU!!" he pointed at her bitterly, angry tears tipped his eyes.

"Eric plea-"

"Don't fuck with my body!! Don't mess with it!! I don't ever want a single fucking surgery done to me!!"

She went silent.

"Well!??" He barked out.

She gave him a guilty look.

"You. . .you didn't- you didn't put me through surgery as a baby? Did you?"

She crossed her arms and stared off sadly at nothing. A cold chill ran down his spine.

". . . .mom?" He mumbled "you, you didn't, right?"

She sighed, "When you were born, the doctors couldn't tell if you were a boy or a girl. I was expecting a girl when I was pregnant, but when I got the choice, I decided I would rather have a boy-"

"Choice?? Choice about what?" He felt confused and scared.

"Whether to have the doctors make you a boy or a girl of course. The doctors said it wouldn't be easy to make you a boy but they managed to rearrange your private parts to look more male. They did a pretty good job considering all the complications"

He felt sick to his stomach hearing what she said. She knew? She knew about this? He blinked back years. He had never felt so violated in his life.

"You- you knew? You knew that I was intersex this entire time??" He stammered out with a shaky voice.

"Of course I did."

"Why didn't you tell me. . .?" His voice cracked, "why did you lie to me?? Why did you tell me I don't have balls because I'm a late bloomer!?"

"You are a normal boy! You just have some issues with your body."

He looked at her heartbroken. He loved his body. Why couldn't everyone else love it too?

"I hate you." He mumbled

"Eric. . ." She said softly, "don't be upset. I know you're not completely male but we did the best we could do-"

"YOU RAPED ME!! YOU FUCKING RAPED MY BODY AND MUTILATED ME!!! YOU LET THEM TOUCH ME AND CUT ME OPEN LIKE A FUCKING FROG!!"

"Sweetie calm down. They didn't rape you. Would you like some cookies?? We could go buy a new toy! Would that make you feel better poopsikins?" She said in an infantilizing tone to her 14 year old child.

"I HATE YOU!! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU YOU FUCKING BITCH !! " he yelled as he ran out of the house and went towards Kyle's house.

He pounded on the door and ran inside as soon as Sheila had opened it.

"THAT FUCKING BITCH I HATE HER. I FUCKING HATE HER. I HOPE SHE DIES!!" He ran into the kitchen and just sat on the floor, overwhelmed with anger.

"What?? Who??" Sheila asked, confused as she shut the door. Kyle stared at him, mad at him for busting into his house so rudely while he was eating.

"MY MOM IS A CRAZY BITCH!! SHE'S A FUCKING PSYCHO!!"

Sheila bent down, "Calm down and breathe, I can't understand you."

"She's forcing me to get top surgery without even asking me about it!! She's evil, I hate her!!" He tugged at his hair and screamed.

"WHAT WHAT WHAT?!!" She said upset.

She stood up and stormed out of the house to give Liane a piece of her mind. Kyle sat there stunned and confused. He looked down at Cartman who was hugging his knees.

"Are you okay?"

"NO I'M NOT OKAY KAHL!!"

"Well, I'm gonna go watch Terrance and Philip." He quietly put his dishes away and walked to the living room. He sat criss cross on the couch and turned on the TV. Cartman calmed down after a moment. He trudged over to the couch and laid down on the couch next to Kyle.

"You want a cookie?" Kyle gestured to the plate of cookies on the table.

He shook his head no. He stared at the TV but couldn't pay attention. His mind was racing. He was thinking about the surgery. He remembered the unexplainable nightmares and panic attacks he felt that were accompanied with the weird pain in his groin. He suddenly felt this rush of sadness and horror. He would never be able to see his genitals as nature made him. To see himself without surgery. He didn't get any choice in the matter. They saw what they considered a "defect" and plucked it away from him. He didn't want to be changed. He didn't want this. This wasn't right. This was wrong. His throat closed up on him. His vision went blurry with tears.

Kyle glanced down at him and felt awful, watching the tears roll down his face. Kyle hadn't seen him this hurt since Chef died. Cartman helplessly sobbed into the couch.

"What's wrong?"

Cartman looked up at him. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He didn't know how to explain it. He wasn't even sure if Kyle would understand. How could any of his friends understand? Their genitals were acceptable. They didn't know how it felt to be fixed when there was nothing that needed to be fixed.

Cartman just buried his face into the couch and cried.

Kyle froze and stared at him. He had no idea what to say or do, or what the fuck he was crying about. He felt bad for him. He looked seriously hurt. He put a hand on his back. He curled up closer to Kyle, who petted his upper back quietly. They stayed that way for an hour without saying anything.

Sheila came back home and knelt next to Eric and spoke softly to him.

"I spoke with your mother and she agreed to cancel the surgery. No one is going to do anything with your body again."

He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"You can stay here as long as you need to."

"Can I spend the night?" He mumbled

"Of course you can."

"Thank you," he whispered. He took a cookie and started to eat it.

She stood up and went to the kitchen to start on supper. Kyle followed her.

"Mom? What's wrong with Cartman?"

"Oh Kyle. When a baby is born, the doctors look at your private parts and determine if you're a girl or a boy."

"And I was called a boy because of my penis?"

"That's right. When Eric was born he had ambiguous genitalia that didn't fit their description of a boy or a girl. So Ms.Cartman decided to let the doctors mutilate him to have something close to a penis."

"Is that bad?"

"It's very bad. That surgery is unnecessary and harmful. Ms.Cartman wants to make decisions about Eric's body without his consent."

". . Oh. . Oh no." Kyle understood everything now. That was sick. Who could do such an evil thing to a child. Why was this being done legally?? This is cruelty! He had to do something about it, but what? He wasn't sure but he would figure out something.

[flutteringfable]

here’s everything i have jotted down for the infection au. gotta thank my moot @pwupcakess for the initial idea; it was genuinely a really cool and original take on the cutie mark themed infections ive seen going around! i think this au definitely still needs some cleaning and clarification, but i really wanted to play with the idea of a magic-based illness, considering magic is so vital to the ponies’ lives :3

warnings for mentions of death, two (2) mentions of body mutilation (chopping off a cutie mark [not described in detail]) and descriptions of mild gore. nothing too crazy, and honestly i feel like its a bit tamer than most infection aus lolz. still tread with caution if need be!

begins at the flank. around the cutie mark, a bruiselike mark will appear. this mark will darken and spread over time. usually it takes about 2-3 weeks for the infection to reach past the hocks, but in the early stages, it doesn’t appear to grow significantly for a few days.

common flu symptoms begin in the early stages. ponies will feel slightly fatigued, sore (specifically around the flank), and congested. dizziness is also common in weaker ponies. depending on the pony’s health pre-infection, these symptoms can vary in severity.

as the bruise spreads, it appears in patches over the body (think something like swamp fever). ponies’ fur will thin out and in some cases leave completely empty patches where the infection leaves marks.

after the first few weeks, the bruise coloration will have spread to almost the entire leg. at this point, ponies will feel stiffness in their back legs, but the full paralysis will not set in until another week has passed. the previous symptoms will intensify exponentially.

in its third stage, the infection will have spread to the front legs as well. in more severe cases, it will have made it almost halfway up the neck. paralysis won’t set in fully in the front legs until the infection reaches above the ears. ponies can still drag themselves around if absolutely necessary, but the fatigue and paralysis in the back legs, as well as the dizziness, makes it incredibly difficult.

in its final stages, the infection will have spread past the ears and will begin to slowly spread to the rest of the head. it spreads from beneath the chin and behind the ears. ponies will be almost comatose at this point, though most are still able to talk and be fed. the soreness will have dissipated completely at this point, leaving ponies’ legs numb and unusable. it takes about four days for the infection to finish covering the body, reaching the brain and killing the pony.

instead of the mane 6/7/8 (if you count sunset and starlight), the cmc are the main ones working to fight the virus. starlight is still mostly healthy (aside from sleep deprivation and stress), others’ statuses are tbd.

at this point, the cmc are around 9-12ish. they still don’t have marks, and are therefore immune.

chopping off a cutie mark cupcakes-style can also stop the virus, but it leaves a nasty scar and depending on the progression of the virus, it can still leave a pony paralyzed accordingly.

cutie marks go to about the second layer of skin, so it isn’t too hard to carve them out if somepony has a strong enough will or is desperate enough.

spells like starlight’s that change a pony’s mark do not change the effects or speed of the infection (trust her, she’s tried).

the first princess to be infected is luna, and in her haste to find a way to heal her sister, celestia is infected as well.

cadence, shining armor, and flurry heart are all safe, but cadence is struggling trying to decide between going to help the other princesses or staying to watch over her family.

twilight is wandering with spike, trying to find a faster way to create a cure. she contracts the infection while exploring near the original castle.

areas high in magical energy are at high risk to infect ponies. ponies with high magical energy themselves, such as the elements of harmony, unicorns, and alicorns, are at a much higher risk to be infected because of the instability caused by the virus. while infected, these ponies will show more extreme symptoms such as wild magic when trying to cast spells.

when celestia and luna are infected, the land is kept in a perpetual sunrise because neither of them can safely wield the sun or moon.

[homeofhousechickens]

Are there any chicken breeds you'd say are unethical to breed (besides Cornish ofc)?

The CornishX/CornishRock is unethical NOT The Cornish please remember the distinction and to add the X because the Cornish Game/Indian Game really needs to be preserved as a breed and they are slow growing and perfectly healthy but people think THAT is the Cornish most people talk about when its not :(

I think most exhibition Polish and Silkies in America are unethical. "Show quality" bearded polish and silkies are functionally blind if their crests and beard are not trimmed and the selection towards worse vaults for a bigger crest has to stop for the betterment of the breed. Remember a big crest doesnt always equal vaulted but some breeders think it does.

I think some extreme serama are a bit to typey to truly thrive the same way a chicken with a more normal body plan can.

If i go another 50 years without seeing a picture of a Dong Tao Chicken that would still be to soon. They are prone to arthritis for obvious reasons and will keel over dead if they are not kept in very hygienic environments where their feet are not being managed. I have heard from some vietnamese chicken fanciers that it is a more modern creation (please correct me if i am wrong) and the sensationalism around the breed drives more birds to be bred. I dread the day they are imported and become more popular in America because people think they will be able to sell them for lots of money (EYE ROLL) when they take a minimum of a year to reach maturity and they can still need supplemental heat even when they are full feathered before that because like i said they die super easily.

Game bird breeds where the process of dubbing is still required to show them are also unethical in my opinion. These birds are no longer being used in blood sports, so there is no reason for them to have to go through unnecessary surgery that is usually done by people who are not veterinary professionals without pain relief. Chickens also have different comb genes like the pea comb so if its an aesthetic choice breeders should cross that into their birds rather then mutilating them for no reason. SINGLE COMB IS RECESSIVE TO ALL OTHER COMB TYPES! It wouldnt be difficult and it has been done! Every time i see a breeder showing a breed that is traditionally dubbed and their birds are undubbed i make sure to voice my support, dubbing is cruel, unnecessary, and encourages lazy breeding. Why breed for good nice looking combs if your just going to cut them off?

[armzsoup]

TOY PUSSY (2006), Viviane Cardell

Artist creates series in which she questions the asexuality of Barbie dolls

“ The year was 2006, when Viviane Cardell, a visual artist who also trained in Anthropology, launched her first series of idealized vulvas. The collection was presented in Madrid, Spain, and later in São Paulo, in 2009. Since then, works from it have been exhibited in private exhibitions and galleries.

The question raised by the Toy Pussy series goes through the hypersensualization of a consumer object [the doll], which at the same time is a mere hanger for accessories. “when all [the accessories] are removed, and the doll is finally naked, the representation of an asexual woman is revealed, without any sign of a vulva between her legs”, points out the artist.

The series also raises awareness of a model of femininity imbued with an overwhelming symbolic charge and supported by the consumer industry, “which has instilled a fable in children's heads”, according to Cardell. “That, to become a woman, it is essential to obtain new clothes, shoes, houses, furniture, properties, other dolls, a whole world, always”, she explains.

Viviane didn't create her works for children, exactly, but they were conceived because of them. With Toy Pussy “I propose a reflection on the sexual roles imposed by a culture that takes away a healthy awareness of one's own sexuality, treated as taboo, at the same time that it hypersexualizes it, making it vulnerable to all forms of abuse”, she details.

When designing the collection of imaginary vulvas for Barbie, “I idealize a symbolic cure for the mutilated doll, and for the romantic girls who grow up kidnapped by a superficial model of femininity”, aims the artist. The work, according to Cardell, presents a counterpoint to the culture of rigid beauty standards, “especially for women to become 'obedient bodies', an expression coined by Naomi Wolff in her book 'The Myth of Beauty'”, discusses the artist .

Cardell points out that “the news about the exponential growth of cosmetic surgeries on the female genital organ is alarming, with vaginoplasties, labiaplasties and nymphoplasties, with the aim of acquiring a vagina 'delicate like a Barbie', that doll that doesn't have a vagina” .

When presented, the expography reproduces a toy showcase, where the colorful vulvas are inside transparent acrylic boxes with labels, like on toy packaging. The same inspiration involves other details, such as phrases that integrate the boxes and explain the toys. In the case of “Toy Pussies”, subtitles and comical catchphrases with double meanings are translated into several languages.

Using humor, albeit acidic, but also joy, fun, playfulness, the collection points to pleasure as a way of rescuing bodies, whose symbolic castration occurs through a mercantile and patriarchal logic that converts them into objects, susceptible to physical, sexual, aesthetic and emotional violence.

The collection exhibited in 2009, in São Paulo, introduced the thematic series Pussies of the World, which mentioned the genital mutilation practiced in some parts of the world, equating it with the symbolic mutilation of the doll. In addition, it presented the special series Bardot Pussies, created in honor of the actress Brigitte Bardot, a contemporary of Barbie, but an authentic symbol of female sexual liberation.

More than 10 years after the exhibition in São Paulo and after the “#TheDollEvolves” campaign, launched by Mattel (doll manufacturer) in 2016, one would think that Toy Pussy was outdated. However, this campaign, using the concepts of diversity and inclusion, was nothing more than an advertising ploy to stop the drop in sales and expand its market. Through discreet adjustments to the doll's facial features, hair and body shape, the “evolved” Barbie won over new young consumers of all colors, bodies and hair types.

And the original contradictions of this icon persist: the need for accessories, now different and more expensive, and the void between the legs. By understanding the manufacturer's marketing move, Viviane has been working on the new Toy Pussy Evolution collection, in which the artist focuses on issues of plurality. She reiterates the initial concept of the project and explores different shapes, colors, textures and sizes for vulvas, and also addresses the inclusion of LGBT+ people and people with disabilities.

The complaint, in this new series, discusses the authenticity of these flights by the brand for democratic reasons, “restricted to those who can pay for the expensive boarding ticket and which is based on the contemporary cliché of meritocracy with the motto: #YouCanBeAnythingYouWant, which takes into account unbridled consumption, essential to the Barbie doll, and the eternal selling of more of the same.”, accuses the artist. ”

[riftofthestars]

Been thinking about Blackwood and Ada lately and how - were they in any other place but Asterium - they would have been in a really healthy sub/dom relationship. Just because of a few factors.

Their first meeting was when Blackwood took shelter from a snowstorm in a cavern, but tripped and fell down into an underground river, ending up in Ada's kingdom injured and on the brink of death. Intrigued by Blackwood's plain body, Ada took him in and saw that he would be healed by her own hands. She used crystals to mend his broken bones and bark to mend his skin and flesh, resulting in his distinguished appearance.

But an important thing in Asterium is that people's bodies change to fit their surroundings: a smith will grow metal to be protected from the flame, a sailor would grow ghills and webbing etc. But Blackwood, despite being of age, at a time where he should have had signs of change for years, never evolved such things. So this change was basically forced onto him by Ada - both to experiment what would happen and because she knew no other way to help him - and this, during a time when Blackwood was in too much pain to even resist or say anything, resulted in a mutilation that wouldn't give his body an attempt at a slower evolution.

That didn't mean he wasn't grateful for Ada's help, she saved him from certain death, didn't she? So while he recovered in this place of almost pure darkness, say for the fluorescent plants that littered the cavern walls, and dangling by silk ropes from the ceiling, he still showed Ada the kindness and gratitude he would have showed anyone else.

Ada got her power by making people submit to her rule after dethroing and killing her father, so she was used to people recognizing her status and acting accordingly.

And that got Ada's attention. She had a lot of consorts, and quite a few of them submitted to her easily. Those that didn't were those that held some sort of status in her kingdom. But Blackwood didn't have any sort of status, there was no bolstering pride or resistance against in him at that time.

Blackwood was the first person in a very, very long time to not treat her as a queen, but rather just a person that saved his life. He treated her with kindness born not out of respect of her status, but from his heart. Ada wanted to see more of that. The two talked like any two people would while Blackwood recovered, but there was always something in the back of Ada's mind that wanted to see more of this hunter that fell from high above, hear more of his stories.

The presence of this hunter was pleasant to her, of course she would want to spend more time with him. He had a way of telling stories of the people he met, of the things he'd done, of what he'd seen that it was music to her ears; the way he treated her servants with such nervousness and humility was just adorable and endearing; his passion was delectable to witness. Ada wanted Blackwood to be hers, she wouldn't allow for her other consorts to do the same things she would allow between themselves.

She wasn't going to keep him in her caverns by force, goodness no - but that didn't mean she wouldn't convince him to come back. And she was in certainly no rush to get him out of her kingdom.

When Ada figured it had been long enough after Blackwood's full recovery, she made sure that he would be allowed to leave. She was part of the escort that guided Blackwood out of that mountain, giving him a kiss on each cheek before allowing him to leave with an invitation to come back to the Crystal Caverns at any time.

Blackwood had also enjoyed Ada's company. Compared to most royalty he heard of and most peope in power he met, there was something... different about Ada. The way she was careful with her actions, how her words seemed so captivating and deliberate and how curious she was of the outside world. The gentle yet powerful way of her sway is what captivated him.

While going on about his life, he kept visiting her more and more. From a day to two, from two to three, from three to a week and so on. And each time he fell in love with her just a little bit more.

Blackwood was always a loving person - he loved the earth and its trees, the sky and its wind, the water and its rivers, and the people. But this love was different, it grew as time went on, putting a pleasurable weight on his chest. The weight wasn't anything negative, it wasn't worry about what others would say or paranoia about what Ada would do or anxiety about how his body looked. This was the weight of a passion towards a person, genuine love that sparked intensity.

His mind came to accept that the crystal and the bark was just how he looked now, that it was just a reminded that tried to dampen the bad memories of his almost death through beauty.

But in truth, that was just a coping mechanism - he began to say that what Ada did to him was "A piece of art made by a very skilled hand" because he was worried that he would see it as a mutilation that some saw it as if he didn't convince himself..

He was truly in love with Ada, she didn't even need to try and plant any sort of seed for him to come back - she didn't even get the chance to try.

Ada also slowly fell in love with Blackwood. It wasn't just to satisfy her curiosity or to fulfill this thirst of hers for whatever Blackwood's presence brought her.

Slowly but surely, Blackwood began to spend less and less time with in the city and with the people he would travel literal days before, even spending less time in the cabin he's lived all his life in, preferring to spend his time in the caverns, with Ada.

And slowly but surely, Ada took more and more. She did love Blackwood and Blackwood loved her, so he would surely tell her when she was too much, right?

Blackwood was never pushed to the extreme or on the point of breaking. Ada was so careful and gentle as she tried newer and riskier things, she would know when to stop, right?

Blackwood's boundaries were pushed bit by bit, yes, but it was a slow enough progression for the both of them to think that he was adapting well.

Blackwood put trust into Ada to not go too far and Ada put trust into Blackwood to make sure she didn't went to far.

Yet there where still these... moments, cracks in their relationship that were never discussed besides being fixed in the moment. With time, over the course of the 5 years they were together, these cracks just gathered. Not once did Blackwood truly move in with Ada, but he did spend more time with her and on the trips to her kingdom than in his own home.

While most of Ada's consorts accommodated to Blackwood and his relationship with Ada, there were still those that were jealous that he was getting special treatment - those that thought they deserved to be by Ada's side instead of Blackwood. One of them took it upon themselves to give Blackwood a piece of their mind.

He was told he was nothing more than a pet for Ada, a plaything, something to be admired, used then discarded. After all, Ada still had her consorts, she still showed them affection and slept with them.

Blackwood never told Ada this. He tried to put whatever he was told to the side, because he knew that Ada was actually in love with him, right?

She indeed was in love with Blackwood, madly. But she couldn't read minds.

Next crack in their relationship showed up was what broke Blackwood. It wasn't long after this jealous consort confronted Blackwood, not even a month. And normally this would have been a moment where either Blackwood would have asked to stop or Ada would have realized that this would have been too much for him. But he just bared it with clenched teeth and let the moment go. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice was telling him that if she actually loved him, Ada would have already known that what she was doing was too much. But again, Ada couldn't read minds.

What followed was a spiral of reliving every crack in their relationship, which devolved in realizing how much power Ada had over Blackwood not only in status and strength, but also how swift she was in her words.

What he once loved about her, that smooth influence over those around her that she had, turned from filling his chest with passion to filling his mind with paranoia. Had she been doing the same to him? Was she indeed just using him?

The answer was no. After a very short while, after she made sure that Blackwood would visit her again, Ada stopped trying to influence him intentionally, she would have probably allowed him to leave one last time and never retun if she was asked to.

In Asterium people can influence others in much heavier ways. Sometimes unconsciously.

That's what Ada didn't realize. She might have stopped doing it on purpose, but that didn't mean she stopped doing it entirely.

Blackwood figured that out. He began seeing things as that jealous consort put it in front of him. He felt broken. He felt betrayed. There was no use in even talking to Ada, because in his mind she already showed her colors.

So he left at the same night, at the first chance he got. Without an escord and without telling Ada anything. In the morning she was confused about Blackwood's disappearance. Worried that she was a bad partner, which wasn't entirely wrong, nor right.

They never met since.

--------

PHEW that was a lot... this took me to write... an hour holy shit.

I just felt like I had to give the whole picture. Now for some author notes:

The most important thing in their story is Ada's influence. Were they not in Asterium, it would have been seen just as a dom being a dom. A good one at that. Blackwood's boundaries were never broken, even if they were pushed.

The main problem was a lack of real communication about each other's concerns, which only served to amplify all other problems. If they had just talked, if Blackwood didn't unfairly put a new responsibility on Ada without saying a thing and if Ada didn't put a blind ammount of trust into Blackwood being strong enough emotionally from the start they would still be together.

[nullvoidface]

I did a lot of research on refeeding syndrome when I was struggling with anorexia, and it doesn’t end at a healthy weight.

To fully understand the absolute horror that comes with severe starvation and malnutrition, you will have to look at: yes, how deadly refeeding syndrome can be. But also the psychological aftermath that most likely will never leave you. Psychological trauma that may be caused by the malnutrition itself.

In 1944 the Minnesota Starvation Experiment began.

As the war came to an end, people realised we didn’t really know how to refeed people. Too much food would of course be a bad idea, too little would be bad too - these people needed nutrients and they needed them yesterday.

The study only had a size of 36 adult men. All of these men were healthy. Of course not everyone who goes through starvation starts out healthy. But I want you to keep in mind what happens to bodies that were considered “healthy” for a cis guy, and apply that to those with different bodies. Because if this is what starvation does to a healthy man, imagine what it does to pregnant women, to children, to women, to disabled people, etc.

These volunteers lost 25% of their body weight on average, we don’t know what the average is in Gaza.

Now remember that babies need that big layer of fat they’re known for. It keeps their body warm, it’s a great source of energy for a newborn who is going to do a LOT of growing and developing.

“Miserable” doesn’t even begin to describe it, these men had very high reports of depression and severe emotional distress, as well as “hysteria”.

They became preoccupied with food, not just during the starvation phase, but in the recovery phase too. They could not stop thinking about food.

They became withdrawn, they isolated themselves.

“The rehab phase proved to be psychologically the hardest phase for most of the men with extreme effects including self-mutilation, where one subject, Sam Legg, amputated three fingers of his hand with an axe, though the subject was unsure if he had done so intentionally or accidentally.” (Source)

You can also read more here

I cannot even begin to describe how intentional this is. Or the scars this will leave on an entire population for generations to come.

There are ongoing studies trying to determine whether the Irish Famine is still affecting people today.

It lasted from 1845-1852. It is still possibly affecting Irish people to this day.

Israel knows this. They know all of this. This is as deliberate as it gets.

One of many pieces of information rarely discussed that has stuck with me in studying the Holocaust in a literacy class is that people who survived the death camps often did not survive starvation. It is very difficult for a severely malnourished body to recover from starvation. A severely malnourished body will struggle to process food at all, and many people die in the process of “refeeding.” This is called refeeding syndrome for this reason. Reintroducing food can and often is fatal without careful, medical guidance.

Starvation is one of the most common and effective forms of genocide. What makes it effective is that past a certain point, even if aid has been delivered, it is not enough to save someone from death by starvation. What also makes it effective is that withholding food is viewed as a passive consequence of political turmoil rather than an intentional act of violence among a people. You will see more people die from starvation in genocides across history because it is an effective way to kill many people without the use of state resources.

The starvation of Gaza is intentional. The United States and Israel may gesture that they are delivering or allowing aid into Gaza, but in reality they are active participants in the starvation of Gaza by destroying medical infrastructure, limiting the amount of aid “allowed” in, and blocking aid trucks from entering. Throwing food into Gaza by airdrop at this point in the genocide will not be enough without medical infrastructure to refeed a severely malnourished population. Many will die anyways. Many have already.

[granolagaeilgeoir]

Why are you a transphobe tho?

First of all, the accusation of transphobia implies that I view my transgender brothers and sisters in a negative light and cast judgement upon them. As Catholics we are called to act with love towards all of our brothers and sisters in Christ, and it is not our place to place judgement upon others - that is reserved for God alone.

Second, as a Catholic, I cannot say that I support individuals undergoing surgery to mutilate their body into a biological sex it was not born as. I do not place judgement upon those who do, but I do not support it. We were all created in the image and likeness of God and we are meant to respect our bodies as such.

This is an excellent explanation on Catholicism's views on transgender-related topics:

"A person may experience this tension and alienation between body and soul so profoundly that the person claims an “internal sense” of sexual identity different from his or her biological sex. This condition was labeled by the American Psychiatric Association in 2013 as “gender dysphoria.” 16 From a theological perspective, the experience of this interior conflict is not sinful in itself but must be understood as a disorder reflecting the broader disharmony caused by original sin. It is a particularly painful experience of the wounds we all suffer as a result of original sin. Every individual experiencing this condition should be treated with respect, justice, and charity.

What is new in our times, however, is the growing cultural acceptance of the erroneous claim that some people, including children and adolescents, are “in” the “wrong body” and therefore must undergo “gender transition,” either to relieve distress or as an expression of personal autonomy. Sometimes this involves psycho-social changes: The person asserts a new identity, reinforced by a different name, pronouns, and wardrobe. At other times it involves a medical or surgical change: The person seeks chemical or surgical interventions that alter the body's function and appearance and even impair or destroy otherwise healthy reproductive organs. At its core, this belief in a “transgender” identity rejects the significance of the sexed body and seeks cultural, medical, and legal validation of the person's self-defined identity-an approach called “gender affirmation.” Culturally, these claims have brought challenges to law, medicine, education, business, and religious freedom."

TLDR: As a Catholic, we love all of our transgender brothers and sisters, but do not support the surgical changes being encouraged by society.

[awed-frog]

I see a lot of weird ideas and bad takes on tumblr every day, but something I’m really worried about is this concept health doesn’t matter and your body is a foreign object that has little or no relation to what you ‘really’ are. 

Now - I just had a very serious health scare so let me be the mom friend for a second here: that concept is not only bullshit - it’s dangerous bullshit. I don’t know where the idea came from, and tbh I blame the putrid bog of Christian sects and post-Christianity lots of Americans have been steeped in for almost three centuries now, but the depressing truth is that, as far as we know, there is no soul. We’re pretty sure that we’re not ‘stuff’ trapped in a body. We are a body. The more studies we do, the more it emerges that even a lot of what we consider ‘mental health’ is actually physical health, because hormonal imbalances, lack of nutrients, lack of sunlight, bad digestion and a thousand other things have a direct and tangible effect on your mood, your decision-making, and in fact your entire personality. 

All of this to say: you need to look after yourself properly, and that means looking after your body properly, and you need to start today. 

One thing I’m learning about growing up and growing old is that it never gets easier. It only gets harder. There will never be a magical moment in your life when you’ll suddenly have the time, the energy and the will to exercise and cook kale. It will not happen. So I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you need to commit to taking care of yourself the exact same way you commit to any ‘real’ engagement. Don’t just say, ‘This week I’ll exercise’. Find a moment in your calendar and take it seriously. As I said, there is a very toxic tumblr culture surrounding this issue, and we’re basically back to believing our body is this temporary meat prison we can ignore, mistreat and mutilate in our quest towards our ‘true self’, but that’s not how it works at all. We are our bodies, health is a real & definable concept and good health is better than bad health. Pretending otherwise is dangerous and, to be perfectly honest, selfish af. We stay alive and well for ourselves, but also for each other. So look for the red flags, and please unfollow, block and blacklist your way out of this echo chamber. 

I did a lot of reading and researching over the past few years, and it seems the vast majority of modern studies agree on the same two or three things. I’m sure it’s not news to anyone, but I’m sharing them anyway.

Don’t eat too much, and choose mostly natural, plant-based foods.

(Btw ‘There are no bad foods’ + ‘Everything in moderation!’ are lies corporations have been pushing for decades and some people are happily spreading for their own purposes. There absolutely are bad foods, you know exactly which foods are bad and you need to stay the hell away from them.)

Don’t eat too frequently: give your digestive system long hours to rest and your body time to do some deep-cleaning and rid itself of bad cells. Intermittent fasting is very nearly a miracle tool for good health.

Obviously stay away from sugar, alcohol, tobacco and drugs (and that includes cannabis, unless actually prescribed against pain).

Find a healthy way to cope with stress. This is perhaps the most difficult thing you’ll have to do in your life, but if you can develop good habits, or rewire your brain towards good habits, it will make a world of difference.

(Also no, emotional eating is not okay and not healthy.)

Sleep enough - eight hours if you can, two of them before midnight. Also ‘No screens before bed’ is a great rule.

Meditate in some way. It does’t have to be ‘proper’ meditation - the idea is to ‘turn off’ the brain regularly. Some people do this by praying, others by cleaning or knitting or walking in nature. If you’re new to the concept, you can start with a simple breathing exercise, five to ten minutes a day.

Exercise. I know this can be annoying af, but you can grow to enjoy it, and virtually every study out there will tell you 150 minutes of high cardiac activity every week will help you to stay fit, live longer, and avoid major diseases.

(Don’t forget weight lifting! Especially as you get older, lifting weights will help you preserve muscle mass.)

(Also walking. We’re wandering apes and we evolved to walk. Walking, especially outside and near trees or water, is also linked to happiness, mental clarity and creativity.)

Keep your brain young by learning new things. It can be a foreign language or a new craft, or you can simply read books, do crosswords and puzzles, and practice looking at the world with naked and child-like curiosity. 

Cultivate deep and loving real world relationships with people.

Let go of negative feelings.

Finally, be as consistent as you can: a lot of our fitness, brain plasticity and gut health can be lost in a surprisingly short amount of time if you don’t work on it.

I know this all seems like a lot, and there are days it’s difficult to even get out of bed, but again - I’m begging you to take this seriously and make your health a priority, right now. Too many people, myself included, only start caring when something goes wrong. Sometimes it’s too late to fix it, and even when it isn’t, it’s really, really hard to claw your way back to good health. Don’t wait until next week, next month, the end of your studies, or whatever else. 

Change your life now. 

Choose yourself now. 

This is it. I’m sorry if I sound preachy or patronizing, it’s not my intention at all. I spent the last two weeks half-convinced I was going to die, and it’s a feeling I don’t wish on anyone. Please - don’t make the same mistakes I did and put yourself first right now. Don’t leave it for later. I’m trying to course-correct myself, and one thing I’m doing is a digital detox. I’m tired of the online world, of how much time it sucks out of my life and how often it succeeds in its purpose - to keep me clicking and scrolling, to make me upset, angry, outraged. I’m giving it up for a while, and I suggest you do the same. Go back to books, to poems, to music, to dancing yourself silly and collecting feathers and rocks and knitting a scarf you can give to someone you love. Take some time to breathe. 

Much love to everyone and happy journey until we meet again.

[panicatthefandomboy]

I just feel sorry for her being named "karp" like, that's not a name, that's a type of fish.

And well, they are kind of mutilating kids. Age 13 to 19 is the highlight of puberty. You don't need plastic surgery, you need your body and the right hormones* to do the mumbo jumbo changes and have your body grow up and mature in a healthy way.

[syn0vial]

Hello Wise One! I was actually hoping if you can give me some solid personality pointers on Jango, rather than Boba, Fett?

sure thing! full disclosure that my knowledge of jango is not as extensive as my knowledge of boba, but i’ll do my best with what i have! here are some personality traits of jango’s i’ve observed:

paranoid/protective: this is a big one if you ask me. jango endured a life of betrayal and loss before he became a bounty hunter and it shows. besides boba, he doesn’t trust anyone fully, not even those closest to him and is always ready to cut ties at the drop of a hat—lethally, if necessary. his mistrust of the rest of the galaxy is so potent that when he takes boba on missions to populated areas, he instructs him to hide even from normal foot traffic and becomes anxious when he learns that others may have spotted him. it becomes pretty evident that part of the reason boba was so isolated growing up was that jango didn’t trust the vast majority of the galaxy enough to let them near the kid. and when other bounty hunters find out about him? ho boy. jango actually convinces them that he killed boba using a cloned child’s body, bc he’d rather be known as the worst kind of monster rather than make boba a target. there’s also the fact that, after their apartment on kamino gets found out by obi-wan, jango is packed and ready to leave in minutes. not only is he ready to bug out at the first sign of danger, but he’s well-prepared to do so at a moment’s notice.

a loving father: another big one. for those who look at a man as battle-hardened and stoic as jango fett and wonder whether boba got enough affection as a kid, worry not: in the vast majority of depictions, jango is a very loving father, especially when he’s out of the prying eyes of clients and colleagues. he hugs boba, tells him he loves him, joins him in playing with toy starfighters, and tries to make time for him as much as he can. he even does his dadly duty of going fishing with his son (though he and boba practice spearfishing rather than using a rod and tackle). there’s also a wistful little scene where, trying to help boba feel better after zam’s death, he takes him to kamino’s main spaceport and lets him infodump about all the ships he sees there :,) so overall, he has a lot of good qualities as a dad

controlling: and the other side of the coin! while jango is a genuinely loving father, he’s not at all the type to encourage his son’s independent development. self-sufficiency? sure. interests in anything other than the path jango has laid out for him? not really. he actively discourages boba from learning about “unimportant” topics from books, an apparently very broad category given it includes things such as schools, moms, and other children. he drills into boba’s head that he’s going to be a bounty hunter and that he needs to abide by a code with such healthy guidelines like, “don’t have friends or attachments” and “trust no one but use everyone.” boba, of course, goes with it bc he loves his father and wants to live up to his expectations, but he never really gets a choice in the matter. honestly, i think this side of jango is best summed up by him leaving a post-humous note for boba that says, among other things, “i am more than a parent to you.” it kind of goes along with how, after jango’s death, boba continued to think of his father not just with love and grief, but also an almost religious dread of failing his expectations. jango undoubtedly loved his son but he also seems to have defined a very narrow path for him to walk, without room for deviation.

possesses an actual charisma score: okay, now for a more fun one: jango has a charisma score and he apparently makes a habit of using it, to the point where his old friend rozatta pokes fun at him for it (he compliments her and she’s like “oh, you’re flattering me? must mean you want something!”) he also pulls the same thing on zam, calling her charming to get her to agree to help him break into a target’s stronghold. so yeah, jango fett turning up the charm to get people to help him/give him info? 100% canon, baby

very fun friendship with zam wesell: look, this isn’t a personality trait, but it’s important to me. these two are just so fucking funny together. like, on the surface, it’s just a fun dynamic of zam making flirty banter and jokes while jango pretends to be annoyed and drag her, much to her delight. but then on a professional level, you have these two ammoral assholes bouncing wildly between being one another’s Sexy Rival and being one another’s Unhinged Partner but whoops, jango went and had a kid, so now they’re Unhinged But Mostly Responsible Co-Parents. one of my favorite scenes is when, in an attempt to intimidate a prisoner into talking, zam impersonates a politician and lets jango pretend to “kill” her in front of him. for some reason, even after they’re done, jango continues to bridal carry zam’s “body” into the cockpit of slave I, at which point, she perks up, bats her eyelashes at him, and goes, “you’d never really kill me would you, jango?” jango quite honestly replies, “only if i had to.” there’s a beat and then zam’s like, “....you’re so sweet! 😘” honestly, they’re so stupid, i love them

ascetic: much like his son, jango doesn’t seem to have much interest in luxury or “the finer things.” despite having enough money to live very comfortably, his apartment on kamino is described as “spartan” in design and furnishing. this may have something to do with the first bullet point, given that a simple life is easier to pack up and take with you at a moment’s notice, but i do think there’s some amount of preference in this lifestyle, given it’s what both fetts seem most comfortable with in all circumstances.

traumatized: i mean, he’s a fett, ain’t he? particularly, just like boba after him, jango is traumatized by the loss of his family, especially his own father figure, jaster mereel. much like boba, jango seems haunted by the need to live up to jaster’s name and legacy. for background, jaster was betrayed and killed in an ambush by the leader of deathwatch, after which he passed on the title of mand’alor to jango. however, some time after this, the true mandalorians led by jango were wiped out by a combination of death watch and the jedi, with jango himself being stripped of his armor and sold as a slave. after this point, jango does not seem to see himself as worthy of jaster’s legacy and thus attempts to pass it on to his son, resulting in the high and narrow expectations he sets for boba as mentioned in bullet point #3. boba himself concludes as much as an adult. on top of the trauma of losing his family, jango also seems to have been traumatized by his time as a slave. most notably, when he’s being tortured after being captured by target komari vosa, he at first remains fairly stoic, even as she starts to mutilate his face. it isn’t until she mentions enslaving him that he seems to panic, struggling desperately to get away. vosa even laughs and says that she must have touched a nerve with her comment. basically: fetts be traumatized :(

soft spot for (some) kids: another thing that’s interesting about jango is that he... usually attempts to do right when kids are involved. i say “usually” bc fat lot of good it did all the cloned children he had a hand in creating >:( but, for example, after killing a runaway clonetrooper as part of a bounty, he finds out that the clone had a son. unwilling to let the child live in poverty due to his own actions, he has regular payments sent to the boy’s mother to help support him. in another instance, jango and zam help deliver an artifact to a client who intends to use it to carry out a terrorist attack on coruscant against millions of civilians. when zam finds out about the client’s intentions, she’s horrified and goes to jango demanding they steal the artifact back. jango completely brushes her off at first, telling her it’s not his problem and that he needs to spend more time with his son. zam coldly asks him how many “sons” he thinks live on coruscant. needless to say, her argument convinces him to join her in stopping the terrorist plot :,)

aaand that’s all i got at the moment! i hope it helps to characterize jango a little bit more!

[asmo-ds]

Hi, I really love your content which leads me to request a Satan soulmate fluff wherein Satan's internal voice is MC's voice and vice versa. So, when MC got summoned in Devildom, the moment they heard each other's voices, they already knew that they are meant for each other. I apologize if it's a bit confusing. 😔 Lastly, have a nice day and stay healthy! 🌺

Your Soulmate’s Voice 

Lil bit of angst, but mostly Fluff :)

A/N: I know you said fluff but my small brain started typing and completely forgot the genre and made the first half of this v angsty because Satan is such deep character it felt wrong to just have him immediately accept MC as his soulmate without an inner battle, so the fluff is more towards the last half of the fic. Also ily thank u for requesting <3

Description: A soulmate AU where your inner voice is your soulmate’s outer voice. Satan and MC have lived hearing each other’s voices for as long as they can remember, which is why they immediately recognize each other when MC is suddenly summoned to the Devildom

How, he often asked out loud, late at night when he ran out of books to read and was left to his own devices. How does a malicious, angry, demon like me have a soulmate with such an angelic voice? 

Since he had been born from the wrath of his eldest brother, he had been hearing this voice that spoke his thoughts to him. Why can’t I just hear my own voice, why do I have to hear someone else?

Lucifer had explained to him that the voice was his soulmate and one day he’d hear the voice through his ears rather than just in his head. That made Satan feel giddy, as a young child who couldn’t wait for the future.

Over the years, he began to feel guilty as the voice remained kind and careful, and his only grew angrier and rougher. He worried he’d hurt his soulmate with his wrath and he began to avoid going out, he didn’t want to hurt the voice’s owner like he’d hurt so many others. He didn’t want to have to see fear in their eyes whenever he’d lose his temper or even look at them with resting bitch face. So he decided he was best off just hearing it in his head for the rest of his immortal life. 

He read and read day and night, drinking in their speech patterns, from the soft graceful syllables to the occasional voice cracks, he relished in every word that wanders through his mind, not because of what it said but because he knew the voice saying them was the only person who would ever embrace him, wrath and all.

--------------------------

MC had always been a bit of a daydreamer, they’d known since they were quite young about soulmates and the voice in their head. 

They daydreamed about marriage, about the future, about who their soulmate could be and how they’d meet.

The voice was innocent enough at first, but then it matured and it became deeper and more rough. It failed to change the way MC thought of him though. They fell in love with his voice as a kid and they promised to love it for the rest of their life. 

As their friends grew and found their own soulmates, MC began to grow nervous. Perhaps whatever greater power controlled the events of their life had decided to single MC out and play a cruel joke of never letting them meet their soulmate, no matter how far they looked. 

They were constantly told “You’ll find him” or “If you hear his voice he’s gotta be somewhere on Earth, you’re bound to find each other eventually.”

But nothing anyone say could have prepared them for this. For the day they arrived in Hell and heard the familiar voice speak up,

“Hmph. At least he didn’t ignore you altogether. How do you think I feel?” The blond owner of said voice responded to Asmodeus’s whining about the way Lucifer introduced him.

MC had yet to speak. They couldn’t bring themselves to, not trusting their own voice. They attempted to after a few moments only to let out a tiny squeak, audible to nobody but themselves.

Satan suddenly noticed their gaping mouth and tilted his head, “is there something wrong? I hope Lucifer here did not scare you, he is a pretty cruel man,” he smirked, knowing he was getting under Lucifer's skin with every condescending word that slipped past his lips. Hearing the voice speak AND seeing lips move in sync with the words was surreal.

‘‘Satan!” the raven haired man scolded. Satan. Their soulmate was Satan. All they could do was stare in his eyes, scared to speak up, scared of how he’d react to finding out his soulmate was but a mere human with a plain boring life. If the universe was going to pick a human for Satan himself, why would they chose them? Why someone so boring when there were royals in the human realm who would much better fit the role of a demon lord’s bride.

Suddenly their cheeks felt wet, and as they blinked their vision blurred with salty tears that ran down their cheeks. Happy tears, of course, but all the noble demon men that were surrounding them had no idea what had made them cry, leading to a panicked look between the prince and his right hand man, who seemed to them glare daggers to Satan for making the exchange student cry within the first fifteen minutes of their arrival.

Satan smiled a bit, angering Lucifer is what he does best and he’s proud of himself for making the lousy human cry so easily. He saw them close their eyes and take a deep breath, ready to finally speak up.

“Hi,” they started, opening an eye to watch as his widened, “I’m MC, it is an honor to meet you Satan, I-” they were cut off by the door slamming. They looked up and the blond was gone, everyone else staring at the door in shock.

“Well, I hoped that would go much better,” Diavolo said to Barbatos, who gave a sad nod in return.

“I apologize MC I do not know what got into him, he can be moody and I wouldn’t worry about him so much while you’re here,” Lucifer bowed as an apology to the human, humiliated by his brother’s lack of composure.

“Lucifer... I meant to mention this to you sooner, but I thought perhaps this would reveal their connection,” Diavolo started. “When I was looking at their file I noticed that the universe had assigned them a demon soulmate, curious I dug further and found it was Satan, which is why I gave them spot in our exchange program.”

As the men conversed, truths being revealed and shock evident on some of the others’ faces, MC stood staring at the door. 

I guess he really is humiliated to know his soulmate is an average human, they thought, I shouldn’t be so surprised I suppose. 

They began to walk, none of the others taking notice as they left the room, too focused on Diavolo who was explaining the circumstances. 

They walked and kept walking, ignoring the demons who were watching them in awe, a stray human brave enough to walk through the Devildom on their own.

But MC didn’t care. Their heart was broken and they didn’t care. They had waited so long to meet someone who would love them. They remained hopeful because of the voice in their head, reminding them their was someone out there that would love them and all their flaws.

“Well, aren’t you brave?” A strange demon asks, snapping MC out of their thoughts and causing the reality and fear of their location to set in. “A little human shouldn’t be walking around alone like this, especially looking so yummy,” he continues licking his lips as his eyes scan MC head to toe like they were a feast.

“I’m feeling a bit hungry, I’m sure you won’t mind me having a bite-” he reaches his clawed hands towards MC’s arm, but a stronger one with green claws pulls MC away and against their body, his other one having a vice grip on the creepy demon.

“Lay a finger on my human and I won’t hesitate to gut you and display your mutilated body to the whole Devildom,” the familiar voice said, leading MC to feel more relaxed in his grip, despite his violent words.

“A-ah my lord I’m so sorry! I had no idea this human belonged to you, please forgive me, I swear I’ll never even breathe in their direction again,” the lesser demon cowered, sinking to his knees, begging to be spared from the cruel fate Satan had promised him.

Without a word, Satan turned, tossing MC over his shoulder, ignoring their protests as he returned the house of lamentation with them.

He passes their room and goes straight to his, placing them gently on his bed.

“Satan I-” MC is interrupted by strong arms enveloping them in a warm comforting embrace.

“I can’t believe I’ve had you for an hour and already almost got you killed,” he sighs, burying his face in their hair, tears forming out of frustration.

MC suddenly pulls away from him, standing up in and walking towards the door, “Let’s start over,” they say before entering the hallway and closing the door behind them.

Confused Satan sits and stares at the door. He hears MC politely knock so he gets up to answer it.

When he opens the door he is greeted by a smiling human, “Hi! I’m MC I’m the new exchange student at RAD and will be living with you for a year! I hope we can get along in that time! Oh by the way I’m also your soulmate haha,” they laugh throughout trying to introduce themselves.

“Oh my Diavolo you are so cheesy,” Satan is barely able to contain his laughter as he pulls them into his room, twirling them around in a tight embrace, taking in their warmth and sighing happily.

“All jokes aside,” they quietly whisper as Satan sits back down with them still in his hold, “Why did you run? Is it because I’m a normal human and not special like you were probably expecting? If it is I’m sorry and I really do understand if you want me to leave you alone. I mean your one of the most powerful demons ever and I’m just... I’m just me!” MC looks down at their hands, which Satan now held in his own.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m the embodiment of wrath and all my life I’ve been afraid knowing that such a sweet and gentle voice could be ruined because of my temper.” 

“Satan...” they put a hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to their own. They open their mouth to speak but nothing comes out, so they opt to show what they’re thinking physically instead.

Their soft lips land on his own slightly chapped ones, a soft chaste kiss that leaves both parties with wide smiles.

“I’m so happy to have you in our home dear exchange student,” he chuckles before leaning into another kiss, more passionate and filled with love than the last.

Knowing they trusted him not to hurt them gave him the confidence he needed and he couldn’t be more thankful.

[our-reb00t-boi]

ugh I finished RE8 I'm late and going for a second round just coz I didn't find collectibles enough

HOWEVER I must make a theory (in case this was already theorized somewhere by someone I didn't know also link me I just wanna talk... 🤓)

This is my long TLDR theory of the post-Mold, or how the nature of the Mold is like in their hosts in relation to trauma and recovery. Please strap yourselves in and apologies it's on mobile....

Anyway there's already been hints that Ethan (and Mia AND Zoe) are going to have traces of the E-series mold no matter how they got 'cleaned'.

The best clue we ever have about the nature of the Mold and being clean from it is from

Lucas Baker.

This guy had monitored and 'taken cared' of Eveline for the last 3 years she (and Mia) are in the Baker residence, as well as being heavily monitored by that provided underground lab in the abandoned mine. Lucas had been in contact with the Connections for that long!

On top of that, he had been provided a 'vaccine' of sorts so he wouldn't be under Eveline's control anymore. However, nothing from the effects of the 'vaccine' (as far as I can tell and as far as was provided) makes it clear Lucas went back to normal. He's simply immune from Eveline.

However, it's undeniable he retains the nature of this E-series Mold. He sustained multiple, MULTIPLE injuries in RE7, including implications of being harmed by his "father" under Eveline's control before Ethan showed up/events of RE7. The infamous arm chop in the Dinner Scene reveals Lucas saying "... Not again!" which highly concludes Lucas is harmed like that by his own family.

When Ethan faces Lucas, Lucas is gleeful and self-mutilates himself in front of a camera, WITH HIS ARMS intact again, and pulling his own nails to reveal regenerative abilities to Ethan. It's also in this scene that Lucas has been pulling strings behind the Baker residence for 3 years, even with Eveline around. He's in charge and just pretends while Eveline plays dollhouse.

However, and it feels like a stretch, but there seems to be a time limit on how long the post-Mold (that's just how I'll call Ethan, Lucas, etc.) keeps their body intact and "human". I also think, depending on how unhealthy the body is, the strength of the Mold inside will degenerate over time, or in case of physical trauma, mutate.

In both RE7 and RE8, there's both a 3 year gap. Mia is infected with the E-series Mold in 2014 and 3 years later is finally 'cleaned' of it in 2017. The same can be said of Zoe Baker, who only received treatment after the events (End of Zoe).

Lucas got his serum/vaccine in January 2015 from the Connections. That puts him earlier, although not as early as Ethan and, to my theory, Uncle Joe Baker, who both got treated if they have the mutamycete almost immediately.

These two guys got immersed in the Baker residence for one night only, but the infectioness of the Mold is high (hence the area being cordoned by Blue Umbrella/BSAA) and Ethan was technically already infected by just going in the Baker residence, on top of being in contact with Mia again, having been 'chosen' by Eveline to be part of her family and up to the final part where he hallucinates a mutant Mia back in the guest house.

Despite being treated, I think the treatment degraded the Mold inside, but never fully went away. They're 'vaccinated', which is the best term I can come up with, and their bodies will react negatively depending on how much they got harmed.

Ethan and Lucas are both harmed a lot. Lucas is tormented by his brainwashed family and self-mutilates. In his final moments, he was finally fatally shot by Chris and Lucas transforms, triggering his Mold mutation. This part is heavily reminiscent to Lady Dimitrescu's Cadou mutation, as she is fatally harmed by one specific item (Death Flower Dagger) and triggered the Mold Cadou. (With Dimitrescu, we may attribute the dagger being closely related to Dimitrescu's genetic illness, but that's another theory for another time...)

Mia, Joe and Zoe are definitely also harmed, although the gravity of how they were physically harmed and/or how fit/healthy they are is up there.

I can only assume that Mia, having been the first Eveline has infected with the E-series and has been in captive for 3 years, has a LOT on her plate. She's also knowledgeable enough, just like Lucas, regarding the E-series Mold, as she was the Connections' operative. From the next 3 years moving to RE8, we were given proof of Mia's medications in the new house. So she's been recovering from the abuse and infection, and she doubled down when she had been pregnant! (Which is a miracle! Also, Mia has also a triggered mutation, that horrifying intro to RE7!! Who knows how she would've ended up if she let her mutation got worse or Eveline ordered her to mutate further!!!)

With Zoe, it's a little sketchy. We can assume she had been harmed by her family but she has kept herself isolated from them most of the time. In her notes, she does describe how she feels and the continuing degradation of her parents' minds and likely their bodies. From here, it's not physical trauma that's harming her but their degrading health. With Zoe being the only one who likely eats as normally as she can (if she has reserves of normal food [and from the clues in the house there seems to be a stash of some though supplies are low]), she's definitely running out of time. She had also calcified for a short moment, according to the Canon ending and in End Of Zoe DLC. With that, I can assume that the Mold was supposed to kill her, as ordered by Eveline but she pulled through because of whatever treatment BSAA/Blue Umbrella has.

Joe is definitely infected for a short time as well, and him punching/being in close contact with these Molded and the final Jack Baker Mold doesn't help his case being not infected. He definitely also sustained injuries trying to save Zoe.

With Lucas and Mia, they succumbed to their mutation (Mia, as ordered by Eveline, and Lucas through a fatal shot). Joe and Zoe never did, likely because Joe was infected in a short time and Zoe kept herself isolated as much as she could from Eveline.

Ethan is definitely a special case. He, Mia, Zoe and Joe are post-Mold, but Ethan is re-exposed to Miranda, disguised as Mia, and enters the Village likely infested with little amounts of the Mold. The watermill is under Moreau's dominance, which means the water flowing across has been tampered for so long. The Cadou pollen has likely travelled during spring season, and from the notes of that guitar maker, there were some people coming in and out of Beneviento's estate (before disappearing). And the main Mold itself, the Megamycete! That's been growing underneath the Village for God knows how long....

Ethan has been re-exposed and physically traumatized MULTIPLE times! Despite a stable body that got injured/mutilated so many times, Ethan was degrading during those intense moments of injuries/mutilations in RE8.

And never, never once did he mutate at all!! No triggering, nothing!! He, Lucas and Heisenberg have some similarities, in that they have a stable physique. Ethan's stability has been passed on to Rosemary, coupled with post-Mold Mia being her mother, which made her even more special!

(However, I will say, if Ethan's heart hadn't been pulled out of his body, he may have had a mutation. But Miranda took no chance and went for a vital organ. Come to think of it, a Mold hosting inside a living or corpse need to be intact as much as possible. This is further supported by the RE8 notes from Dimitrescu, Moreau, Heisenberg and Miranda... 😲)