#so look at me firing up photoshop for the first time in who knows how long!

[danthropologie]

DANIEL RICCIARDO | Pre-Race, Mexico City GP 2023

[nachosforfree]

Slender 100 percent ends up the dad to a bunch of traumatized teens and kids-

And all Tim can do is watch because as much as he hates this- As far as he can tell, Der Großmann is the only one who can sap the poor kids magic and keep them sane.

Hoodie, meanwhile, is.. completely reliant on Slender. He has no free will. Everything he does is because Slender wills it.

With no soul, he has no mind.

…Which usually means he’s the one doing chores around the mansion. He’s the one that goes room to room and stares at them until they give him laundry.

Kate the Chaser, meanwhile, is in charge of the Well and Candle.

Following the Slender: The Arrival games and the Pages game, Kate was the only one to survive the fire.

And her family- her family had been cursed by Slender’s presence the entire time. Like I said before- those who know of him are infected- and those who are infected find themselves with Slender always knowing where they are.

Charlie died during the fire, so the reason why Tim was infected in the first place is that Slender wanted another child under his thrall. He enjoys taking care of them- he finds them cute, even.

Sadly for him- Tim’s parents were a bit of the helicopter kind.

So he never got the chance to spirit Tim away and raise him like he raised Charlie.

So as much as Tim hates it, he very much is Slender’s favorite child.

A rebellious one, for sure, but Slender is sure he can break his will after a while.

Der Großmann is a telepathic entity After all.

ALSO THANK YOU SM FOR CALLING THIS COOL I HAVE BEEN BREWING THIS AU FOR YEARS AND ITS BEEN RATTLING AROUND ME HEAD BECAUSE OF THAT

I Know. Way too much about Slender lore and how everything works

FUNFACT DID YOU KNOW SLENDER STARTED OUT AS A SOMETHING AWFUL FORUM CONTEST?? He was the result of the Forum going: hey Photoshop something scary!

And Slender got spat out, and the people who created Marble Hornets took one look at that, quickly decided to say that hey! They know that thing! It appeared in some tapes for a college project!

And then sat down and created the entirety of season one of marble hornets in one night.

THATS ALL SO INTERESTING!!! I love your characterization of Slender with him finding humans and children like cute pets

And I did know that !!! I've always been super invested in the origins of creepypastas

[goatskickin]

Get to know you: Sims Style

I was tagged by @pooklet

It’s something to do until SFS comes back online 💀

What’s your favorite Sims death?

There’s the one where you can use the Wishing Well and ask for money and the money bag falls on your sim’s head and k!lls them. Hilarious!

Alpha CC or Maxis Match?

I love clay hairs and I love old Peggy and Helga hairs too. Some TS2 clothing meshes have never held any appeal for me, and some alpha stuff that is very beloved leaves me cold. I like the beta look too! I’ve already shared my love of beta-esque eyes.

I've been collecting CC for much too long. Sometimes I go digging through my old af clothing CC wondering what if??? should I recolor that???? is this mesh good, actually?????

I’ve considered getting rid of all of my custom windows and doors (save a few special ones). I feel like Maxis has given us everything we could ask for and more. Plus it might save space for even more CC. More rc's of what I have, less new meshes.

Do you cheat your sims weight?

Like, use cheats for thinness/fatness? No. Not unless I am checking to see if a fat morph I made works.

Do you move objects?

I’ll move any object I damn well please, yeah.

Favorite Mod?

I could say something boring like Gussy Up or the Sim Manipulator but instead I’ll say something cool like the trainset does not catch on fire because it is cool when an object does not have 2% chance of combusting 😎

First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack?

I really wanted Hot Date as a kid but was mortified to ask for it, so I think I had Deluxe instead?

For TS2 - that would be University I think

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing?

aLIVE I guess?

Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made?

I like born-in-game sims a lot. I have a pic of a very good Vidcund spawn from like, 2014. Judith Curious.

Have you made a simself?

Oh yes. It’s kicking around the internet somewhere.

Which is your favorite EA hair color?

Red! It’s always been red.

Favorite EA hair?

MEG!

Favorite life stage?

Adults and then elders.

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?

I am an awful builder. I like dl’ing other people’s houses though.

Are you a CC creator?

Oh yes! I have a bit of a problem with that.

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad?

I am chronically friendly and unable to shut up. As such, someone is bound to fall for my charms eventually.

Do you have any sims merch?

It does not exist but I wish that the TS1 soundtrack was on vinyl. I could relax on a winter's eve to 🎶Under Construction🎶

Do you have a YouTube for sims?

No?

How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing?

Less grungy! Well, more lightly grungy. Less subject to trends. I’ve been a lot more careful about what I download. I delete stuff all the time.

Who’s your favorite CC creator?

of all time? I could not say. I am a Sims 2 CC historian though

How long have you had Simblr?

2013

How do you edit your pictures?

barely lol. I use one of @pooklet's Photoshop actions

Sometimes a tiny bit of photoshopping for an Apoc C.O.W. picture to adjust a finger or get something to look less clippy but that’s it.

What expansion/gamepack is your favorite?

TS1 – always makin magic

TS2 – I want it to be OFB but OFB is so busted. Seasons I guess! I like weather and plants.

tagging: @pforestsims, @brandinotbroke, @freezerbunny-sims2, @jules-cant-build, @madraynesims, @antisocialbunnysims, @themeasureofasim, @aondaneedles, @bayoubashsims, @rockethorse, @serabiet, @simborg, @virtualpeople, @executables-sims, @hazelpuff and @pixeldolly

[chickenstrangers]

2023 gifs in review tag game

tagged by @khaotunq (here!) to post my favorite/most popular gifs throughout the year. thank you!!🩵🩵🩵

I only started making gifs partway through this year, so there was a big learning curve and i still think i'm pretty newbie but it has been a lot of fun and it's nice looking back on how much i think i've improved, though i have so much left to learn next year

i am going to ramble too much because this is my post, fair warning, forgive my self indulgence

april

this was the very beginning, back in the photopea days before i tried photoshop (i am still quite fond of photopea, 1. because it is free and 2, for stills i think it's just as good as photoshop, but i could never figure out how to make gifs look good with its dithering system. i have seen some remarkable gifmakers using photopea tho so that's a my limited skill problem, and i'm glad i used it to dip my toes into the process!)

i only posted 1 set for abaab this month which looks not good but is still a very fun scene, but this was not actually the first thing i made (see below).

may

most popular: msp finale, tinn knowing all the words to gun's song <3

favorite: moonlight chicken, my first ever gifset and the reason i got into gifmaking because i wanted to capture the way moonlight chicken visually returned to locations and shots to underline its theme of loneliness being replaced by community, which is the mlc repetitions series

june

most popular & favorite: kiss me again (2018) and the lovely way june say's goodby to his friends (i learned how to add text to gifs for this one, and not only that but timed text! i thought it would get like 5 notes. it's very messy and doesn't look great, but i'm proud that i learned something with it, and i think its very funny and that's all that matters to me)

july

it's photoshop time now!! photoshop beloved you make such beautiful gifs and also you are So Slow and my computer cannot handle you.

most popular: only friends original trailer set

favorite: jimwen looking at each other set (the start of my most belovedest of series, the followup to the first ever meta i wrote)

august

most popular: part 1 of the can't i look at you edits, cool tones edition

favorite: part 2 of the can't i look at you edits, warm toned edition (i love them both but this has two of my all time favorite wen faces)

hey its my profile picture and also i find it very funny that the Os line up with his eyes, and the second gif i love how impossibly happy they look

september

my busiest month in terms of gifs, in large part due to only friends

most popular: topmew and fire

favorite: alanwen poetry edit i spent soooo long learning keyframes for the heartbeat effect and then the ghosting effect was a happy accident thank you person in the background walking past at the right moment

(i also love my charn laws of attraction set because he was a surprise favorite character this year, i loved collecting the quotes for how he speaks of himself)

october

most popular: only friends sandray finale parallel set (it is. very very close to 1k which is. so many).

favorite: he's coming to me edit because it was so fun to make for @dudeyuri

november

most popular: not me sean and black getting along super duper well!

favorite: moonlight chicken haunted house edit, accompanying this meta/creative writing thing. i loved choosing liminal feeling shots for it and i liked how the simple typography turned out

december

most popular: a little jim and wen set i am very fond of

favorite: the moonlight chicken new years set i posted today. i love this little chicken diner

hey look i managed to mention moonlight chicken almost every month (i swear, i watched so many favorite shows this year but i loved making mlc gifs so much)

and that's that! thanks for reading if anyone read til the end.

no pressure tags for some amazingly talented creators who have made some of my favorite sets this year (if you feel like talking about some of your highlights, whether monthly or not, because you all make so much incredible work and i'd love to hear about it) : @hoppipolla @sollucets @icouldhyperfixatehim @celestial-sapphicss @chinzhilla @krystaljungs @moonkhao and anyone who wants to, consider yourself tagged <3

[smallraindrops-blog]

I Know A Place

(just for you and me)

WMFTD: Drabbles

WMFTD!Y/N X Hypnos

Warnings: Fluff, kissing, AUs out of the wazoo, no beta.

Notes: 

More vibes that wouldn’t leave me alone. Something to hold over while I work on the poly fic that is quickly growing out of my control. Pyrrhus fic should be out soonish.

Enjoy the randomness.

Part one

Model (Sapphic AU)

The first time you saw her, it was on the cover of a glossy magazine in the grocery store. 

She didn’t look like a real person. The girl was all soft, tousled curls, so white they looked like clouds and a teasing glimpse of an elegant collarbone. Her expression was thoughtful, almost pouty with those full lips.

In a moment of pure teenage fantasy, you wondered how her mouth would feel against yours. She was far too pretty for some awkward high school jock in basketball shorts who felt far too bulky and too tall in her own body. 

But you could pretend. 

With a flush clawing up your neck, you allowed yourself to look again. She was a dream girl, one that not even your imagination could have created. 

The only obvious photoshopped part was her eyes. They looked like sun warmed honey. 

Surely, no human had eyes that golden.

Under her beautiful face, the words caught your attention.

‘Hypnos, daughter of the famous model Nyx, follows her mother’s footsteps!’ 

Without a single thought to stop yourself,you grabbed the magazine and held it close to your chest like a prize. One that you didn’t want to share. 

Carefully avoiding looking anyone in the eyes, you hurried to find your dad.

Achilles was murmuring to himself as he tried to remember which low-fat girl scout cookie that Patroclus had told him to get. You placed the magazine in the cart, trying to look completely normal.

Your dad blinked at you behind his glasses and he glanced down at the cart. There was a single beat of silence then he lifted an eyebrow at you.

“There is good skincare advice in there.” You murmured, staring far too hard at the store brand cookies. Your cheeks flushed hotly as you shoved your hands into your pockets.

“Skincare, huh?” Achilles said but didn’t tell you to put the magazine back. 

..

(Years later)

As a bodyguard for the rich and stupid, you had seen plenty of shit. 

From a drugged up housewife that tried her damndest to kill off her husband’s affairs to a washed up movie star who tried to steal his dad’s private plane as he yelled about flying it into the sun, you had gotten truly skilled with keeping a cool head and putting out fires.

Zagreus - a former pop-star client and a sort of friend- had informed you of the fact that you were the world's best babysitter as you helped him clean up the puke off his Father’s prized Tesla.

This might be too much for you however.

Hypnos was almost completely bare, saved for a single red blanket pooled over her breasts and lap, her slender legs pressed together to give a false sense of modesty. She was utterly gorgeous.

It was both the worst and best thing to ever happen to you. 

“Tilt your head up, really give me that pouty look.” The photographer ordered Hypnos, who obeyed, her infamous white curls brushing against her chin.

“I wish she didn’t cut her hair into a damn bob.” Her agent bitched at you. “I told her that we were trying to get a contract for Aphrodite’s maidens and she required her models to have a specific look.”

You ignored him, eyes locked on the photographer and Hypnos.

The blunt cut of the bob suited Hypnos’ messy curls and willowy figure far as you were concerned. Aphrodite’s models all looked like clones of Aphrodite with long, flowing hair and the exact lush build and the same plastic smile, and it kinda freaked you out a little. 

The idea of the unique beauty of Hypnos getting diluted into something boring and repetitive made your stomach hurt.

Crossing your arms, you kept a careful eye toward the door. It was a well kept secret but Hypnos had a stalker. Not an uncommon occurrence with famous people but this one had managed to break into her house before you were hired on.

If Thanatos hadn’t been there to scare them off…

It had only gotten worse since then. The stalker had managed to get every place that Hypnos ever been. Her childhood home, Thanatos’ high rise loft even into Nyx’s gated mansion in the mountains. Her agent’s office, her friends’ home or place of work.

Nowhere was safe. Hypnos always had adorable, sleepy eyes but there were deep shadows in them now.

That stalker was in for a world of hurt if you ever get your hands on him.

Later, you went through the safe house, checking each room and windows. The address was unlisted, no one would find it. The cameras were connected to your phone, ready to alert you the moment something moved outside.

“You don’t have to do this every time.” Hypnos told you, bare face and wearing an old shirt that went almost to her knees. One side slipped down as she came in, revealing a bare shoulder. Her socks were a ridiculous print of dogs riding French fries. It was adorable.

You had seen her in little black dresses, formal wear that cost more that you made in a year with perfect hair and makeup but somehow like this, she was far more lovelier now than she was all dolled up. 

It was far too easy to imagine taking her to bed and lifting that too big shirt off her delicate body. 

You killed the thought like a bug and after double checking the window’s lock, you turned to face her.

Honey warm eyes met yours. 

For the longest time, you had thought her eyes were photoshopped or that she wore contact lenses. Only you have seen how the morning rays hit it, you have seen the way her eyes lit up when she gets home to her beloved dog or how they dulled when on a phone call with her mother.

Pure and golden like the sun and undeniable real. 

“Better safe than sorry, Ms. Hypnos.” You told her, keeping your tone cool.

Hypnos tucked her hair behind her ear, blinking at you slowly. There was a moment of silence and you resisted the urge to shift on your feet like a guilty child.

Then finally, she gave you a shy smile, her slim fingers resting on her collarbone and nodded toward the living room. 

“I can’t sleep. Wanna watch a movie with me?”

You should say no. You always kept a professional wall between yourself and clients. It was easy. Hypnos had been able to slip past those walls with an unnerving ease

Just say no.

“Sure.” You replied. “Popcorn?”

~

Illness (modern au)

At first, Hypnos just thought he was exhausted from running around for all the holidays and the last days of work. By the time he got home, he had collapsed into bed, asleep before he could kiss you goodnight.

The next morning, he woke up to a stuffy nose. His whole face felt like it was burning up, the back of his throat hot and itchy. He moaned quietly, closing his somehow dry eyes. Everything hurts.

“Hypnos?” You croaked. It wasn’t the usual rough voice you woke up with, it was too reedy. Hypnos tried to respond but all that came out was a nasty cough. He covered his mouth as his fit continued.

He heard you murmuring a low swear, then your hands brushed against his too sensitive skin. You helped him sit up, rubbing his back until his fit stopped.

“I think we caught something, love.” You told him, your voice fading the more you spoke.

“Yay.” Hypnos muttered bitterly, leaning against you. He was lazy, sure but he hated being sick. It wasn’t a nice restful day but a horrible one.

At some point, you had managed to get him and you up enough to take some disgusting medicine then Hypnos collapsed into the pile of blankets on the pullout sofa. 

He listened to you moving around, somehow you also had just enough energy to make warm herbal tea for both you and him

Hypno blinked awake when you joined him, accepting the tea with a muttered ‘thanks’. 

“Gonna order some groceries and more medicine.” You told him in a faded voice. Hypnos nodded, sipping on his tea. He didn’t know if Patroclus taught you but somehow you always made tea taste just perfect. 

The day passed slowly in a haze of soup, coughing, more gross medicine - for real, do none of those people  who make the medicine have any taste buns?- trashy tv shows, balled up tissues and delicious tea.

Hypnos mocked the people and everything about the shows. his voice cracked and pathetic sounding. You would chuckle along, smiling faintly. Your large hand rested on his back, rubbing in gentle, smoothing circles as he ranted.

At some point, you dozed off, snoring quietly. Hypnos reached over, and tucked the blanket up higher to your chin. He snuggled in close, his head on your shoulder and took one of your hands in his.

With a contented sigh, Hypnos closed his tired eyes. If he had to be sick, he would want it to be with you. 

~

Kidnapped (Viking AU, dark tw for slavery)

The hearth casted a warm glow in the home, chasing away the nip of the chilly air. Snow will be arriving before the next sunrise. 

The day had been long, filled with duties that must be tended to along with plans for the future sails. Typically, you would mull over everything with a pint of ale and some dried meat before going to your bed alone, lingering awake for hours sometimes.

But that had changed. Now you lay awake for an entirely new reason.

Your thrall paused over the pot, his slender fingers tightened on the wooden ladle. 

His golden eyes locked onto your form, his mouth tight with distrust. Then as if realized his disrespectful attitude, his eyes darted away as he bowed his head. 

Then he spoke. His voice was sweet as bells even if you couldn’t understand a single word of it. He hesitated then clumsily, “Welcome home, Master.”

You winced at the title. 

It wasn’t planned. You had never taken any slaves before and never wanted to. You meant to take a wife. One that wouldn’t mind a loveless and sexless marriage. 

But in some little settlement in a place of eternal summer, you found him during a night time raid. He had been alone and terrified yet you were captivated by him.

High cheekbones and a graceful build with hair so fair it looked like fresh snow. His eyes reminded you of the rare summer days, golden and filled with life. A child of winter and summer brought to form. 

Far too lovely for a mere moral. The goddess, Glorious Freyja, must have blessed him at birth.

He was so beautiful that you broke your own code. And you felt like a worthless bastard for it.

“You are improving.” You told him, each word enunciated. His brow furrowed until you offered up a slight smile. A moment later, he returned it before he returned to stirring the stew.

Your thrall had already placed most of the dinner on the table, warm bread and cheese awaited for you.  There were even colorful berries but you didn’t touch any of the food as you sat down.

He placed a full bowl in front of you but none for himself.

“Thrall.” You waited until he looked at you. Then you pointed at another bowl then at him. “You eat as well. This winter won’t be a kind one.”

He obeyed.

You didn’t want to admit it, used to being alone in your own home but there was something peaceful about sharing a meal with him. There was the great hall but often you needed time away from everyone. And their questions. 

Once dinner was finished, your thrall cleaned up between loud yawns, moving with a slow ease. You began tending to your blades with an eye toward your bow and arrows. 

You had already hunted enough but perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to make sure there was more meat available. Especially for your thrall. He wasn’t built for the harsh land like you were.

You glanced at him, watching the fine line of his back. He reminded you of wildflowers, pretty but easily crushed if not picked correctly. Before you could stop yourself, you called to him.

He blinked at you, placing the lid on the stew. 

You gestured to him to come to you as you stood up. Quietly, he did. His amber eyes narrowed at you like a distrustful cat. Truely, he must belong to Glorious Freyja. 

You grabbed his chin, making him meet your stare. He swallowed but didn’t pull away. His lips were full, stained red by the berries, like he had been kissed over and over by a lover. He was temptation itself. 

Heat pooled low in your stomach, the same dark need to conquer, to claim returned like fire in your blood before battle. It was the feeling you had the night you stole him away.  

“Will you tell me your name tonight?” You asked him, low and rough. It was the same question you asked every night. “You already know mine.”

You tapped on your chest with a free hand and repeated your name. Just like you had every night before. You knew he understood from the sharp glint in his eyes.

There was a moment of silence from him then he shook his head. With a quiet huff, you pressed your thumb on his lips. 

It would be easy. By law, he belonged to you. No one would stop you, hell most of them already thought you had already used him to warm your bed. 

He was yours to use as you pleased. 

But you weren’t a complete monster. Not yet. 

You let him go. He stumbled back, as if he was surprised you did.

“Finish your duties.” You ordered, your tone harsh. You turned your back to him, dismissing him.

You listened to his footsteps as he crossed the room to return to his work. You glanced down at your hands.

There was a slight tremble in your fingers, but you tightened it into a fist. 

Not yet.

~

Spectrum (reincarnation au)

You choose the loukomades - or at least it was close enough, it was in a ball shape but heavy with honey coated layers inside. - without hesitation. The honey shone on the fried dough in the ship’s artificial sunlight. Somehow you knew Hypnos would like it.

The corgi-like alien with five eyes nodded up at you, their gloved hands wrapping up the pastries with neat and quick movements. The other one behind them worked on the coffee orders, rushing between stations with their stubby legs.

Out of everything humans had to offer, it was coffee, alcohol, grains, cane sugar along with honey and other sweeteners that blew up in popularity among the other races. It was always in high demand and good for trading. 

It was so popular that many aliens had trained for years just to make humans’ cuisine, running their own shops with unique twists on the food.

Many humans were still unused to aliens, but you had gotten used to it. They all were another creature trying to make a living. And you never minded anyone who could make a mean cup of joe.

You bent down to accept your order, dropping a heavy tip in the jar. 

Hypnos beamed at you when you joined him at the park bench. His wings fluttered, causing his curls to bounce, when he saw the food and coffee in your hands. You hated that your heart swelled just a bit at the sight. 

“Here.” You told him gruffly, sitting down next to him. Hypnos ignored your tone, digging to the pastry bag with glee.

“My favorite!” Hypnos gasped, popping a ball into his mouth with a joyful hum. His eyes closed in bliss.

You took a sip of your coffee, heavy and smooth with extra caffeine, as Hypnos devoured the sweets. And firmly ignored the soft, pleased moans as he ate. 

Then a loukoumade appeared before your eyes, caught between Hypnos’ slender fingers. He waved it at you. 

“Here, go on and have one, it is delicious. I think those guys added something else in there.” Hypnos remarked, narrowing his eyes at the innocent looking pastry. You scoffed. 

“No.”

“Yes.” 

“Hypnos, get that thing away-“ your warning was cut short as Hypnos shoved the food in your mouth. Thick, heavenly honey and warm bread exploded in your mouth but that wasn’t caught made you stilled.

Hypnos’ fingers were pressed against your lips. The touch was light, impossibly so but you swore that it carried the weight of Venus stardust. Hypnos shifted, closer to you now. 

Gorgeous sunlit eyes watched you.

“Tell me you remember this.” It was shaped like a question but something about his tone changed it into a statement.

You swallowed. 

For a moment you were no longer an overworked captain on a spaceship built from your parents’ dreams.  

The sea and skies were everblue twins, summer was a warm breeze with cries of seagulls and there was a beautiful Greek boy with pale curls and a big smile leading you through the endless backstreets. There was a real possibility of getting mugged but as he took your hand, you knew you would follow him off a cliff. 

You didn’t even know his name.

Eventually, he stopped in front of a bakery, his fingers locked with yours as he brought you in.

Then…

Other memories came in a blur. One with golden armor and a heavy spear in your hand. The smell of the sea, a worn map in your hand. Burning cities and screams.  Another life with charcoal stained nails, a smoke dangling between your lips. Another place and time, you were hiding the mud in a green uniform and a hard helmet as warplanes flew overhead. 

Hypnos were in all of them. 

You jerked back, grabbing his wrist. Panting like you ran a marathon, you glared down at him. 

Hypnos didn’t flinch as you tightened your hold, almost bruising his delicate flesh. You were torn between pushing him off the bench or yanking him closer, to know the feel of his honeyed lips against yours.

Because everytime he touched you, it felt like coming home. And that terrified you.

“Explain yourself.” You snarled in a whisper, shaking his wrist. “I brought you the goods. I saved your life. Now explain.”

Hypnos sighed, like he was disappointed but a fond smile grew anyway. 

“Fine. Always so stubborn.” He teased, like you and him were some old married couple. “Let's start at the beginning once more.”

[you-cant-fuck-megaman]

megaman AI box art

there’s a pretty big discussion around AI art, it seems i’m not super-familiar with The Discourse but if my programming experience has taught me anything it’s that random generation has to springboard off of something (usually called a seed), and you have to feed stuff in to an AI to get material to build off of that springboard so i’ve got several big goddamn questions as to where t f these guys would get their seeds and material from

but me being me, the first thing on my mind is “can you draw megaman with it?” so i decided to insert in "megaman box art" to a handful of different ones, see what happens

first off is a place called Nightcafe Studio, which allows you to pick one of three styles to make art in: cosmic, matte, and cyberpunk. nacho cheese and cool ranch were out, sorry.

this is "megaman box art" as done in its cosmic style and it certainly looks cosmic megaman got a nose guard to defend against space pollen, i guess and either his arm got detached and is floating down there or he's got a vacuum cleaner attached to his shins but it sure is cosmic

6/10, pretty colors but not very megaman

next style was matte, and

this actually looks pretty fucking cool! you've got a rad cityscape in the background, lighting’s really neat, and background to the MGA AIN MGATAN logo as sponsored by pepsi is cool

i guess that's kind of sort of Model ZX aile if you squint and tilt your head, but she’s the main part that turns the entire thing sinister. did you know that when you’re dealing with the fae shapeshifted as a human, you should count the features to make sure everything’s accurate? count the knuckles, count the fingers, count the shadows... oops, six fingers hah hah hah hah hhhhhhhhhhhh this is not Model ZX aile, this is not your friend.

7/10 you’re not stealing my goddamn teeth today, oberon

last to go is cyberpunk style and

holy shit this is a fucking WWE poster roman reigns dressed in pink and got a fucking beam tonfa??? or something a very distorted vince mcmahon puts on a power glove while brock lesnar looks disappointed to the side, and fiery font tells us that the meemen meeaiiaininaihiniahin is gonna happen at 2 / F' / 20 i could imagine you could probably print this out, put it through photoshop for edits, and then try to pass it off as an official poster for a synthwave megaman reboot. if you were a moron who wanted to get fired, i mean. fantastic way to commit career suicide.

1/10 coolest shit i've ever seen but very bad megaman art tbh

still, i'll give cyberpunk another shot. maybe it was confused, thinking it was going to have men that were mega, rather than megaman

HOLY SHIT

fuckin AXE DADY megaman over here this has it all it's got the dictator cam, looking up like it's hitler it's got the stance, holding a black vylon slinky to the side while he contemplates shooting above it it's got the logo sleekness, i've never seen MEEMN AXE DADY rendered so well it's got the color contrast, bright blue city in the left while a goddamn laser rips through time and space on the right and it's got a cool robot that actually kind of has a buster arm, though the computer is clearly confused as to what megaman’s buster actually looks like maybe should’ve let an artist handle that?

10/10, great megaman art, fucking amazing, would play, would watch, would let axe dady shoot things

next up is deepai's Machine Learning Model doesn’t seem to have any parameters, just put in a text box and go, so i did

thanks i've been wondering how it would be possible to turn megaman into a horror icon i didn't think hollowing his face out and replacing it with a fucking skull would be the answer but this is a pretty handy way to ensure my insomnia persists through the night

0/10 i

fucking

hate it

hastily getting the fuck away from that abomination unto both god and man, next up is dream.ai it seems to be a service mostly for developing and providing NFTs, but it's actually completely free with a little finagling so i don’t get where the value is supposed to come from

anyway, there's a lot of different options to provide a customized art style for the prompt, and you can even see it with different things it's got a lot of options too many to safely delve into, in fact, so i'm going to do the game journalist thing and generate maybe a handful of things and judge it entirely off that

first off is a comic art style generated without a seed

and at first glance this looks partially like the megaman 1 box art characters decided to pvp with each other at second glance as you look closer, though, you can clearly tell it's an i don't know what the fuck

4/10 colors look cool at least

maybe weird shit is the best part of it, though maybe weird shit is what it specializes in so let's try psychadelic

well, that's psychadelic all right i guess the dude in the middle is kind of sort of vaguely megaman but i don't know what the fuck else there is, there's actually less sensible shit going on here

2/10 i like listening to shpongle too, dude

but it's safe to say this system needs a bit of help let's go back to comic style and feed in some nice art from existing megaman

in my opinion, this poster is the peak megaman experience. it’s the quintessential representation. this pretty clearly dictates what megaman's about guy in blue shooting things robots getting shot at ominous shitbag in the background castlevania for some reason

favorite promo art, hands down. so let’s see how the AI works with this.

all right, finally, we're getting somewhere. guess this AI just needed to copy from someone else’s homework first. wow, that brings up a lot of questions about the nature of the materials AI art generators use to build their random images. well, that’s goddamn horrifying to contemplate. am i a monster unwittingly contributing to a system of artistic exploitation for the sake of making a shitpost on a megaman shitpost blog? fucked up.

anyway, we got a robot dude, he's got a gun, he's even got a little strut i like this guy a lot, he's got moxie and a rad face-visor thing

all right, i'm feeling generous 6/10 you fucked up but now you're getting better

let's go once more for comic style and

all right, holy shit, you're learning fast yeah this is undeniably megaman he's even got the weird helmet and weird boots and everything

there's a cool cityscape, a sci-fi sky, and he's trying to give the underside of a ship the highest of fives he doesn't look like he's standing very well on his taco bowl of destiny, though but i can't fault him with his dildo leg, must be difficult to stand on and judging by his pants, he's got trouble with testicles the size of texas growing in after kicking wily's ass 69 times understandable problem, really, after you go through 10 games that’s when you turn from a mega boy to a real mega man

9/10, good box art

you know, i'm feeling confident, i think dream's got a good idea as to what's going on with megaman let's take a risk and go for a different art style synthwave looks good, it's all about that retro shit and megaman's a retro series

this doesn't look like a new picture that just looks like you took the original picture and put a shitty smear on it

god fucking damn it

0/10, apply yourself, pick up a goddamn pencil and then see me after class

getting away from that, next up is stable diffusion, apparently a state-of-the-art AI generator hosted by Hugging Face, which i hope is a legitimate company and not a front for xenomorphs

and HOLY SHIT

on the first go we have some actual fucking box art good background, very clear, we've got a skyline with a forcefield pyramid in the background i guess wily's a space egyptian now? rad.

napalm bomb megaman's doing some fucking pelvic thrusts ready to spread war crimes all about bit distressing for our sweet friendly superhero boy but i'll admit i'd react the same way after getting a fucking napalm gun for an arm.

we've even got a rating on the bottom right, indicating that it's suitable for ages Video Game and up got a clearly-defined line for letting the publishers rub their dick all over, filling it with logos or titles or other corporate information

i feel confident about this, i like our MEAAN game, shit's looking pretty good

10/10, good box art. real good box art. little timmy would probably be confused seeing it on the shelf but this strikes me as something Bob Capcom would reasonably okay after five lagers and an existential crisis.

getting a little concerned here, looks like crisis on infinite megamans

i don’t want to imagine how many official variants of rock there are, especially if you count all the fangame/indie game knockoffs, but having them all collide together into a single Enter the Megaverse sounds like it'd be effectively impossible to handle do you want to play megaman, megaman x, megaman volnutt, megaman.exe, star force, zx, x over flavored? dos-flavored? bad box art flavored? captain n flavored? pachinko-flavored?

NGL though if rockman taisen ends up being some sort of dumb megaman battle royale then i would actually punch a cactus out to be able to play as ruby spears megaman frankly, huge missed opportunity that they're not even in X Dive the tagline even writes itself, "I knew you'd pull for Mr. Lincoln!"

oh yeah i was rating the cover uhhhhhhhh i dunno, there's dudes i don't know, they're doing poses, ominous guy in the background i guess it's serviceable? this doesn’t really tell me anything about the game, there’s just guys.

6/10 i'd pass it over and look at something else

holy shit are you okay? either he's (she's? they're?) taking a dump and all their lower intestines got caught in it, or something is burning out in the thinkpan and won’t be coming back

that dead-eyed glare is actually legitimately haunting this is the expression someone makes in anime after they realize you stabbed them and you were never their friend i've only seen that gaze in my life twice before and let me tell you, you remember things

1/10 someone call the police

all right, i’m moving away from that before i bring up more questionable ground our final contestant for the night is hotpot.ai, a website for general purpose game asset AI generation. they’ve got AI-handled copywrite, too, which strikes me as risky ground. if i can’t trust a machine with megaman, can i trust a machine to legally cover my ass? i would never trust a machine with my pants, ass or no. we’ve already firmly established that robot masters are always a pants-on debacle.

anyway, let’s give this a shot

aaaaaand hit “Generate”, and

EXCU

NOPE

FUCK THIS

I’M DONE

[cindermetalheadgw2]

have 8, 9, 11, and 13 from the gw2 asks for whoever you most feel like talking about at the moment! :) @kerra-and-company

Ok I'll answer for the new characters Blaze and Boxx :)

8. How willing are they to bend/break the rules for their cause (be it selfless or otherwise)?

Blaze- VERY willing to break rules. Blaze doesn't respect any authority but their own moral code. Unless the rules are in place for a damn good reason like keeping people safe. But they're ONLY cooperating this time because it's the right thing to do. Otherwise they do what they want. Okay FINE they'll also listen to gunhilde when it's ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY... sometimes.... maybe...

Boxx- boxx is the complete opposite of Blaze. He LOVES rules and formality and etiquette and hierarchy so much. He enjoys systems to manipulate in his favor, social and intellectual traps to lure enemies into. That being said, he has no attachment to following the rules when bending or breaking them would benefit him. And when he does, he doesn't leave any witnesses

9. What's an au for them you think could be fun to explore?

Blaze- COMMANDER AU!!! Blaze was originally meant to be my canon commander before I came up with Cyll, but I felt like I didn't want to have the commander be someone in the metal warband. I still think of them as the commander sometimes out of habit though. Also they and trahearne would be so cute together 💕

Boxx- catholic pope au lmao

11. How accurate is their reputation/image compared to how they really are?

Blaze- about 50% accurate maybe? Their vocals and stage presence are so powerful and intense it's like they can control the very air pressure in a room with body language alone. Warriors who have faced powerful foes say Blaze was the first person to ever make them feel genuinely intimidated. A lot of people know them from seeing the band and think they're badass and kinda scary. But anyone who's met them or heard their normal speaking voice at all knows they're 100% so quiet and gentle and nice. An absolute sweetheart. (The part about the intimidation is based on an actual concert experience i had seeing beartooth once. Caleb stared down the crowd and then stomped, i don't want to say threateningly, but definitely powerfully, and I felt like all the breath was punched out of me from across the room. I was in awe. How did he do that)

Boxx- usually very inaccurate. This guy is straight up a cult leader, very good at maintaining a certain public image and controlling how other people see him. He promotes himself as a brilliant, if charmingly eccentric, scientist leading an innovative team of researchers to unlock the secrets of cubes. In reality he's manipulative, obsessive, and the experiments he runs are less actual science than just doing fucked up shit in a lab with no real hypothesis and interpreting the results through vague and broadly applicable yet profound-sounding language, similar to astrology

13. What is the worst/funniest/dumbest article that could be written about them in tyria's trashiest gossip mag?

Blaze- Metal Warband's Fire Breathing Vocalist Secret Revealed? Steal Their Trick In One Easy Step!

Boxx- College of the Cube Councillor's Top Ten Sexiest Experiments Gone Wrong! How He Looks So Good While Being So Bad (featuring personally quiz to see if you're compatible!) *photoshopped image of boxx posing seductively in front of krewe members being killed horrifically by tortured mists cube entity escaping containment*

[theyilinglaozus]

Link your top 5 sets and tag 5 others creators to do the same

Thank you to the incredibly lovely @baek1nho for the tag! 💖 It was so fun to see what sets you chose, especially as they’re all so very beautiful!

I’m going to follow your lead and keep this to work made within the last year only; so no sets pre 2022 will be showcased here. Think of this tag game as a chance for to talk a little bit about my favourites as an end of the year round up. I've made more gifsets than I thought throughout the year, but still far less than what I have in past recent years.

1 - Mei Changsu and Mu Nihuang; Nirvana in Fire

One of my goals for the new year was to work on changing up my colouring style and experimenting a bit more, and I had a lot of fun doing that in some Nirvana in Fire sets. This was one of my firsts for the show as well as my favourite; as I really liked how the colours were brightened a little bit more compared to the scene itself. It’s one of my more subtle sets when it comes to colours, but it worked out well, I feel. Plus, I just really adore this pairing and this scene between them in the show.

2. One year with Word of Honor celebration set; Word of Honor

Easily the largest set I worked on this year, but also the one I wanted to make sure to dedicate a good amount of time to given how Word of Honor is joint to be one of my favourite dramas. I wanted to celebrate the incredible characters and the strong theme of family carried between them all. The idea to make the characters that leave us greyscale came later, and I know a lot of the notes on the set have people yelling! But, I felt it was important to note how some of these characters’ stories were severed too soon, and how they still left an impact on the lives of those surviving.

My friends over at the Immortal Wanderers discord were incredibly kind and helpful while I was making this, as they would put up with me sharing little gifs and asking questions on ‘should I include this character for this theme, or no?’, especially given Tumblr’s restrictions.

3. Xie Yun and Wen Kexing parallels; Word of Honor & Legend of Fei

I love parallels across media! Especially when it comes to media created from the mind of the same author!

I had so much fun making this, especially since at the time I was watching Legend of Fei, I’d really grown to love Xie Yun’s character. He was so fun and interesting to watch on screen, and Yibo truly brought him to life. It makes me a little sad that I haven’t made nearly as much content for Legend of Fei than what I should, so maybe that’s something I should fix.

But it was such a fun little thing to see how the two characters carried moments in each respective shows that mirrored the other - not through their actions as such, but just through the words they shared to their significant others. It really highlighted some of the tropes that I see Priest carry in her works, and I wanted to create a set that shared them since I hadn’t actually seen that around at the time. I’ll need to get the Guardian at some point and see if I can ever expand on this trend - maybe that’s a goal for next year?

4. Hei Fengxi and Bai Fengxi; Who Rules the World

This set gave me hell. I was constantly struggling with the question ‘did I really download this episode in 1080p, or was I lied to?’ I had to delete the first attempt and come away from photoshop for a day, but when I returned the next day refreshed and ready to start again, I was very happy with the outcome!

My favourite thing about this set is the golden colours. I struggle so much with finding the right balance with that colour sometimes, so when this worked out as well as it did - I felt really proud? When I look back on it now I still smile at the golds, since I think they came out really well!

5. Little Orchid and Dongfang Qingcang Kate Bush set; Love Between Fairy and Devil

My most recent set - and probably the only one this year where I played with any kinds of effects for scenes. I really love how this came out, especially how colourful it was. The typography is something I’m really proud of aswell, as sometimes that can be a bit of a struggle to get right.

Tagging;

@minnarr, @gusucloud, @xiaolanhua, @yesdramas and @bimorgana.

Feel free to ignore if you don’t wish to take part / have already done so! And if you’d like to take part but weren’t tagged, feel free to join in with the fun anyway!

[empressofthesunwriter]

Friendly Faces Everywhere

Codename Dovahkiin Part 2

Now that the Stick of Truth RPG is over it's time for N.K. to face the normal everyday life of South Park.

She should have known nothing in South Park is ever normal!

Day to day the craziness of this supposed quiet little mountain town she has to combat now.

Thank god, she has Tammy, Wendy, her boys, and her Social Media/Magical Girl Powers on her side.

This gonna be a wild ride!

Main Pairing: New Kid/Kenny McCormick/Kyle Broflovski

Chapter 2: Don’t take away my Pizza and Pasta!

After our win against Photoshop, we had a nice, normal week. Wendy introduced us to her friends and we hung out with the fourth-grade girls.

I see a lot of potential in them.

They aren’t as infused with the patriarchy as I thought or more let’s say they reacted to my feminist speeches with interest and asked questions.

Bebe, Wendy’s best friend, and cute Heidi are especially promising.

I caught both of them looking at me in a…questioning way. Even Tammy got some of these looks.

These are looks I know from girls who told me before they were straight and then made out with me behind the school bleachers.

So my little hicktown isn’t totally straight.

But I will give these girls time.

First, get rid of the patriarchy brainwashing, then we can jump into questioning their sexuality or even gender identity

At this time Leo and I made also peace again with each other and he said sorry to me and Wendy that he was so stupid about this whole Kim Kardashian thing.

I’m glad I got my little bro back.

Nonetheless, it even didn’t take a day and he left with Stan, Cartman, Kyle, and Kenny the school to start their own Start-Up-Company, since they didn’t want to go to school anymore.

Leo even set fire to the school gymnasium, so sure was he that he wouldn’t return back here.

The boys, besides of course fatass, asked me to join them, but I like school.

I know shocking.

I mean I think Math is useless, but I like to learn new things and I’m a huge history nerd.

I have mostly fun at school.

Also, I didn’t believe that this Start-Up shit would actually work.

So while Stan’a Gang, that’s their official name I learned, chased that dream, I and the girls comforted Wendy because Stan broke up with her.

All the boys are on a fucking high horse, I swerve!

In the end, I was right since next Monday they are back in school.

How do I know that?

Because Kenny comes up walking toward me.

“Hi N.K.!”, he greets me.

“Hello, Kenneth.”, I answer over politely and close my locker. Can Tammy hurry and come from her locker? “I see you are back.”

“Erm, yeah, so how are you?”

I turn to him, crossing my arms and cocking a hip out.

“Oh, suddenly you want to know, how I am. If you haven’t ignored my messages all the time since your little Start-Up-Adventure.”

The boy in the parker has at least the sense to wince at this, rubbing his neck.

“I’m sorry.”

I just roll my eyes, as I see who is coming also.

“And there is the other one who ignored my calls, hello Kyle.”

Whatever the redhead wanted to say, he doesn’t and looks ashamed.

“Erm, I-“

“I don’t care Kyle. You both thought so high and mighty about yourself that you even couldn’t spare answering a friend’s message.”

“You are more than a friend to me.”, they both say at the same time.

Angry they look at each other.

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“No, what the fuck you dude!”

“I have known her before!”

“And yet she also has fallen for me.”

“SHE right now wants to kick both of your asses.”, I growl at them. “What I am? A toy you can decide when to play with it? A toy you can put on a shelf and forget about it totally because you have a new one? And then when the new one is broken, you play with the old again? Fuck you two! I’m no one’s toy!”

With that, I flick my hair and sash away from them.

I meet an equally angry Wendy on my way to Tammy’s locker.

“Stan?”

“Kyle and Kenny?”

We both nod in understanding for each other and continue on our way.

Really, maybe I should just hit up Bebe and/or Heidi. They at least wouldn’t pull such shit on me.

More than a "No" they can’t say.

Meh, for now, I will drap myself over Tammy and tell her my woe.

Amazons of the Southern Lands

Nichole: Did you guys hear it? Stan and his gang are throwing a big party on Saturday!

Red: Yeah and apparently Lorde will be there!

Annie: Oh my god, Lorde I love her!

Heidi: Same! It’s like she totally gets me!

Bebe: Is there a dress code? What should we wear to it?

You all are aware that the guys just want to butter up us.

Wendy: I agree with N.K. Stan and his friends just want to be in our good graces again, helping spread awareness of diabetes my ass.

Bebe: Who gives a fuck? It’s Lorde! LORDE! Oh and pizza.

Red: But Lorde is more important.

You are selling your soul for Lorde?

Tammy: Now you are a bit dramatic sis! It’s not like you and Wendy have to talk to the boys. We girls will just go as a group, to eat the pizza and hear Lorde and you can ignore these idiots.

Wendy: If you put it that way….

I do like Pizza. And Lorde is fantastic. Okay fuck it, let fucking gooooooooooooo!

Bebe: That’s the spirit. Should we pick a theme for our clothes? How about flowers?

I can’t even answer this as my parents storm into our house. Surprised I jump from the couch I was sitting on.

“Mamma, Papà where is the fire?!”

My parents don’t even look at me as they run into the kitchen. They open drawers and our fridge, throwing a lot of our food in big garbage bags.

I stare at them with my chin on the floor.

“Mamma?!”, I shout.

Finally, she hears me, while Papà still throws food away, she kneels down and hugs me tight.

“My little princess, don’t worry! Mamma and Papà will do anything that the evil gluten doesn’t get you.”

I’m more confused than before.

“Huh?”

“Kelly, I think this is all!”

“Are you sure, Chris?”

Papà joins Mamma kneeling on the floor taking carefully my face in his hands.

“Princess, do you have any snacks in your room?”

“Erm, no, not right now?”

He nods and both my parents grab the full garbage bags and are out of the house again. I look after them. I see how all our neighbors are burning food on stakes.

What the fuck is going on?

My smartphone rings. I pick it up.

“Tammy, what’s up?”

“Did your parents also storm your house and are burning the food?”

“How do you know that?”

“Mine did this!”

“Oh dear lord what is going on now?”

I get my answer a while later, after Tammy and I theorized what the adults have now for problems.

My parents sit me down and explain to me that apparently, gluten is bad. It needs to get destroyed or my dick will fly off if I eat it.

Once again I’m a girl with girl parts, so that wouldn’t happen to me, but my parents are terrified.

Whatever they expired at the community center shocked them.

Now, how in the ever-loving fuck should I live without most of the food I love, because of course things like Pizza and Pasta are full of gluten.

This sucks ass!

The next days are crazy with this whole gluten pandemic going on. No one knows what to eat anymore and I swerve I lost probably three kilos already.

Stan and his gang cancel the party, only telling us after a few hours it’s back up.

Apparently, Cartman of all people found the solution to our food crisis.

I’m just…South Park is so fucked up in many ways.

I can’t okay?

But well, a party is still a party and our whole girl group is going. We took Bebe theme, flowers and are dressed in this way.

I formally battle to have cherry blossoms and wear a pretty pink dress with cherry blossoms on it. A hairpin decored with a cherry blossom and pink heels.

I have to admit the party of the boys is sweet. After all this panic we need this moment to relax and unwind.

I’m sitting at one of the tables, eating a steak with a lot of butter, enjoying Lorde singing.

Strange, I could have sworn she looked better on the magazine covers. Was it also Photoshop with her?

The other girls are dancing, talking to the others, or like Tammy gone to the restroom.

“Erm…Hello N.K.”, shy calls a know voice my name.

I turn to the person.

“Kyle.”

The red-haired boy has a cute blush on his face, playing with his fingers.

“It’s awesome that you could come.”, he tells me.

“I came here with my friends to hear Lorde.”, I state simply. “I’m still angry at you guys.”

He winces.

“You have the right to be. I really was a dick to you.”

“Yes, you were.”

I cut a bit of my steak and eat it.

“N.K. I’m really, really sorry. I was a stupid boy so fixed on earning money and never again go to school that I forget anything. Which was wrong, I know.”, he apologizes.

I sign.

“Well, you ARE still only ten, I shouldn’t be so angry. We all make mistakes.”

A cute smile forms on his face and I get to urge to kiss Kyle’s whole sweet face.

“Are we good again, N.K.?”

“Yeah, all right. I may still be a bit resentful, but we can be friends again.”

His smile gets just bigger.

Adorable!

“Would you…would maybe if you want…erm dance with me.”, he wonders, rubbing his neck.

Okay didn’t expect that.

Can’t help but blush too.

“Yeah, let’s dance Kyle.”

I take his hand and we start to dance. It’s more of a swaging around, but Kyle looking at me like I am a kind of goddess, is pleasing me greatly.

“Your dress is so pretty.”, he compliments me. “It fits you so much.”

Kyle being all shy and cute gives me an enormous ego boost. Normally I’m a bit shy with redheads or incredibly horny.

But with Kyle…it’s so simple and nice.

I lean down and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. I feel how warm his cheek gets under my lips. A cute squeaking sound left him.

“You are adorable.”

He blushes more.

Smiling at each other with twinkling eyes we sway while Lorde sings.

It’s really, really romantic.

I don’t know for how long we dance, at least three songs, as I see how Kenny comes towards us.

Uh-Oh.

“Hey guys.”, he greets us, sending Kyle a sharp look, which the redhead counters. “Mind if I step in?”

“Actually, yes.”, hisses Kyle.

Not even a second after he said it I let go of him.

Kyle looks surprised.

“N.K.?”

“Oh no, you two aren’t starting a competition for my hand or something. I’m not I prize to be won.”, I make myself clear. “I like you both and I know that’s unfair, but I can’t decide, so please let us all be just friends. I don’t need more drama in my life.”

Guilty the boys nod.

“Can I still dance with you? I want also to say sorry for what a dick I was to you.”, ask me Kenny with big puppy dog eyes.

“I will get some ice cream.”, let Kyle us be, even if I can see that it breaks his heart.

Why can’t I just decide?

Polyamory, it’s simple as that!

Brain, not now!

So I and Kenny dance and he says sorry too. Like with Kyle, I accept it.

With Kenny, I really dance. I’m quite surprised by what moves he can do.

I can’t help but laugh happily as he twirls me around and then even tango-dips me.

Me! Who is a head taller than him!

I would lie if I didn’t say that this turns me on.

For that, I give him also a kiss on the cheek.

He grins wide and brightly, which makes my heart race.

After I few songs I tell Kenny that this is enough, I don’t want to play favorites with him and Kyle.

He accepts it, albeit sad, and lets me go.

With a last smile to him, I walk to Tammy and ask her for a dance.

At least with my super best friend, there aren’t any problems.

We both take turns leading and I get Tammy to blush like a tomato as I tango-dip her.

For the rest of the party, I stay with the girls.

I even get to dance with Wendy, Bebe, and Heidi.

I twirled Wendy so much around that she asked laughing for a break.

Bebe and I just started to twerk for fun at one point.

And Heidi was so cute!

She blushed the whole time.

Mmh, maybe I should really ask her out….

Whatever this party was amazing!

Can’t wait for the next one.

Next

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[iihauntedmuffinii]

SUMMARY

Daphne Bennett is a psychiatrist for kids in the foster system. She relies on her powers to help her clients unlock their traumas and emotions in a safe space. Unlike most superheroes, her powers come with a price. She is losing control of her body's health and mental state and sadly, her usual tricks aren't working. When the fluctuations in her powers are too painful she decides it's time to try and find a cure. A cure that she thinks resides center focus on The Seven. Through odd circumstances she is placed near the famous superhero team and their loose cannon of a leader, Homelander.

I have a Spotify playlist associated with the story, so if your interested, and don't care about chapter title spoilers I recommend checking it out.

SPOTIFY PLAYLIST:

CHAPTER SIX: False Pretenses

Perscilla convinces me with her level ten charisma to help the volunteers clean up, and she gets photos taken of it as well. For reasons I don’t want to know. What type of photoshopping or Vought social media post I was going to be composited in makes me shudder at the thought. My white sundress came out spotless, a miracle, and as I grab my clean Tupperware from the kitchens I gracefully dodge the more dirty volunteers on my way out. I grab my phone from my large leather purse having a needling suspicion Ashley may have texted me. My intuition was right on the money.

Ashley called me twice within the hour and left me four texts. I have over a dozen unanswered texts from Olivia and two voicemails from my parents’ landline. Marie also left me a Facebook message, probably to ask how I was fairing knowing her worry-wort disposition. With a shaky hand I press Ashley’s contact, looking over the text, apprehension as sharp as a knife twists tightly inside my gut. 

As you should be aware your new schedule has significantly crunched your time and availability for therapy sessions. So, in order for you to take on all responsibilities your weekends may be impeded on. If you need to discuss this further you can sign a complaint form to HR or talk to Stan Edgar, who has personally added this new change, you must also make an appointment beforehand. 

This text was sent to me at five in the morning and I didn’t even see it in my dazed state, too distracted with my plans–and my dad’s surprise visit–to think about texts. Looking at the next one, sent only thirty minutes ago, but much more aggressive in tone. 

I’ve been hearing down the Vought grapevine, Mrs. Bennett, that you have a social media campaign going on without running it by me first. Your insubordination is seen and heard. With it comes a report to your boss, Mr. Stan Edgar. Luckily for you his outright faith in you surpasses all else. But that doesn’t mean you can go over my head like you did this morning. If this campaign doesn’t go well you will be the one under fire, understand?

I gulp down the crawling feeling of dread seeping into my core, resting inside my belly like a heavy stone. I look at the last text and it's short but just as poignant as the previous message.

Get your ass to the In Depth talk show before Homelander and Maeve arrive.

I send a one word reply back, and the taxi drives over a pothole and my headache throbs.

Understood.

The bumpy ride wasn’t helping the injuries, but the taxi driver had to go through the construction site that was the apartment building and street avenue, so it was a necessary evil. Reaching Vought Headquarters was easy to see as the traffic built up and street lights flickered brightly with ever changing ads. Mostly based around superhero brand deals and future Hollywood projects. The shimmering fake smile of Queen Maeve, Starlight, and Stormfront all pose together in unison as the flickering title ‘ Girls Get it Done’ flash across the screen. It would be nauseating if it wasn’t so impressive looking. The false positivity and fake messaging was something to get used to now, but it didn’t stop the stinging in my heart. 

I scramble out of the taxi, running with my empty Tupperware under one arm and my other hand trying to cover my curly hair from the drizzling rain. My curls were now going to be a frizzy mess, great. Hurrying inside the Vought building’s front entrance through the ever revolving doors was a relief for once. My white dress barely got wet and didn’t leave it see through–thank god. I didn’t think to look at the weather report before getting dressed this morning too. Just the cherry on top of the crap cake. 

Trying not to slip on the hard tile floor with my wet kitten white heels is difficult, but I think I manage it. Struggling to not look like a clown as I slip around the busy lobby towards the elevators I’m barely aware of my surroundings. I’m shoved down to the cold floor–the withering draft worse than ever gives me an uncontrollable chill as I land flat on my butt. 

“I’m so sorry!” The goth girl from the required HR Employee video viewing stares down at me with large purple eyes–contacts I presume, a black lip lined smile graced her cherub face. Behind the smile her aura bursts with the strong flavor of wild berries, it coated my tongue like a homemade jam. Her purple and black aura is shifting constantly under my scrutiny, as if not wanting to be pinned down. Her Kuromi inspired nails dug into her cocked hips, confidence oozing off the young girl. Her spiked black hair didn’t shift an inch as she clambered to my side on the floor, helping me gather the items that fell out of my purse. 

“I-it’s okay I should have watched where I was going. I was scrambling without looking at my surroundings, it’s something I need to work on…” I ramble, hurrying to try and shove everything inside my purse. Ashley’s threats about being late ringing in the back of my mind; a chilling death toll. 

“Well, it takes two to tango as they say…wait don’t think that's right. It doesn’t matter any way I wasn’t paying attention either. No biggy.” Her voice always had a hint of mischief I couldn’t decipher, beyond it being a facet of her personality. She hands me my bag as I balance all my Tupperware under my left arm. 

“Thanks, um, actually I never got your name before.” 

“Oh, wow I’m rude, sorry. Its—” The beginning rift of Killers by Iron Maiden blares out of her purple Kuromi covered phone. “Oh my gosh so sorry I have to take this!” She says with immediate distress scratching at her vocal chords. Her ever evading aura of swirling wild berries was just as we first met, distressed not even a little. Odd. 

“O-okay.” I stutter out; I’m left behind by her disappearing figure. Turning a corner outside my view with her phone held to her ears, looking ready for an argument, and she blends into the crowded lobby. Shaking my head from the fog taking over my brain I shakily enter the elevator pressing the golden button, 99.

The three people crowding the elevator and their loud clamoring feelings makes me break out into hives. No matter how much I try to ignore the vile bitter taste of poorly made tea on my tongue, jealousy, all three of their feelings at once were too strong for me to bear. They leave one by one taking their jealous thoughts with them, and my nausea thankfully. If only they knew how horrible and precarious my current position truly is.

I run out of the elevator; sweat dripping down my brow as I scramble. Quickening my steps past the expensive busts and impressive muralled halls, A-Train comes storming out of Ashley’s office. He T-bones me as he scrapes by in a flurry, I slam against the side wall, thankfully missing Queen Maeve’s marble statue by a hair. 

I slide to the floor, leaning heavily against the wall thinking it could help dampen the pain radiating off my shoulder. For the second time I was shoved around like a rag doll today.  A-Train’s tightlipped sour expression at my sudden nuisance of a presence changes quickly when Homelander comes out of Ashley’s office. Ashley is on Homelander’s heels, surveying the situation, calculation sparkling in her crystal blue gaze. My Tupperware was splayed across the floor. I look over my dress hoping it didn’t rip in the collision, luckily for me it's still intact. 

“Daphne, you're finally here.” Ashley’s cold tone didn’t bode well for me, crossing her arms across her beautiful blue suit jacket. Her judging look was soon drowned out by Homelader’s invasive presence intruding on my peripheral vision. He kneels in front of me but his eyes are pinning A-Train to his spot. A-Train puts his hands up, brown eyes looking between Homelander and I, he arches his defined eyebrow. 

“You okay, Daphne?” Homelander’s question is clear and his eyes don’t deter from his current target, A-Train. A-Train’s gulp was loud enough for all three of us to hear, no super hearing necessary. His sharp steel blue aura that was as stiff as metal crumbled like aluminum foil, not able to bear the weight of Homelander’s glare. His lips tremble and his left foot taps as the tension.

“Y-yes of course.” I take my eyes off their ensuing glare off, grabbing Homelander’s shoulder for some semblance of balance. Understanding my gesture, Homelander decides to ignore A-Train in favor of helping me off the floor. Homelander’s large hands grab me by the waist, the warmth seeping through my damp sundress, with such grace he pulls me up off the floor as if I was a ballerina mid plie. 

The magic of it disappears as A-Train’s growing fear bleats out my thoughts. A-Train’s terror encroaches upon my senses like acidic lemon juice shooting down my throat. Awful and tart, so much so I quiver at the impactful. 

“You're not a member of The Seven for very long, A-Train, act like it. Walk on egg-shells around me, before your necessary departure, ‘kay? Also, maybe, don’t attack actual Vought employees while you're still here. That’d be good too.” Homelander’s dark tepid voice echoes across the halls, leaving them eerily silent; it feels like the hall is holding its breath with me. 

“R-right of course Homelander.” A-Train braces himself, his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, ready to high tail it out of here in a speedy fashion.

“Wait.” Homelander’s stern no nonsense tone hovers on the fringes of sounding sinister. “Apologize to Daphne, now.” A-Train only hesitates for a second before training his eyes to my feet.

“I’m sorry Daphne.” His dead tone didn’t feel the least bit sincere and the fear wafting off of him made it so much worse.

“It's o-okay A-Train. I’m fine, really.” I wave off his piss poor apology that was coated in lemon sour. My sense could barely handle standing this close to him, the lemony pungent fear made me want to pass out.

“Now scamper off A-Train, and don’t forget about your Dawn of The Seven shooting. Your last shooting.” He adds that tidbit with a growing smirk so sharp it could cut flesh. His canines shine at his cocky once over of A-Train. It was demeaning and humiliating. All over a clumsy accident. Homelanders’ cinnamon flavor of pleasure mixed with domination hovers in the air–a nice if unsettling reprieve from A-Train’s sour coated terror.

Like a bullet shot through his mask, A-Train’s proud expression cracks under Homelander’s taunt. His eyes shimmer and the corner creases of his eyes tighten, as if trying to hold back his tears. He turns away leaving the halls to go to who knows where. The urge to catch up with him echoes inside my soul, I take a step on instinct.

Homelander catches my wrist before I can move another step.

“Where are you going?” Homelander’s stormy eyes glare down at me, his grasp tightening. His domineering stance and sharp smirk was still plastered across his face. The confident clawing taste of cinnamon overtakes me, now fully making room for his aura to dominate my own. A-Train’s fear must have been close to panic if it was strong enough to cover Homelanders’ dominating presence. I can’t decide which was more discomforting.

“I-I thought maybe A-Train may need to talk to someone, after all I am his therapist.” I shrug, a weak smile I struggle to put on, which only makes Homelander’s angry red aura twist more chaotically. 

“Not anymore. He just got fired. So, don’t focus your attention on him.” His tone left no room for argument. His gloved hand wraps entirely around my forearm now, making sure to keep me in place.

“B-but he’s still a part of the Seven until his last shoot, right?” I ask, my eyes drop to the floor from his persistent glare. 

“Right.” He grits out through a tight jaw and grinding on his too sharp teeth. A frustrated breath escaping his flaring nostrils. “Don’t you want a flight to the In Depth talk show?” He asks, confident my response will be a yes. I hesitate to do just that. Behind his dismissive bravado I can see beneath the armor, and it whispers the word hope . He clings to my arm more tightly, as if he knew I could see the crack. 

Dashing his hope feels wrong and so I can’t get myself to say no.

“Okay.” I squeak out, sighing in defeat. I promise I will find time to talk to A-Train before the end of the day. I will not let myself hinder other clients all because my attention was focused elsewhere . I won’t let myself be sucked into his gravitational pull, sadly that seems to be Homelander and I’s relationship in a nutshell. 

His all encompassing satisfied smile was enough to let me know I lost this battle. My left eyebrow twitches in annoyance, but I roll my shoulders back to release the tension, trying to let another thing go. Homelander is used to steamrolling over everyone, getting great satisfaction from it. Luckily for me Ashley coughs, interrupting our battle of wills.

“Better get to it Daphne. I would have preferred if you were there before Homelander and Queen Maeve, but that doesn’t seem possible since you are here. ” Her sparkly white smile and large eyes were hyper focused on me not letting me move an inch from my spot. It's similar to how A-Train was with Homelander. Sadly, I’m A-Train in this scenario. 

“R-right, I just have to go to my office and I’ll be right back for—”

“Daphne! Don’t stall anymore than you already have and get to the shoot. Don’t let Homelander wait any longer.” Ashley’s condescending tone and her chin thrusting upwards, looking down her nose at me.

Her smokey aura filled my nostrils with the awful notes of burnt hair and the taste of charred food. Her superiority over people morphed her into something much worse as more time went on, but the clouded aura could still be salvaged. Like any of us we have to try to fight our instincts to lash out, but the only way to help people like this is to be the bigger person.

“I’m sorry for not getting permission for the social media campaign. I didn’t run it by you first and I should have—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Homelander’s booming voice echoes across the empty and overly extravagant halls. He drops my arm–I completely forgot he was holding me back—and his loose confident stride towards Ashley became more intimidating with each approaching step. Ashley’s already pale complexion goes ghostly white. “Ashley, am I forgetting our previous conversation? My numbers have skyrocketed in just short of an hour since what’s her fucking name, Penelope–”

“Perscilla.” I pipe up. Homelander pauses, giving me an exasperated eye roll before taking another intimidating step forward. His silhouette’s large shadow envelopes Ashley's small frame. She shrank back, bumping into her office door in her desperate urge to flee. Ashley did not dare run or take her eyes off him.

“ Perscilla , posted those videos. Daphne has done more than you have since taking on Madelyn’s title, so I would be careful how you talk to her in your current, very replaceable position.” His voice is now just above a whisper, but we can hear his threat within his derisive words. The off-kilter change in Ashley’s aura when mentioning Madelyn makes her aura’s cloud of smoke burn black. The taste of ashes on my tongue has me cringing in disgust.

Is he going to do to me what he did to Madelyn? N-no, he can’t possibly be that mad about some counselor…

Ashley’s loud terrifying thoughts crashes into my skull and leaves me feeling winded. I can feel my blood sugar drop and my legs tremble, barely keeping myself up. I-I can’t be doing this right now. No telepathy, no mindscapes, and no passing out for just one day. Please, that’s all I’m asking for! The blood streaks dripping down my nose and to my utmost horror lands on my sundress’s neckline. After all of this effort to keep it clean this morning just for my own powers to damn me. I ignore both Homelander and Ashley’s tense debacle, instead focusing on rifling through my purse. 

“O-of course Homelander I didn’t mean to discredit her helpfulness–”

“Uh-huh.” His bullworthy snort interrupting her feeble attempts to backtrack the conversation. “Remember your place next time, Ashley. Apologize.” He grabs her by the shoulders, clenching them tight, Ashley flinches. They both turn to me in unison to see me bleeding from the nose while my shaky hands shove a blue pill down my throat. I glance up–my expression reads guilty like a kid's hand caught in the cookie jar, as I’m finding my handkerchief to clean myself up.

“S-sorry, I sometimes get nosebleeds.” I fill the awkward silence while I try to rub the blood off my neckline, it was a fruitless effort.

Homelander drops Ashley and he’s in front of me in a flash, a swift breeze following his capes’ trail. He snatches the handkerchief from my fumbling hands and starts wiping my face clean, if roughly, mimicking his previous kindness from last night. Frozen still I look up to meet his dark stare directly, he looks grim and his eyes hold a storm I didn’t wish to decipher.

“I didn’t forget about you Ashley. But did you forget what I asked of you?” His sardonic voice boomed, his actions felt almost like he was playing with his food. It was frightening. I instinctively flinch away. His eyes flash and his other hand grips my chin tight, continuing the meticulous process of cleaning my face.

“I’m so, so sorry Daphne. I will defer to your opinion from now on about future campaigns for The Seven . Add that to your long list of responsibilities.” Ashley’s sharp tone was chilly and the usual fire was cooled. Making more enemies than friends was not something I wished for when taking on this job, but seems to be the result every time. Associating so closely with Homelander might be a part of this reason, from the way everything's been panning out. I shake his hand away from my chin, he lets me go this time, giving me a glare but nothing more. 

“It’s okay Ashley. I understand, from now on if I have any future ideas I will still run them by you. To at least have a professional opinion on it would be for the best.” I step around Homelander trying to attune back to Ashley’s psyche. Her calculating stare flickers between the two of us, she was analyzing the best course of action, in survival mode at this point.

“No, Daphne, you don’t have to do that.” He snatches my arm pushing me back towards himself, as if he was afraid Ashley was going to hurt me. 

“I don’t have to do it, I want to do it.” I stubbornly push myself out of his hold, again. 

“T-thank you for understanding Daphne. Now, I have a meeting planned with the Dawn of the Seven script writer in fifteen minutes and I don't wish to be late.” Ashley’s too high squeak in her voice gives her fear away, but she tries to defuse the situation nonetheless. The reminder of being late alerts my brain to the tight schedule both Homelander and I share now. 

“Right, okay. Homelander, I will meet you in the lobby. I have to drop these off in my office.” I motion to the Tupperware on the floor and he crosses his arms sighing in resignation. 

“Fine, go. Don’t take longer than ten minutes, got it?”

“Gotcha!” I salute him, a small smile flashes before he smothers it back with a blank expression, switching to the safer bet of glaring at Ashley. I leave him to his glare off and scurry to my office as quickly as my shaky legs allow. I place my Tupperware under my desk, a safe place for now. Quickly exiting back out and locking the door I turn back to sprint to the elevator doors; five minutes left before Homelander comes hunting me down, I'm sure.

I wait impatiently wait the elevator to glide down to the lobby’s floor level. Running out, Homelander waits in the center of the Lobby, the crowd giving him a wide berth. The circle of people walking around him, almost comically mimicking the sun and the planets. Him being the sun and everyone else just revolves around him. Poetically sad. He was at least easy to find, if nothing else.

“Homelander! I didn’t make you wait long, did I?” I say out of breath grabbing his arm to keep myself from stumbling over my own two feet. I interrupt him staring off at the horizon peeking out through the large window view. He finally deigns to turn his intense stare onto me. 

“No, less than ten minutes, like you said.” His eyes grow warm and his aura was calm–just a red dust storm rather than the usual tornado. The trepidation crawling down my spine makes me wonder if I had been just a minute later, would he have been angry? I think it's likely. “Okay, have you ever been flown by anyone before?” 

“U-um no. Actually, I’m quite scared of heights.” I shyly admit, feeling my face turn beat red under Homelander’s growing smirk. 

“Perfect.” He chuckles and without any warning gathers me up in his arms bridal style. Handling me as gracefully as a toddler would a rag doll. I can hear in the background gasps from multiple people, crowds not only walking around us, but now gathering to see us. Flashes from cameras went off and before I could cover my face and complain, Homelander vaulted off flying out of the building.

I scream, high pitched and directly in Homelander superpowered eardrums. I embrace him tightly like a spider monkey clinging to their mom, instinctively trying not to fall to my death. His laugh is drowned out by the speeding winds, he’s going faster than most cars on the highway, and I know he can go slower! Is he trying to scare me into having a heart attack?

His glee over my fear filled squeals and pathetic clinging doesn’t stop him from slowing down to a more relaxed pace. Taking my face out of the crook of his neck to finally look at the sight, I can’t hold in my gasp. The clouds were surrounding us like the city smog does in the April’s dewy mornings. The surrounding city skyscrapers that usually seem so intimidating now look like looking into a tiny snow globe. 

“Wow! This is amazing.” I gleefully gush at the view. His eyes widen in surprise but his smile stays firm in place.

“I thought you would still be screaming. Not so afraid of heights anymore, huh?”

“Still scared, but I can appreciate its beauty even if I’m terrified.”

“Hmm.” The flight towards the studio on the outskirts of the suburbs was a short silent flight of me gasping and pointing at different locations like he hadn't seen them from this view before. I can’t help the excitement though, it's an amazing experience I never thought I’d get or even want, until now. Surprisingly he never gets annoyed; he doesn't even glare!

We land gently onto the studio’s front parking lot, making a scene of course, because that’s Homelander’s specialty. People gather around us flashing photographs without permission and chanting “We love you Homelander!” to “Can you autograph my face?” It was all quite discombobulating. He steers me, with one hand on my lower back, to the front entrance and waves off the adoring crowd. He flashes a Hollywood smile that makes the crowd cheer louder and their mob like happiness makes me feel like I'm high. I try to shake my head, but the feeling was still persistent. 

Entering the studio with Homelander beside me was a completely different ball game from when I would visit Olivia alone. I decidedly miss being an unnoticed fly on the wall. People with badges and black clothing–crew members and security included enter the scene to block people from getting closer. 

“This way Homelander.” A crew member with a headset and flat stare directs Homelander with a hand gesture towards a roped off hall. Another person in black appears at my side silent like a ninja. 

“I can show you to the green room Dr. Bennett.” The small girl with the ninja-like abilities, black attire included, states plainly. 

“Thank you for showing me–”

“No, wait Daphne, you can come to the studio set with me. She can sit at the stage wing.” Homelander swirls back towards me and away from the stage manager, his commanding tone leaving little room for arguing. He walks back to my side glaring at the small girl. She does not flinch under the intense glare, courageous if she didn’t look so dead inside.

“No, no it's okay Homelander. I can wait in the green room. I don’t want to get in the way of anything or anyone important.” I wave my hands at him, trying and failing to shoo him away. He gaps at my gall but doesn’t fuss for long letting me win this argument, for once. The crew doesn’t even blink at the celebrity outburst–obviously very used to it. The crew member with the headset directs him back to the roped off hall, Homelander begrudgingly follows a step behind, he looks back toward me. Maybe to check if I ran? Instead of running, I wave; he smiles before turning the corner and out of view.

“Alright, now let's get you to that green room. There are refreshments prepared there, if you want anything.” Her flat tone may be grating but her words were still comforting. She directs me through the wide open white walled halls and through a few confusing turns we land at a simple gray door with a plaque labeled Green Room on it.

“Thank you!” I shout at her quickly retreating back before opening the bland gray door. The green room had a gray couch, gray coffee table and a small buffet prepped to the side. A large flat screen television was in the center of the room directly across the couch. It was hooked up to the show’s camera feed so anyone can watch directly from here. 

I attack the buffet table like a starving gremlin not needing to act with any decorum while alone. The tiny cupcakes are all mine! I pile four on my tiny plate and grab a Fiji water to wash the sugar down. Glancing up at the screen there seem to be sound checks going on before they air, which will only be a few minutes from now. The studio murmurs from the audience could be heard through the set-up. The small talk between the show host, Queen Maeve, and Homelander could also be heard.

“It’s so nice to see you two again.” The show host, Maria Menounos, greets them standing up from the red plush chair and shaking their hands. Much more respectful than Cup of Joey’s host by miles. 

“It’s lovely to be back on your show Mrs. Menounos.”

“Call me Maria, Queen Maeve. You too Homelander.” As Maria schmoozes the two I stuff my mouth with pink frosting covered cupcakes. 

My phone rings the familiar tune of A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton jolting me away from my cupcakes. Olivia’s name flashes on my phone’s home screen and I take the call without thinking. 

“Olive?” I whisper into the receiver as I stare uninterestedly at the TV screen. Homelander’s sharp smile and tight hold around Maeve didn’t feel much different from how they were at Morning Cup of Joey’s . 

“Daphne! Oh my god it feels like forever since we talked. Do you know how long it’s been? At least a week.” Olivia’s whiny tone squeals out with full gusto.

“A day and a half.”  I interrupt mid tantrum.

“Ugh, Daph you know what I mean. You’ve been dodging my texts and don’t deny it, I know.” Olivia’s threatening tone was washed out by her worried sigh at the end of every word.

“Olivia, I’m sorry I just didn’t know how to talk to you about…everything.”

“You mean your parents? Have you talked to any of them since the news broke?”

“My dad came by this morning.”

“And?”

“He helped me get my Tupperware into the cab. He also gave me a file with the name Sage Grove Center. I haven’t looked at it yet.”

“Maybe it's the hospital you were born at?”

“I don’t know if it's a hospital. He was being, I don’t know how to word it, emotional about it. You know my dad, he doesn’t emote a lot so seeing him close to tears just made everything weird. He said he wanted me to talk to them once I looked through it. ”

“You haven’t read it yet? I would be tearing through that thing the first moment I could!”

“I-I I’ve been busy literally non-stop. Honestly, this is the first breather I’ve had in the last forty-eight hours.”

“Where are you?” Olivia’s inquiry is almost muffled out by what sounded like traffic.

“Green Room of the In Depth with Maria Menounos.”

“Oh! She’s a lot less catty than Joey. Did you know she got a journalism degree from Dartmouth college. She a real one.”

“I didn’t know that. Maybe this will go without a hitch.”

“Well, now you jinxed yourself Daph.” Olivia’s quip is fast and cheerfully bright. I give out a long tired sigh. That would be my luck. “Oh, Daph question? How would you feel about our Friday plans turning into a double date?” 

“W-what?”

“Okay, before you outright say no. Let me tell you just who asked me out. Guess.” Olivia’s serious tone left me no other option but to play her game. I nibble on my third cupcake, choosing to ignore the growing stomach pain.

“Did you relent and say yes to Randal? He asked you out after the third rejection?”

“Not Randal, ew.” The gagging on the other line only emphasizes her dramatic disgust.

“Oh, wait did Monica ask you out?” 

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Winner, winner chicken dinner! Yes, Monica finally asked me out after I gave her ten million hints.” She gripes, but underneath her easy complaining I can sense a nervousness beneath her voice-fry.

“That’s great! But why do I have to go?”

“Because Monica didn’t want to do the date without another couple. She thought it would help break the ice. I just may happen to offer you on a silver platter and she so happened to agree to the date because of it. Please! She’s never been out with a girl before and she’s shy. You know how much I like—” The guilt train would not leave the station until I relented.

“Okay, okay I’ll do it. Just tell me he’s not thirty years older than me or anything else I cannot abide by.”  I grit out, wanting to take the words back the moment I said them.

“He’s really handsome but apparently kind of shy. I’ll send you a pic of him. You are a lifesaver my dear! I owe you one.” Olivia sighs through the speaker.

“I guess I could break out into the dating scene again. Now that my powers are public knowledge there isn’t really anything holding me back, right?”

“That’s right!” Olivia’s hypeman persona comes out with a bombastic cheer. “Oh shit I gotta go Daph, apparently there’s an emergency hair care situation going on at Morning Cup of Joey’s . Dammit I just left to get lunch, for the love of—” The phone hangs up leaving me with the dial tone. I can’t believe I willingly signed up for a blind date. I shutter just at the idea of it.

Finally taking the last tiny cupcake in one bite I glance over to the large screen to see they’ve already started the show. And I haven’t been paying attention at all! 

“Is the supervillain threat real?” Maria Menounos’ clear and concise question is asked with pleasant but vacant expression. She gives nothing away to her guests nor the audience members.

“Hundred percent. Very real. But The Seven will protect you.” Maeve's strong declaration is paired with her scowling fiercely into the cameras. Making promises to America directly, I presume.

“That's right. Always listen to Maeve. She always tells the truth.” Homelander's nonchalant tone gave the audience a contrasting partner to Maeve’s intensity.

“On a related subject, Compound V. Did either of you know about it before the news broke?”

“No. Absolutely not. Madelyn Stillwell, she lied to all of us. Turns out she was a monster. We're just as hurt and upset and confused as everyone else.” Homelander’s unattached tone stays firm and his emotions are held close to his heart like a gambler with a good hand.

“Let's talk #HeroesSoWhite. The numbers are rather startling. 92% of heroes are Caucasian. African American, six percent. Latin and Asian, each one percent. Why doesn't Vought want diversity?” Maria’s voice transforms the audience’s dull murmurs into a thick silence. 

Even through the cameras I can feel the tension, or maybe that’s because I’m only a few rooms away from the set. Maeve gave nothing away in Maria’s prodding, her stern intense expression not moving a muscle, but Homelander’s tells are there if you know how to read him. His too tight and sharp smile and his eyes are wide open, glassily vacant, with there is a thunderstorm of emotions brewing just above the surface. 

“Wow. These are real hardballs, Maria Menounos. But check your facts. Let's, uh, take The Seven , for example. We've got A-Train. He's a black man. We got Black Noir. He, um… Well, he doesn't identify with any race, really, so... they're covered. And... we have a gay hero.” 

“Really? Who in The Seven is gay?” Maria’s befuddlement is clear to everyone watching.

“Queen Maeve. Mm-hmm. Scoop for you, Maria. Maeve here is a strong, proud lesbian with a beautiful girlfriend, Elena. Hispanic girlfriend. And I, for one, am so proud of her.” His voice is loud and clear as he outs Maeve to the world. Maeve is frozen still, her pallor resembling a corpse; she’s left speechless. Homelander crushes Maeve to his side, as if trying to show some form of camaraderie. Her frozen dead state changes in a blink and she’s smiling again. The cameras are still rolling after all. 

The audience is applauding–Maria is standing from her seat and clapping too. The show cuts to a commercial break with that new revelation as their finale for the episode.

My stomach turns and twists into knots—and I don’t think it's because of my over indulgence in sugar.  Homelander’s constant need to attack others is not what I wanted to see today, displayed for millions to see. Poor Maeve got caught in the crosshairs, too. Why would he do that? Because Maria bated him? Was mentioning Madelyn the trigger? I would have to confront him on this. I need to talk to Maeve first! This had been the time a therapist on set would have been helpful. Dammit! 

At that thought I jump to my feet not able to stay here when I’m needed elsewhere. I can feel Maeve’s echoing aura, the flavor of vodka and mothball foaming down my throat. Maeve’s signature fear and sadness felt the same when I first met her.  The subtle feeling was getting closer. I speed to the door and open it just an inch. I peak out just as I hear Maeve and Homelander’s voices echo down the bare halls.

“Where’s Elena? What did you do to her?” Maeve shouts trying to keep in step with Homelander’s long strides.

“She’s fine. What did I do to her? I set her free. And you. You’ve been living in the shadows so long, doesn’t it feel good to be out in the sun?” Homelander quips candidly.

“ Hold on. Me and Elena are just friends.”

“Oh. Just friends?” The Homelander took one whiff and smells that blood was in the air.

“Yes.”

“Because, see, I heard you two talking on the phone, and it sounded a little more than friends. So, I did a little digging, and imagine my fucking surprise.” Derision and hate drips from his voice like a broken faucet that couldn't stop weeping. 

“Okay. We had a relationship once.”

“Hmm.” He nods with a flat expression.

“Once!”

“Once. A relationship…relationship. That’s such a vague word. What does that mean to you? Long walks in the park? A shoulder to cry on? Scissoring each other raw?” His questions grew more tense and his rough aura’s swirling winds cut across mindscapes to scrape by my own in angry retaliation. The intensity of the conversation made me want to melt into the shadows and never leave. 

“I ended the relationship when I joined The Seven. When I met you.” Her cold voice had little emotion attached when responding to the rabid, pacing tiger that is Homelander.

“Stop fucking lying to me!” He punches the air forward, an inch from Maeve’s face. Her lack of response makes his scowl turn retched. “I am at my wit’s fucking end with the lies.”

“We're together.” She grinds out through tight pale lips, fear dripping the pungent lemonimes, only the smell of vodka permeates the air. 

“And you love her?” She merely nods at the question. “Hmm. I see. Well, best of luck to you both.”  He sighs out looking almost relieved with the sentiment, and Maeve’s face gives away her thoughts plainly. “Oh, is it so hard to believe that I want you two to be happy? And in love? Honestly, Maeve, I am really, really happy for you.” He struts away with an unsettling confidence that could not be ignored. Maeve stood frozen to her spot, not able to move after the encounter. 

Feeling like a coward, but safe with him gone, I quietly slink up behind Maeve. She seems hypnotized, or lost in thought, but I can see both of her fists are clenched tight. I tap her shoulder before chickening out.

“Maeve, I’m sorry about what happened. Out there…” I quietly trail off not knowing how to express the unfairness of it with words.

“Nothing happened that I can’t handle.” She looks me up and down assessing with a steely gray glare. Her face resembles porcelain, still and unchanging but beautiful. Sadly, her thunderstorm of an aura now shifts from lemony fear to ozone.  The fear is gone but the anger stays rooted deep inside her, an overflowing boiling pot of righteous indignation. The smell and taste of it inflicts my senses with a whooping rush. Like speeding winds during a tropical cyclone, a force of nature, that was Maeve. 

“Well, if you ever want to talk about it you’re always welcome in my office. Or if you need someone to talk to you outside of normal hours you can call my personal number.” I provide my business card to her, offering a small smile as well. 

She grabs my card from my hand and looks at it with a critical eye. She turns it over and over as if it may be bugged. Paranoia may be a Superhero thing then, makes sense with all the head trauma involved. Just a theory. After looking it over extensively she places it between her breasts staring me dead in the eyes, asking for a reaction. I don’t take the bait.

“Please, I hope you do take the time to see me. At least give it a chance.” I fill in the silence, not willing to walk away without a confirmation of some form from Maeve.

“I’ll think about it.��� She smiles through what feels like a platitude, but I take the scraps she gives.

“Thank you, Maeve! That’s all I’m asking is you give it a chance.” I cheer, not able to help myself from jumping in the air with a little hop. Maeve cracks a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“I didn’t promise anything.” 

“Daphne, what are you doing here?” Homelander’s voice bounces across the halls where he pops back in from where he just dramatically exited. He storms towards me ignoring Maeve altogether.

“I was in the green room.” I point to the door behind me. He shakes his head, as if I was some inconsolable toddler, and grabs my hand without restraint or permission.  

“Let’s go.” Homelander's stiff upper lip and the fearsome glare directed at Maeve makes me queasy. I swipe my hand away just before Homelander can grip it tight.

“Are you sure you're okay?” I look into Maeve’s steely eyes and place my hands on hers. I can’t help but feel the suffocating depression that oozed off of her. I just wanted her to feel alright, just okay enough to survive to the next moment. We can talk about the next step when she is ready, if she just gave me a chance.

Her eyes flicker between me and Homelander; I can’t help but cringe under her glare. She shakes my hands off by crossing her arms across her chest. She turns her back to the both of us. 

“Thank you, Daphne. If I have time maybe I’ll take you up on the offer.” She turns her head over her shoulder, directly looking at Homelander while saying this. She struts out of the halls with confidence I couldn’t comprehend. Queen Maeve must be used to his chaotic and vicious games and was only moving her own pieces. The fog that was her aura evaporated as she got further and further away, finally leaving me with a clear head. Other than Homelander’s viscous cinnamon flavored satisfaction that was annoyingly present. 

“So, are we going or not?” He puffs up his chest as he laments this.

“Yes, going to a therapy session like you promised, Homelander.”

“That’s not what I meant…”

“Well, I meant what I said. You promised me if it all went well you would try therapy, right?”

“Yes, that's true. My viewership and ratings have gone up since this morning.” He says this with a tired sigh, as if he wasn't happy about his newfound favor.

“So, let's do it!”

“Really?” Exasperation is clear as he grits out the one word.

“What do you mean, ‘really’?” I admonish him shaking my finger at his childish protests.

“Fine.” He sighs out with a loud huff. He thinks he's indulging me, but all he is doing is keeping his word. I swear this man will be the end of me. But gosh I can't hold in my excitement when he finally agrees. 

“Really?!” I scream out jumping up in the air with a little "whoop!" coming out of mouth. I can't help shaking his arm over and over in obvious glee. He smiles but tries to smother it with a not so believable scowl. 

“Yes…” He grinds out, barely audible enough to understand. He stiffens under my attention but as I move away he grabs my arm. Without a word he wraps my left my arm with his, he does all of this without looking me in the eye.

“Okay, well first you need to change into civilian clothing.” I say, pointed ignoring his odd body language.

“What, why?” He sputters out stopping mid-stride, which in turns stops me in my tracks.

“‘Cause we're doing therapy outside at Riverside Park.” I say with confidence I don't have, as if this was the plan all along.

“Why can’t we be in your office like a normal therapist?”

“Because being outside is healthy for you that’s why.”

“Uh huh–” I interrupt him mid’ eye-roll.

“Now who’s the therapist Homelander?”

“Don’t give me that shit for the love of god.” He groans.

“Fine, but you know I’m right.” I point up in the air, chin up and proud, finally I’ve won this battle. “I know the costume coordinator here, I’ll ask if there is anything you can borrow.”

“You mean have.” He says smoothly, almost like he wasn’t acting like a brat. I put my hands on my hips glaring daggers at him. 

“Don’t just assume, it’s rude.” 

“Are you more pushy than usual or is it just me?” Homelander chuckles as he tries to slow his long strides to keep in pace with me. I struggle to find any sign of where the fashion coordinator could be in this plain white maze of a studio.

“Well, you haven’t known me for that long. I can be quite pushy when I want to be. You feeling threatened?” I joke, arching an eyebrow at him. He pshaws at me, seeming exasperated with my entire being, but his attention was focused solely on me. My hyper awareness of it made the hairs on the back of my neck standup. I pointedly ignore the tension brewing between us, even with the blush crawling up my face. Instead I focus on finding my old friend.

Thankfully, the room I was looking for was wide open and the vanity mirror with the hollywood bulbs framing it was a beacon for its location. The plaque on the side reading The Rack . I politely knock on the open door not wanting to interrupt anything that may be happening inside. Sadly, I had a much ruder companion at my side who strolls right in without a second thought, his cape trailing behind him like a shadow.

“Oh! Homelander it's amazing to see you. Is there anything we can do for—Daphne? I haven’t seen you in forever! Not since you were stuck with us and that horrible teamster getting us lost in the Jersey suburbs. God, Olivia still hadn’t bought me dinner like she promised.” Eli’s huff of indignation is lost in my curls as his long arms wrap around me, lifting me slightly up in the air. He lets me go with a boisterous playful laugh that makes me feel nostalgic.

His smile shines bright and wide, matching his sharp jaw and high cheek bones to create a handsome but androgynous profile.  His dark locks coiled into gentle curls ending just above his ear, and his hazel colored eyes always held this twinkle within as if he had a secret he couldn’t tell. He was just as fashionable as Olivia, wearing peak condition black Gucci loafers with gold chains. His long lean body matches his soft slick style as well, he wore black slack perfectly tailored to him and what looked like a Ralph Lauren cashmere taupe turtleneck. His notorious bright red rain coat from his and Olivia’s favorite brand Dolce & Gabbana was sitting on a makeup chair in the back of the room . 

He was Olivia’s right hand man for a few years when her company was just a fledgling. Eventually, after some time he wanted to pursue other opportunities to try and blossom outside of her shadow. They are still close, even if they are now competitors in the same field. 

His aura was just as bright and creative as Olivia’s, only his was pearlescent, almost shimmering and changing hues under certain lighting. The taste of bubbly champagne foam around my lips, which was pleasant but surprising. The taste helped dull Homelander’s growing impatience and cinnamon flavored dominance. 

“I’ll be seeing Olivia Friday night so I’ll tell her she owes you one.” I quip easily falling back into the friendly candor we had when we were in our early twenties. He fiddles with a few baby curls that were a frizzy mess at this point, I did get rained on this morning after all. Eli grabs a butterfly clip that was bedazzled encrusted and clips it into my hair, helping it stay out of my face. I’m jerked back suddenly and Homelander’s hand has a vice grip on my wrist. His other hand is placed at the arch of my back, as if wanting to make sure I knew of his presence.

“Good! Now, why have you and our esteemed leader of The Seven  come to my abode?”  Eli recovers quickly from the abrupt change in the atmosphere. Homelander’s glare only makes it much, much worse. The writhing indignity seemed to come off of him, waves rippling across my mind, giving me enough of a warning. I have to stay on my toes. Homelander has been on the attack since we’ve been on this set and I’m not willing to risk it with an old friend. 

“R-right, I wanted to know if you had some outfits prepared for Homelander if he needed an outfit change.”

“Sure, Vought always sends extra suits just in case of anything happening to the originals.”

“No, no I mean regular civilian clothes. Do you have outfits prepared according to his measurements?”  I ask, going into assistant mode—not something I thought I'd be doing with my twelve years to get a doctorate, but ya’ gotta do whatcha’ gotta do. “Is there anything you have in mind, Homelander?” I look back up to Homelander, feeling the need to be deferential to appease his ego, for now. His hand was still wrapped tight around my wrist and he crowds over me in the small room, his whole body crushes me against him in our closeness—it felt like I could fit in his pocket. The absurdity of it all would be funny if it wasn’t so worrisome. 

“You can pick it out, Daph.” He declares just above a whisper, a breath in my ear. The closeness of the action makes me grow anxious as Eli silently scrutinizes us, a knowing look gracing his chiseled features. Eli’s eyes were sparkling with amusement as his eyes flicker back between us with an raised eyebrow, making my tomato red blush spread across my whole body.

“O-O-Okay.” I stutter out, before taking a shy step out of his tight hold. 

“We have this rack that fits his measurements.” Eli’s tone is casual as he strolls near the lounging area of the small room. The styles were limited but all of the brands were from high fashion designers, this one rack was at least worth twenty five thousand dollars. That’s not including the shoes in the back. 

Trying to bring my inner Olivia fashionista out I grab the rack and drag it to where Homelander decided to sit in the far off corner. Trying to ignore everyone and everything I think. He has fallen into a melancholic mood, toiling and turning inside, dark red clouds clinging above his thoughts. My body moves before my brain can tell me no. I grab his hands making him jump from whatever thoughts had him trapped inside his head. 

“Can I take these off?” I gently pat his hands looking directly into his piercing blue eyes. He looked vacant from within, and it made me shudder with a new fear I couldn’t comprehend. The cloying cinnamon flavor had just a hint of pine, reminding me of something buried deep inside. The conflicting emotions and aura made my head spin and my stomach twist into knots, but I didn’t, no I couldn’t look away.

“Sure.” He is dismissive, giving a slight shrug to pair off with his uncaring tone. I gently pry off his blue leather gloves, making sure to pay attention to any change in his expression. He only flexes his hands as I place them on the side table; he continues to look bored as ever. 

“What’s your favorite color?” I burst out awkwardly, not able to sound casual. 

“Huh? I don’t know, blue.” He shrugs, trying to participate as little as possible.

“Like the blue of your suit?” I look over the rack again trying to find similar colors to his supe attire.

“No, no more of a light blue, like…” He trails off now, not able to look me in the eyes. His usual overbearing confidence seemed to have left the building the moment we walked into The Rack .  It felt like there was a storm on the horizon and I was left out to sea with only a buoy to cling to. His mood swings were becoming harder and harder to understand even with my powers to help me.

“Well, here is this beautiful light blue jean jacket. Oh, feel this Homelander! How do you feel about this material?” I grab a soft cashmere Gucci white tee, simple and with no logos attached. He gently rubs it between his fingers, and a small smile peaks from behind his once placid expression. 

“I like it; it's…soft.” I can’t hold my excitement in as I rush to grab another item off the rack with Eli indirectly helping me. 

Through a few shrugs and an actual happy “That’s not bad.” we achieved a final look that Homelander couldn’t complain about. Eli even threw in a wide high-bridge set of black Dolce Gabbana sunglasses to ‘complete’ the look, Eli’s exact words. Homelander ignores the both of us as he shyly walks into the changing room with the outfit in hand. 

“I saw the social media posts on your Instagram. Didn’t know you had so many followers now, but I guess it makes sense with the new fame.” Eli hugs me from the side and I lean into it, enjoying the friendly contact. His aura alway has a soft relaxing touch, like the feeling of drinking a perfect cup of hot chamomile tea during a rainy night. 

“Ugh, I didn’t even post those. One of my coworkers just used some of my photos and made it into a social campaign.” I sigh, feeling drained just talking about it.

“Well, I could see your curly blond head in some photos. So, now you're famous. Get used to it and take advantage of the perks.” He wiggles his eyebrows looking between me and the door Homeladner was changing in. I smack his shoulder giving him my best death glare. He laughs freely and his smooth baritone is as pleasant as ever to listen to. 

“Now you sound like Olivia. No thank you, I'm going to try and be as anonymous as possible. I don’t need that kind of attention, ever. I’m a therapist . That’s it.” I mutter out feeling a throat tightening worry claw at the back of mind like a persistent draft.

“Got it, got it. Saint Daph over here, of course you’d say that. I knew from the beginning you wouldn’t be happy about it, but I still had to tease you. For old times sake.” He chirps pinching my cheeks as if I was some snot nosed baby. I blow raspberries at him like a snot nosed baby, just to show him. He bursts out into full blown belly laugh not holding anything back, his joy sparkling atop my senses like a happy haze. 

The changing room door flies open, looking like it barely held onto the hinges it was nailed down to. Homelander struts out one long leg at a time showcasing the outfit itself, even paired with his scowling face, he looked handsome. His anger was so fresh and rushed over me like a heat wave. The burning sensation of drinking something too hot coated my tongue with a flash of pain searing my tongue. 

Though the heated pain searing my mouth was a distraction I still couldn’t take my eyes off him. He wore the white Gucci white shirt and the light blue jean jacket frames the shape of his shoulders perfectly. The well fitted jeans that had a bleach splash pattern paired well with his steel colored Jimmy Choo oxfords. His shades rest on top of his head as a perfect accessory to cap it all off. 

“You look great!” I rush to his side grabbing him by the arm, steeling myself against his volatile aura. Twisting and turning into a red dustbowl of anger that attacked my mindscape without abandon. The taste of ash mixed with cloying cinnamon left me feeling light headed. I held up my defenses and kept a pleasant smile on my face under Homelander’s scrutiny.

“I agree, very sharp but still casual. I think the shoes help elevate the overall look.” Eli adds looking over Homelander’s whole outfit.

“No one asked you.” Homelander bluntly says without missing a beat. It leaves Eli sputtering, choking to find the right words to appease Homelander’s ego.

“Homelander!” I yell out admonishing with a little slap to his shoulder for emphasis. Homelander only scuffs at me, not bending to any sort of retaliation, rolling his eyes to prove my point. He grips my arm tight, not letting me out of his hold. “Sorry, Eli. I’ll talk to you another time, and I won’t forget to remind Olivia about that dinner she owes you.” Homelander steers me out of The Rack as I’m finishing my sentence, waving Eli goodbye with a twinge of guilt gnawing inside my stomach. Eli waves back politely, not seeming offended by any of it at all. I rush to throw Homelander’s suit and gloves into my large bag before he can storm off with me in tow.

The agitation was radiating off him like a broken heater, it was making me sweat under his dominant aura. As if being pinned down by an instrument, like a bug under an entomologist’s needle. Without a forewarning he’s grabbing me like I’m a sack of potatoes and he’s flying off. I scream as I clutch his shoulders so tightly I could feel my bones pop under the pressure. I close my eyes tight and I can feel my stomach doing a billion summersaults. The slicing sharp wind cuts at my skin, it leaves me feeling uncomfortable and achy. The only thing keeping me from passing out is Homelander’s warm arms holding me firm to his body, not showing any signs of letting me go.

What felt like hours which was probably only minutes, he finally lands on solid ground. Riverside Park looked like its usual busy self, and oddly enough no one took notice of the person arriving by flight. A lucky break. 

“Do you know what Stormfront’s been saying since your campaign?” Homelander’s chilling question strikes fear into my heart. Like being struck with lightning; my eyes dilate and can’t stop my abrupt inhalation of breath. I can barely get my heart to calm before he’s towering over me and looking me over with a conspiratorial paranoia haunting his eyes. 

“No, and I don’t care what she’s saying and neither should you.” I swallow down my fear, wipe away the sweat on my brow and interlace my arm with his. “Now you need lunch before we start. Let's get you a hotdog. Luckily for you I know the perfect place.”

“I don’t want a hotdog.”

“You’ve never had a hotdog from the vendor stationed at Riverside Park, have you?”

“No, but before you try to tell me–”

“Well then you have to try it!” 

“No, no Daphne hotdogs are disgusting.”

“Not these hotdogs. Now stop complaining and follow me!” I pipe up steering him inside the park through the cobbled paths that showcased the famous cherry blossom trees. We quickly step in line with the rest of the sparse crowd, no one giving us a second look. The disguise if you want to call it that was a success. 

“Sammy!” I squealed out from a few feet away. A hotdog vendor, Sammy, stood at the corner of the central fountain. The large bulky man in a bright red polo and slacks, resembling a Wells Fargo agent, waves jovially at me.

“Why isn’t it pipsqueak in the flesh!” His thick Brooklyn accent was accentuated for the tourists, I know this for a fact, but he hasn’t broken character in front of me once. Homelander trails a few steps behind me as I excitedly bolt to hug the large man. His bursting reddish orange aura shimmers bright with a homemade smell of dinner made with love. The taste of my favorite dish when I was a child sits at the tip of my tongue, like a nostalgic dream come to life. He noogies my curls into a complete disaster; Eli’s sparkly butterfly clip hangs on by a thread. “And is this your new boyfriend?” He asks with fatherly affection while he continues to noogie me into an early grave. I shove his beefy hand off my curls with an exaggerated huff, retreating to Homelander’s side. 

“No, no he’s my friend…” I stammer off looking at Homelander to save me from complete embarrassment. It's not like we discussed a code name when going out all incognito. 

“It's John, nice to meet you.” Homelander introduces himself with a charming but too wide smile and handshake that would make most fathers proud.

“Handsome boyfriend you have there Daph. Got to keep him close before you get too old to be a young pretty wife. Then you'll be crusty like all of the other spinsters out in this little city.” Sammy quips with a rumbling chuckle, this takes the air out of me, making his chuckles turn into a full blown belly laugh. Homelander bursts out into an unattractive fit of laughter, almost choking on his hysteria. 

“What do you mean spinster? This isn’t the 1800s old man!” I squeal out feeling my entire face light up into a flaming red shade, all from his prodding nature. That was just Sammy for you and I should have been used to it.

“Okay, okay do you want your usual?”

“Yes, plus add one for my friend.”

“I’m not really—” Homelander tries to intervene.

“He hasn’t eaten all day. He’s probably starving honestly.” I stop him before he can inadvertently–or overtly, offend Sammy. Homelander glares daggers into the back of my head, but I’ve gotten good at ignoring him. 

“Good! This is the food of champions my man, your little lady knows it well. Good customer she is.” Sammy boasts making his famous hotdogs with quick ease, placing the complete order in two red checkered paper trays. Homelander doesn’t take his, so I take it for him, holding onto it for safekeeping. And to not look rude, which seems to never be an issue for Homelander.

Luckily the rain from this morning has cleared away to make room for a clear blue sky. The sun was bright, a beacon of cheer in this beautiful park setting. A relaxing setting that shouldn’t raise his hackles while we talk. Hopefully. I wave to Sammy as we stroll off, not letting Sammy’s embarrassing implications linger in my mind, I continue to hold onto Homelander’s arm. 

I shove the hotdog in Homelander’s ungrateful hands, he gags at it in his usual dramatic fashion. I happily take a huge chomp of my own plain hotdog. I steer him towards an offshoot path where trees seem to take over, obscuring the view from the cityscape. It's a more private trail that's perfect for what I need it for.

As we silently follow my favorite trail I can hear birds chirping around us, and two squirrels are chasing each other across the path; not giving us a second glance or any mind as they play.  Now if by some miracle we found a deer I would proclaim myself Snow White . Sadly, they weren’t residents of this park. If we wanted to see them we would have to go to the Bronx. Stealthily taking a glance towards Homelander without his notice, I can see him sneaking bites of his hotdog, not giving any sign if he likes it or not. But he continues to eat, so I call that a win.

Definitely a childish and prideful streak of his.

“How about we sit here?” 

“I don’t care.” He shrugs, looking almost calm, in comparison to an hour ago.

“Perfect!” I drag him to sit besides me, which he relents, he graces his arm across the bench as he swallows the last of his hotdog. I hope my dress doesn’t get stained while sitting on the damp wooden bench, but it's my own fault for wearing white, so I sit without complaint. 

“What would you like to talk about first?”

“Isn’t that your job to figure that out?”

“I want to talk about what’s concerning you, and the only way for me to know that is to ask you.”

“Well, you know what’s been bothering me. Stormfront and my numbers dropping, not much more to it.” He mutters out with derision, putting his shades on to pointedly glare into the bright sky.

“Well those are definitely things we can talk about, but I was thinking more about your personal life.” 

“Hah, that part of my life is not so complicated.” He sounds like he means to say this as if it's a good thing, but his words are all pointed and coated with bitterness he couldn’t hide.

“I want to know if you’ve done anything for yourself recently?” His posture stiffens up like a rubber band pulled back so tight it could just snap .

“I-I saw my son recently.” His eyes moved rapidly across the room finally landing back on me with a pointed and cold glare. He obviously didn’t mean to say that. He was trying to be difficult no matter how far we’ve come. 

“How was that?” A simple question, but a loaded one.

“He didn’t know I was his Dad and I didn’t know he existed. I didn’t even know I could have a kid until they told me.” ‘They,’ the word he spat out with such derision that goosebumps ran down my spine. A sharp chill in the air as if the winter season decided to come visit. The taste of hate always was the same to me no matter who it was. This hate felt different though; something about Homelander’s hate tasted darker, akin to coffee grounds. He’s looking down at his hands, his cold stare gone but not the chill. I felt my powers a-light within me, a yearning to smooth his frayed edges out.

“I pushed him off the roof. He doesn’t exactly want to talk to me after that, either.”

“A roof?” I hold my expression still, giving nothing away.

“I was trying to teach him how to fly.” He stares at me with a coldness I haven’t seen before, as if waiting for me to attack him. Without a second thought I grab both of his hands and place them in mine. He flinches away, like a trembling foal, but relaxes into my touch after a few seconds pass.

“What happened after?” My calm aura overtakes his own, focusing all of my willpower to embrace his own chaotic energy and turn into something less painful .

“He fell, didn’t fly. Surprisingly, I thought he would be scared of me when he failed the attempt, but instead he was angry at me.” He huffs, blowing out an ungraceful snort, a scowl morphing his handsome features. 

“Hm, why do you think he would have been scared rather than angry?”

“Huh, oh, I don’t know. It's just…” He trails off, his aura twisting quickly, sharp pain shooting down my head at the impact. His blue gaze now looks vacant as he stares off into the distance. I continue to wait, holding his hands, as I decide to turn my eyes to the horizon too. “Dr. Vogelbaum would have been angry.” He whispers just on the cusp of sounding fearful, stressed notes twinging his voice; his admission was taken with the breeze.

“Well, you're not Dr. Vogelbaum and Ryan’s not you.” I say simply with a shrug. The lightness of my response takes Homelander out of his dark stupor, finally deigns to look me in the eyes. Even with his shades now covering his eyes I can still see beneath his bravado. Something soft flickers beneath the surface and his aura stills, the scent of pine embraces my senses.

“Yeah, I guess not.” He murmurs looking away again, quickly. He is acutely aware he showed too much of his hand, all the chinks in his armor in full view.

“Well, like I offered before I can help mediate a session with the both of you. If you’d like?”

“I guess that wouldn’t be too awful.”

“Hey! I resent that. I’m good with kids, you know.” I puff out in indignation, my cheeks full of air. He laughs at me, not with me that’s for sure. To my alarming disappointment my phone rings a blaring horn sound, representing Erving’s contact. My attention diverts completely to my phone as I quickly grab it from my bag. Homelander watch me without blinking, not giving me any room for privacy. I click on the single text message from the contact labeled under Black Noir.

There was a singular photo of Black Noir giving a peace sign to the camera with a computer techie behind him, surrounded by Redbulls . It looked like they were inside the Vought building, maybe the tech-security room, but I’m not hundred percent sure. The woman who seemed to be working under duress, she just looked plain uncomfortable, but she gave a peace sign to the camera as well. Maybe to appease Black Noir’s odd sense of humor. I chuckle at the ridiculous image. I was worried about him all this time for no real reason it seems.

“Black Noir is texting you?” His question was burning hot off his tongue as he screwed up his face in disgust.

“Oh, yeah just wanted to make sure he was okay while he was out on a mission.” I heart the picture, but decided not to reply. Not wanting to be rude to Homelander I put my phone back in my purse. “Sorry about that. I just wanted to make sure he was alright.”

“Hm.” He grits out through a grinding jaw. His veins throb in his neck and the red storm that is his aura twists chaotically. He stands abruptly from the bench. I gasp not able to hide my surprise from his whiplash of emotions. “Well, since you’re so busy with Black Noir I might as well leave.” He barks, I can’t stand up fast enough before he's storming off. 

The whirlwind of emotions and burning anger that tasted of coffee grounds lingers on my tongue even with him gone. I can’t believe I was left behind. We didn’t even get very far before he bailed. What could have changed his mood so suddenly? I sigh, feeling my whole body ache with residual pain from the last few days. Oh man, I have his suit too. 

I riffle in my bag and my hand freezes, there resting gently in the center pocket was the folder. I slowly take it out, as if it would bite me, looking over the label, it stares back. The feeling of trepidation swelters like a feverish nausea festering inside my belly. I swallow down the bile and open the folder.

S age Grove Center:

REPORT #132 for PROJECT CONTROL CENTER: 

September 2nd, 1993

Eight years of service to Vought before consenting to giving us a specimen for this honor. Dr. Bennet goes under the procedures just like the volunteers, including after pregnancy. The genetics of both spouses should present genetic markers we are looking for. Though the hypothesis proves correct–as you know, the parents of the experiment have gotten attached, it seems. 

(NAME REDACTED), I know you are prudent about how this will unfold, but Dr. Shetty is holding her ground on the subject. Though the experiment was doing better than others before her, her declining health under the more strict testing has given us little hope. We have to push her further to see how far we can go with this one. She will at least be another step forward in the right direction, even if she doesn’t pass. 

CONTROL CENTER should be a success with a few more babies like this one, as long as the parents allow us a few more samples. I see in a few more months we will have a breakthrough on this serum. Your husband would be quite proud, if you don’t mind me saying.

From,

Dr. Alfred Leeman

REPORT #133 for PROJECT CONTROL CENTER: 

October 2nd, 1993

Daniel Bennet is becoming more of a problem by the week, and he is dragging the “good doctor” down to his level. (NAME REDACTED), I feel it is time we terminate his contract before he decides to pull something similar to when he was out in the field. Dr. Shetty will have no qualms with this, she wants the “good doctor” to be compliant after all. That we can all agree on.

The good news is the experiment’s genetic markers have now fully integrated with the Compound V serum. Her genetics are changed into something completely different from the original serum. Certain powers may not even affect this experiment, but more testing is needed for this hypothesis. 

We will have to ask for people to interview for the head of security position soon before Mr. Bennett becomes a real problem. We cannot let this precious time be wasted on regretful sperm-donors, but I know you know that.

From,

Dr. Alfred Leeman

REPORT #134 for PROJECT CONTROL CENTER: 

November 2nd, 1993

Informing Stan Edgar was a regretful but necessary decision I had to make in order to preserve as much of the research as possible. I hope you can forgive this inconvenience, as you find Stan Edgar unsavory, but again it was required. To my chagrin Stan Edgar found the new side project a profitable endeavor. 

He especially loves the concept of the central nerve system being the genetic identifier for their powers in contrast to the original’s going through the spinal-cord. His added interest has helped recover our extreme monetary losses since the silent lawsuit. The Bennetts have gotten away with not only screwing us but also Vought Co, which means Stan Edgar. So, we can be happy about one thing (NAME REDACTED).

Their supposed official adoption was only granted if they signed off on the gag order, and they had to agree, of course. Oddly enough I don’t see that whole situation working out. The experiments we still have are being burned now as I write this. They were all given a “mercy death,” for they failed quickly. Your husband would have agreed with the sentiment, (NAME REDACTED).

We will have to start fresh. 

From,

Dr. Alfred Leeman

That was the last journal in the folder, but there were a few articles from 1994 to 1996. The small cut out articles all contained pictures of my parents holding me as an infant in front of a picket fence home. The article explained their normal cookie cutter stories out, her a school teacher, and my Dad the war hero. They were given a spotlight in the paper in a small town I can faintly remember. I’ve only moved twice in my whole life, and that was the first home I lived in. The blurry old photo didn’t show enough details for me to recollect much, but the nostalgia hit me like a freight train.

The articles were paid off backstories for my family to fall into. They were Vought employees and they didn’t just give me Compound V, they agreed to an experiment. Something different and from what I just read, deathly. My whole body is shaking as if I am sitting in the middle of a snow storm with no jacket to fight off the chill, but the storm is inside my heart.  Skimming through the journals over and over the sun begins to set in the background though my obsessive spiral.

Dr. Shetty, as in famous behavioral scientist and Dean of Godolkin University, Indira Shetty. My hunch might feel like a conspiracy, but at this point I have nothing else to go on. Though, it is documented that she has worked under Sage Grove Center when researching her job history. With gut wrenching bravery I didn’t think I have I dial Dean Shetty’s office.

“Hello, this is Dean Shetty’s office, how may I help you?” An elegant and cheery voice on the other side asks.

“Who may I be talking to?” I whisper through a gravelly throat. I try to hold back my tears, but it seems I’ve no control of anything these days, my tears slowly trail down my face.

“Dean Shetty’s assistant Erica, so how can I help you?”

“U-um I would love to set up an appointment with her, tomorrow if possible. I’m a psychologist for The Seven currently. Because of this I’ve been wanting to speak with more like minded people who work to service Superheroes’ mental health.” I push out with an obviously forced cheery voice.

“Oh, Dr. Bennett, you’ve been the talk of Godolkin University as of late. I’m sure she will be able to fit you in her schedule tomorrow. Let me see…” She trails off with the clickety clacking of a keyboard on the other end. “Yes, yes does one in the afternoon sound good to you Dr. Bennett?”

“That’s perfect. Thank you Erica.”

“Of course, Dr. Bennett.”

That was too easy. The chills of foreboding wracks my body once again, the urge to flee rattling in my bones. I look up to see it's night already, almost no one is in the park. The day has flown by before I even knew it. I walk tiredly out of the park’s entrance and stumble inside a cab. I decide no detours is for the best. I know my dad said I should talk to them right after reading the file, but I just can’t. The day’s drained everything out of me and I need my bed pronto.

I sleepily stumble into my apartment in a zombie-like state and I ready myself for bed. I turn my phone off needing a break from everything . Now in my pink silk pajamas I embrace my soft bed with complete glee, curling into it with a content sigh.

“John, of course you can have a hug.” A soft warm embrace before the warmth felt sticky and oozed. The cloying pressing fear clogged my senses, my heart wouldn’t stop beating a mile a minute.

“ Not so tight, John.” Crack. Snap. The sharp hollow feeling inside me feels insatiable. “J-John, please!”

The crash of glass wakes me up from the foggy nightmarish memories I’ve had locked away in my head. I jump from my bed, stumbling and tripping from being entangled in my blankets. I squint in the dark as a big figure moves, I scream. 

“Daphne! It's me…” Homelander’s deep timbered voice seems far off and his voice holds a note of embarrassment. I decided to ignore the broken terrace door and focus on slowly turning on the lights, not giving him my back, as if he was a wild animal. He kind of is in a way, at least as unpredictable one. I got to the fridge and got two glasses out with a silent patience I knew would grate on his nerves. I grab the milk and pour it in each glass with as much grace as my groggy sleep-addled brain could muster. 

I finally look him over, he’s in his suit again and the scowl he wore now reminded me of when I first met him. He looks like he’s in a state of flux. His red sand dune of a mindscape couldn’t decide if it wanted to destroy everything around it or be still and silent. I place my hand on his, trying to quiet the storm inside him so he can just breathe.  

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you think I’m pathetic?” Homelander’s question makes me jump, as if burned.

“You're not pathetic, John. I think you're strong, and not only on the outside, on the inside too.” I say with the full force, yelling in indignation for him. I hand him a warmed up glass of milk as I do this, a small smile breaks his dark expression. Relief floods my soul like no other as he sips the glass, his tense shoulders relax.

“Do you want to sleep here?” I offer, his eyes flash and leave feeling like a bug pinned to a board.

“Yes, but I want the bed.”

“O-okay let me get you something comfortable to sleep in.” I leave Homelander standing in the center of my open floor plan, awkwardly sipping on his warm milk. I came back from the cubby closet with a similar outfit I gave him last time, courtesy of my dad again.

As he changes I grab an old afghan that my grandmother made me over ten years ago from my closet and lay on the top of my bed. I curl the blanket around me, mimicking the look of a caterpillar. He comes back in with his changed attire, but he stops mid-step looking at me with amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“Are you okay sleeping in the same bed?”

“Yes, it's fine. I’ll sleep on the top of the covers so your virtue may stay intact.” I yawn out feeling loopy tired at this point. Homelander snorts, slowly sliding into the bed, looking ready to bolt if needed. Silence surrounds us like the comforting dark, and what feels like an odd dream, I relax into Homelander’s presence. I can feel my eyes slowly close.

“Daphne…” I jerk up surprised to hear Homelander’s faint voice through the darkness.

“Yeah?”

“You can call me John when it's just us.”

“O-okay. Goodnight, John.” I whisper back, just as sleepy as a second ago, but for some reason my heart would not stop pounding in my chest.

______________________________________________________________

Visit the AO3 website if you want to keep up to date with the most recent updates!

[zorilleerrant]

I'm not really worried about AI art. I think it'll either fade out pretty quickly or be modified in a way to make it a functioning part of the art ecosystem without stepping on toes (or destroying the environment). What worries me is how this is all interacting with what's supposed to be factual information.

Like, oh, it's trained on omegaverse, haha that's so funny, but like. Yeah, it's trained on a lot of fiction, that has a lot of gore and violence and bigotry and sexual content of all stripes and substance abuse and satire and recognizable names of people and places and things that exist in the real world. And like... if someone writes a fic where some restaurant chain is making food out of human meat, that could be interesting or not your thing. If google ends up thinking that's real? We've already seen it get massively confused over recalls, so what if it thinks the fictional drug someone invented is actually in some food product, and everyone believes it.

What I'm worried about is that people are already using generative AI to try to do their homework, or research, or the grunt work for their job. So what about when some reporter just inputs keywords about a concert, and then the AI spits out sold to One Direction fanfic, only they modified it to fit the keywords, and then they also modified it to fit the tone of an article. And it says One Direction is doing human trafficking. Only instead of One Direction, it's a kpop band selling someone to another kpop band. And then everyone just straight up believes it because they're asian.

Facts are being invented left right and center on purpose, and then even more people are looking for facts in the wrong places and like, it doesn't even have to be malicious. Fox News or whatever invents some bullshit and then something satires it and then google spits back the satire as if it's real news and then someone gets confused and asks for more of it. And a dozen people, trying to be helpful, repeat back what chatgpt told them about it. And we already know the models are chock full of racism and every other bigotry under the sun, and repeat them back. So what was something people were fighting against in journalism is going to come back a hundred fold, especially since people have less time and less money to actually be doing the journalism in the first place.

We've already see 'you can see it!' generated videos that people use in lieu of even a coherent story. It's been a longstanding thing people say that if there's photos/videos it must be true (which was always wrong, but) and now it's getting easier and easier to make things and try to claim they're something. People won't even count the fingers in the images. You can tell them the edges blur but they've already gotten outraged about whatever it is without even checking. Hell, the obviously photoshopped cranberry bog dolphins already get people! The bonsai kittens got people! And now these things can be generated so fast with more angles and even in motion, and like. Nobody teaches fact checking in schools anymore, and nobody ever taught how to unlearn implicit bias.

So when, instead of picking up some artist's style, the art looks like a normal newspaper photograph, when instead of mimicking some fanfic author it's set to bring you the calm and authoritative tone of some reporter you trust already, it's going to snowball. It's going to work a few times, and everyone who still employs journalists is going to fire them and be like, wow, this is easier, this is faster. And it's probably going to happen in the next few years. That's what I worry about. That's why I think we need the regulations.

At least the art isn't supposed to be real.

[sol-child]

彼女のアリバイの影。

“No, no, no...” “It wasn't me.” “It was the shadows.” “I didn't do it..”

In front was a peculiar institution. On top, in afloat light reflective curls, waved the fragile roof tiles. It appears to be an abandoned building; similar to those depicted in the movies. It brings back memories of such intense infusion of feelings, that it has become both the anemone withered garden and the weathered oak settee in my soul. I delved within, seeking solace, for in stagnant depths, my essence found no tether. There is a silence in my soul; I am falling leaves under frost. I feel the intense sensation in my blood, the coldness halting the synapses in my brain. The counselor declares my state, as a whisper of stability. No hallucinations. No paranoia. No nightmares. Amidst the court-sanctioned treatment facility under supervision, I lingered. Another counselor, at the threshold, advanced with a grin, extending a hand in salutation. I noticed that he had the posture of a soldier, yet his visage bore an unwell hue, and his gaze, wide and unblinking, fixated upon me.

“Can you tell me about your hallucinations? What do you call them?” “Shadows.” “And you still see them?” “No, I haven't for a while.”

I dashed to the woods, cloaked in darkness, where trees were veiled in a fine mist that I could barely see. The night had grown chilly and quiet; cradled me with an eerie embrace. Night time of nuanced hues find solace in the sky, the fairly constant gleam of the evening. From the far side of the woods, emerged the shadows. Black clouds flickering with lightning. Hear the sounds of a plethora of nocturnal ghosts, of those within the hug of grey-shadowed night. I ran, chasing their fleeting trail, but they vanished into the horizon's mysterious haze, and the scenery of the amber glow kisses the ground as the sun expands its golden arms.

“So tell me, how was your first week here?” “Fine.” “No incidents to report? Visions? Nightmares? What about your shadows?” “No. I didn't see them.”

We were hanging out in the cabin. He stood there, then they appeared—shadows grander than ever. Everything exploded in a flash. And I do not know how, but I was outside and he did not make it. The whole cabin was on fire. There I was, like fireworks, eternally trapped in that brief moment after the blast, frozen. I am somber squeal, that is cacophonous but you can hear it with your eyes if you dare to look.

“What was that?” “Where is he?” “I don't know. I'm so sorry.” “What happened? What did you do?! You freak!”

The burning campfire was a work of heat and light poetry. He watches the sea, lost in the rhythmic percussion of waves on sand. His gaze is fixed on the horizon, his face lit up by the last orange rays before nightfall, a tangible whisper of the stars to arrive. The sheer black of these nighttimes with him was a reassuring presence, or so I thought.

“Don't touch me.” “What are you doing?” “Relax.” “Stop. Stop. Get off!”

I have lost faith in the karmic cycle, let me be ahead of this humanitarian cycle. Let me have those powers vested in karma, for karma will take its time to restore its radical ecosphere. Fire started, with my bare hands, bathing in the pleasant sight of his powdery residuals. My vendetta would be eternally lasting even in the afterlife. My mind, now draped in shadows, surviving on the charred remains of who I once was. Nothing exists within these embers to spark anew. I feel like the world is not there at all like it was stolen and replaced with something empty, photoshopped, and fake. I felt attached to it, as if I were a part of it. But either it was stripped away or was I? All I can do is hover into nothingness. Hereafter is a bottle of klonopin and a soothing hot tub, hoping my body liquidates enough to rinse all these emotions down the drain. His demise, a consequence of something awry within me. It was never ‘the shadows’; it was always ‘my shadow.’

[teenmomcentral]

Jenelle Evans is still standing by her man.

The fired Teen Mom 2 star gushed about her husband David Eason in a new post to social media on Friday, praising him for “protecting” her and proclaiming that they will be “just fine." The couple has been at the center of plenty of drama lately, from David’s pending charge of child abuse for his alleged assault on Jenelle’s oldest son Jace, to the recent accusations that David had been texting his ex-wife Whitney Rich and proclaiming he was “dreaming” of her, among other things.

Mr. and Mrs. Jenelle Evans seemingly got all gussied up and headed down to the local mall’s “Glamour Shots” location to pose for “happy family picnic” pics together.

In the black-and-white shots (which have no photographer credit), Jenelle looks lovingly at her employment-challenged soulmate, as David stares dead-eyed off-camera.

In another photo, David has his girthy paw wrapped around Jenelle’s neck and collarbone, as he and Jenelle both close their eyes (surely dreaming of all the fun times they’ve spent together in courtrooms).

In the final shot, Jenelle closes her eyes in fake laughter as she admires David’s chain necklace (which was surely purchased from the Vanilla Ice Insta-Rapper Collection). David, again, stares off-camera with a vacant look.

“No matter where I go I’m loved by you, no matter where we are you always make me laugh,” Jenelle wrote. “No matter where we are you know how to take away my anxiety, no matter where you are you don’t let anyone walk all over me, no matter where you are you protect me. Let them say whatever about us because we will be just fine. I love youuu babeeeee.”

In the comment section of the post on Facebook, David responded to Jenelle’s love note.

“Awwwe don’t make me cry,” David wrote. “I love you so much and I will always be there for you no matter what!”

While David appreciated the love letter, Jenelle’s followers were not impressed, with some reminding Jenelle that, just a few months ago, she was on Facebook accusing David of stealing her debit cards, making her depressed and refusing to work. Others brought up some of David’s unsavory past actions, such as Jenelle’s 911 call from 2018 in which she accused David of abusing her.

“No matter when she calls 911 to say you broke her collarbone she’ll forgive you,” one person wrote. “No matter which children get hit with sticks, locked in cars and strangled she will stay with you. No matter how many times you contact your exes or random girls she will want your Vienna sausage. True love story.”

“Every time I see pics of them I feel like we’ll see them one day on the First 48 [crime show],” another person wrote.

“Wasn’t it just a few weeks ago you were posting about unsupportive he is and how he’s the cause of your anxiety?” someone else commented. “And he was the reason you had no friends… Ohhh how the tables have turned!”

As The Ashley previously told you, David and Jenelle are currently being investigated by CPS. While Jace has been removed from their care and is now living with his grandma Barbara Evans, Jenelle’s son Kaiser and the couple’s daughter Ensley remain on The Land. (As The Ashley reported earlier this week, David’s older daughter Maryssa comes and goes from The Land.) 

In addition to the slobbery soulmate tribute, Jenelle also posted a proclamation to her website that the text messages David allegedly sent to his ex-wife Whitney last year were “photoshopped.”

In a new story posted to her website, a writer who is absolutely, positively not Jenelle addressed the text messages and even obtained “exclusive” texts between David and Whitney during the time in question. According to Jenelle’s story, these prove that David never texted the things Whitney claims he did back in May 2022.

Jenelle even (somehow) managed to obtain an exclusive statement from David himself about how the text messages provided by Whitney are fake.

No. Seriously…

“I honestly think they are photoshopped because I have the real texts between Whitney and I,” David tells his wife’s website. “I have shown them to Jenelle and they are only pertaining to co-parenting.”

The website goes on to again accuse Whitney and her husband Shane of creating the text messages that were released.

“Many close sources to Jenelle and David Eason believe that Whitney Johnson and her husband, Kenneth Shane Rich, photoshopped the text messages that were submitted to The Sun a few weeks ago.”

[timpac-capstone]

Week 9

I showed my wall to my capstone advisor, Jeff, and while he was happy that I now have a story and with the progress I made since the last time we spoke he is a bit worried that I am putting all my eggs into one basket. I can see where he is coming from since I STILL have not done any digital animation and it's becoming more and more of a stressor on me. He suggested I watch Rejected by Don Hertzfeldt since this is a compilation of multiple simple animations, Jeff suggested that rather than starting where my storyboard begins I should first animate the embarrassing moments themselves and that way if I'm not happy with the narrative later down the line I still have these and can make a plan around it.

I just can't do it man, I can't get into digital art. It feels so uncomfortable every time I try to draw in Krita, Fire Alpaca, or Photoshop, and every time I try to actually sit down and try to learn it I get so frustrated when the line work still comes out so goofy no matter how many times I try a new brush, setting, or simply redoing it. I used one of the bigger tablets from the Fablab this time which was a lot more comfortable to use than the small one I have but I don't know, if I had the option to make this traditionally I would be seriously considering it right now.

Lately, I've been thinking back to the topic of growing up without a dad so I looked at some videos on YouTube and a lot of them, like this one from Joe Rogan, are about people who had their dad leave them instead of passing away. Obviously, there is a difference between how I feel about my dad and how these people feel about their dad, Joe and Erik hold more anger and animosity towards their dads because they betrayed their trust while I held a lot of anger towards myself because I felt like I wasn't making anything out of my life or because I didn't understand the concept of death at age 7. However, one thing that did resonate with me was how they described their loneliness growing up with a single parent. I think by age 9 or 10 my mom would start training me on how to take care of myself at home alone. I don't hold any animosity towards my mom for this because it's like Erik said, my mom was working hard on her own trying to make sure that I had everything I needed and then some but that meant we had to cut some costs such as a babysitter. I believe this is where my love for cartoons stems from, when I would be home alone I would constantly have the TV on Cartoon Network even when I wasn't in the room and that is because I would get extremely anxious when the house would be dead silent. The worst punishment my mom could give me as a kid would be no TV for a week, not because I would be bored for that week but because I would be so anxious that I wouldn't be able to function. Eventually I got over it as I got older, the sound of silence and being alone most of the day is the norm.

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A post shared by Terada Katsuya (@katsuyaterada)

So I was scrolling through Instagram the day before this event happened and I saw this ad called Manga in New York by Ginza Sony Park Project. It was an event at Studio 525 that brought 6 different Japanese artists, not necessarily manga artists, together so that they could create and display their manga in unique ways using Sony's technology. When I presented my wall to the guest artists their main critique was that I hadn't considered how I was going to present my animation during the exhibition. At first, I didn't really know what that meant because James Ring, an alumni last year who did an animation, just set up a TV and put the storyboards and sketches next to the TV which is what I was going to do. But after going to Manga in New York I can see what they meant, each manga here was displayed so differently from each other and because of that added to their individual experiences. The first manga, Interlude by Miku Masuda had the talk bubbles animated like animated manga on YouTube except each page had its own display screen so people could walk along the story rather than standing in place watching a slideshow on one screen. A Pilgrims Guide to Videogame by Takakurakazuki was the exact opposite, it only had two displays for two people who flipped through the pages with a joystick but the area in which it was placed in also had the comic printed on paper and hung along the wall with large pieces of art to go with the exhibit. Ueda and Sasami by Hikaru Ichijo also had its story printed out and displayed along the wall but behind the reader would be a giant Ueda with an animated Hamster inside her stomach. Dream Pill by Millennium Parade was the one I found the most impressive, the floor had a projection of water on it and if I stepped in the right spot the floor would rumble and the projection would make a splash, as if I was actually walking on water as I read this manga. A Guide by Masanobu Hiraoka, who is an Animator/Director, made a manga that had huge prints on each page and only certain panels beautifully animated on a huge TV display that really brought the vastness the manga was trying to portray in its story. Finally, Walker by Katsuya Terada had massive displays of his manga accompanied by background sounds like bird noises and rain sounds that you can faintly hear as you walk through his work. I also got the chance to see him draw live, unfortunately I only stuck around halfway through his live drawing cause I had other plans that day but this was a very insightful trip.

REFLECTION:

I don't know how I'm going to be an animator if I can't digitally draw the simplest of things. I'm not trying to give up just yet but Jeff might be right where maybe I should look into doing a series of shorts rather than just one singular narrative. Up until this point, I haven't gone on a museum trip specifically for my capstone, mainly because everybody else in the class seems to be busy so I would have to go by myself and I don't think I'll find anything useful in the museum regarding what I want to do for my project but I was happily proven wrong. When I left the museum an idea that I had for my capstone would be to play my animation on a CRT TV with two bags placed next to each other, one labeled embarrassing memory and the other happy memory. Audience members would then write down an embarrassing memory or a happy memory or both and place it in one of the respective bags and by the end of it, I wanted to see which bag got more filled up. But I will worry about how this will be displayed at a later date.

[mirukimary]

First of all, thank you Tia Lin for adding the screenshots/proof!

Second of all I wanna address some stuff that wasn't clear on my original post.

-

Reshade, GShade and Gposingway cannot generate AI pictures

I forgot a lot of people made the jump from GShade straight into Gposingway and don't necessarily know how these work. That's on me for not explaining!

If you go on reshade and scroll through the endless list of effects you'll find StageDepth.fx and Layer.fx. What these shaders (effects) do is act like a basic Photoshop layer. You load a picture (.png) there, then you can do some basic editing like scaling or changing the way it interacts with the 3D render. Can be stuff like making it show up in front of your character or behind them; or stuff like setting it to multiply, or overlay, etc. Nothing dangerous, nothing AI-generated.

So what happened on these presets was:

Preset creator either generated an AI picture themselves; or grabbed an AI generated picture off the internet;

Preset creator then brought that picture to photoshop or similar and exported it as a .png;

Preset creator then imported that .png using StageDepth.fx or Layer.fx as a decoration for their preset;

Congratulations! You now have a preset with AI textures to worry about!

There is no such a thing as pressing a key somewhere on these programs and the program AI filtering your gposes without you knowing, so anyone who's scared of that you can rest now! YOU DID NOT GENERATE AI PICTURES BY USING PRESETS. You're fine!

-

This post is not a call to harass the people mentioned, nor is it a pass to harass people who use their presets

Like I said, I was using Wi Fi until very recently without knowing.

Repeat after me:

Not everyone is tech-savy;

Not everyone can spot AI;

Not everyone will see these posts or any other "call-out"/"PSA" today, tomorrow, forever;

So BE KIND and assume they don't know.

Before blocking, maybe shoot them a message. If they don't care, then you can block/unfollow!

The reason I made that post wasn't so much to 'call-out' Leon and Wi-Fi, it was because of all of the people on the tags finding this out around the same time I did, and being terrified of coming under fire because they didn't know.

Also, if people decide to keep using these presets without the AI textures, i'd like people to give them some grace (aka: don't harass them, and don't expect them to imediatelly find a solution). The textures are the only AI-generated part of them, and making the jump from your fav preset to another takes time. I was using Angelite exclusively till DT murdered it, I would know LMAO

-

Be careful out there, and be kind to yourself too

GenAI is everywhere. This is why I think warning people, even privately, is the way to go.

It's in Gposes posted online; It's on presets; It's on mods; It's on art/gpose edit commissions... And in many other places I can't even imagine.

The time you get fooled WILL COME. So be prepared to be kind to yourself when it inevitably happens.

IT HAPPENS!!

It's fine.

-

This is also your call to uplift creators who DO NOT use GenAI

Doesn't need to be on this post.

Make an habit to disclose the shaders that you use & the mods that you love!

Reblog/Retweet/Reshare gposes and edits! We have so many talented but underappreciated people in our community! Take any energy you have to harass others and turn that into strenght to show appreciation instead.

-

Originally had it on the tags, but here are some AI-free presets to quickstart your journey:

CandlePresets: This is the one I use most! Retired, but updated all of their 116 presets for DT before doing so. Perfect for a 'dreamy' effect! Linktree.

Elvashade: Another one I use sometimes, has a more 'clean'/'unedited' look. Seems to be safe! The Glamour Dresser

And here are others I found floating around that seem safe:

VanityShade's Ko-Fi

Kore's Ko-Fi (slight warning for pin-up screenshots on their shop!)

just a quick note and not directed at anyone in particular, but if i see anyone using ai or ai-adjacent face filters in their gposes thats gonna be a block from me

[heckyeahponyscans]

Hey folks, I live in Seattle and up till a couple years ago I lived on Capitol Hill. I still have friends living there.  So I thought I’d provide some local insight into the CHAZ (Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone).

There is a lot of misinformation out there, especially from Fox News, which photoshopped a gunman into pics, wow.

First, the best resources to find CHAZ info are local to Seattle: The Seattle Times, Capitol Hill Blog, and the CHAZ livestream where you can see the streets for yourself.

Capitol Hill is a very densely populated neighborhood full of apartment buildings and bustling restaurants and bars. If you work there, you live there (because it is hard to navigate by car, like NYC), and if you live there, you are probably super liberal. It’s also the center of counter-culture and LGBTQ culture in Seattle.

Are the protesters terrorizing the locals?

No, the protesters ARE the locals. They live in the many, many apartment buildings on Capitol Hill.  Having lived there for years, believe me when I say “fuck the police” is a prevalent opinion there even when there isn’t a nationwide protest.

Is there looting?  How are businesses protecting themselves?

The businesses are not being looted; they are open and are doing a booming business. The supply chain hasn’t been broken so they aren’t running out of goods. Also, a lot of workers / business owners ARE protesters.

I saw a picture of Seattle on fire!

Actually you saw a picture of a protest in Minnesota that Fox News pretended was Seattle because they are frauds and shills.

How big is the Autonomous Zone?

Six square blocks.

How did this situation come about?

There was a peaceful march.  The mayor abruptly set a 5 pm curfew.  The protesters ignored it and marched anyway.  Then the police set up barricades to stop the march.  The cops started using tear-gas and flash-bangs and the situation devolved from there. (You can find videos of this on Capitol Hill Blog.)  What prompted the tear-gas was . . . one of the protesters thrust a pink umbrella over the barrier.  Yes, really.

The situation deteriorated for several days/nights running until the police abandoned the East Precinct on Capitol Hill. The violence was very one-sided: the police attacking the protesters.

Then the police left.  From what I heard the mayor ordered them out due to rumors or fears that the police station would be burned down? Which didn’t happen.  Anyway, they abruptly left.  As in, hired a literal moving truck and emptied out their headquarters, in almost a comedic beat.

Do you have to show your ID to enter the Autonomous Zone?

No.  People come and go freely.

What’s with the physical barriers then?

They’re to keep vehicles out. 

Backstory:  While the protests were ongoing, a guy (whose brother was an East Precinct cop) tried to ram his car into a crowd of protesters.  A brave man eating a hot dog threw himself at the side of the car, grabbed the steering wheel through the open window, and stopped him. Whereupon cop-brother-car-man shot him with a gun.

Personally I think cop-brother-car-man was planning a mass shooting because he had extra ammo taped to his hoodie sleeve. You can see the blue tape on his arm in the pic above. (The man who was shot thankfully survived.  Check out those brave medics tending him while an ACTIVE SHOOTER is standing feet away!)

But anyway, that’s why there are barriers. I believe they move them aside for approved vehicles, like emergency vehicles or deliveries.

Are there people with guns roaming around?

Not on a regular basis, although I’ve heard a local gun club had some members there one night when it was rumored the Proud Boys (a Nazi group) might show up.  (They didn’t.)  But in general, no.

Is it scary??

No.  The neighborhood is fully on board and overall there is a festive atmosphere.  There are speeches about BLM, about discrimination, about what people want for the neighborhood.  There are first aid stations, medics and counselors, and people offering free pizza.  If you watch the livestreams, you can see people walking their dogs, out with their kids, etc.

Where will this all end?

I don’t know.  The barriers can’t stay up forever and I think everyone knows that.  The “Autonomous Zone” name is tongue-in-cheek, the protesters aren’t actually trying to secede from the United States.  The point of all this is to force the city to listen to the people in the neighborhood, to enact change.  This is a boiling over of frustration.  The police have never been good-faith neighbors on Capitol Hill.  And Seattle police have always been pretty racist and had a problem with excessive force.

Look at this whole situation.  All the police had to do was stand back and let the protesters march; they would have marched and gone home and that would be that.  All the police had to do was nothing.  Instead they turned a neighborhood into a warzone.

By the way, did you know that yesterday (6/12) in a different Seattle neighborhood 60,000 people marched to support BLM?  And because the city had learned its lesson about dumbass curfews, they let everyone march and nothing bad happened.

Weird how the national news didn’t report on that march, huh?  Almost like they cherrypick the protests that will appear “scary” to their audience.