#devastated to say the fit kind of rocks

[biomic]

the dad.

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

On David Tennant and Aging

So, I’ve seen a lot of posts in response to Tumblr users’ habit of affectionately calling their favorite middle aged dudes “old men”, David Tennant in particular, saying things like “clearly you’ve never met an actual old person”, “omg you talk about these guys like they’re 80”, “please be normal about people aging”, etc. And on one hand, all of these statements are objectively right and true! But as someone who’s always been really fascinated by and found a lot of beauty in getting older (which I’ve explored in some of my writing on A03 because nobody else is going to do it for me), I’d like to provide a bit more nuance on how I think this label applies to David in particular.

David, obviously, in literal terms, is not “old”, at least not to me- I don’t personally consider people old until they get past 60. 52 is middle aged, simple as that. And yet, when I see David stuck with the “old man” label, it still somehow feels weirdly right, for a number of reasons.

It annoys me so much when people say David “hasn’t aged a day since Doctor Who”, because, well…

He clearly has. A lot. He’s got forehead creases, deep crows’ feet and eyebags, and I think that post-Fourteen we’re gonna see him rocking the grey temples a LOT more. He also has the voice of an older man now, his upper range is still there but the default is much more deep and rich, with a gravelly, rumbling quality that just goes straight through you. I personally think Broadchurch was when David finally started to embrace looking his age- Alec Hardy just wouldn’t have been served by Ten’s fresh-faced boyishness.

Obviously, these are the kinds of changes you’d expect any 52-year-old man to have, but something about David just makes it all seem a bit more… intense? The expressiveness of his face combined with his almost gaunt frame makes his wrinkles very prominent, and when he works his voice to its emotional extremes, his lower register can sound positively ancient, to devastating effect.

David, I think, is someone with an old soul- I don’t think he could be as good as he is at playing ancient characters like Crowley and The Doctor if he weren’t. He has lived so many lives, given so much of himself to so many characters, often incredibly tragic ones, and I think it wears on him. David also has five kids. FIVE. Do you know how exhausting it is to be one of the hardest working actors alive and be a present, loving father to even ONE child? But David somehow does it anyway! Nowadays I see him and my heart breaks because he looks so tired, so weary and fragile. But he’s all the more beautiful for it to me because I know that that is because he is kind. He’s a deeply empathetic person who feels and lives to the absolute fullest, and that story is written so clearly on his face, along with every other story he has ever been a part of.

There’s other things about David that make the label endearingly fitting- his utter hopelessness when it comes to technology, for instance. And he’s just got that warm, wise, grandpa energy too sometimes- look at that above Fourteen picture and tell me I’m wrong!

I once showed my friend who’d only seen David in Doctor Who and Harry Potter a picture of David from Around The World in 80 Days. It was a particularly emotional scene, and his face had just the most beautiful expression of compassion and sadness, every wrinkle on full display. And she said, in a less than complimentary fashion, “he looks so old!” Which, of course, offended me quite a bit at first. But to me, referring to David as old almost feels like a badge of honor, something he’s earned by living fully and selflessly, working hard and being wise and compassionate beyond his years. I think David himself is secretly more than a little insecure about the fact that he’s getting older. There’s sadness behind every jovially self-depreciating remark he’s made about his age in the past year, particularly in comparing himself to Ncuti Gatwa. I know how much David struggles with his impostor syndrome and how people perceive him, and I can clearly see in his eyes the fear of being discarded, the anxiety he feels about if he’ll still be as loved as he was back in 2007 now that he’s closer in age to King Lear than he is to Romeo. So I hope David knows it’s a privilege to watch him grow older, to watch his soul and talents deepen with the crinkles around his eyes. If I, in my silly goofy tumblr girl-ness, call David Tennant an old man, it’s because it’s a label that suits him beautifully- even if it isn’t TECHNICALLY an accurate one yet.

[marronje]

Now having gotten somewhat used to the void in my chest I can finally drag all my thoughts about the epilogue into one pile

I know it may be getting old for some of you guys already, but I haven't seen some things being discussed anywhere

My problem with the ending is actually with the audience, I literally have almost no issues with how the epilogue is written, all the minor ones I have don't come from the epilogue but the previous plot building which wasn't perfect by all means.

1. People forget that this chapter isn't the Epilogue but the Epilogue pt. 2

TWO PARTS YOU KNOW

Please reread 430. You did? Now let's compare.

a) Can you see what the chapter is focused on? 430 is a lot more shallow, it focuses on facts and tries to contain all the changes at once and looks VERY rushed. Hori didn't have much time with his schedule, so of course he tried to fit all at once and nothing at all. This chapter is more about the system and facts, trying to answer the more crucial questions fans may have.

Chapter 430 has ~20 pages

431 has almost 40 (!)

b) 431 finally has time to look at the characters up close. Why there is so much about Uraraka? Well, because in the pt. 1 she's got one panel and a couple of words. That's why half the chapter is about her now, because she and Izuku are the male and female leads of the manga.

c) Why didn't we have more of Katsuki? Well, this character isn't very known for huge inner monologues and all this sappy stuff. We can get enough from character interaction and subtle cues, as always. Despite being a big asshole and a major loudmouth (I say this with all my love and adoration guys), Katsuki is a really stoic character. And this kind of character doesn't need a whole 5 pages writing down their motivation and inner thought process. I like this. This man remains the most conscious person here and has the greatest development in the series (and Shoto, sure, these two are on the whole other level compared to others in terms of writing)

Izuku and Ochako are more open to us, and it shows in the chapter's way of storytelling

And Shoto is still the most relatable dude here, me too, Shoto, me too...

2. Izuku is NOT shutting Katsuki out of his life. He basically invited him to TEACH TOGETHER just like Katsuki invited him to BE HEROES TOGETHER.

To me it shows clearly that these two just found their two paths that don't align fully. Izuku has been teaching for years after his quirk was gone. Sure, he still adores hero job, but he already has stability and purpose and it's IMPORTANT to him. He's only been back to heroics for a month after all. Izuku has matured significantly, and I respect that about his character even if it's not perfectly written.

"Izuku wouldn't ever decline the offer". Do I need to remind you that it's whole 8 years after their school days?

Imagine yourself 16, dreaming to start a rock band with your best friend. You're both so passionate about it, you think music is the most beautiful thing in your life and you'll never be over it.

But you get your fingers injured severely, and you can't play your guitar anymore. You're devastated, but your knowledge is valuable and you get a whole teaching degree and go to work in a musical college. It feels very fulfilling to you. But your friend is very talented, he continues and pushes forward and actually becomes a worldwide known rock star! You're so glad for him!

But the time passes, and your friend, now famous and loaded, states – you're getting most expensive treatment and surgery, and we – I and our old band bros – pay for this.

And your fingers, they work properly again. You had a whole life of 8 years, and now there are so many possibilities open. You know your friend wants you to join his band and travel and rock the stage together, he offers it to you without expecting much, because he knows you have your life settled already, you can't change that with a flick of a wrist. He's an understanding friend, even if his passion for your old shared dream burns brighter still. You can join his band for a concert or two once in a while, it's a good reprieve from your everyday life. But as much as you love music, your priorities shifted significantly since your youth – and now teaching is as important and precious to you.

You even invite your friend to give a lesson of two in the college where you work. It's a way for you two still remain in each other's lives even if your paths are a bit different now. Your connection is built on compromise and genuine support from both sides, and it's fantastic!

I know the analogy isn't perfect, but it works I suppose.

3. About Himiko and Ochako. It's a painful one, but

No, Himiko wasn't haunting Ochako for the whole 8 years, it's probably a time to time occasion. It's not because Ochako is tired, it's because she can't let go of her guilt and at particularly taxing times it manifests in these visions.

Dreams are still a big mystery for science, but what we know is that they're almost always NOT about what you see, but about the hidden layers of meaning.

And of course we know this is not REAL Himiko, it's just Ochako's mind.

So I don't understand all the weeping around Himiko now being DEAD FOR REAL OH. This is Ochako's mind, not a literal Toga's spirit no matter how much Horikoshi wants his symbolisms to be literal in this story. It's still open to interpretation if Toga is dead or notnot (she's coping).

Tsuyu is so Tsuyu 😭😭😭

Right, my girl, this dummy really thought there's something wrong with her health while she just needed to see a psychologist...

I remind you that psychotherapy is severely underdeveloped in Japan. There's still a lot of stigma around mental health there, so please keep this mentality in your mind while reading manga. "They could just go and see a therapist." No, they couldn't. Their culture doesn't work like this, and societal norms aren't a joke in Japan, they're literally overwhelming.

And about how this chapter "ruined" Himiko. To me, it didn't.

"Himiko was written for Ochako". Exactly. Ochako's main negative character trait was inability to open up about her true feelings, putting up a cheerful front and all that.

Himiko was created to get her to understand what suppressing emotions does to people. Unfortunately, it seems she didn't catch this message fully until Himiko told her with plain words and freaking pushed her forward.

And isn't it a torture for Himiko seeing Ochako beating herself over her death, putting up a brave front to avoid her inner struggle which is COMPLETELY OPPOSITE to what Himiko tried to convey?

And Himiko loved both Izuku and Ochako, so of course she wants them to be special for each other and open up to each other too.

Because Himiko LOVES love in any form (pun intended), and wishes happiness for her special people, and sees how they have been holding back from living how they wanted.

Do you really think Himiko would prefer a depressed Ochako having hallucinations of her over an Ochako who's opening up and rebuilding connections with the man she yearned to reach out to for so long?

And of course I'm not about the ship. This manga was never about the ships. We've got a clue that Izuku barely had any contact with his former classmates since graduation in 430. This chapter is created to gives us hope that it'll change, starting with Uraraka because Uraraka was the one to reach out to him first in the beginning, and now it's his turn.

I imagine that it's just a start of the reconnection arc. Izuku can do this with the rest of his classmates too later, and knowing his tendency to butt into others' business he certainly will.

(Yeah, it's an actually good idea for a new tome for you Hori, not Boruto 2.0, never Boruto 2.0 please...)

4(?). This one has gotten me confused...

They studied 3 years... so they must have become class 2-A, then 3-A.... I hope it's a bad translation.

Do you trust Jirou? She certainly did put a whole ton of wasabi in his food, look at her face

Katsuki not toasting because he's the sober friend for his whole bunch of idiots>>>>

(he really has come here for the food)

Katsuki, when did you undergo your Syndrome arc?

[starsurfacemortalkombat]

LOVED the diapered babyspace Liu Kang post, especially because I’ve been so sick with a tooth abscess this week and these were so comforting to read!! tysm!!! I’d love to see any more you have for diapered Liu across both timelines lol, especially if he’s feeling fussy because maybe he got sick too but needs Raiden to look after him? They���re so precious! 😭

I'm so glad you liked them!!! I'm very glad they they're comforting for you, Sugar. <3 These are a bit more on them being sick, but I promise there are some diaper hcs there too!!!

Also I hope you feel better!!!! That really doesn't sound super fun. :(

A quick restate from my last Padded Request:

(Some strong languageuse) Before we get to the hcs, I want to say that there is nothing wrong with using or needing diapers. Some people use diapers use them for weird kink related things, but with age regression they are used for comfort and unfortunate inconvenience. Do not come to my blog because you wish to relate this with any kind of kink. Kindly fuck off and leave my blog alone, thank you.

^ This isn’t to bash regressors btw!!! This is me saying to fuck off if your a dd/lg or any type of blog like that. <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Lord Raiden w/ Babyspace Regressor Liu Kang That Uses Diapers MK11 Hcs pt 2

⛈️ Liu Kang doens’t get sick often, normally he get use his powers to burn whatever he has away

❤️‍🔥 Othertimes he’d just tough it out, either until it goes away, or until Kung Lao forces him to go to bed (and that’s when he’s sick sick)

⛈️ Raiden is a bit upset when he finds out how sick Liu kang is, and how he tried to ignore his physical health to train, but any lecture he has is going to have to wait

❤️‍🔥 Why? Because the moment Liu Kang sees him he starts blubbering, making grabby hands towards his Dada

⛈️ He’s tiny tiny too, feeling all sick and icky, he just wants to be babbied :(

❤️‍🔥 Raiden will put him into some padding, which makes Liu Kang very fussy

⛈️ He might feel icky and tiny, but he doesn’t need one!!! He’s big! He swears he’s big! >:(

❤️‍🔥 Raiden gently shushes him, saying it’s just a precaution, and lets Liu Kang throw a small tantrum before changing him

⛈️ Unfortunaly . . . Liu does end up needing it, which only makes a crying fit happen

❤️‍🔥 Raiden gently shushes him, rocking the poor boy before giving him a gentle bath and changing him again

⛈️ Liu Kang ends up feeling better quickly, especially with how Raiden makes him have yucky medicine and a lot of naptime

❤️‍🔥 Liu Kang would despise any kind of colorful design on his padding

⛈️ Those are baby baby diapers!!! He doesn’t need to use those!!! >:O

❤️‍🔥 He’d much rather have plain padding, atleast for a while

⛈️ Would be devastated if anyone other than Raiden, Kitana, or Kung Lao knew he used them

❤️‍🔥So when Raiden accidentally forgets to put the box away and Sonya questions him about it? 

⛈️ Freak. Out.

❤️‍🔥 Absolute tears, sobbing over the fact someone found out, even if Raiden was asked about it and Liu wasn’t

⛈️ ^ Don’t worry, the rest of the gang was very supportive about it, and Sonya apoligized for snooping through Raiden’s room (she wasn’t snooping, she was just trying to find Raiden, total difference, but whatever 🙄)

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Raiden w/ Babyspace Regressor Liu Kang That Uses Diapers MK1 Hcs pt 2

🌩️ Gods don’t usually get sick, such an ocurance is extremely rare

🌟 But that doesn’t mean it’s truly impossible

🌩 His monks are the one who send him back home, and Liu Kang uses his baby monitor to kinda beg for Raiden to come over

🌟 He wants his Rai Rai, and he feels too tiny to get up :(

🌩 Luckily, Raiden came over very quickly, almost in a rush (he didn’t want his baby to be all icky and alone)

🌟 Liu Kang is a little less fussy about wearing some padding, but still whines and tell Raiden that he’s not that tiny 🥺

🌩 Although . . . he clearly is, and Raiden isn’t buying his little fit

🌟 He does end up needing them, which does resolve in another crying fit, but Raiden’s very soft and gentle about it

🌩 Giving Liu Kang a nice warm bath, putting him into something comfy, it’s never nice feeling small and icky :(

🌟 Kung Lao pulled some strings and got Liu Kang and Raiden some soup from Madam Bo’s (Madam Bo just also adores baby Liu Kang, and might have given him a discount . . . Lao calls favortism)

🌩 He does feel better very quickly!! Being a God, and a fire God, he ends up feeling good about the next day

🌟 Is a little more open to padding with cute designs on them, especially since Raiden has some for when he’s small

🌩 Gasped and almost became a bit excited when Raiden showed him one with tiny dragons on it, and those are the ones that Liu Kang uses the most

🌟 ^ It does help Liu Kang’s little fits about padding lessen, and Raiden didn’t know why he didn’t think of something dragon related earlier

🌩 Or, until Johnny made a small joke about it, and now Liu Kang’s crying in Raiden’s arms

🌟 Johnny gets sent to a timeout, which also causes him to regress, and now Raiden has two fussy little ones to take care of

🌩 Liu Kang upset because he was just getting more comfy with padding and even though Johnny’s joke was more about dragons, it was still about him using padding and he didn’t like it

🌟 And Johnny’s upset because in his eyes, he didn’t do anything wrong!! He just made a joke, he doesn’t know why Liu Liu’s all upset!!

🌩 ^ Don’t worry, Johnny does apoligize after Raiden explains that Liu doesn’t like those kind of jokes, and Liu Kang does forgive him (and gets Johnny out of a second timeout because Kenshi wasn’t too happy about the situation)

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[radama-zard]

For snuggles and hugs: back hugs and everthing inbetween with Ashton and FCG?

From This Prompt List!

Fresh Cut Grass wasn't used to being this… fragile.

Their chassis had been sturdy; thick and solid in its design. A body made to soak up damage, to hit and be hit, with little worry for any serious damage.

Well, in most circumstances, at least. The last blow taken had been devastating to say the least, obliterating them down to the wires. What little remained barely felt fit to be called scrap, molten metal utterly unrecognizable.

Robotic viscera, an image burned deep in the nightmares of Bells Hells.

And yet, he couldn't really bring himself to regret it.

Better himself than his friends!

No, this was fine. Everything was fine.

Even with the searing pain and the horrified, devastated screams of the Hells, muted only by the strange, untethered peace of death’s warm embrace.

Of course they were fine!! The heart wrenching begging, the desperate tugs upon their weary soul, and the waking… oh the waking.

Not to come back online, to switch from one mode to another. No, they well and truly AWOKE, eyes blinking wearily as Fresh Cut Grass took a raspy, shuddering breath.

Breath falling from dark, quivering lips, dampened by some kind of liquid, running hot down their face.

Even as panic sunk it’s gnarled claws deep into his flesh- oh dear Changebringer above, he had flesh now, how in the hay did he have flesh?!

As their body started to shake, without rattles and clangs, all quiet and soft and and wrong, this was wrong, why was everything wro-

Arms.

Strong.

Solid.

Safe.

A chest like rock, pressing against their back, rising and falling rhythmically, a soothing, steady pulse that Fresh Cut Grass tried desperately to match. Breaths, with something… muttered. Low, a tad gravely. Rough, yet undeniably warm.

A voice that felt like home.

“A… Ashton?” they croaked on out, vocal chords just barely cooperating; new and yet already frazzled, knotted by the waves of overwhelming… well, everything.

Everything but Ashton, who held them close, their grip firm and yet undeniably gentle. As though Fresh Cut Grass were but a kitten, terrified and so unimaginably tiny, in danger of being crushed by their hulking, harshened form.

Not that Ashton was any of those things to them!

No, his friend was like a bastion of safety, a shield of protection and defense. Rock solid and reliable. A beacon of loyalty and warmth, hidden behind a jagged, sharp exterior.

And that warmth was bleeding through, seeping into Fresh Cut Grass’ newly formed bones, even as they quivered, shaken by a sobbing they barely took note of, thrown into a pile of muddled blurs, much like their friends who surrounded them.

Unnoticed, like the sympathetic figure that stood above him, her red hair and autumnal cape flowing in the breeze as she took a few steps back, her job now complete.

All that mattered in this moment was Ashton, who curled protectively around their newly Reincarnated friend, as they felt Fresh Cut Grass cling weakly to their forearms, stuttering out barely comprehensible apologies.

“S-Sorry, I- T-Touchin’, I… I know it- it h-hurt-”

“Quit apologizing. I don’t give a rat’s ass about my pain right now, you hear me? It doesn't fuckin’ matter. What matters to me right now is you, you hear me, Grass? You fuckin’ matter, so much more than any gods forsaken pain!”

What could they even say to that right now?

Nothing, apparently. Nothing but a torrent of tears, hot and heavy and oh so disgustingly fluid-y. A mess of disjointed sobs that filled the cool afternoon air, as Ashton pulled him in impossibly closer, the only thing keeping Fresh Cut Grass grounded in this new and overwhelming reality.

Yes, they were far too fragile now; a soft, trembling mess of elven limbs, far too alive for their own comfort.

And okay, maybe they weren't fine. Maybe everything was too much, a cocophy of tastes and smells and sensations and organic functions that all just felt like so, so much.

But Ashton was here, and with their all encompassing embrace, they didn't need to worry about falling apart. Just like the day they’d first met, Fresh Cut Grass trusted Ashton to pick up their broken pieces, and with scarred, yet gentle hands, put him back together again.

((Went a lil off the beaten path here, having a bit of fun with Keyleth and the spell Reincarnate~))

[bellatrixobsessed1]

A Witch In The Crowd

Summary: Musa loves all genres of music, Icy is a musical snob. They find each other at a show and get into a rather heated debate.

The vocals are harsh and aggressive. The lyrics are brutal and violent, unapologetically raw and accompanied by an extremely heavy and distorted bass. It beats at a volume that sometimes overtakes the vocals almost entirely. 

Towards the center of the venue bodies collide and fists flail. People fall, get back up, and plunge themselves back into the pit. There are bloody lips and brows and broken eyeglasses on the floor. Bruises and skinned knees. And pierced lips curled into smiles, coming off of adrenaline highs.

It isn’t her usual scene, that’s for sure, Musa prefers softer genres. Hip hop and rap are her favorites. Cloud rap and drill music in particular have her attention at the moment. She enjoys trap and its off-shoots now and then and has recently found herself enjoying phonk. There isn’t any genre that she won’t listen to, but there are certainly genres that she listens to less; power metal and death rock to name two. 

But a concert is a concert and she had nothing to do tonight and so she finds herself lingering at the back of the venue with a clover club cocktail in one hand and her camera in the other. A show like this, she decides, is enjoyed best from a distance.

Tonight’s crowd is lively for sure and there is liberal use of marijuana. She keeps away from the clouds of it but she can’t quite escape the smell. Par for the course, she supposes. The lights strobe in time to the beats blasting through the speakers. The strobe lights seem to fragment and segment motion. Headbanging, hands moving up, bodies running in a circle it all seems to happen in clips and snapshots beneath the lights.

Musa can’t be certain of when she had stopped paying attention to the musicians and started paying attention to the fans. But at some point, she catches a flash of silvery-blue. At first she doesn’t recognize her and she thinks that she owes that to simply not expecting to see a witch here, let alone this particular witch. But it is definitely, unmistakably Icy. Still she has to do a double take because she has never seen the woman with her hair loose, likely so she could fix a black beanie atop her head. Musa had also never thought that she’d see the witch dressed in such baggy clothes, mostly baggy anyhow; the body of the crop-top sweater fits rather tightly over her chest while the black and white striped sleeves of it cover most of her fingers. Save for the choker around her neck and the chunky studded bracelet on her left arm, it is an entirely different aesthetic for her. But she does wear it so well.

She stands at the center of the moshpit with her arms folded. She and the ten or eleven other people around her create a human island that the moshpit circles around. Now and then Icy slips herself into it and when she does it is devastating as far as pits go. For someone so slender, she is particularly aggressive. Most of the people on the ground find themselves there because of her. 

Clearly she has done this before. It doesn’t seem to both her any when she finds herself on the receiving end of a carelessly flailing arm or a particularly rough shove. 

For all of the concerts that Musa has attended, she can’t say that she has ever part taken in a moshpit. She watches Icy make her way out of the crowd, likely heading for the bar. Or perhaps to lean against a pillar or a wall. Her hair is tangled and her make up has smudged, her clothes are disheveled and, even from a distance, Musa can tell that she is breathing quite heavily. 

The witch closes that distance and props herself up on the pillar across from Musa. She checks the messages on her flip phone and slips it back into her pocket. She looks up and catches Musa’s eye. Musa gives her a small nod. 

Only because she hadn’t expected Icy to take it as an invitation to come over. 

“I didn’t realize that you listened to this kind of music.” Musa opens.

“I like what I like.” Icy replies plainly. “This is more of Stormy’s scene but she couldn’t make it tonight and didn’t want to let her ticket go to waste so…”

“With the way you were throwing those men around, I’d say that you’ve done this before. You were kind of terrifying to watch.”

“Don’t go to many metal shows, do you?” 

“Not really, no.” Musa confesses. “This isn’t really my scene either.”

“Pop?” She guesses.

Musa shakes her head. “More traditional forms of rap and hip hop. The kind with less guitars.”

“If it doesn't have guitars then why listen to it at all?” Icy shifts her weight from one foot to the other. 

“For the rhythm and flow of clever lyrics.” Musa replies. “Because the vocals are impressive. Just because it doesn’t have a guitar doesn’t mean that it’s not good.”

“I guess you can say that…” She slinks her way over to the bar counter. “If you have no taste in music.” She turns to bartender and orders herself one blue devil cocktail.

“Are you aware that you’re talking to a music fairy.”

Icy shrugs. “I don’t discriminate; music faeries can have dreadful taste in music just like anyone else. Usually they do.”

“Maybe you’re the one who has terrible taste!”

“Have you ever listened to the kind of music I do? Or do you just listen to generic pop, rap, and that techno shit?”

“What do you have against techno!?”

“It takes no real talent to produce. It’s all machines and synth…or something. I don’t know how it’s made.”

“But you can say that it takes no talent to make?”

“Confidently, yes.” Icy replies. “I imagine that it only takes hitting a few buttons.”

“And arranging beats, and picking a good pitch, finding a good tempo, and you have to equalize and compress the track correctly, and…”

“And I don’t really care. I just know that I don’t like it and techno doesn’t require nearly as much talent as death rock and post punk.”

Musa sighs, she really shouldn’t have drawn the witch’s attention. She should have known that she would come around just to pick fights and take jabs. “Well it was great talking to you but that pillar I was leaning against was much better company.” Musa is satisfied to see that Icy looks at least a little shocked or offended. Perhaps a good and well-deserved touch of both.

“I’m a great conversationalist!” She declares.

“Yeah, maybe if you’re talking to a troll or something.”

Icy blinks.

“I come to concerts because I actually enjoy the music and I’d like to get back to that.”

“I actually enjoy this music.” Icy insists. “The lyrics resonate with me.”

“They’re singing about beating someone up right now.”

“Exactly.” She takes a sip of her cocktail. “And it has guitars so the music is listenable. Have you ever listened to death rock.”

“I’ve listened to a whole lot of genres but not all of them…”

“So that’s a no then?”

“That’s a no.” Musa reluctantly confirms.

“Well you should try it.” She gives her glass a little twirl and watches the ice settle. 

“Are you trying to get me to become a witch?” 

Icy shakes her head. “Just trying to get faeries to listen to real music so that I don’t have to hear shitty pop tunes everywhere I go.” 

“Maybe you should branch out and try new genres.”

“No thanks. I like what I like. I have no interest in liking more things.” 

Musa nearly snickers out loud. No wonder the witch is so disgruntled all the time; she drastically restricts the amount of things that she is allowed to enjoy. “Well, I for one, enjoy finding knew things to enjoy; what death rock bands would you recommend?”

Icy hums, likely she hadn’t anticipated Musa actually inquiring. “I like MossGrave and Edwin The Crow.” She throws the rest of her drink back and sets the empty glass back on the counter. “You know where to find me after you’ve given it a listen.” And with that, just like the melting of winter snow, Icy slips back into the crowd.

.oOo.

She doesn’t know why, but she actually does take the witch up on her offer to listen to ‘real’ music. And she has to admit that she kinda digs it. Edwin The Crow  is darkly enchanting and his vocals are lovely. Like wine and black roses. It is classical music with a twist and his voice is so deep. MossGrave is more abrasive, their songs have a good degree of distortion.

She decides that she can appreciate this kind of music especially when she looks at their vocal techniques. It is all really well put together. 

She is strangely eager to share her opinions with Icy and perhaps ask for more recommendations.

But it isn’t for another two weeks before she runs into the witch again.

By which time she has delved deeper into the genre on her own.

“Maybe we can see a show together.” It is a pretty unconventional greeting so she can’t blame Icy for tilting her head and furrowing her brows. “I listened to MossGrave, they’re pretty rad.” She clarifies.

Icy crinkles her nose. “You want to attend a deathrock show? And you want to attend one wearing that?” She gestures to Musa’s baggy blue jeans, white sneakers, and her red sports bra. 

“I can throw on a bomber jacket. I’ve got this cool one made of red silk, it has a record and a music note embroidered on it.” She supposes that she should be happy that Icy is even humoring her interest.

Icy rolls her eyes. “You can’t attend a deathrock show wearing that.” She scoffs. “There’s an aesthetic. Some clubs won’t even let you in…”

“Then I can borrow some of your clothes.” Musa shrugs. 

Icy pinches the spot between her brows and Musa can’t fathom why. “You can’t just slap on a choker and a black shirt and call yourself goth…”

“I’m not going to call myself goth, I’m just going to wear one goth outfit to one show and…”

“Throw my reputation under the bus for bringing a poser.”  Icy fills in.

“So let me get this straight; I can listen to the music but I’m not allowed to see it live?” 

“That’s right. You can enjoy a few songs but you aren’t a real death rock fan if…”

“Oh so you are one of those people.” Musa quirks a brow to accompany her half smirk.

“One of those people?”

“Musical snob.” Musa shrugs. She should have known that the woman would be. “Always prattling on about what is and isn’t real music. Or how I can’t be a real MossGrave fan if I can’t name ten songs and the name of the bassist.” She pauses. “For the record, I can. I listened to their entire self-titled album and their Yellowed Bones EP. Their bassist’s name is Crypta.” 

Icy opens her mouth and closes it again. “Yes well, it isn’t just music it’s…”

“A lifestyle?” Musa laughs. “You know that casual fans exist, right?” 

“Whatever.” Icy folds her hands across her chest. “You know one deathrock band and you think that you’re part of the scene.”

“I also listened to Wilona and the Whispering Witches, The Velvet Capes, and Vivian’s Cobweb.” 

“Big deal, anyone can name the three big names.”

Honestly, Musa isn’t sure why she is even trying to make nice with the witch. Maybe it is because she can tell that, in her own way, Icy  is trying to be more social. Trying to pick up the pieces of her life now that she has been released from Light Rock. Really there is no better way to connect with someone than music. It probably makes her feel normal to be arguing over music and fashion instead of battling over the fate of Magix. And so Musa engages. “A Misty Tendril Unfurled At Midnight.” Musa replies finally. And is rewarded with Icy sputtering. She adds, “I know, super underground, right? Do I get to be a real deathrock fan yet or do I have to wait a year or two?”

“Ugg, whatever.” Icy mutters again. “This is why we don’t let faeries into the scene.”

“Because you’re worried that they’ll know more about the music than you do?” Musa knows that she should stop jesting now before the witch gets truly angry and retracts her invitation. With a sigh she amends, “look I just want to go see a show with you, I know that you, Darcy, and Stormy have been trying to…get used to being in the real world again.” 

“So you’re trying to make a charity case of me?”

“Believe it or not, I actually enjoyed talking to you at the Lil Brxken Sxul show, even though you were super condescending. You seem to care a lot about the types of music you enjoy and…I don’t know, it’s kind of nice to meet someone else who is passionate enough about music to argue over it. I was hoping that we could do it again sometime but with music you actually like.”

“What makes you think that I don’t truly enjoy trap metal?”

“Because plenty of people say that trap metal isn’t real metal and that you aren’t a real goth if you like any subgenre of rap music.”

Icy folds her arms across her chest. But Musa swears that the witch is at least dully amused at her wit. “Fine. But only because you are my charity case. Your current taste in music is terribly sad, but there’s still hope for you. Unlike Stella…and Stormy.”

She’ll take it. “What’s wrong with Stormy’s taste in music?”

“Have you ever heard an ogre try to sing?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What about a duck?”

“I…no.”

“Well Stormy has. And I had to suffer it too. Of course, Stormy actually enjoys Knut’s musical endeavors. It’s quite dreadful.”

Now she is intrigued. “You’re going to show me that song, right?”

“Even I’m not that cruel.” Icy grimaces. 

And Musa laughs. “But you will let me raid your wardrobe?”

Icy sighs. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to look like an idiot when I bring you as my plus one.” Before Musa can ask she adds, “yes, this is an invite only event.” She pauses. “Don’t make a fool of me.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She promises. She can’t, however, promise that it won’t happen anyways. She does want this to go well. Whether she’ll admit it or not, Musa can tell that Icy is happy to have someone else to talk to aside from just Darcy and Stormy. She has been struggling much more than the two of them to branch out and make connections.

Musa slings her arm over Icy’s shoulder, she tries to anyways, she can’t reach that high. The witch doesn’t shake her off. 

That is as good a sign as any.

[karatekels]

Scream For Me – Chapter 1:

We’re back in the Fresh Start-verse for this one! I’ve missed this Terry and Reader (and Victor) so much! 😭

This is going to be a two chapter arc, and while there shouldn’t be anything bad in this one, the next post is going to be DARK. I hope you like it!

No real trigger warnings for this part (maybe some vague plotting), but the next part will be full of them, so don't get invested in this if you don't think you'll want to read that sort of thing.

---

“He ended up beating the kid I had handpicked as my champion in Sudden-Death. John was devastated, and he disappeared – I never saw him again after we lost the tournament. And it… it ruined me, Y/N,” Terry confesses to you with a pained, faraway expression, his head resting on your lap while he sprawled across the rest of the sofa in your bedroom.

You look down at him with sad eyes, running your fingers through his silver-white curls soothingly. It wasn’t often that Terry opened up to you about his past like this – he was content to leave it behind him where it belonged, especially since it could stir up unpleasant memories for awhile afterwards – and you always cherished the moments when he was willing to share with you, no matter how the stories might hurt you both.

“I hit rock bottom, lost myself, sent my first company into a nosedive, nearly lost everything that four generations of my family had worked to build up, nearly overdosed more times than I can remember…” he trails off, his pale blue eyes wide and staring up into yours. You move your hand from his hair to stroke the side of his face, smiling softly down at him. His eyes flutter closed before he turns his head to the side, nuzzling his face against your palm and breathing deeply.

“But all of that was worth it, now that I know that working through it would ultimately lead me to you,” he murmurs, and your heart melts, the way it always did when Terry was particularly sweet and open with his feelings for you, even a year and a half later.

“…Even if I truly don’t deserve you.”

You let out a weary sigh; you hate hearing him speak about himself like this, like none of the work he had done to become the man you knew and loved mattered in the long run.

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that, Terry. You are the most wonderful man, and it hurts to hear that you don’t see it.”

“Did you miss the part where I psychologically tortured a child into bloodying his knuckles? And laughed about it?” he snorts derisively, dismissing your attempts to defend him.

“There were so many other factors that caused you to make those decisions, love. And even if that was the man you were, it isn’t the man you are now, and he’s the one I fell in love with,” you counter, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “You are sweet, and kind, and generous, and considerate, and I count myself lucky everyday that you foolishly chose to love me back.”

“You are far too forgiving, my dear,” Terry informs you, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek. “I doubt you’d feel the same way if you had been around to see me do any of the terrible things I��ve done.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you say with a shrug. “I really can’t picture it at all.”

“Which part are you trying to picture?” he asks. “I assure you, it’s all still buried somewhere inside of me.”

“I can’t picture any of it, really. Breaking into that old man’s home, hurting anyone… I can’t picture you being scary at all, to be honest,” you confess, tossing your head back with a warm laugh.

Terry bolts upright, moving to sit on the other end of the couch to face you, and gives you a look.

“What?”

You cock your head at him, wondering at his reaction. “What?”

“You don’t think I’m scary?”

You try to look at him with a neutral expression, but can’t help but burst into a fit of giggles at how offended he looks right now.

“No! Should I?” you ask jokingly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No,” he admits grudgingly. “But you should know that I can be!”

Trying to quell your laughter, you crawl across the couch to him, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck, moving your head to try to catch his eye; he is stubbornly avoiding your gaze, like a petulant child.

“I’m sorry, Terry!” you tell him, genuinely not wanting to hurt his feelings or his sense of masculinity; he demonstrated the latter in dozens of other ways than being scary…

“I know that you are big, and strong, and could kick someone’s ass with one hand behind your back, and that you’ve got this big, dark past… but in my eyes you’ll always be a big teddybear.”

He gives you a dark, brooding look, and remains silent.

“Ter-ry!” you whine. You hate when he gives you the silent treatment. “It’s not a bad thing, not being that person anymore. It doesn’t make you any less of a man or anything.”

“Oh, I am fully aware of how much of a man I am, Y/N,” he sneers at you crossly, standing up with you still wrapped around him and stalking from the seating area over to the bed, tossing you onto the mattress unceremoniously. “Let me show you…”

---

Terry’s POV:

Terry splashes his face with water from the bathroom sink, patting himself dry with a towel and gazing at his reflection in the bathroom mirror with a frown.

You had called him a teddybear…

It almost made Twig sound macho by comparison.

He had worked hard on himself for decades to stop being the cruel, vindictive man that relished in passing on a fraction of his deep-seated traumas to others. He had tried to atone for his sins, contributing to charities and getting out of the toxic waste industry. He had spent endless hours in all sorts of therapy, getting over the War, addiction, his parents’ deaths, John…

None of this meant that he was no longer able to strike fear – Strike first. Strike hard. No mercy. – into anyone who dared to cross him the wrong way. That part of him, while it had laid mostly dormant over the years, still lurked within him, coiled and ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

He was still Terry Silver, and all that that entailed. He could still get his hands dirty, still fight, still drag information out of someone, one way or another…

Still kill, if he had to.

How could you not know that?

Perhaps he had gone too far in his rehabilitation, had hidden away some of the core parts of him a little too well.

But they were still there, even if you had never seen them. Maybe it was time that you did…

He slinks out of the bathroom, picking up his clothing and dressing silently, staring at you the whole time and seething. You are passed out in bed, looking thoroughly ravished, as you should, your hair a wild mess and your skin covered in fresh love bites. Serves you right for underestimating him, in his opinion. And the pounding he had just given you was nothing compared to what he is planning now; you would never question his abilities again. You would never question him again.

He loves you so much.

Enough to let you see all of him, even if you don’t want to face the truth.

Now fully dressed, he turns and slips out of the master bedroom, immediately pulling out his phone and making the call before he’s fully closed the door behind him.

“Sir.”

“I need to speak with you, Victor. Where are you right now?”

“Surveillance room on the ground floor, Sir.”

“Stay put. I’ll come to you.”

He ends the call, immediately sweeping through the house to Victor’s office at the other end of the mansion. The door opens as he approaches, and he sees himself in one of the monitors over Victor’s right shoulder.

The man was very good at his job.

“What can I help you with, Mr. Silver?” Victor asks the moment he closes the door behind Terry, straight to business as usual.

“Two nights from now, from say… 9 o’clock until noon the next day, I want everyone out.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

“Including you, Victor.”

There is a pause as Victor contemplates this requirement in silence. Terry knows that the man is particularly protective, and takes his job very seriously. It’s what Terry pays him so well for, after all.

“That… shouldn’t be a problem,” he concedes after a moment.

“I’m going to need all security devices disabled during that time, and the phone lines jammed, with the exception of my personal number.”

Victor stares at him as though he’s lost his mind. Perhaps he has.

“Would you like to tell me what the hell this is all about?” he demands. Terry wouldn’t tolerate any other employee speaking to him in such a way, but Victor was far more than just an employee. He had proven himself time and again, and become the closest confidante (aside from you) that he’d had since Margaret.

Hell, there were things about him that even you didn’t know, but Victor did.

“Nothing sinister,” Terry purrs, smiling wickedly. “It’s a… surprise, for Y/N.”

“What’s the occasion, Boss?” he asks, still skeptical. Terry levels him with an indignant look.

“She said I wasn’t scary, Victor.”

“Oh. Oh. Poor girl,” Victor mumbles, chuckling darkly at the implication of his words.

“Thank you, Victor.”

Victor has quite the soft spot for you, but your relationship is still antagonistic, if light-hearted. While he in no way wants to know the specifics of the dark and depraved acts Terry is sure he is imagining, anything that involves you being taken down a peg or two is more than enough justification for him to get onboard with whatever Terry has planned.

“What do you need from me, then?” Victor asks, back-to-business.

“A guarantee that everyone is out by nine without her noticing, and that no one whispers a word of this to Y/N. I’ll need you to handle the staff and sweep the place before leaving yourself; she’s going to think I’m out of town for a few days.”

Victor snorts at the lengths he’s going to, but doesn’t say a word against them; he knows better than that.

“Aren’t you worried she’s going to, I don’t know, kill you after all of this?” he asks, half-joking.

As the maniacal grin spreads across his face, Terry feels like a snake shedding its skin, and is deeply pleased by how easily this side of him is showing itself again. He knew it had always remained inside of him, but this was reassuring nonetheless.

“I’m not concerned about her reaction at all.”

---

You find him in his armory of Japanese weapons on the second floor some time later, lured by the sound of him whistling. He is absent-mindedly looking at his collection of daggers, finding the violent side he has awakened in himself temporarily appeased with handling the blades.

“You certainly seem chipper,” you comment in a husky voice, a seductive sway to your hips as you approach him, still rumpled from earlier. “What could be the cause of that, I wonder?” you ask teasingly, wrapping yourself around him.

His silly, foolish woman.

You have no idea what you’re in for.

“What indeed?” he replies coyly, kissing you on the forehead. He couldn’t give you cause for suspicion for the next day or so; it wouldn’t do to ruin the surprise.

You giggle, staring up at him so sweetly. A part of him feels bad that he’s going to break you.

But the rest of him doesn’t.

“Whatcha doing?” you ask, still pressed up against him.

“I was waiting for someone to wake up,” he replies with mock-exasperation, grinning down at you. He had forgotten how fun it was to be deceptive, to wear a mask of what someone wanted to see and lie straight to their face.

“I forgot to tell you; I have to go away for a couple of nights. It was supposed to be later in the month, but my meetings have been bumped up.”

“Anywhere fun?” you ask, clearly fishing for an invitation to accompany him. He did love you blowing him as they flew in his private plane…

“Vancouver,” he replies smoothly, raising a brow at you.

You had come to hate the rain; L.A. had spoiled you.

Sure enough, you grimace, and he internally crows in victory.

“Pass,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“But that’s so soon!” you complain, pouting at him. Terry silently vows to have this bratty image of you in mind when he’s got you pinned face down a few nights from now; he adores it (he adores all of you), but can’t deny that making this side of you beg for mercy would be particularly delicious.

“I know, darling. We’ll have to make the most of the next few hours, won’t we?” he soothes, giving you a warm smile that makes you melt.

Later that night, when he’s packing for his ‘trip,’ he slips one of the daggers into his suitcase. The rest of his… supplies would be purchased once he left.

---

Two days later…

Reader’s POV:

Terry has only been gone for a day and a half, but you still miss him terribly. While you had become far more comfortable here over the last year and a few months, it still felt strange when Terry wasn’t at home with you. He made this place feel warm and inviting; He was your home.

You still hadn’t been able to get used to having the staff members around, looking to you for instructions or guidance when Terry wasn’t around, but they had mostly learned to leave you to your own devices if Terry was away. They made the house feel less lonely, at least, just by their presence.

You have been relaxing in the bathtub for quite awhile now, and decide it’s about time you went to bed. Draining the tub, you towel yourself off, feeling deliciously warm and relaxed, and slip into a pair of comfy pyjamas. That was one nice thing about Terry travelling without you, at least. You had long since stopped wearing pyjamas to bed since moving in here; they never stayed on the whole night anyway.

As you brush your teeth, you look across the bathroom counter for your phone, frowning when you don’t see it. You move over to the tub, checking around the edge of it – maybe you had brought it over while you were running your bath and had forgotten about it – but it isn’t there either. Strange… you swear you had taken it into the bathroom with you.

Shaking your head at your own forgetfulness, you finish getting ready for bed and leave the bathroom, momentarily distracted by the moonlight shining through the window. Walking over to it, you look down to the beach with a sigh; this view always made you think of the first night you’d spent here.

You return to looking for your phone. You had definitely wanted to charge it while you slept, and it would be nice to text Terry a quick ‘Goodnight!’. He was in the same time zone, after all.

The moonlight illuminates something, reflecting the white light and catching your eye, and you move over to it. A piece of thick cardstock, folded in half, sits on the coffee table. You’re surprised you didn’t notice it sooner, and pick it up with a smile.

When you had first moved here, Terry had left you little cards like these when he had to leave, full of sweet words and occasionally filthy promises. He hadn’t done this in ages, though…

You flip open the card, and recognize his handwriting, but instead of the lengthy message you anticipated, only one word is scrawled on the inside of the note.

Run.

[^ Him plotting with Victor over the phone once he leaves for his "trip"]

---

Maniacal little fucker. I love him.

Part 2 here!

[matt0044]

What can I say? Tangle & Whisper's mini-series had me by the balls. Can't wait to dive into the Metal Virus. In any case, here's a voice cast I've had in mind when reading the comic original characters:

"Christine Marie Cabanos as Tangle The Lemur" - Many fan casters tend to focus on Tangle as a sporty tomboy and think of a raspy voice not unlike Rainbow Dash or Amethyst. This isn't bad but I found myself thinking outside the box when I was revisiting Kill La Kill and its bombass dub at the time. Christine's Mako Makanshoku had just the kind of energy and cocksure that Tangle would have as a rookie to the Resistance.

Mind you, she would even out the pitch to sound closer to a young adult/older teen that the characters tend to (mostly) come across as but no less hyperactive like Mako when the moment calls for it. Additionally, Christine could dip more into her Madoka Kaname performance to capture her more emotional side, particularly when Whisper lets her in on what happened to the Diamond Cutters. It would make for a great range that toes the line just like Tangle has in terms of being somewhat obnoxious but not in a "Scrappy Doo" kind of way.

Bonus - This is a song that I think fits Tangle's character to a T: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVimjyR6vIc

Another that describes her and Whisper because this ship has me by the balls: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h2rNLdSJjxU

"Erica Mendez as Whisper The Wolf" - Erica would play her not too unlike her soft-spoken Retsuko (barring Heavy Metal scenes played by an actual Heavy Metal singer) but in a consistently hushed tone. However, moments where she's emotionally devastated like fearing losing Tangle or... losing Tangle would be where her performances as Atsuko Kagari from Little Witch Academia and Gon from Hunter X Hunter come in.

Bonus - This song describes what I think is her vibe after Mimic's betrayal and between missions: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fkifn-zJzx4

This describes her memory of the Shadow Androids: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvKBMVKJOz0

"Todd Haberkorn as Dr. Starline The Platypus" - Todd's performance as Death The Kid shows a very balanced performance between his more goofy side and serious, grounded side, one that would apply well to the campy Dr. Starline. It would work well with his raising of Surge and Kit with his callous use of his Hypno Glove.

Bonus: I feel this music works well with his character (starts at the 1:04 minute mark): https://soundcloud.com/user-335233093/goseiger-matrintis-bgms-kotetsu-no-akui-matrintis

"Sarah Anne Williams as Surge The Tenrec" - Anybody who's heard her performance as Nonon Jakuzure and Tifa from FFVII Machinamabridged will know that Sarah can do punk. She just needs to ramp up the gruffness if only to see Surge as a homegrown teenage with major issues.

Bonus - This more rocking variant of Starline's theme would work with how he still haunts her (starts at the 24 second mark): https://soundcloud.com/user-335233093/goseiger-matrintis-bgms-2-kotetsu-no-akui-matrintis

"Johnny Yong Bosch as Kitsunami The Fennec" - Johnny may be known for his Super Saiyans, bounty hunters on the run and Anime pretty boys but his performance as Doraemon's Nobita as well as Yokai Watch's Nate shows that he can do timid young boy. Kit being the Tails to Surge's Sonic makes it a perfect fit.

His theme would be a more subdued version of Surge's (starts at the 2:34 minute mark) https://soundcloud.com/user-335233093/goseiger-danger-bgms-brajira-bgm-1-sakushi-wa-denki-tenshi-no-yume-o-miru-ka

"Cherami Leigh Kuehn as Jewel The Beetle" - A similar beleagured tone of voice to Lucy Heartfilia but with an light English accent, a total contrast to Tangle's character. A way to mask it for future performances given Sonic's big cast.

Agree with me? Disagree with me? Drop a comment for a little convo so long as we can keep it civil and constructive.

[artist-kreating-stuff]

Figured it was safe to post this little darling because I honestly don’t know if I’m going to include her in the story or not.

Meet Phoenix Nansui! And buckle up, because her backstory is kind of tragic.

This kind of plays into my Elemental Masters AU. In this AU, Xander falls in love with a woman (no, not revealing her just yet 😈), but both of them are fatally wounded during a tragic battle. As they both died, Xander’s Element of Fire took pity on them and ensured that their love will endure forever. It left Xander’s body with his last breath and burned their fresh corpses together, then breathed new life into the ashes. Those ashes became a beautiful baby girl.

The other Masters were devastated when they learned of the demise of Xander and his one true love. So much so that when the topic of who would take in the baby they apparently “created” came up, almost no one stepped forward. The loss of their big brother was too traumatic, too crippling. On top of that, neither Xander nor his lover had any family that would willingly take a newborn in. It was looking as if the new baby would remain an orphan.

That is, until Yugo Nansui stepped forward. He was Xander’s right hand man, he reasoned, so it was only fair that he take in what he’d left behind. The others were surprised that he of all people offered to take in the baby, but no one said anything against him.

So Yugo officially adopted the baby. He named her Phoenix, saying it was only fitting, given her birth. Xander’s flesh and blood was now his to raise and protect.

Yugo swore on Xander’s altar to do so with his life.

Extra Info

- To officiate the adoption, since both of her parents were dead, Yugo gave Phoenix his last name. Ukyo came along one day to help out and saw the adoption certificate. Here’s what happened:

Ukyo: Oh, so you gave her your last name?

Yugo: Yup. She’s mine now.

Ukyo: Interesting. May I also have your last name?

Yugo: WHHHHHHHAAAAAAA???

(Yup, Yukio for life! 💚💙)

So they both decide to look after what their team captain left behind.

- Raising a baby is not easy, and Phoenix was on a whole other level. It became clear early on that she’d inherited her father’s brute strength. From the moment she learned how to grasp things, she was already able to lift items that one would think impossible at her meager age. Toys, sticks, rocks - even other toddlers.

Yugo and Ukyo have had to apologize to so many horrified mothers…

As she continues to grow (growth spurt at 11, obvi), so does her strength. Pray for her dads.

- She also inherited her father’s sharp teeth, and her teething phase was a nightmare. A lot of chewed furniture and fingers…

- Phoenix appears to have vitiligo, which is the explanation Yugo and Ukyo give everyone else who asks. It’s certainly better than telling them the truth: it’s her birth parents’ skin fused together.

- Her right eye is her mother’s, and her left eye is her father’s.

- She refers to Yugo as “Daddy” (later as “Dad”), Ukyo as “Papa”, and Xander, when he comes up in the conversation, as “Father”.

- She would have worn a shirt more similar in appearance to her father’s crop top, but there was no way Yugo was letting her out of the house dressed like that.

- In certain lighting and wind patterns, her hair kind of looks like fire.

- As time goes on, the other Masters start to accept Xander’s death and make attempts to get to know his daughter. It’s not easy at first, as she looks strikingly similar to both her father and her mother, and they don’t take their first encounters with her very well. Phoenix thinks that looking at her is what’s making them sad, so she attempts to cover up her face with things like mud and masks. Upon seeing how far this innocent child would go to make sure they weren’t sad, the Masters start to make a better commitment to get to know her for who she was.

- Phoenix is kind of like Steven from Steven Universe. Both were “created” from a parent (both parents, in Phoenix’s case), but both are their own person. Not to mention, they’re both descended from pretty powerful bloodlines.

Also like Steven, Phoenix is aware of her birth parents’ fates and their roles in her creation. She goes through a period where she doesn’t know where “her parents” end and “she” begins, both physically and mentally. Don’t worry, she gets through it with some counseling.

- Phoenix’s last name may be Nansui, but she is still the rightful heir to the Shakadera family and all of its assets. Right now a branch family is in command of everything, but when she is old enough, she will have the chance to claim her rights to it. Her dads train her everyday for when that chance comes.

- She is also the next Master of Fire, and once she awakens her Element, she will be brought to the Monastery of Spinjitzu to train with the others of her generation.

I’ve had this little darling in mind for a while, and I’m so happy to finally have a reference photo for her! Once again, I’m still not sure if I’ll include her in the story or not, but she’s still a fun concept to have!

[jaggededges123]

11. Kissing in the rain

coming back to this now, finally~

Colum Asht stands in front of you, on the edge of a cliff. He looks at you as though you are the genesis of his every trouble and worry line. He does not speak. He never speaks.

Because it’s not Colum Asht.

It’s Harrowhark Nonagesimus’s, the wretched shadow cultist’s, crooked conceptualization of Colum Asht. A construct, set to follow you everywhere and do everything you ask of him, without fail or complaint. It is nearly the most painful punishment you can conceptualize, to know your cavalier dead by your own hand, and you unable to see or even know where he is. He is elsewhere, and this shoddy makeshift replacement is your specter.

No more. No more.

So you stand with the stained-glass version of your cavalier, idealized in all of the wrong ways, on the edge of this cliff.

He says nothing.

You don’t have the capability of silencing yourself—it has never been in your skill set.

“Colum Asht,” you say, to a man who is not here, and then you scream against the storm, “Brother Colum Asht!”

He does not answer your call now, just as he didn’t then. Thunder replaces his voice, loud and intemperate.

“I need you!” you scream, fruitlessly, at this thing in front of you that wears his face. It doesn’t even blink. “Come back!”

You’re in mourning, and he won’t even come back so you can throw yourself at his feet and beg for retribution instead of forgiveness.

You want him to kill you. You want him to kill you, because you killed him. Not that thing that had corrupted his body after his death at your eternally bloody hands, and not this thing that is not him in front of you.

You cannot resist the urge to be violent, because this thing is not him. How dare it play imposter and pretend to be him?

You seize the small amount of fabric peeking out from the collar of its leathers in your skeletal hand, and you pull. You pull hard.

Your lips meet to its, to this facsimile of your cavalier, your nephew, your foundation. Your brother in faith and the one whose dying words will never fade from you. Your lips meet its, and they are cold and pursed, and then they part all at once to indulge your iniquity in a way that enrages and devastates you.

How dare it accept your violent advance?

Colum Asht never would have.

You push. You push hard, as hard as you possibly can in your constant necromantic weakness. You know Colum Asht would fight you on this, refuse to go to his own death or die fighting you. He had.

You wish he had been able to kill you. If this were Colum Asht, he would be able to throw you from the cliffside so that your body would be dashed upon the rocks or your soul maimed as you passed unprepared back into the River. He would be able to pay you in kind for what you did to him.

But this is not Colum Asht. The thing that is him in appearance only topples docilely off the edge of the cliff, weariness etched in every part. You watch, as he fades into the fog. You are the one to kill even this version of Colum Asht; it nearly kills you even though you are already dead.

You turn as the lightning flashes and peals of thunder roar. The Third, construction one and all, stand between you and what is left of this godforsaken version of the First House. You can guess why Tern had not been able to make it, and likewise that the abomination you now know as Lyctor must yet remain alive.

But Coronabeth… Coronabeth. Her absence is enraging. The second princess of Ida lost nothing, and you everything and more.

You cannot even be with your cavalier in death. Ianthe Tridentarius, who tore her oath to shreds, still can have her most precious person with her in life.

Ianthe sneers something—but you do not listen to fictive words born of the unbalanced mind of Harrowhark Nonagesimus. You might have listened to what should have been Colum's, if only she had seen fit to give him any words at all. It might have given you some small insight to glean. But you will not listen to the faux princesses, nor their pitiful cavalier.

The non-aptitude crown princess and the cavalier will be nothing in this place. You focus your gaze on the counterfeit second princess, and your eyes begin to glow.

[ravens-words]

Untitled

Eddie asks Buck about the coma dream.

"So tell me about this other life," Eddie whispers quietly, watching Buck absentmindedly run his fingers through Christopher's hair. He’s heard about it from Bobby, a little bit, and he can’t say he’s not curious about it.

Buck looks up, startled. "Huh?"

"Your other life," he repeats patiently, "tell me about it."

Buck hesitates, looks away, and Eddie frowns. "Come on, it can't be that bad," he prods jokingly.

The look on Buck's face says otherwise, so Eddie waits him out, doesn't pressure him.

"I was a teacher," he tells him, and Eddie finds himself smiling. "What?" Buck asks.

"What?"

"Why are you smiling like that?"

Eddie quirks an eyebrow. "I'm not allowed to smile now?"

"Not without telling me why you're smiling like that, you're not."

He shakes his head. "Just- I can see it. You being a teacher."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah," he nodded, "you're good with kids, you're patient, you're kind," Eddie realizes when Buck blushes that he may have gone overboard, so he overcorrects, "-and you're practically a kid yourself, so you must've fit right in."

Buck huffs, rolls his eyes. Then, he sobers up and clears his throat. "Daniel was alive," he tells him, "and he was a doctor.” He sounds devastated, but in a hushed type of way that feels somehow different than before. Buck may not talk about his brother much, or at all really, considering the fact that he hadn't gotten to know him, but whenever Buck did talk about him, it was like he was an open wound that refused to mend. Now, it was different, not an open, gaping wound, but a scar, tender and fresh, but healed.

"Buck-"

He doesn't seem to hear him, though, because he continues. "Maddie was still with Doug, and she was- not okay. Chimney- he didn't know Maddie. Jee wasn't there anymore. Hen was pretty much the same, though."

Eddie's quiet for a minute, then, "and me?" He asks, curious, "where am I?"

"I don't know," he confesses. Buck shudders, closes his eyes like it pains him, and Eddie scoots his chair closer, grabs the free hand that's not stroking Christopher's back.

"Hey, where'd you go?"

"You weren't there," Buck tells him, "you- you lost Christopher."

He freezes, body tense and ice cold, as he processes the words and puts it together. "Because you weren't there," he says softly, awed.

Buck laughs it off, "I was just making everything about myself, again."

"No," he tells him, "no, you- when I came to LA, Buck, I had no idea how hard being on my own would be. I was drowning, and you- you helped. More than you'll ever know."

"Eddie, I just introduced you to Carla, you did the rest all on your own."

Eddie's shaking his head before Buck can finish talking. "You were there constantly, whenever I needed you. You were my rock, and you still are. So, trust me when I tell you, I wouldn't have survived, let alone gotten to a place where I'm actually okay, without you."

Buck's eyes are rimmed red at this point, and Eddie's must be too, because he feels the itch of tears burn his eyes.

"You're giving me too much credit," he laughs wetly, sniffling.

Eddie smiles. "I don't think you’re giving yourself enough." He squeezes his hand again- only then realizing he's been holding it the entire time. "I don't say it enough, but thank you for everything, Buck."

He opens his mouth to say something, probably a denial, but then he just- nods, accepts it.

There's a knock on the door frame, and Buck's doctor pokes her head in. "Visiting hours are over, I'm afraid."

Eddie nods at her, and pulls himself up. Waking Christopher takes a good minute, and Buck just looks at them instead of offering any help. Christopher eventually opens his eyes, then climbs down, but not before hugging Buck tightly. "I'm glad you're okay now."

"Thank you, bud."

Eddie hesitates for a moment before he throws caution to the wind and leans down, pressing his lips to Buck's hair and lingering there for a few seconds, just breathing him in. "Hey, Buck?"

"Yeah?" Cautious, hopeful, afraid.

"I'm glad you picked us."

Buck looks up at him, and Eddie tries not to let all the love and fondness he feels for him show, and most likely fails.

Buck smiles, bright and beautiful. "I am, too."

[ncisfranchise-source]

You can’t go wrong with a classic. For the shortened 21st season of NCIS that premieres February 12, “All we wanted to do was get back to doing what we do best, which is tell really great stories,” says David J. North, a longtime NCIS writer who has joined Steven D. Binder as co-showrunner. With only 10 episodes, due to the actors’ and writers’ strikes, each hour is a stand-alone story with smaller character arcs.

The opener picks up with the vengeful Nick Torres (Wilmer Valderrama), last seen in the cliffhanger finale promising to pull the trigger on a man from his childhood who’d devastated his family.

“Torres does something to the mystery man, Maurice Riva [Al Sapienza, who played Mikey Palmice on The Sopranos], that threatens to end his career as an NCIS agent,” North reveals. “The team rallies around Torres, but it may be too late to save his badge—and his freedom. The evidence is so overwhelming against Nick that the team is left to wonder [how well they know him].”

CBS

Despite that foundation-rocking incident, the agents pull together in the second episode (February 19) to tackle a case that their late colleague, Dr. Ducky Mallard, was working on in secret to clear someone’s name. This is the first season without the beloved medical examiner turned NCIS historian, played for 20 years by David McCallum, who died in September 2023.

“The case was important to Dr. Mallard. In [investigating it], they’re going to relive their memories of a coworker and a man who meant so very much to them,” North says. These recollections make the grieving crew ask, “What would Ducky do?” and the answers lead to a solution. The episode was co-written by Brian Dietzen, who plays Dr. Jimmy Palmer, Ducky’s longtime assistant and now chief medical examiner himself. “Brian shed tears writing it; the cast and crew shed tears shooting it,” North says.

Emotions also run high for Jimmy in a later episode when his girlfriend Jessica Knight’s (Katrina Law) critical but loving dad, an NCIS agent in the Far East Field Office, comes to visit.

“Like most dads and daughters, Knight and her father share a loving but complicated relationship. His sudden appearance will dredge up some unresolved arguments. He’s the reason she wanted to be an agent, but she feels like she can’t get out of her dad’s shadow,” North says. “It will force Knight to confront delicate questions about her life choices, including how Jimmy fits into her future.” Jimmy will also be disappointed in the greeting he receives from Papa Knight, whom he is meeting for the first time. It’s going to be a hurdle for the bullpen couple. Notes North, “As much as we love [Knight and Palmer] together, relationships are hard.”

Luckily, NCIS always throws some quirky humor into the mix. In the third episode of the season (February 26), team leader Alden Parker (Gary Cole) institutes a “Walk a Mile in Someone’s Shoes Day” at work. “Where Mark [Harmon as Gibbs] was the father figure, Gary is more the crazy uncle,” says North.

To better understand the inner workings of NCIS, the agents switch places with colleagues we don’t usually see on the show, like folks in maintenance and accounting. The results are initially funny, but the agents learn some new lifesaving skills. Reveals North, “Kasie [Diona Reasonover] is sitting in with dispatch when she gets a call that’s going to send the team on a manhunt.” In another episode, Parker, who has posed as a lawyer and a psychiatrist in past cases, will face his toughest acting job yet. “He’s going to be forced to go in undercover as a surgeon, kind of like Leo DiCaprio in Catch Me if You Can,” North spills.

This season also brings the 1,000th episode of the franchise on April 15. (The landmark number refers to all the NCISes combined.) “It’s going to be huge to try and embrace the entire NCIS universe,” North suggests. “One of our most beloved characters will be in grave danger.” We’ll be right there with the team we’ve missed so much as they fight to save someone who feels like our own family.

[mad-rdr]

August Reads

6 books this month!

The Kingdom of Copper by S. A. Chakraborty (★ ★ ★ ★/5): If I could summarize this book in one sentence it would be: a war where neither side is right and everyone dies. If you can’t tell, this book was INSANE. There was so much happening the entire time and everytime I thought my opinions on a character were certain, they did something that completely changed my mind again. There were so many loyalty changes and assassination attempts and self-righteous speeches. My only complaint is that I feel because there are so many characters to keep track of and develop, there’s not really any huge character arcs that should have happened.

The Duchess War by Courtney Milan (★ ★ ★/5): cute and basic regency-era romance. Gotta love a revolutionary duke who realizes he's unmatched when it comes to the woman he loves

Leather & Lark by Brynne Weaver (★ ★ ★/5): Butcher & Blackbird works because it's one of a kind and this sequel is obviously trying to capitalize on that success. Not to say this book wasn't enjoyable, it just wasn't as fun as the first one. The whole fake marriage thing barely makes sense, I really don't get why Lark would bother to try and save Lochlan's life. But anyways, cheers to enemies to lovers ig

Icebreaker by Hannah Grace (★ ★/5): While not a good book (which I knew going in), I was finding it relatively entertaining until the last 20% of the book. Anastasia is honestly so annoying and Nathan gets gross and controlling towards the end. The conflict with Aaron was incredibly drawn out and super repetitive and don’t even get me started on her being pregnant in the epilogue. Anyways- it was fun till it kinda wasn’t but eh, I wasn’t expecting quality.

Raven Rock by Nichole Louise (★ ★ ★ ★/5): A historical fiction book placed right in the heart of the American Revolution, it explains the origins of the legend of the Headless Horseman. And let me just say, wow. It started off a little slow, but by halfway through I was fully engaged in the story. Wolfram was such a compelling character, with his internal conflict regarding his uncle, a man who had been like a father to him, and his ruthlessness during the war. He defies him and ends up saving a child from a burning building, becoming a traitor in the process. His time in Sleepy Hollow with Hulda (resident healer that is seen as a witch and therefore outcasted) was so fun to read about and makes the tragedy of it all that more devastating. I am glad that Wolfram got his revenge against his uncle for not only killing his father but also killing him. I like to think Hulda and Wolfram are haunting Raven Rock together and have found each other in their afterlives. This truly was such a great read and I’m glad I pick led it up. Shoutout to Herkules, the best horse companion a man could have.

The Empire of Gold by S. A. Chakraborty (★ ★ ★ ★ ★/5): I take back everything I said in the last book about there being too many characters to give them proper arcs. This series finale proved me wrong and I am so, so glad. This series has only gotten better with each book and this was definitely the best one. Nahri and Ali cross the world, find allies in ancient beings, come into new powers, discover family secrets, overthrow a mass murderer, and are rebuilding Daevabad from the ground up. They are such a fun pair and I’m truly glad they’ve found their way back to each other. For Dara, I just feel an immense sadness for him. His story is a tragedy and so nuanced and complex- the author did a really good job of handling it and giving him a fitting ending. There’s so much more I could talk about but just know that this was such a good ending and, in one way or another, everyone is working towards their own peace.

[yerpenachams]

JJBA Protagonist Abilities

I'm really inspired by 'Jojo's Bizarre Adventure,' because stands are an excellent way to go about avoiding power creep and creating versatile but limited power sets. Probably my favorite plot point in Part 8 is that the Rock Humans have more predatory and devastating, but situational stands, compared to most other antagonists in the series.

However, Araki doesn't go as far as he could with the protagonist's abilities. Giorno's is a little too versatile, while still being strong (although you could say this fits thematically with him being the son of Dio, whose stand is also 'unfair'). Jotaro's stand is obviously very basic, but that's acceptable since it's from the first part with stands. That leaves Crazy Diamond, Stone Free, Tusk, Soft & Wet, and November Rain.

I was super excited about the reveal of November Rain, because it really seemed like a mook stand that just happened to be used by a main character. To me, this fit really well with the themes of Part 9, since Jodio believes that he's a psychopath doomed to struggle with human connection; he doesn't view himself as a hero. Of course, in more recent chapters, November Rain has been established as a pretty versatile stand, although it's still a bit more specific than any of the previous main character stands (in my opinion).

Crazy Diamond has a very neat and clean powerset; healing and repairing objects. This may seem simple, but has a variety of applications in Part 4. Stone Free essentially just allows Jolyne to stretch herself, fit through tight spaces and go "long-range" at the cost of vulnerability; it basically just improves hand-to-hand combat, but it's still a pretty good stand.

Tusk is a stand that really makes a point of "harnessing a force of nature." Gold Experience gives Giorno control over biology, but Tusk gives Johnny control over rotation, including allowing him to create black holes. Objectively, it's probably the best idea for a main character stand so far in a series about the power of fate. However, I've read some convincing fan theories about November Rain, I love the way that Crazy Diamond is used in certain fights in Part 4... and I think that Soft & Wet had a lot of potential.

I actually love Part 8, and it's kind of necessary for Josuke to have a "bullshit stand" when a lot of his opponents use devasting and/or long-range and/or automatic stands (of the Rock Humans, Aisho Dainenjiyama, Dolomite, Poor Tom and Satoru Akefu/Toru all have automatic stands). In addition to Doobie Wah!, Blue Hawaii, Ozone Baby and Wonder of U, Tamaki Damo's Vitamin C and Yotsuyu Yagiyama's I Am a Rock both have features of automatic stands. Once infected, victims of Vitamin C are doomed as long as they're in its range. I Am a Rock attracts objects to people's bodies automatically, although Yotsuyu is at risk since he has to touch people to activate his stand. For Vitamin C, I Am a Rock and Brain Storm, calling them 'automatic' is varying degrees of a stretch, but I definitely think Doctor Wu and the Schott Keys are the only Rock Human stands that have no automatic elements (although Doctor Wu clearly has a different-functioning brain to control all the different parts of his body in the way he does). That's a count of seven automatic stands to three non-automatic, and Brain Storm and Schott Key No. 2 have very small automatic features, since they are diseases. One could argue that, if Green Day functions automatically, then so do Brain Storm and Schott Key No. 2.

Of course, there are non-Rock Human stands that are automatic in Part 8. This in particular includes Kei Nijimura's Born This Way. California King Bed also takes memories automatically, although only when Josuke breaks a rule. That's excluding Yasuho Hirose's Paisley Park and Norisuke Higashikata's King Nothing, which are automatic stands used by allies of Josuke.

I just really enjoy talking about my theory/"observation" that the Rock Human stands are especially predatory, aggressive and unfair because they're a solitary species of humanoid with low to no empathy.

Regardless, Gappy's Soft and Wet is a very interesting stand that's hard to write for. It can "plunder," absorb, steal basically whatever Josuke wants... from physical objects to abstract concepts. He can place himself inside a bubble, mediate air pressure, steal friction from a floor or eyesight from a human being.

I basically came up with this list of Jojo protagonist abilities to make myself feel a bit better while I devise abilities for my own protagonists.

[jellyfishoreo1206]

Dating HC's with Daniel and Nostre

This idea came to me when I was about to sleep, got out of bed to write it down so I wouldn't forget it in the morning (⁠ー⁠_⁠ー⁠゛⁠)

Had my ass looking like this:

I was listening to the live stream that came out like, 8 months ago

And like the part where Part just says while drawing Bubo "You think he gets bitches?" And I absolutely lost it

Reader will be gender neutral

This is really my opinion on what it would be like to have a relationship with them, so please don't get mad at me

-----

Cuddle sessions are a MUST when it comes to sleeping together or whenever you guys wanna relax

Just a pile of limbs as y'all huddle together, especially in the winter

I can imagine Nostre being somewhat touch-starved, and his love language being physical touch

So a cuddle session would be a regular thing for you three

For some reason, I can imagine Daniel being somewhat of a menace in the shared kitchen

Because he has butterfingers, and he was able to break a spoon along with several plastic bowls, with multiple bowls, plates, and cups to add on (projecting myself onto Daniel a small bit)

If you have a favorite mug/cup/plate/bowl, don't let Daniel anywhere near it

So he's banned from the kitchen, and if he wants to get something to eat like a snack, or make something small, someone has to be there to supervise him

"C'mon, I'm an adult, not 10! I only like, broke one bowl!"

"Daniel you broke 4 plastic bowls in 3 hours. How do you manage that??"

"You have to be Daniel to somehow do that."

He's pouty about it, but he understands

Nostre, I feel like he's an amazing cook

But like he doesn't have the time or the energy to do so

But when he does, BOOM taste buds are in heaven

Nothing will taste the same no more, his cooking will absolutely ruin how everything else tastes

Activities or date ideas would probably just be either staying inside or karaoke night

Activities inside would be either finding a new recipe, watching a bad movie/show just to make fun of it, cuddling, taking a relaxing spa day at home, or just sleeping in.

It's a rare occurrence when you guys do outside activities, as it's LA and everyone is everywhere

Walk into a place that's near a popular area? Packed

Going out for a walk near a famous mural? A whole ass line at 8 in the morning just to take a goddamn selfie

So you guys usually stick to karaoke most of the times

Now pets

Nostre I feel would always be the one to bring a stray animal home, it just seems to fit his character, and Daniel too

"Nostre, why's your coat moving?"

"Ah, just some, uh.. paperwork?"

They are both trying to hide the stray's that they both bring home from you

*meowing coming from the coat*

"...please don't tell Y/N."

"Never dreamed of it!"

When you do find them however, they always convince you to let them keep them

But when it kinda gets out of hand, you have to put your foot down

They are both devastated, but they understand

I feel as if their music taste vary at times

Nostre would probably be the kind to listen more to indie songs/folk, and maybe a small bit of jazz, blues, and pop at times

Daniel, very influenced by pop music, glam rock, indie rock, punk rock, and jazz

Honestly I can see him being very open to all music genres, expect for country

He has a disliking for country and he doesn't know why

[runthepockets]

Extremely bullshit personal ramble under the cut

I was reading this article on Chevy Chase yesterday, and it talked a little about his time on the tv show Community, and how he once left creator Dan Harmon an angry voicemail after the latter had embarrassed him very publicly at a party. And Harmon's response was to....play the voicemail at a small gathering, which just felt really unnecessarily cruel and exploitative for a guy in charge of a successful sitcom.

"This is a pattern people have with my father" Chase's daughter says, "whenever they get hurt by him, the run to tell their friends and call up TMZ and gossip about him, make him a laughing stock, put him on blast in front of the whole world". And look, I know the guy is an ass. He's a racist, xenophobic, sexist, and every other outdated ideal rich white guys are prone to under the sun, with a huge ego. But a lot of me is still like....why this? He's just a guy, he's still human at the end of the day. You're both adults, and Harmon was clearly the one in the wrong, why didn't he just call Chase and apologize for embarrassing him in front of his family and coworkers? That doesn't seem unreasonable. I believe in accountability, and all, but kicking a man when he's down and making a huge spectacle of it for a cheap laugh is just low hanging fruit, and wraps back around to being pretty devastating and pathetic, even if he sucks as a person.

I've been bitching a lot about queer spaces lately, and I feel pretty bad about it, even if I feel a lot of the criticism is warranted. In the midst of all my bitching, I should clarify that I'm not one to sell people up the river for cis approval, or to judge people unfairly for being different than me, or any of that stuff. I'm an adult, I grew up in the 2000s and 2010s. I remember all the stupid jokes at trans women's expense and a lot of "shock humor" revolving around making a mockery of gay men's sexualities. I remember how people hated Brokeback Mountain when it first came out. I remember Matthew Shephard. I remember how simply wearing pants that fit could get a guy jumped after dark. I think about all of that stuff all the time. I'm stealth and unwilling to compromise this, but even while navigating the world as a cishet dude, I still operate as an ally to the queer struggle and liberation. I'm not an idiot and I'm not heartless, I know it's rough out here, I can still afford people a lot of grace and empathy, I'm genuinely a pretty smart and patient guy.

But lately I feel my patience is running thin. I wish it wasn't, but it is. Every time I try to open myself up in queer spaces I just end up getting manipulated or abused or backstabbed or assigned some sort of mediator role that I never asked for. And look, I'm no saint, and I know I can be pretty polarizing at times. I often struggle to find the sweet spot between amusement and comedy and just being a douche, and at the end of the day not everyone in the world is going to like me, cis or trans, gay or straight, and goddamn if there aren't people I couldn't give less of a shit about. I honestly couldn't care less about being in everyone's good graces, that's just not how being an adult in this life works.

But I digress. I'm not a damn mass murderer, I've never raped or sexually harassed or killed anyone. I'm just kind of awkward at times. For all my jokes and how much I revel in being a bad boy and giving little to no fucks about any trivial bullshit, I do have morals. I do try very hard to make sure no one feels left out or alienated or uncomfortable by my actions, and if I do it's almost never intentional. It isn't fun. Being the only black & neurotypical dude in a lot of queer spaces isn't too dissimilar from Mr. Chase's experiences on Community; if you fuck up, you're pretty much fucked. Queer spaces are too small to avoid everyone you've ever fucked up with, and you can't throw a rock in a queer space without hitting like 12 people with trauma responses that lead them to blow a lot of things out of proportion. By no fault of their own, of course, but they are still in control of their actions and that more often than not leads to me being treated like some sort of pariah rather than just being told what I did wrong and deescalating conflict in a casual way.

On a more menial and petty level, it also sucks being ignored. Seeing people's eyes glaze over and watching them reach for their phones any time I talk about my interests and passions for improving malenes or how much I like being a straight guy, cus that doesn't blend very well with people's ideas of queer identity / conflicts with their priorities. It sucks. I'm chopped liver. I wish I could pin it to white queer spaces (and they are the most egregious offenders for most of this), but I think it's just the state of nonblack queers in general and the sad reality of queer spaces being molded as a "safe space" from masculinity since like, the 70s (many trans men and masc gay men will agree with and testify to this). That's a good 80% of time I just spend being an after thought, both interpersonally and in broader political conversations. It sucks ass. I get that being stealth isn't for everyone, but I really don't see how anyone can fault me for my decision. When I'm in the cishet world, as a black dude, things aren't perfect either, but people are more likely to understand where I'm coming from and the things I have to say, at the very least, because the majority of their experiences are the same and the lack of stigma and trauma around their identities makes it a lot easier to communicate. Again, this is not a personal failing of queer spaces, but the material reality is....yeah, it's just easier for me personally to deal with cishet people. Black trans people, too, but realistically black people as a whole only make up about 13% of the population and only like, 6% of that is trans, and I'm not gonna spend all day every day weeding out people to hang out with, I'm gonna chill with whoever is cool to be around.

Idk man. Lately I've just been feeling this strong sense of "if I weren't trans, I wouldn't matter to any of these people, pretty much everything between us is conditional." Like, if people react this poorly to me as a black dude who presumably doesn't have a dick or isn't struggling with a lot of the hang ups and traumas cis black dudes have (you know, the kind of shit that lands you in jail or addicted to meth, instead of just being kind of rude and dismissive sometimes), imagine how they'd react if I actually was a cis black dude. I'd probably be torn to shreds by now. And the fact that I'm feeling this way means it's probably time for a huge change. I try really hard-- to accommodate for people, to find new friends, to learn and keep learning and always try to do better, and it all always ends the same. It's gotten to the point where some of my friends think it's all online nonsense. It's not. Being a black man really just sucks that fucking bad, and it really is just this fucking hard all the time. I mean don't get me wrong, I fucking love being black and I love being a man, but there is no reprieve, and it's idiotic to act as if all men have the same privileges that white dudes do.

I don't think I can ever fully leave queer spaces behind; I mean, I love trans women so much, romantically platonically and sexually, and black trans people in particular give me so much joy and hope in a world that feels very stacked against me a lot of the time. But I do think it's time to be more selective with my time and energy and who I interact with, cus it's very apparent to me that a lot of people don't have my best interests at heart, nor do they really know how to deal with problems beyond very surface level and biased understandings of gender and being trans.

At the end of the day, I really really love people, which is maybe why it always hits so hard when they don't always love me back.