#this is how 8 year olds mark their territory

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

     Time runs thin as your chances for survival narrow. The search for water and escape turns tensions high.

TW: Freaky ass..... You can't say that to women, Mark.

[Part one] [Ao3] [7] [9]

8 * Heatdeath [7.2k]

"You try desperately to keep it,

Not to protect it but to hoard it,

To keep it away from the other wolves,

And jackals circling your territory."

Sewerslvt - Ecifircas

        He could no longer see the brightest star through the window. The asteroid had drifted too far. It had come into view on the left side of his cell, the newest thing to look at. A planet or supernova perhaps. He'd imagined the heat of a star's explosion on his marred skin. Death coming to cool the heat. An alien planet full of nine legged creatures and rivers of sap. 

        The imaginings were worse than the torture sometimes. Knowing he couldn't know. Stuck in this black walled room until his inevitable execution because he'd never turn to the Viltrum Empire. Even if it killed him.

        Betrayed by his father. Thrown in this metal hell for not wanting to enslave his friends back on Earth. Tormented by his fellows. Sometimes the very man that put him there. Two times the planet had passed his window since they injected him full of Klaxus venom. An experimental new technique that made his skin slough off in bloody sheets. It left him writhing around on the gray floor, smeared brown as it dried. How he'd wished for death when he watched his own scalp slip down past his eyes. Plopping onto the floor, hair and all.

        The supersuit he'd come in was gone. They'd forced him into the Viltrumite prison uniform while he was unconscious. As an act of cruelty, after his umpteenth rejection, father came with his old mask. Blue with black lenses, the face of who he had been. Forced it over his head and doused him with more Klaxus venom, this time over his head instead of directly into his blood.

        The fabric melted, infecting his wounds for weeks but the lenses sunk into his bubbling, melted muscles, all the way down to his skull where it fused to the bone. He laid on the ground, unmoving for days. Without the energy to rip them out of his healing skin. 

       The door didn't slide open, but boots came down on the floor. He didn't turn. Sure he'd hallucinated the sound. These days he heard a lot of things, missed plenty more. 

        "Mark Grayson." A voice he hadn't heard. New guard, he guessed. "I'm here to help."

        He hadn't believed what Angstrom Levy said. Not at first. Then he brought him down to Earth and saw what had been done. A utopia. No more cancer, no more war, as promised by the Viltrum Empire. But there was no you. 

        Dad had told him all this. After the first few years, he guessed years, he started to block it all out. He knew Earth had submitted to becoming a Viltrum breeding camp. That there was an initial rebellion that ended with millions killed. That while you were never counted among the rebels, Nolan nor any other Viltrumite had found you dead or alive.

        He had Angstrom take him to your home- gone and replaced with Viltrum architecture. To your favorite spots, gone and replaced. Then he took him to your grave, where he finally believed. 

        "We can fix this." Angstrom said as he crumbled at dirt. No proper headstone but a hastily carved plank. Done quick and dirty by fellow rebels. "The world doesn't have to be this way." He barely listened as he dug up your grave. He needed to be sure. "I can bring this world back along with her."

        Bones wrapped in ratty clothes. Mostly eaten away by bugs. The smoking gun? The promise ring you insisted you'd lose. The very same one he put a thin chain through and draped around your neck, never to be lost. 

        ***

        The shade wasn't enough. Significantly better than lying in the sun, yes, but you were still burning alive. 

        Those who hadn't gone missing or blasted into the freezer of space had left. Searching for food, water, resources, an exit you somehow missed. Your hopes weren't high for anything but more garbage. 

        All except Gray. Sitting on his sheet, knitting together more scraps. To keep you cool for when the sun apexed in the midday, and the lean of the tent offered no solace. He didn't talk, so you didn't either. It was almost nice to not feel the need to explain yourself in order to live. No threat or memory or promise dangled in front of your face, just quiet companionship. 

        Despite doing nothing but laying starfished on the ground, you were the thirstiest you’d ever been, your muscles aching like you'd been running. Just sitting up made you wobble. Gray glanced up before going back to work, not one to nose about. You turned away from him to remove the helmet, feeling the humidity disperse from your face. 

        Gray watched, going stiff when you turned. "Take that off." He had dropped his net of garbage and pointed to the black encasing your body. 

        "What? You wanna ogle at me?" Thirst dulled the bite you wanted the words to have. Dulled your anger, but not your stubborn will. Because you knew he was right, but you couldn't imagine not wearing it when the others returned.

        He stared into you, like he was trying to drill his thoughts into your head, but didn't say them aloud. It was creepy, and you were baking, so you say, "Turn around." Wishing there was power to use, but finding none.

        He does and you get to work.

        The strapped on chest plate comes down to the makeshift floor with a clatter. Gray looks up to find you already peeling the bulletproof armor off over your head, sweat coating the inside, pulling your tank top up with it. For a moment you're caught, thrashing weakly until you could get the thing over your head. Tank top slipping down to cover exposed skin. 

        Your arms and shoulder blades were bare and slick with sweat, the section he'd seen of your back was drenched too. Gray knew enough of human biology, thanks to his mother, to know that it was too much sweat. You were experiencing heat exhaustion, and if you didn’t get some water you were going to get heatstroke. He looked to the sky for the others, hopefully for water, for anything they could cool you down with. You forced the boots off your legs. Fight the pants down while jumping around under the tent, nearly revealing your whole ass to Gray who doesn't entirely look away. Bodies were bodies to him but he knew it was a human taboo to look upon another nude. Still. Your ass? Was very nice.

        He does not comment. Looks away when you glance at him in a panic, hoping he didn't see your ass. He did, but you didn't need to know that. 

        You starfished again. Chest heaving with the simple effort of taking off your outer clothes. At least you had the foresight to take the soldiers tank top and shorts. Lest you be out in your underthings. God, you could only imagine what those creepy shits would say. Except you really couldn't, your thoughts mostly consisting of a dull want for something to drink, to eat.  

        You awkwardly crawled, still on your back toward the crumpled pants. Going for the pockets, that you'd restuffed after Omni left. For the codeine. 

        The pants are kicked away. Gray didn't know exactly what lean was, but drugs with dehydration were a recipe for death. You started to sit up in protest, but his hand was firm on your chest, pushing you to lay back down.

        "Stay."

        "I'm gonna fucking die without it." You groaned, clawing at the silky ground. Always shifting at the slightest tough. So warm, even under the dark of your sweat-soaked back.

        "You can survive five days without hydration at this rate." He said it evenly, as if you weren't halfway there, getting up to move the pants a little further out of reach. As to not tempt you.

        In the mean time, you gathered up the collar of your tank top and started to squeeze it over your mouth. Disgusting, yes, but that sweet, salty water would grace your lips any second.

        A hand gently moved yours down. The squeezed sweat sinking back into your shirt as you whine. "That will make things worse." Gray says. "It has only been two days, you are fine." He didn't mean it in a condescending way, but it sure felt that way. You glared at him, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

        Day two began to dusk. 

        Mohawk was first to return. He tossed out insignificant fabric scraps to add to the pile.

        "All I got." He grunted, trudging toward you before pausing and really taking in the scene. Above you another swath of trash fabric had been laid, making a roof of sorts for the tent that Gray was still securing. Then there was you, splayed out, heaving, most of your shiny skin on display. Clothes neatly folded and hidden behind the scrap pile by Gray.

        He had Gray by the throat in an instant. "You motherfuc-"

        His hands were yanked off, body flipped, as Gray's strong arm locked around his neck, cutting off his airflow. Voice quiet in his ear, "She was overheating. Behave." Gray released him in a shove.

        Mohawk spun around, bristling, ready to unleash his pent up frustrations. But his eyes landed on you again. For a moment he thinks Gray's a liar because of the marks on your skin. Those were not on his version of you. They had to be scratch marks or hickeys from a Mark Grayson that was not him.

        His fists clenched, "I'll-" It clicks. Those were not marks of sex but scars. All the anger towards Gray was forgotten, redirected to whatever had done all that to you. 

        Mohawk landed cross-legged beside you, readying questions. "Hey."

        You didn't reply. Breathing even, lips parted, eyes glued shut. He regretted opening his fat mouth for once, scared you'd wake. He knew you needed sleep, that you were fragile.

       He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen your face in sleep, so peaceful. He wanted to talk to you. To know what you were thinking, even if it was that you hated him. 

        His eyes careened over the exposed flesh. Noting and theorizing what these new markings were. A slit on the side of your upper thigh, indented and lighter than the rest of you. A stab wound? A narrow, dark circle one above your right knee, two identical marks above the hem of your tank top and your collarbone. Low caliber rounds from a distance. Pot shots from a human gun. Anything designed under his empire would've blown your body to pieces. There were others, here and there, none as bad as the first. 

        In your restless sleep you shifted. Groaning. Eyes twitching but not really opening. Tank top riding up your abdomen.

        There's no way. Looking at it gave him vertigo. Dropped him right back into memory. 

        You seizing in his arms. Brain gone into unconsciousness, unable to hear his apologetic pleas. Hands twitching and flexing in your mess of shredded guts. Gone into shock. 

        It was his fault as much as it was yours. You could've been an empress. Could've had the universe in your palm as you'd had him. Hell, he assigned all his best scientists and doctors to find a cure to your infuriating mortality. Planned to properly propose with the big reveal. But no, you had to be mortal and moral, play the long game under his nose. 

        He'd thought when you agreed to come to Viltrum with him after he took over Earth, killed his father, and found out about his royal linage- that was it. You'd be his forever. Complacent and happy, his on-off high school girlfriend.        

        You were so annoyingly against the killing but still stuck by his side. He thought it meant something. That your mind would catch up with your heart soon enough. 

        He had found the datapad by accident. Hidden under your shared mattress he never flipped with sheets he never tucked. He'd thought he'd lost his hairgel, that someway, somehow it lodged between the bottom mattress and springboard. He lifted the thing to find your datapad. The logs broke his heart.

        You'd been in communications with The Coalition of Planets. Feeding them information so they could launch an attack. When you'd returned from your daily walk around the ship he lunged, grabbing you from behind in a squeezing hold that burst your guts out your lower belly. In his rage, he forgot how fragile you were. He hadn't the chance to ask why you'd betrayed him. Just tried to hold you together as the medics teleported in.

        He'd crushed too many bones, burst too many organs and blood vessels. They couldn't save you.

        But there you were. A long smile of a scar going from upper hip, down below your belly button, to the other side of your pelvis. Gutted then stitched back together. Part of him felt you deserved it. Part of him was horrified that the same thing happened. Was it by your Mark's hand? By someone else? He didn't know and it killed him to not know who to blame. 

        One thing he knew. He was so happy you weren't a good person. Good people betrayed him. Bad people worked for him but he'd always know the backstabbing was coming. This way he could coax you out of doing something stupid. And if you did again? This time he'd be ready.

        He didn't realize he was touching you, tracing the scar, feeling your skin through his gloves. Skin to skin would be too much all at once. He'd burn right out like bad bulb. 

        Your hand moved before your eyes opened. Grabbing at his wrist, lips already twisting to a frown. "What do you think you're doing?" You say and God- there's those pretty eyes of yours. Set on him with murderous intent, it gave him butterflies.

        "Jus' checkin' under the hood. Seein' if everything’s working right." He didn’t, hovering over you. Wanting you to magically remember what you'd had together. But maybe leave out all the bad parts, like him killing you. 

        "Get off." You hissed.

        "That an order?" The piercing's under his bottom lip glint in the light. Like two silver fangs had grown from it. 

        Gray comes from wherever he'd been. Hovering beside you both, looking down his nose at Mohawk, who laughs, "Can't leave a tasty piece 'a ass out like this and not expect some flies."

        A sharp kick to Mohawk's jaw sent him cartwheeling back into the air. He steadied himself quick, "That's how you wanna play it?" He shot forward, fists first. Gray left your side, met him halfway. Mutual impact cracked the air like a balloon, dunes reformed under the pressure. The supports of the tent started to slide. 

        The pair was a blur overhead. Meeting with fists and feet. Mohawk hurled insults while Gray said nothing, power speaking for him. Mohawk had been raised from an early age to be a Viltrumite conqueror, but Gray had from birth and it showed. 

        You didn't watch. Focused on keeping the tent frame from collapsing. 

        "What are those idiots doing?" Hissed a voice from behind. 

        You turn, gripping the trash fabric to keep it from blowing away. Emperor was there, arms crossed, scowling, not helping whatsoever. He brought back nothing and telling by the pinch of his brow, no good news. 

        "Mind doing something before they destroy camp?" You snapped.

        His attention finally sets to you. Your ass in white shorts staring right at him- or was it the other way around? The expanse of your back, a divot sunken under a shoulder blade, its twin under your collarbone. 

        Memories try to pull him away. You in thin evening wear, the finest in the galaxy. In his Martian silk sheets. They say never to shit where you eat, never fuck a human rebel. You'd been kind to him in school, before his powers bloomed.  The other children hadn't been, they somehow singled him out as strange, alien, but not you. That was why he didn't kill you. Brought you back with him, made you the best concubine an interplanetary emperor could have. And like all good concubines, you almost got him killed. Ungrateful wretch.

        It was hard being mad when you looked so good. 

        "Hey!" You barked at him. "Just gonna stand there?"

        He had trained the attitude out of you early in his world, and you were asking for a repeat. 

        His eyes narrowed under the lenses, "Don't talk to me like that."

        Tracksuit landed at the perfect time. Right between the two of you. "What's with all that?" He pointed to the sky, where the fight had moved into the upper stratosphere. 

        "Move." Emperor snapped.

        Tracksuit looked down, mask fluttering, revealing a sliver of his jaw. "Uhm? Hello to you too."

        "Move." He said again. Sure, he could instantly have your throat in his hands, but it was about the principal. The power he had over you with barely any effort, the fear of what he could do. Making Tracksuit move without violence would only cement that. 

        Tracksuit stayed put. "Man, I don't give a shit about your girlfriend's dumbass clothes or whatever." He did appreciate the view from behind his lenses. Oh, he really, really appreciated the view. Not that he'd say it. 

        Emperor reeled his fast back and delivered it forward. Only to be caught by Tracksuit with a laughed out, "Really, dude?" Before a punch, a real punch sent Emperor into the sand like a mole. He didn't come back up. 

        "That didn't happen by the way." He said to you. "Don't want your fuckin' boyfriend gang to rock my shit thinkin' I was protecting you. Wasn't by the way. Guy's just a fuckin’ pain."

        "Already made it very clear I hate all Mark Graysons." You tried to put things back in place, though the tent had fallen into a valley of a dune and was no longer sitting on top. Half of the gathered supplies were missing, probably launched to the other side of the dune while you fell the other way. 

        "And those guys made it very clear they don't care. Honestly, if I was you I'da made a run for it by now." He leaned back, looked to the sky where the fight raged on. "Won't stop ya if you do. 'S one less mouth to feed."

        "There's no food to feed." You said before leaving. You went to find the scattered scavenged materials, making small trips holding far less than any of them could. Dropping the stuff in messy piles Gray would feel the need to organize later. So far you hadn't found your armor.

        Gray touched down. He held Mohawk's unconscious form over his shoulder, setting him down with no love or reverence. He was bleeding from the ears, nose cracked to the side, blood splattered down his lips. You watched as his chest rose and fell with a frown. Unfortunately for you, Gray wasn't going to waste precious extra hands, Mohawk was merely stunned. If Gray had wanted to do real damage, he'd be dead.

        Gray wouldn’t admit it, but Mohawk was quick. Gave him trouble. Difficult to get a solid crack on both his ears.

        Gray only allowed you to make the trips because they were small. Just over the dune and back and the sun had dipped, cooling the sands. He stayed at camp, organizing what you returned. Subtly, very subtly looking at your ass as you reclimbed the dune and disappeared out of sight.

        You slid down the other side of the dune, which would have been fun if you were hydrated and not starving. You began the task of plucking things from the sand, walking a few feet and bending over again. Your back ached, though you'd barely done anything. Everything ached. You were weak. The sun, the power drain, it was all chipping away at you.

        Your bare foot cracked against something hard under the sand. You kneeled to dust it off. Black reflected the red of the setting sun. The armor, thank God. During the day, heat was hell, but at night, you desperately needed to retain it. You uncovered the chest plate, then the slacks. Boots found after a little more searching. Helmet last, absolutely filled with sand. You shook it all out as the bitter cold of night starts to blow through the dunes. 

        "Making you work wearing just that? I didn't take the rest of me as voyeurs." His voice was teasing and self assured, it could be any one of them, but you felt a pit of fear.

         Turning confirms your fear, the fragmented smirk and the black and yellow suit. He was right behind you, the worst possible person to catch you alone in thin clothes. Lenses flicking with his head as he scanned your body up and down.

        "What did I do to deserve a view like this?" He laughs as you grab the chest plate, throwing it over your head, ready for it to slide down your arms and over your body. It never does. Scars snatched it, reeled it back, and threw it into the sky. "Nope." Scars laughs as you lunge for the pants, also thrown into the desert. "No way am I letting you cover any of this up." The boots are next but you catch the helmet. Effectively useless, but you put it on anyway. The only defense and defiance you had left. 

        "Ooh, that's cute, you really are scared of me." He says as you're trying to scramble up the side of the dune. Limbs moving too quick, only treading in place, not getting anywhere. He prowls closer with a click of his tongue. "Don't be shy." He croons it sickly sweet, "I'd never do anything to your perfect little face. Not like you did to mine. I'm not an eye for an eye kind of guy. You don't have to be scared."

        But you did have to be scared because he was being sarcastic. 

        Scars is a force of wind that knocks you back into the sand. In front of you, hand encompassing the helmet. Fingers dig into the metal, denting it before tearing the thing off. Flicking his wrist sending it burning fast into the atmosphere. 

        All you needed to do was get one of the other Mark's attention, "Hel-"

         Scars hand clamps over your mouth. "Ah-ah. I wasn't done looking." You feel his gaze burn down your body. The intake of breath he takes over your chest, a flush rolls up his cheeks. "God. I hate that you look so-" Drool rolled down the inside of his scar, pooling in his mouth. What the fuck? What the fuck? "Did I tell you what I did to you after you killed yourself? Nothing bad, promise."

        You bite his hand. Tasting days old blood on your tongue. 

        His hand doesn't move, he doesn't jump away, no, he leans closer to you falling into the sand with you and moans. "Fuuuck. You have no idea how much I needed that."

       There is an effect the sound has on you, Mark Grayson moaning because of you. A pooling in your gut that you suppress because fuck this Mark Grayson and not fuck this Mark Grayson.

        You punch him in the mouth to no effect. Bite down harder despite how you hate his moans, his hand pressing further into your mouth, tightening his hold. You can't help the feeling inside your body. You hate him so much. You just want him to die. Your hands wrap around his throat. Squeeze with everything you've got but he still breathes. 

        "Are you trying to get me going?" He breathes, pressing his body into yours, pushing you further into the sand. You see his eyes through the lenses he's so close, "Because all you need to do now is cry and I'll cum in my fucking pants." 

         He is grabbed by the cape and thrown. Your mouth is suddenly, graciously empty, but still you taste blood.

        Baldie heaves. "None of them could hear this shit?" Anger in his tone. You hadn't considered how close you were to camp. "I'll-" Scars returns with a cracking kick to Baldie's skull that sent him deep into the sand that already was sinking in around him.

        "Where were we?" 

        Scars took a single step before Baldie shot up directly under him. Fist to his balls. Rocketing them both to the air where the match turned heated. You watch, entranced until you hear a, "Woohoo! Yeah, beat his ass!"

         You climb back up the dune. Find the camp mostly empty besides Tracksuit and Gray.

        "Thanks for the help." You spit. Yesterday you'd told him not to help, but when you actually needed it, nobody was there.

        Mohawk would've if he wasn't still half passed out. Lensless thankfully wasn't there to add to the torment. Tracksuit didn't give a shit. Gray had been filling Tracksuit in on your condition because he'd asked, "What's with the broad's geddup?" The others were gone in the desert or space.

        Then there was Emperor who certainly wouldn't lift a finger for you. Too busy sitting in the sand. Bristling, but upon seeing two of himself in the camp instead of one- shelved the fight for another day. Sure if he fought Tracksuit for 'no apparent reason' the others would turn on him. He wasn't a coward, just calculating- he told himself.

        The fight wasn't stopping. They were wild men. Scars pissed about his blue balls. Baldie pissed about everything. Four years, Angstrom told him he'd been locked up. Four years of hoping you'd be alive. Four years you'd probably been dead. Not even a week ago, he'd held your bones. Now he was trying to keep himself together, play into the boy next door persona while being next to you. You needed someone normal. Not another broken freak humping your leg. With every strike of Scars fist, he felt the mask start to crack. 

        Lensless returned then, entered the tent in a trot. Oohing and ahhing at the show. Then he looked at you, sat on the ground. Skin lit by the fire Gray built while everyone else seemed to have lost their minds. Lensless sat himself next to you. Pressed his body to your side, practically purring, "Thank you God and Jesus."

        You tried to scoot away but his hand landed on your shoulder holding you there. Fingerless gloves letting him feel your flesh. His attention was all over. The low ride of the tank top. Your thighs. How ruined you looked after only two days in the desert. Pathetic! He loved it.

        His finger found that place under your collarbone. Pressed into the bullet wound indent, "Whoa, did this almost kill you?" The idea seemed to excite him very much. 

        "Get off." You say.

        "I'm trying." He replies. 

        Gray is by your side, ready to pull Lensless off in an instant. In the same instant Mohawk gasps, shooting upright and assessing the scene. He couldn't decide who to lunge at first. That sanctimonious asshole or the guy practically feeling you up. 

        Gray catches the movement, head snapping toward him like a robot. "Don't." The words are louder, firmer than he'd ever spoken. They almost make Mohawk want to listen.

        He's a bullet. Grabbing Lensless by the hair, catching Gray by the midriff, shooting them all through the tent fabric and into a spiraling brawl. 

        You fall to your side at the sudden lack of support. Watching the chaos. You wouldn't have to wait for your powers to come back. They were going to kill eachother for you. Which was... a little disappointing. You wanted to give the order.

        "Holy shit." Tracksuit laughed, mask half off his face. Revealing his curled lips and a septum peaking between his nostrils. He fumbled in his pockets, searching for the cigarettes which would make this all so much better. "This is awesome."

        "You!" Emperor flew into Tracksuit and they were gone into the fight. You were alone. 

         You feed the fire. Wait for it to end. Watch them all so close to eachother but keeping the fights separate. Sat so close to the flame, your shins started to sting with first-degree burns. It still wasn't enough. The night was cold, the fight long. Too many even matches. 

        Marks fall. Exhaustion, truce, death, you don't know but they keep dropping until there are none. They begin to drag themselves back to camp, bleeding, bruised, clothes torn. All of them bitter but understanding- fighting each other was not how they got out of this alive. There needed to be more hands on deck to find supplies to keep you alive. 

        Baldie was first back. Leaning hard to his right side. Saying nothing as he pulled off his clothes. Sitting by the fire covered in bruises, bleeding out his nose and slightly swollen mouth. He held out his jailhouse clothes to you. "Shouldn't get so many looks if you wear this."

        You hesitated despite your freezing condition. It smelled like him. Was soaked through with his presence. It was a gift from Mark Grayson.

        You take it because this is survival. Slip on the top then bottoms, both frayed on the edges. Better than nothing.

        You were instantly degrees warmer. His body heat stuck to the inside of the fabric, which slowly morphed to your figure. He sat, in his jail issue tighty whiteys. Muscle and scars all over. Your look lingers too long and he catches you with a sad smile. 

        "Weird, right?"

        "There being ten of you is weird. Scars are not." You say. You hated that help came from Mark Grayson to fight off Mark Grayson. You hated everybody and everything right about now but Baldie? He was slightly less shitty. So you vomit it up, "Thanks," while not meeting his eye, quietly hoping he wouldn't hear it. 

        He jolted, surprised. "You're-" he swallows nothing, throat closing up.

        "For earlier." You finish awkwardly.

        "You're welcome." The bleeding corner of his lip stretches into a smile.

        After that, silence. 

       Gray returned, followed feet behind by Mohawk. A taught truce between them, just barely holding together. Blood dried on the outside of both their ears. Gray's pristine outfit ripped and shredded at the knees. Mohawks hair drooped without the satisfaction of victory. They sit as far from each other as they can while staying by the fire, by you.

        Lensless came, dragging a knocked out Emperor by the ankle. His face combed through the sand. "Figured he'd be mad if we left him out there all night." He dropped the leg. Let Emperor stay facedown in the sand. He sat on the man's back, elbows on his knees to watch you but not making any moves. 

        Tracksuit landed beside you. Blood soaked through the mask where his nose was. He reached under the fabric, snapped the cartilage back in place with a cringe worthy crack.

        "So that was fuckin' crazy." He says into the edgy silence.

        Nobody is in the mood to reply. Paper thin peace ready to tear through.

        "All that over a bitch in a tank top." He shook his head, "I mean, not me though." He adds when the others tense, turning their bodies collectively toward him like a pack to pounce. "Man, we gotta get these boys some food they are huuunngrrry." The innuendo is thick in his accented tone. "Heyo, up top." He holds out a hand to you, knuckles burst open, callouses thick on his palms.

        You leave him hanging. He lets his hand drop, elbowing you in the ribs instead. "You geddit, come on."

        "Don't touch her." Gray's voice is like piano wire. Thin and sharp enough to slice necks. 

        Tracksuit's hands go up in surrender. "I'm fuckin' around dude, Jesus."

        Gray's forehead creases. The most expression you'd caught on him. 

        "Stop." You speak before he can. "Just stop. This is fucking ridiculous."

        The peace reseals over you all. A thin coating that won't last. You hoped the fighting was over. Gone out their systems like sickness. More for your sake than theirs. Watching them all was terrifying. Any one of them could've crashlanded crushed you. Accidentally flown by the camp so fast the sonic boom ripped you apart.

        You couldn't kill them all if you were dead.

        "Hey." From overhead. You crane your neck back. Scars is there, hovering over the camp, watching you through the hole Mohawk tore. He seems mostly fine, suit torn and one of his black lenses cracked open, his honeyed eye looking right at you. But no blood of his own. Whereas Baldie was bent over awkwardly, something inside him bruised and bleeding. "Just so you assholes know, we're not down two. They've been digging a fucking hole for two days straight."

        "Why didn't you lead with that?" Tracksuit asked.

        Only to be ignored. "Said they found something but didn't want to stop digging before the tunnel was secure." He came down through the hole. Settled directly behind you much to your terror. But he kept his hands and comments to himself. The others tensed at his very presence, muscles rolling under skin ready to defend you- but they make no move to get closer and neither did he. Nobody but Lensless wanted another fight but Lensless was getting way too much satisfaction from sitting on Emperor's back and staring at your boobies. The peace stays.

       Scars watched your back all night long.

        ***

        Morning comes with heat. Afternoon comes with fire. You burned alive in Baldie's thin prison clothes. Sweat out what hydration you had left into them. Laid in the shade. Vision blurring. Throat sandpaper.

        Gray had to explain to multiple versions of himself- ones raised on Earth who simply didn't care about things that never affected them- about heat exhaust in humans. They may need to start to consider more desperate options. 

        Baldie left to find the armor Scars threw, in hopes of finding the codeine stuffed into the pants as a last resort. The rest of them stayed, waiting for news from Maskless and Phantom. They watched as your condition worsened into the evening. You couldn't find the energy to reply to anything, no matter how gross and insulting it was. Even Scars didn't like it, much preferring his prey to writhe.

        Night fell over camp. Lensless talks of cutting open his wrists and letting you drink his blood to survive. Gray vetoes. Scars wonders why you're not fine, you're superpowered in this universe shouldn't you be invulnerable to stupid shit like this? You can't help the laugh bubbling out of your throat when Gray tells him this could kill you. Baldie does not return, hunt still on for your clothes. Mohawk keeps the fire going. Tracksuit and Emperor verbally circle each other. You get closer to death. 

        Day four. 

        No food. No water. No power. All heat.

        You can no longer open your lids for fear the water would evaporate out of your eyes. The Marks prowl. Speak. You do not process. You slip in and out of sleep or unconsciousness, everything feels the same. Dreams are incoherent lights. You feel the raw of your throat the whole time. 

        When you are capable of thought, you think about your wedding photo. What could've been. It makes you want to sit up, get better, just to kill them all. You can't move, but you can regret. 

        ***

        He was cutting it close being gone so long, but he had to try. The tunnel needed to be stable. Air needed to get inside and so did you. Viltrumites could force their bodies through hundreds of miles of sand, but your human body couldn't. 

        He raced ahead of Maskless who flew unhurriedly. "They'll be fine." He had said, not remembering you and your human fragility.

        When he saw the fire in the distance he barely slowed. To the others around the flames, he was a blur followed by a cloud of sand, obscuring their vision and smothering the fire. He scooped up your lain form, no explanation, no rationality, and turned right the fuck back around. You were worse than he thought. Why were you in someone else's clothes? Where had your armor gone?

        Questions that didn't matter.

        The other versions of himself shot up from camp. Snapped at his heels with demands and questions. But they were slow. Beat so much shit out of eachother they couldn't keep up. They could get an explanation later- you were dying. 

        He moved, faster, faster, until the skin on your cheeks started to chafe away in the wind. The cold dug in its claws. You shivered, unconsciously clinging to him, wriggled in his arms just to get a little closer, a little warmer.

        The hole was finally below. He snapped down, flew through the dark gap in the sand that started at half a mile wide and ended in a humansized pinhole. It had been the best they could do. 

        He put on the flight breaks. Other Marks thread the needle behind him, shouting, "What the fuck?!"

        He landed in a run, shifting you in his arms as he went. The cave was dark, musky with age and trapped humidity, but he could see well enough to find the pool. He knelt, flipped your body over his knee, and dunked his hand into the cold water. 

        Mohawk stopped himself before he pistoned his fist through Phantom's face. Realizing this wasn't a kidnapping, but a rescue. He watched as Phantom opened your chapped lips, holding your head up too gently, and poured water into your mouth. You coughed, involuntarily, spraying it on his mask. Phantom seems not to care. Dunking his hand in again, pouring. Your throat bobs. 

        The others land, figure shit out on their own. They converge on the pool, hands on knees, asses in the air. Desperately gulping at the pool like a pack of deer. Grunts and moans echoing off the cave walls. All save for Gray who watches as your body begins to cooperate. He will not drink until you are conscious. Then and only then will he let his guard drop a fraction.

        ***

        Darkness stretched around him. Cold sunk to the bone. Hair flat on his head as he flew, top speed. He was flinging through an empty abyss so complete he wasn't sure if his eyes were open or closed anymore.

        It'd felt like weeks, maybe a month. He'd been using the oxygen mask for awhile now.

        Nothing. He'd found nothing because Angstrom Levy had really done it. Found the perfect universe to leave his enemies. A universe completely collapsed into itself, sucking down the last remnants of life into a blackhole that stretched spacetime like taffy. 

        He'd found it, all thrumming heat hundreds of thousands of miles away from the planet Angstrom had dumped you all on. The all consuming, super massive, heat death of the universe. He'd searched every direction. There was nothing else but the planet, its sun, and the creep toward complete annihilation. 

        He had turned around days ago, but the closer he'd been to the singularity the weirder time got. Longer. A beard had started to prickle through his chin, poke at the oxygen mask. He hadn't the energy to angst about you anymore. All he wanted was to see you, to feel you, to know you were okay with those lesser-than freaks who wore his face. 

        God. Please don't be dead.

        ***

        You awoke feeling like shit. Staring into blackness broken up by a harsh ray of light cutting through the cavern. Illuminating floating sand specs. The floor was cool and solid under your back. You start to sit up and almost immediately pass back out. Hands catch your fall from behind. You can not turn your head to see who. 

        There is a gentle slosh then a black gloved hand is poised to your lips. Palm shimmering with sweet, sweet water. "Drink." You lunge forward as much as he'll allow, kissing the side of his hand. Suck the water down, mouth on his glove. A moan croaks out your throat. Those who had been sleeping, wake. Another palm-full of water is brought to your lips and the pattern repeats.

        "She'll live?" You do not look at the voice- Baldie. Too focused on the hand that came again to your lips.

        Behind you, Phantom nods. Baldie lets out a sigh. "Thank God. You guys, too I guess." 

        Maskless grunts. Sat in the corner, back on a sandstone stalagmite. Finally, he can rest after days of sand-wrangling.

        Around you, the world began to focus. Molasses slow, but progress nonetheless. You could make out brown-red walls. Uneven with the occasional oddly perfect spherical hole. You see the pool being drawn from, so deep the clear water ran black with shadow. See the men around you. Gray wore his loincloth thingy again, no longer needed for sand support. He returned with a party in tow, all of them holding pieces of your old camp to reset up here but better, sturdier, cooler. 

        Scars tossed the supplies into the growing pile. Walked to you and Phantom, grin stretching the gash in his cheek. "Look who's finally awake. I should'a thought of playing dead to get out of doing work earlier."  

        You swallow the latest handful of water and feel it. The power than had been torn out your body returning. Not all of it, but enough to make you smile back at him. 

        "Shut the fuck up."

        And for once, he does.

[atruththatyoudeny]

Happy 28th! Here are the fics I read in the last two months:

If you stay | kingofthefridaynight | [66k] “I might not look it, but I do know what hard work means.” Looking at him, Louis couldn’t help but wonder how in the world he would, with his soft curls, preppy hands, and the beautiful dress around his waist. Nothing about Harry screamed hard work; everything about him screamed sheltered, rich, and worst of all, spoiled. Just as he was about to leave, Louis couldn’t help but say, “Fine, but I won’t teach you to ride in a dress.” “You’d be surprised how well I ride in dresses,” Harry said with a smirk. Or, the one where Harry stays at Louis' ranch to escape the spotlight, there are chickens on the loose, disastrous riding lessons, baby lambs to play with, and a whole lot of falling in love.

Rogue omega | Loretheloner | [38k] Written for prompt 6 of the 1DAngstFest 2025: Louis is a rogue on the run from his birth pack, who want to kill him because he's a male omega. He ends up in the Styles pack's territory, trying to get away from his hunters. But it's too late--the alphas surround the exhausted omega and attack him. The last thing he sees, before he passes out, is a huge black wolf with green eyes. What a sight to die to. A story about prejudice, prophecies, and rejection. Also a story about kindness, resilience and soulmates.

Zero Complications | galactic_larry | [8k] Harry and Louis have only been on two dates so far, but things seem to be going great between the two of them. What happens when the third date ruins everything?

Too Young | jaerie | [18k] “Do you think it hurts to get a bond mark?” Louis asked one day. Harry shrugged. “We could bite each other to see what it feels like?” “Yeah, I want to know,” Louis nodded as he pushed himself back and forth on the swing just enough that his feet never left the ground. “Do you?” Or accidentally bonded as 8 and 10 year olds, Louis starts resenting Harry once they were old enough for him to realize what had been taken away from him and now they're roommates who fuck out of obligation

no matter where you are (no matter how far) | ceaseandexist | [35k] "You kind of have to be a little bit dumb to decide to climb Everest, I think,” Harry says. “Like at some point you should probably say to yourself, ‘Hey, this is really dangerous and expensive and stuff, and maybe I should just, like, become an architect or something.’” Louis cocks an eyebrow. “An architect, Haz? Is that your secret dream? You want to build --” “Shh,” Harry says, holding a finger up to Louis’s lips. “I’m trying to make a point. Just that, like, at some point, we all make a stupid choice to put our lives in danger, but that’s just part of why climbing this mountain is such an accomplishment, right? Because most people aren’t dumb enough to try.” Or: An Everest AU where Louis sets out to climb the tallest mountain on the world and meets a curly-haired guy named Harry who worms his way into Louis's life. It's not long before reaching the summit becomes the least of Louis's worries.

Tattoos and Temptations | refusethyname | [67k] “Love,” he drawled, the word dripping with sinful allure, “I’ve got tattoos that are older than you,” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper, his breath warm against Harry’s lips. Harry tilted his head, a teasing smirk of his own tugging at his mouth despite the rapid beat of his heart. “What can I say, I like experienced men.” Louis chuckled low in his throat, a sound that sent heat rushing through Harry’s veins. “Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, his hand sliding up Harry’s back to tangle in his curls. He tugged lightly, just enough to tip Harry’s head back and expose more of his neck. “You’re the one winding me up.”

Over-the-Ocean Love | blessin_n_curse | [30k] Harry is a single omega who has dedicated his life to teaching psychology at Oxford University. Louis is an alpha who left his life behind when it fell apart, only to start a new one with his daughter in rural Italy, where they both run a B&B. Prompt: Harry needs a change - a change of scenery and a change of luck. Ditching his place and items, he books an airbnb of his dreams for 3 months while he figures himself out. Louis owns the airbnb and tries to be respectful, but he can’t ignore the amazing omega that has come into his life so randomly. Especially when they start to chat in the evenings on the back patio, watching the sunset. Maybe the change Harry needed is right in front of him.

Your Fingers Read Me Like A Headline | paradise_is_getting_closer | [3.5k] Harry is very picky when it comes to people in his inner circle. Especially for jobs that are very...hands-on, so to speak. That's why he's more than a little surprised when his PA informs him they've found the perfect person, only shortly after the job advertisement was placed. or The one where Louis has a surprising mix of qualifying features for a job that's close to where Harry's heart is. Or maybe where he's hardest?

Touch Me (Like Nobody Else Does) | goldensweetmemory | [11k] Prompt: A/B/O - strangers snowed in for an extended period of time and the omega starts to get touch-deprivation xx The alpha’s grin returned tenfold, deep dimples popping into his cheeks. Holy shit, he has dimples. “No, I don’t mind at all. I know where to find you when I need it back,” he said with a chuckle before leaning back into his seat. Louis let out a small giggle before nodding. “I’ll be sure it gets returned to you…?” He trailed off, one eyebrow raised at the other man. “Harry,” he replied, amusement still shining in his eyes. “And you are?” “Louis,” the omega responded before leaning back into his seat averting his eyes once again. “Thank you, really, for the charger. You’re a lifesaver. I’m not sure how I would’ve made it through without my Netflix.”

can't even think straight | shimmeringevil | [34k] His eyes are blue. Sharp cheekbones, long eyelashes and a doll-like face, pretty features contrastingly set in such arrogant disdain. Harry can’t stop staring at him. “Straight,” he blurts out when his eyes drop to the man’s mouth. “I’m straight.” “Thank you for sharing,” the waiter says dryly. The captivating movements of his lips form an even more captivating voice. “Y’alright if I grab your wallet for you, or is there anything else you’d like to get off your chest?” “No, um—no. Sorry. I mean, thank you. Thank you and sorry.” — OR — Harry is definitely straight, even if no one seems to believe him when he tells them. Things change when he meets a pretty stranger who patiently waits for him to figure it all out.

Always Lou | Darling28 | [101k] Ten years have passed since Harry and Louis lost sight of each other. As teenagers, they wrote letters to their future selves via 'FutureMe' - filled with dreams and secret hopes. But life led them down different paths - Louis is about to get married to his girlfriend, while Harry has never been able to forget his deep feelings for Louis over the years. When their paths cross again, the two are confronted with their past and their unspoken feelings. While Louis rediscovers his own identity and sexuality, Harry lovingly stands by his side. Together they have to find out if what they once shared as childs & teenagers could be the key to their future together.

from underneath your glow | outropeace | [53k] With years of bitter experience and a tuition debt that would outlast three generations, Louis did what anyone in his position would; he developed an almost flawless five-step system for scamming alphas. Step One: Find the target. The scummier the alpha, the better. Step Two: Find the target’s soulmate mark. This part could take either a day or sometimes months of stalking every single social media the target have. Patience is key. Step Three: After learning about their hobbies and activities, mold your personality to the target. There’s nothing more irresistible to alphas than to date their mirror. Step Four (and the most important one): Plan the exit route. This will mostly depend on the target. There are alphas who’d pay to make a soulmate disappear from their lives forever, but some took a little more work. The trick? Simple, break their little fantasy. Show them traits they wouldn’t stand. If they like red, suddenly you are all about blue. If they like going out, you start craving nights in. Speak your mind freely—honestly, they hate that. Becoming clingy or basically having any type of need outside theirs also helps a lot. Step Five: Disappear.

[parsleysagerosemarytimemachine]

Hillcleft - a game of Border Riding

This is a game about boundaries, how we mark them and who we include or exclude from them. While inspired by the Common Ridings festivals in the Scottish Borders, this game can be about any community, and take place at any time, in any setting.

--Border Riding

Played the first half of a game of Border Riding the other day, about a medieval community formed around a new university.

Year 0: We started by creating a border, and then a number of landmarks within it. There are lakeside cliffs, a giant tree overlooking an unused forest, a row of disdained gravesites, and the ruins of the Old School with the dragon who may have burnt it down. There's also a border fort to the south, an ocean temple on the cliffs, fishing shallows in the river, and a swamp where a witch might live.

The university is established to the northeast of Our lands, and we hope it will bring us prestige and prosperous visitors. Outside our borders are Them, the previous feudal rulers of this section of land, who are perhaps a bit miffed about having their domain carved up by the high lord's decree.

On the birthday of the high lord, we host a celebration and send out two riders - the Map-Maker General, and their Lieutenant Cartographer - to survey the boundaries of Our land, bringing back the updated maps and census as the Surveyor's Gift, a ceremony confirming our holdings and reach. The first Map-Maker General, year 0 of our university, is the royal lawyer Morgan, here to oversee this as an official process - along with an unofficial, but unavoidable, dragon escort. In the years before she leaves, we enlist the dragon's help to construct a blast furnace and use this to help construct better printing presses for scholastic materials.

Year 6: The community keeps its focus on the dragon, the border fort, the fishing shallows, and the sea temple. A nameless numbered priestess, #64, campaigns to be chosen as the new Map-Maker General and is successful. The Rector's Hill is marked on our maps, where the Lord Rector lives as head of the university, confirmed by the electors of the colleges. The priestess's sea magics have been used to ride out and claim the island to the north.

Year 8: The community focuses on the sea temple, the swamps, the dragon of the Old School, and the rector's hill. To everyone's surprise, the swamp witch Rosary Spite is chosen to replace the previous Map-Maker General by unanimous vote. Industrial improvements continue, as a papermill is built along the banks of the river where fish used to be caught - the swamp witch shows great interest, especially as the mill chemicals leak into the river. Border contract, due to a lack of swamp-related points of interest.

Year 10: The community focuses on the papermill (which seems to be drawing the swamp nearer, or maybe that's the witch), the giant tree, the Old School with its dragon, and the sea temple. After the swamp-witch's retirement to the mill life, the dragon Wulfrum is chosen as Map-Maker General - no one wants to tell a dragon he can't participate. We clear a festival grounds among the forest beyond the swamp, and hold viewing parties of the silver leaves that grow on the giant tree. Unfortunately for the scheming, the silver of the leaves decays back into wet vegetable matter over time, but there is a steady scam of minting this into coins to trick unsuspecting visitors. The dragon's flight has reclaimed the island to the north of the university for us.

Year 14: The community focuses on the mobile swamp, the silver tree, the sea temple, and the rector's hill. A legacy law student named Eulalie is chosen as the Map-Maker general, to reaffirm the university's control of situations. Unfortunately, They choose this time to pick a fight with us, and hire a wizard to break our border fort with lightning and seize it from Us, along with the south river territory. We draw borders with a nominal claim to the island we no longer have in reach, and abandoning southern claims.

Year 17: The community focuses on the still river-seeking swamp, the dragon Wulfrum of the Old School, the sea temple, and the now-lost border fort. The new Map-Maker General is another priestess, #52, who has made inroads with the college of Theology and wants to increase the prominence of her religion. Meanwhile, They have continued to bedevil us, charming a giant horse-dog and sending it into one of the villages that pays taxes and fealty to the university. While the beast is not particularly destructive, the community cedes control of the village, and also the forest and swamps which the sea temple has never particularly cared for.

We pause, after a generation, to consider how Hillcleft sees itself. The University is proud and growing, but They have secret and unrevealed magical powers that continue to vex us. To counter this, we will add an armed presence to the Surveyor's Gift as they ride our borders.

Year 23: The community considers the swamp-ridden papermill, the sea temple, the giant horse-dog, and the Rector's hill. Cameo the Elder, a professor of Medicine, is chosen as the new Map-Maker General; this ancient, balding martial-arts master leads groups of students out of the university to study the lands of Hillcleft and engage the world. In exchange for our care, study, and hard work, the land and the university can become inseparable. In the decade that Cameo leads these expeditions, borders are reworked into a reduced but stable situation; eventually, the professor retires by bricking themself up within their study to 'contemplate the universe.'

Year 34: The community focuses on Wulfrum the dragon, the sea temple, the silver tree, and the dog-horse that lives in our divided village. The Lord Rector hires a mercenary captain, Bolster Edelwyss of the Yellow Company, to see about reclaiming the lands of our original grant, and they are elected as Map-Maker General. They set about utilizing the peace and hard work of the community to construct defensive fortifications - a wall along our (as yet) uncontested western border, and a house to pacify the dog-horse. Then Bolster begins pushing our borders, reclaiming the north island and retaking the lands around the border fort (but not the fort itself, still infested by wizards) as well as our name-sake cleft hill to the south.

Year 40: The community focuses on the dog-horse and its house, the defensive walls built to the west and around the border tower, the wizards within the tower, and the silver tree. A new Map-Maker General has yet to be chosen....

...to be continued...

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - A House Is Not A Home Part 6/8

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

18+

Ruben's wife dies during childbirth along with their son. Ruben hasn't been in a relationship since. Y/N is a single mother to a four year old boy. She buys a house in the small town that Ruben lives in. The house needs alot of fixing which Ruben helps with, resulting in him slowly falling in love with Y/N. However, falling in love with Y/N makes Ruben feel like he is betraying his dead wife.

Enjoy!

"Where are you going?" Ruben groaned, his voice raspy as he came to. You both lay in bed well past the suitable hours. By the way the sun was set high in the sky you guessed that it was around midday afternoon.

"We have to get up and pick up Johnny from kindergarten."

"Five more minutes."

Ruben held an arm around your waist, tugging your body to lay down with him again. He rolled on top of you, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"We don't have much time." You sighed, feeling him and how much his body wanted you.

"We have enough time."

Warm hands roamed your body. Ruben had already left bruises on your skin from last night and this morning, this was just him re-marking his territory. He traced soft kisses down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. His big hand cupped your breast, squeezing the flesh as you sighed against his naked chest.

"You like this?"

"Mhm."

Ruben moved on to let his erection slap against your folds, lubricating them. You squinted your eyes as his dick continue to grind against your clit, making it twitch beneath you.

"Ruben...the time."

"We have enough of it ."

He turned you over with a slap across your ass. You winced and arched your back into the front of him, meeting his stiffness.

"Relax for me baby. Just relax."

The matress dipped as Ruben rose to his knees. You looked back to see his lean body align with yours. Ruben smiled before easing into you with a yanking thrust.

"Fuck."

You stood on all fours, withstanding the forces that you were up against. Your breast swayed beneath you as Ruben fucked you with intensity, admiring the waves of your flesh with every stroke of his hips.  At one point he stopped, flipping you over to lay on your back again.

"I wanna see you enjoying me." He said, pinning your arms above your head, leaning down to kiss you as he fucked you missionary.

"Ruben, I'm close."

"Good. Come for me Y/N, come for me."

He had been holding out for you, waiting until the last moment so that the two of you could come together. Your bodies lay limb following the combined sigh of relief. Ruben lingered inside of you, allowing himself to go soft. You whimpered when he finally pulled out. The sensation left you feeling cold and sticky.

"Let's not keep Johnny waiting." Ruben got up and out of bed, helping you do the same.

Your son was happy to see you as always, however, it was Ruben he ran to for a hug at the gate.

"Ruweeen!"

"Hey little buddy. How was your day?"

Ruben carried Johnny back to his truck, holding your hand. The three of you had become a team as your relationship with Ruben evolved during the three months since moving in.

"Should we pick something up for dinner?" Ruben drove the truck past the town center.

"Pancakes!" Johnny exclaimed.

"No. We had that yesterday." You protested.

Johnny crumbled in his seat.

"Oh come on." Ruben leaned towards you,  grabbing your hand, planting soft kisses on your knuckles. "You love my pancakes, don't you baby? I bet we still have some of Kat's leftover jam. You loved it didn't you, almost emptying the whole jar."

"I did not!"

Johnny chuckled in the backseat, so did Ruben. They were both laughing at you.

"Now baby, there is no shame in having a sweet tooth, but at least be honest about it."

You slapped Ruben in the arm. "I do not....have...a sweet tooth."

He played along, pretending to crumble with your hits.

"Alright, alright. I surrender." He laughed. "But if you don't have a sweet tooth that means you don't mind us having pancakes tonight."

You shook your head, hiding your smile. It was surprising, yet terrifying how willingly Ruben's charm made you fold.

"Did you hear that J, pancakes it is!"

"Yay!"

You gave Ruben a look, a look saying that he was definitely paying for this later. By the look he gave you, Ruben seemed glad having to serve you this favor.

"I just need to pick up a few things from work."

Ruben parked his truck outside of the hardware shop. Whilst he took his time, you and Johnny decided to stretch your legs, running over to watch the ducks in the pond across the street. As you held Johnny, pointing out the female ducks opposed to the male ducks, you felt it, content. For the first time in your life you felt happy, stable and loved, all at the same time. It was an overwhelming feeling, one you dread ever loosing. That was about to change though, as you turned your head to check on how Ruben was doing. He had been loading boxes onto the back of his truck but now stood beside it, chatting vividly with a woman.

"Come on Johnny, let's go back."

It was the woman embracing Ruben that made you curious to know who she was.

"Ruben?"

He hadn't noticed you approaching and flinched at the sound of your voice.

"Y/N...sorry to keep you guys waiting."

The woman cocked her head curiously.

"Y/N this is Emily, Emily this is....is..."

"Y/N?" You frowned. Johnny chuckled in your arms. The repeating of names was confusing him.

"Right....Y/N." He mumbled. "Either way... Em, how are you? What brings you here, back in town?"

You felt set aside as Ruben and the woman picked up their conversation where it left off.

"Tomorrow is the 25th Ruben." The woman said, a serious expression coming across her face.

"Right." Ruben nodded. "The 25th..."

"You haven't forgotten, have you?"

"Of course not." Ruben looked slightly insulted. "I've just been busy, that's all."

"Busy doing what?"

You raised a brow as the woman looked to you, her expression nothing but friendly. You turned to Ruben. "What's on the 25th?"

"Um....it's...um..." He scratched the back of his head, struggling to give you an answer.

"It's my sister's birthday." The woman frowned. "Who is she Ruben?"

"Em, let's not do this here..." Ruben was quick to defend you, however you were just about to defend yourself if it hadn't been for Johnny. Ruben took the woman aside as she became visibly upset. He returned to you with a look of uncertainty.

"Ruben what is going on, who is that woman?"

"I....um...I'll explain later. I'm gonna drive Em to Kat and David's, okay. See you back at the house?"

"Your leaving?"

"No, I'll be right back, I promise."

You couldn't believe it.

"Y/N, don't be upset." Ruben rushed to kiss your cheek. "I'll explain everything back at the house, okay?

You nodded. "Okay " And with that Ruben was gone, leaving you for another woman.

Hours went by. Despite no sight of Ruben you had to get started on dinner for your son to be able to go to bed on time.

"Where is Ruwen?" He asked as the pancakes you made tasted nothing like Ruben's.

"I don't know honey." You tucked Johnny into bed. "I'm sure you'll see him in the morning."

There was a painful jab in your stomach as you turned the lights off and slipped out of his bedroom. Coming downstairs you saw the light from Ruben's truck pull up to the house.

"I'm so sorry I'm late." Ruben stumbled through the door, looking around himself to see that most lights were turned off, that you were preparing to go to bed.

"Don't apologize to me." You said. "Johnny is the one who's been waiting for you." You felt guilty, using your son against Ruben this way. The two of you weren't married and he had no obligations as a stepfather, meaning Ruben should feel free to leave the two of you anytime.

"Is he still up?" Ruben looked to the staircase.

"I just put him to bed." Your arms folded. "What happened today Ruben, who was that woman you were talking to?"

He sighed heavily, removing his jacket before stepping into the house. At least he was here to stay. That feeling comforted you somehow.

"Please." He said, gesturing for you to join him on the living room couch. He wrapped an arm around you, pullimg you close. Your head rested against his chest.

"Emily is Gina's sister." He said, after a moment spent in silence. "She's back here for the anniversary of Gina's birthday on November...

"....25th." You nodded.

"Exactly. I can't believe I forgot about it."

"What made you forget?" You tilted your head to look at him. Ruben smiled softly, his finger stroking your cheek. "I dunno." He shrugged. "Maybe the fact that Kat and David are doing better these days. I was a mess three months ago during the anniversary of Gina's...." Ruben struggled to get the words out. You kissed his forearm as to say that it was okay, you understood.

"It was bad timing, just ahead of the storm,  if you remember." He said.

Why would you remember?

"For some reason I decided to drink to cope with my feelings. I was passed out drunk by the time the storm came around. Kat and David seemed so understanding, never judging me, or worse, blaming me for the death of their daughter."

"Because it wasn't your fault Ruben." You said, with all seriousness. You had no idea that Ruben blamed himself for the tragic events of his wife.

"But it was." He sniffled. "I put that baby in her, I killed her."

You sat up. "Ruben, neither you or your son was the blame of what happened to your wife. No one is to blame. Gina was sick and she knew that, she knew there was a risk to everything she did. Do you know how many people would've dread living a normal life knowing it could end any day? Gina, however, was brave enough to want to get up in the morning, brave enough to fall in love, to commit. She was brave enough to want a house and a family."

Ruben looked at you with admiration, clearly he hadn't allowed himself to think of things this way. Perhaps he felt like he had to feel guilty as not to betray his dead wife and the memories that they shared.

"She was braver than all of us Ruben." You assured.

He slowly nodded his head, as if accepting your way of seeing things. Then he said something that startled you.

"I never knew I would find someone again...."

You batted your eyes as he looked intensely at you. "I never thought I'd feel the way I did about Gina again, until I met you."

"Ruben." Your voice trembled.

"You met me at my lowest." He chuckled.

What was so funny?

"I don't even think you rember meeting me then, in the bar, that night of the storm?"

You frowned as no memory came to mind.

"Either way, that day change my life for the better. You changed my life for the better."

You threw your leg over Ruben's thigh, climbing to sit on his lap. Ruben's hands went to rest on your waist,  keeping you steady. You knocked your forhead against his as he tilted his head up to meet your lips. The kiss was tender and longing. Ruben's shoulders dropped as he allowed himself to relax. He then wrestled you to lay beneath him on the couch, spreading your legs with a knee between your thighs. He smirked. "I owe you, don't I?"

You thought back to earlier today. "Yes you do, you owe me." You smiled.

Ruben traced kisses from the lobe of your ear down to the center of your stomach. He folded your shirt on the go as to expose more skin for him to trace kisses upon.

You bit you lip as not to make any noise. Johnny was still asleep upstairs. You popped up on your elbows to see why Ruben had stopped what he was doing.

"What?"

He was looking up at you, his expression difficult to read. You sat up, crawling towards him. "Ruben are you..."

"I love you Y/N."

He said it so fast that you had to catch your breath.

"What?"

He nodded. "I love you Y/N, more than anything."

It was as clear as day, your feelings for Ruben, you loved him too. Terrifying to admit, considering you've only know each other for three months. The best three months of your life. You thought of Gina however, to her it had been clear, she never had any doubt....

"I love you too Ruben."

[halfmoth-halfman]

do you have any headcannons about designer dress you can disclose? every now and then i create some of my own, but it's great finding out about the "official" ones, like why did you choose canary as mc's moniker? are we going to find out more about laswell and price? maybe gaz's mom? she seems important... what about farah's relationship with john? and some tidbits as well, like why blue? why valeria's "day job" is fashion designer? sorry the questionnaire, any piece would be great! i'm just in awe with the whole ambience you've created. much love! xx

oh i’ve got plenty of headcanons. some i won’t go into too much detail about because it would dipping into spoiler territory, but here ya go:

gaz was a big momma's boy as a kid, and when she died so soon after his father it left him with a lot of big, confusing feelings for an 8-9 year old

he was angry at price for a long time after his parents' deaths and it wasn't until well into his teenage years that he started warming up to price

farah was adopted after gaz, when her parents were killed during price's and the 141's first go around with makarov when they were both building their "empires" (we'll go more into that in the next few chapters)

gaz and farah took to each other easily, often finding comfort in their similar struggles and complicated feelings for price

price does everything he can to help gaz and farah remember their parents, mostly out of respect and love for them and their parents, but also due to that quiet guilt that he's the reason their parents are gone

gaz goes back on forth on calling price dad, but always refers to farah as his sister

farah does not call price dad, it’s always either old man or price

farah does think of gaz as a brother, but can’t bring herself to actually call him that because it makes her think of hadir

farah and gaz are best friends through and through tho

price cannot visit their parents' graves with them, he doesn't feel he has a right to, and if he goes with one of them he’ll wait in the car until they’re done to go to the grave himself

price has talked about canary to gaz’s dad’s grave

i hc price's favorite color as blue in general, hence all the blue he puts his women in

there is a difference between the blues when he gets canary a dress vs when valeria makes her one

valeria's come in various shades of blue while price's are always the same shade of blue as his eyes

he is absolutely doing it as a way to mark his territory

graves loves his women in gold and jewels and designer, it's a way to show off his wealth and status and how much he spoils them

it's all part of a carefully put together show to make himself look good

makarov does not give a fuck about any of that

his women are on display as a way to taunt and tempt his enemies because they know better than to touch what's his and he drapes them in blood-colored fabric as warning

price had a playboy phase after his (amicable) divorce from kate and it only got worse when gaz’s parents died

he never loved or really cared for any of his significant others, knowing most were just after his money, status, or bragging rights - they used him and he used them as a stress relief

when gaz moved in to the manor, he tried a few short-lived relationships that never lasted more than a few months

he stopped completely when farah moved in

price tried dating once or twice when gaz and farah were older and things were more stable but it was never anything serious until canary

price has never been in love until canary

price, nik, and gaz's dad were bffs with farah's dad joining later, and nik loves gaz and farah like his own

at one point, shepherd was included in that little group

alex and farah had a romcom-esque meet-cute at a 141 gala where alex was a guest of kate's

alex fell first, farah fell harder

price, and the rest of the 141, are good friends with kate's wife, but they don't see her often since she's not involved in their business

kate tries to keep her wife separate from that side of her life for her own safety

roach, könig, and horangi live in a three-bedroom apartment because the third bedroom was originally ghost's

outside of soap, ghost is probably closest to roach and sees him as a younger brother

no one except ghost knows how old roach is, he changes the answer every time someone asks him

roach was not born mute, it happened during a bar fight where he shielded ghost from someone with a broken bottle

ale/val/rudy have known each other since they were kids

rudy always had feelings for alejandro but never said anything, content to be friends

alejandro and valeria dated first, they broke up when valeria and alejandro disagreed with how to run the vaqueros

alejandro and rudy started dating in that time, but rudy broke up with him when valeria came back and rudy felt like alejandro wasn't over her

it was a lot of drama and feelings being shoved down that culminated in one night of drinking, arguing about emotions, and eventually a threesome

the three have been together ever since

alejandro and rudy do not necessarily approve of what valeria does with her own business - she takes a very jason todd approach to it all (aka "you can't stop crime, but you can control it") - but she does get positive results so the arguments are few and far between

rudy is a doctor first and foremost, but he's always enjoyed cooking (something something cutting into meat the same way he'd cut into a body something something) and it was his own suggestion for him to be the club chef

valeria never intended to do fashion design, but she enjoys the finer things and has specific tastes for how she wants to look

since every tailor/designer she had hired eventually ended up disappointing her, she took up the job herself

running a club was nik's idea, and it took him a few months and a lot of badgering to convince price to go along with it

price agreed only because 13-year-old gaz mumbled that "it'd be kinda cool" one night at dinner

the singer position at the club was made specifically for farah because she found comfort singing songs her mother used to sing to her and hadir when they were little

on special occasions, soap will take over at the bar and alex will get on stage and play guitar alongside farah as she sings

soap was gaz’s friend that he introduced to the club and he became fast friends with everyone

eventually price hired him after recognizing how smart and perceptive soap was

soap is in his position for a reason, the guests are more than happy to ogle the handsome server with too many buttons undone and not notice that he's watching them back with a far sharper eye

soap and ghost were supposed to be a one-time thing meant for stress relief but ghost caught feelings and kept coming back

it took ghost ages to admit he cared for soap and when the realization hit, it scared the hell out of him but roach convinced him to talk it out with soap

soap is the only person ghost would ever disobey price for, but he would never admit that

alex gushes to gaz about farah nonstop and talks about how he knew he was going to marry her the moment they met

gaz was happy for them, but he never really got it...until he met tabby

nik sometimes gets too drunk and reminisces about his wife back home

no one knows if he actually has a wife, or where “back home” is, his stories are all the same, but the little details change every time

könig and horangi were together before they joined the 141, and könig moved in with roach and ghost completely unaware that they worked for price

the 141 refers to kortac as "könig's people" because it's a far more complicated system of contacts and connections that would take a week to describe

ghost’s entire spine pops when he gets out of bed in the morning, and it freaks soap out

roach was a track star in highschool

price has the highest kill count in the 141, soap and valeria have a not-so-friendly competition going for second place

canary got her nickname from her father

graves did have romantic feelings for canary at one point, but that quickly got overshadowed by his want for adler to recognize and approve of him

adler only approved canary and graves’s marriage because canary asked him to - the contract was his one condition for that approval

russell adler died two days after canary and graves got married

graves only has two preferences when it comes to his women: rich & powerful

price cares about his people, but it borders on a possessiveness that he keeps very well hidden

price has built a very strict set of rules about who his people kill and how far they can and cannot go

he will end business relationships if someone steps out of line

valeria has come close on several occasions

makarov does not care - he will kill men, women, children, old, young, pregnant, etc. blood is blood, it doesn't matter who it comes from

that’s not say price wouldn’t do what needs to be done to protect his people

price cares about family above all else, and he will go scorched earth on anyone who would dare to threaten or hurt them

[apenitentialprayer]

Charlene Richard (pronounced REE-shard), as she appears in the picture on her gravestone (left), and how she appears on prayer cards (right)

Diagnosed with leukemia at age 12, Charlene was a Louisiana-born Catholic who, upon learning of the concept of the "victim soul" who offers their sufferings for the salvation of the world, prayed for the healing of those who were similarly sick and the conversion of others to Catholicism. Before she was ill, she had a daily devotion to the Rosary, and an interest in the life of Thérèse of Lisieux. After she passed, the chaplain of the hospital she was treated in began to pray to her daily, and attributes her intercession for his first parish assignment — the parish territory in which she is buried. In addition to Fr. Joseph Brennan's belief that she has frequently intervened in his life, at least three recoveries have been attributed to her as medical miracles, including the sudden and unexpected survival of an infant who was taken off life support; his grandfather had placed a prayer card dedicated to Charlene next to him. A folk saint almost immediately since her death in 1959, she was officially given the title Servant of God in 2020. Today (8/11/24) marks the 65th anniversary of her death.

Prayer to Charlene Richard

Charlene, when you were only twelve years old, you showed heroic faith, hope, and love; dying of leukemia, you joined yourself to Jesus on the Cross and offered your intense pain for others. You thereby echoed St. Paul's words to his people in Colossians 1:24: "Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of His Body, the Church." Charlene, I believe you are with God. Please ask our Heavenly Father, His Only Begotten Son Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit to grant me the following favor: (State favor here). Charlene, thank you for helping me. May Jesus Christ always be praised, and may Mary, Jesus's ever-Virgin Mother, always be called blessed. Amen.

[adrl-pt]

Putin has been bombing Ukraine for 11 years. Maria Corina Machado in Time’s Top 100. Yashin opens a public office.

You’re watching the news from the weekly rally at the Russian Embassy in Lisbon. Today is April 19, 2:30 PM.

April 12 marked 11 years since the beginning of the war in Donbas. Last year, we talked about how Putin and his propaganda machine lied, how separatists shelled territory under their own control to maintain a state of war, how equipment was withdrawn, and how people in the Russian-occupied parts of Donbas became increasingly impoverished. When civilian casualties dropped to just dozens per year, propaganda ramped up the full-scale war, pushing the story that “they bombed Donbas for 8 years.” https://adrl.pt/event/2024-04-13/en

On April 13, Russian troops launched two ballistic missiles at the center of Sumy. Thirty-four people were killed, including two children; 117 were injured. The BBC Russian Service reports that the strike happened during the day—many of the victims were on the streets, in cars, or using public transport. British Prime Minister Keir Starmer condemned the attack, stating, “Putin must now agree to a full and immediate ceasefire without conditions,” just as Ukraine has. https://www.bbc.com/russian/articles/cm2401dn1nlo

On April 18, Russian forces hit Kharkiv with three Iskander missiles. Ukrainska Pravda reported that one person was killed and 113 injured, including nine children. Fifteen apartment buildings were damaged. https://www.pravda.com.ua/rus/news/2025/04/18/7508082/

On April 16, Time magazine published its list of the 100 most influential people of 2025. Venezuelan opposition leader Maria Corina Machado was included. U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio described her as Venezuela’s “Iron Lady.” https://time.com/collections/100-most-influential-people-2025/7273783/maria-corina-machado/

Last year, we reported on how the Venezuelan opposition won the elections and confirmed their victory. https://adrl.pt/event/2024-08-03/en

We also covered the U.S. government's large reward for information leading to the arrest of Nicolás Maduro and several Venezuelan officials on narco-terrorism charges. https://adrl.pt/event/2025-01-11/en

On April 18, a court in St. Petersburg sentenced 19-year-old Darya Kozyreva to two years and eight months in prison. She was convicted for placing a piece of paper with a quote from a poem on a monument to Taras Shevchenko in St. Petersburg and for giving an interview to the Sever.Realii website. Radio Liberty reports that in her final statement, Darya said she dreams of Ukraine reclaiming all territories occupied by Russia. https://www.svoboda.org/a/darjya-kozyreva-osuzhdena-za-stihi-i-intervjyu-saytu-sever-realii/33389507.html

On April 16, politician Ilya Yashin announced on his X account the opening of a public reception office. Russians in exile can make an appointment to receive legal advice about the laws of their host country, either in person or online. https://x.com/IlyaYashin/status/1912430779344515506

On April 18, a posthumous album by pianist Pavel Kushnir, who died in Putin’s prisons, was released. The album is titled Rachmaninoff Preludes. https://open.spotify.com/album/1sTMzA8zMVJskGjfs8fE11

Today, in the Make Art Not War section of our YouTube channel, we released a video featuring a new anti-war poem by Rusya Rassvet. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cXMrRxZIqcY

You can receive a book of anti-war poetry in exchange for donations that fund portable power stations for hospitals and schools in Ukraine. https://adrl.pt/net-voine/antiwar-poetry/en

All sources and links are in the description. Subscribe and join us!

[aviculor]

The new film adaptation of Salem's Lot is here. I haven't read the novel or seen either tv miniseries, but I know it's about a writer who moves to a rural town in Maine and the town is evil. Why yes, it was written by Stephen King, how did you guess? Anyway, the townsfolk are being turned into vampires. Sorry to spoil a book that was written in 1975. It's a vampire story.

I was looking forward to this, but I forgot the release date and I was pleasantly surprised to find out it was my next day off.

Oh no, it's the world's toughest 8 year old who even the teachers are afraid of. Let me guess, is his dad the sheriff or something? A plucky band of kids whose bullies are legitimate threats to their lives is of course another Stephen King staple, most notably seen in It.

There's some really great visuals here. I liked seeing Straker appear behind the boys in the woods, I liked the scene of Danny awakening after his funeral, and I loved the scene of Danny trying to get Mark to let him in. The dialogue is a little iffy at times, but that's to be expected given the territory of a Stephen King adaptation. Better than an H.P. Lovecraft adaptation though. Fucking Suitable Flesh.

I do have to admit it's a little funny how the runtime is nearly two hours but we barely even bothered with the "What are you talking about? Vampires aren't real" stage. But broad strokes, I'm liking this.

"This is some shit."

I'm not sure if a rabies shot is going to help, but by all means. Oh, I guess it did. Okay.

That 11 year old boy is unflappable.

With all the "modern twists" that have been going around for decades, maybe it is a good thing to just have a traditional, old-fashioned vampire movie with modern production values. Have I mentioned that I'm looking forward to Nosferatu this Christmas?

[thelezzer]

Civilian casualties - especially those of children - are a tragedy no matter how you slice it or what side you support. That being said, the double standard international media is exhibiting with the discussion of the deaths of Israeli children is staggering. The IDF has been responsible for the deaths of thousands of Palestinian children over the course of the occupation, and this is being ignored by most mainstream Western media sources. Here is some information about these atrocities to balance out the bias:

“Israeli forces are gunning down Palestinian children living under occupation with increasing frequency,” said Bill Van Esveld, associate children’s rights director at Human Rights Watch. “Unless Israel’s allies, particularly the United States, pressure Israel to change course, more Palestinian children will be killed.” x

“As of yesterday, according to UNRWA, there are more than 187,000 newly displaced people in Gaza, many of them sheltering at UNRWA schools, and many of them children. Some of the facilities sheltering displaced families in Gaza, including schools, have sustained damages. 

Hundreds of thousands of children are affected by the escalation of hostilities in Gaza and are in desperate need of humanitarian assistance and protection. Before this renewed violence, 1.1 million children were already in need of humanitarian aid in the Gaza Strip and the West Bank – accounting for approximately half the child population." x

2023 marks deadliest year on record for children in the occupied West Bank.

"At least 38 Palestinian children have been killed by Israeli forces in the occupied West Bank so far in 2023, making it the deadliest year since records began, said Save the Children.

On average, it equates to more than one Palestinian child killed per week. At least six Israeli children have also been killed this year.

As the second consecutive year for record numbers of child fatalities in the West Bank, this highlights the worsening situation for children's safety across the occupied Palestinian territory (oPt)." x

Israeli airstrikes kill at least 140 Palestinian children in Gaza.

"At least 140 Palestinian children have been killed in the Gaza Strip as the Israeli military launched an offensive over the weekend, according to the Palestinian Ministry of Health.

Israeli forces fired several missiles toward a residential building in the Sheikh Ajleen neighborhood, south of Gaza City, around 8:30 p.m. on October 8, killing 10 Palestinians, including three children: Yazan, 10, Abdulnaser, two, and Omar Ahmad Abdulnaser Shamlakh, five months, according to documentation collected by DCIP." x

(2021) “Eight Palestinian children were reported killed north of Gaza overnight, bringing to at least 40 the number of children killed there since 10 May. The age of these children ranges between six months to 17 years. Over half of them were under 10 years old. More than 1,000 people in Gaza are reported injured, some severely, including a high number of children. In Israel, two children, including a six-year-old, were killed since the escalation began. [...]

In Gaza, 35 schools have been damaged while at least 29 schools are temporarily sheltering displaced families who fled their homes due to heavy violence. Up to 10,000 people have been displaced, the majority are children. UNICEF received reports that three schools have been damaged in Israel." x

(2021) 2,171 Palestinian children have been killed in the last two decades by Israeli military actions, and 139 Israeli children have been killed by Palestinian militants. x

[thebookofnehemiah]

"The Deal." From the Book of Nehemiah, "the Exploration of the Mysteries of the Lions that Lay," 5: 6-8.

The Nsh is obviously very knowledgeable about the Torah, and uses his understanding to counter argue the approach of the Court of the Assembly to the biggest dilemma facing the future kingdom, how to dole out titles to the land.

Israel has apparently never had an owner anyone could love or trust. The world is tipping over because of this issue at the present time. Except the land was given to the Jewish people after World War II and the decision has been contested to this day. It is theirs, it does not belong to the Palestinian people or the Christians or the Muslims, but to the legitimate government of the People of Israel.

The State of Israel was established on May 14, 1948 when David Ben-Gurion, the head of the Jewish Agency, proclaimed its independence in Tel Aviv. This event marked the creation of the first Jewish state in 2,000 years. Israel is not a thing or a concept it is a place, it has been legally defined and is protected by its citizens. There is no need to continue the debate or cause additional loss of life regarding this.

The Nsh is a product of a process of much more than this. Monarchies like Israel itself are supposed to be longitudinal. Their systems of government depend on land owners who are able to proiftably see to the needs of the territory and the people without fear of the kinds of changes that are happening in America, i.e. upheavals and controverseys over petty silly ridiculous matters whose outcomes do not grow the wealth or happiness of the people. Other countries are worse off as we know, some are monarchies but this is happening because Charles Mary is corrupt and will not mint money or manage his peer group. The entire planet is on a downward slide into deep poverty because this man just wants to suck down heroin and suck on the toes of little boys.

We must not follow his example or that of the White House which has control of not one thing affecting the attitude or adjustment of its domain and remain true to the Deal God and Abraham struck so long ago. Contained in the Deal are the nine terms or Rooms or "level of height" all Jews must respect if they expect to attain to a title to the land within Israel. The wording like the Torah itself is encrypted.

The Call of Abram

12 The Lord had said to Abram, “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.

2 “I will make you into a great nation,     and I will bless you; I will make your name great,     and you will be a blessing.[a]

3 I will bless those who bless you,     and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth     will be blessed through you.”[b]

4 So Abram went, as the Lord had told him; and Lot went with him. Abram was seventy-five years old when he set out from Harran. 

5 He took his wife Sarai, his nephew Lot, all the possessions they had accumulated and the people they had acquired in Harran, and they set out for the land of Canaan, and they arrived there.

6 Abram traveled through the land as far as the site of the great tree of Moreh at Shechem. At that time the Canaanites were in the land. 

7 The Lord appeared to Abram and said, “To your offspring[c] I will give this land.” So he built an altar there to the Lord, who had appeared to him.

8 From there he went on toward the hills east of Bethel and pitched his tent, with Bethel on the west and Ai on the east. There he built an altar to the Lord and called on the name of the Lord.

9 Then Abram set out and continued toward the Negev.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 1: Go from your country. The Number is 7888, ז‎חחח, zchachach "purify, sublimate this and you will win." The Torah can't work in one place and fail in another. That is fallacy. There cannot be a fallacy regarding the Torah.

v. 2: You will be a blessing. This is not a farewell, it is a Commandment. The Number is 8066, ףסו‎ ‎, peso,

"The verb פסס (pasas II) means to disappear or vanish. It's used only once, in Psalm 12:1, where the psalmist laments that the faithful disappear from among men. Since faithfulness requires social cohesion (to establish and retain standards to be faithful to), the disappearance of these faithful was likely due to their density in society, which results from them being spread out."

v. 3: All the earth will be blessed through you. The Number is 10415, קד‎י״ה, kadijah, "As a deejay, a fishery." = through the Shule.

v. 4: Set out from the Harran. To be set is to be heated and then coalesced or cooled. The Number is 9917, טטיז‎ ‎, tetiz, "the echo, the ricochet, the splash." = "to form a social identity within."

"The verb שכן (shakan) means to dwell, to reside, to be domiciled, to live somewhere. In our modern day and age we might imagine that our individual identity derives mainly from our private brilliance, character and resolve but in antiquity folks still understood that one's private identity derived largely from one's social identity. In that sense, our verb שכן (shakan) means to form a social identity with.

If one would imagine a visual depiction of society, in which individuals are represented by little colored circles that partly overlap, the picture would result in a flower-like image, with individual petals that connect to a communal heart that is formed from all the areas of overlap of all individual petals. That communal heart would have a color that is the sum of the individual petals. And here's the point: all technology, all law, all social codes, even all art and all language are part of that heart. Wholly private concerns that may show up in dreams or a person's most abstract thoughts sit in the petal that sticks out from the communal heart but everything else sits within the heart. There is no language without community, and there is no complex thought without language. In other words: you are not what you think but you are what you are with.

Our verb שכן (shakan) does not simply talk about residing somewhere. Instead, it speaks of forging a social identity. And since a single social identity ("the Viking") has many manifestations (namely everybody who is a Viking), the health and longevity of the social identity depends on the intrasocietal peacefulness of individual manifestations."

v. 5: Take Sarai, the government, Lot, civil protections, Harran and put them together and set Canaan, "conditions for royalty."

The Number is 9346, טגד‎ו‎, tagdu, "bind, unite, combine, and become legend."

v. 6: Abram became Moreh at Shechem= "protection through education and voluntary citizenship."

Abram= height through enlightenment rather than status. The verb ירה (yara) describes the bringing about of a unified effect by means of many little impulses (arrows, stones, words, instructions, rain drops, and so on). Noun יורה (yoreh) refers to rain that falls during the first period of the agricultural year, when seedlings bud but don't bear fruit yet. Noun מורה (moreh) may either also refer to early rain, or it means teacher, who is a person who teaches children who can't think for themselves yet. Noun תורה (tora), refers to any set of instructions (hence the familiar word Torah).

The verb ירא (yara') describes the same process, but rather from the perspective of the receiving "soil": to revere, to pay heed to, and in extreme cases: to fear. Nouns יראה (yir'a), מורא (mora') and מורה (mora) cover the broad spectrum between reverence and fear, between anything awe-inspiring and anything terrifying.

The important noun שכם (shekem) means shoulder, and one's shoulder was considered the seat of one's burdens, whether physical or metaphorical. Curiously, though, the denominative verb that came from this noun, namely שכם (shakam), does not mean "to shoulder" in the sense of to carry something, but rather to rise early or to make an early start. This seems to suggest that a person's burden was considered a thing of voluntary dedication rather than something forced upon this person."

v. 7: Build an altar. The Number is 6804, וףד‎ ‎, ped, "look after the poor and feeble."

v. 8: Go towards Bethel and Ai.

Bethel= The army, the Israel Defense Force, Ai= of Israel.

The Mishnah says the Jewish people are too spoiled, fat, and lazy so all Nobles have to serve in the military before they can attain to a title. The Melachim also warns us about spoiled people.

v. 9: Set the Negev. Negev means "rolling like hills or dunes." The term is unique to Judaism. The Jewish faith and culture like its people must somehow maintain a level asceent that rolls and curves but does not experience disruption or need course correction. The only way to explain is the course must be ascending curvilinear.

"The unused verb גבן (gaban) probably meant to be curved, contracted or coagulated. Adjective גבן (giben) means humpbacked. Noun גבינה (gebina) means curd or cheese. Noun גבנן (gabnon) means peak or rounded summit.

A certain grammatical construction that creates a sort of continuous tense of the verb גבב (gabab) is formed from prefixing a נ (nun) and making the double ב (beth) a single one. The result, a verb נגב (nagab) would mean to undulate, to wave, to have shifting dunes. That verb doesn't exist, but a mysterious noun נגב (negeb) does. This noun would thus denote a region with rolling hills, and came to be synonymous with "south".

The Nsh tells the people they have objected to his plan and strategy, and they have not kept the Deal. We must keep the Deal:

6 When I heard their outcry and these charges, I was very angry.

 7 I pondered them in my mind and then accused the nobles and officials. I told them, “You are charging your own people interest!” So I called together a large meeting to deal with them 

8 and said: “As far as possible, we have bought back our fellow Jews who were sold to the Gentiles. Now you are selling your own people, only for them to be sold back to us!” They kept quiet, because they could find nothing to say.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 6: When I heard the charges I was very angry. Anger is a sign of idolatry. The Project will fail if we perceive it is for the sake of the Nsh. Nsh exists for the sake of the country. This has to be made clear. The people need coverage, someone to speak for them, someone who has been anointed to do it. This is the opposite of the creation of an idol.

The Number is 5255, הבהה‎, "staring." We stare at persons from whom we want approval and affection. The Nehemiah Torah says "be sure what you're looking at and why."

The verb שעע (sha'a' II) means to sport or delight in, although perhaps (BDB Theological Dictionary seems to suggest) the action of smearing something over may lead to the idea of smoothing something out, which then may lead to delight, or in other words: there might not be two distinct verbs at all, but one. But some more or less clear instances of to delight are Isaiah 29:9, 66:12 and Psalm 119:70.

Like שעע (sha'a), the verb שעה (sha'a) also has something to do with the eyes, as it means to gaze (Genesis 4:5, Psalm 39:13). In some cases it's not clear at all which of these two verbs we're dealing with (Isaiah 32:3 for instance)."

v. 7: I pondered them, the Nobles in my mind. You're charging the people interest! = people are going to line up and they are going to compete. They will become religious, they will join the military, they will appply the effort. This might be the best thing that has ever happened to Israel.

So, the Nsh has to meet with the government to discuss the creation of the Peer Group. Other countries have done this for centuries we should discuss with them.

The Number is 7798, ז‎זטח‎‎, zaztah, "keep society moving from underneath."

"The common noun, adverb and preposition תחת (tahat) means beneath or under, and often expresses a balance between a load and its support rather than a mere burden or lower position.

Adjective תחתון (tahton) means lower or lowest, and adjective and substantive תחתי (tahti) or תחתית (tahtit) means low, below or lowest."

Creating a class of nobles from the poorest but most capable arms in society is the way to go. The people will not forget where they came from, how they escaped poverty, nor will history. Where they go...that must also follow the record.

[fukuokanodivision]

Terminus

Even before OverDrive’s debut, Kairi Seishin holds a special reputation for music. Becoming a professional musician at 8-9 years old, it goes to show how much of a sound prodigy she is, much like her brother in the idol industry. Though, during Traffic Light’s sudden and unexpected disbandment, she knew something was wrong — very wrong… Figuring out the damage done to her brother and his teammates, she was furious. Developing a hatred for Chuohku, interest toward the Division Rap Battle and being given a Hypnosis Microphone of her own, she explained the situation to Yuno Kamora’s older siblings — Shu and Zaria. Gifting them their own Microphones, both of them accepted Kairi’s offer to create an unofficial rap team. Following OverDrive’s official debut, they became known as “Terminus” 1. “Synesthetes”

Alias: Synesthetes Real Name: Kairi Seishin Age: 11 Position: Leader Of Terminus Affiliation(s): *Terminus *OverDrive Profession: *Middle School Student *Professional Musician/Disk Jockey Weapons: *Hypnosis Microphone *Electric Garrotte Belt Skills + Abilities: *Synesthesia *Hypnosis Microphone Manipulation [Opinokinesis] *Musical Aptitude *Chuohku Expertise *Seismic Sense *ASL Bio: The younger sister of Eko Seishin, Kairi’s been surrounded by music since day 1. Maximizing her skills equally to her brother, she became a professional musician and Disk Jockey at only 8-9 years old. Now the leader of Terminus, she doesn’t mess around with supporting OverDrive’s mission and claims Fukuoka as “Untouched Territory.” “There’s words to be spoken and mouths to be shutting, I’ll have you face its wrath just like my brother…” — Kairi “Synesthetes” Seishin 2. Asthenes

Alias: Asthenes

Real Name: Shu Kamora

Age: 29

Position: 2nd Member Of Terminus

Affiliations(s):

*Terminus *OverDrive *Kamora Family

Profession:

*Steward [Errand Runner]

Weapons:

*Hypnosis Microphone *Chained Daggers

Skills + Abilities:

*Asthenia *Hypnosis Microphone Manipulation [Halysikinesis] *Enhanced Durability *Chuohku Expertise *Ki Sensing *Linguistics

Bio: The older brother of Yuno Kamora [“Sibling” of Mai Yousei], Shu has always despised weakness. Although his family is supportive of his emotions, he feels as if himself has let down his father by being too afraid. Now the left hand of Terminus, he’s determined to leave his mark on the world and punish anyone in their rap battles who proves him wrong… “You’re going to cry? Wipe your damn tears! I don’t fight cowards in my territory, especially ones who’re weak and close minded…” — Shu “Asthenes” Kamora. 3. Schizein

Alias: Schizein

Real Name: Zaria Kamora

Age: 29

Position: 3rd Member Of Terminus

Affiliation(s):

*Terminus *OverDrive *Kamora Family

Profession:

*Steward [Errand Runner]

Weapons:

*Hypnosis Microphone *Sword Of Themis

Skills + Abilities:

*Schizophrenia *Hypnosis Microphone Manipulation [Combokinesis] *Enhanced Intelligence *Chuohku Expertise *Logical Reasoning *Eloquence

Bio: The older sister of Yuno Kamora, Zaria carries a headstrong sense of justice wherever she goes. Figuring out senses of righteousness and truth were usually glazed over, she knew she had to do something about it. Now the right hand of Terminus, she’s aiming to initiate a new wave of justice in the world, one blotting out Chuohku’s future plans entirely. “You expect me to obey you? Tough luck, it seems you hold all the red flags. And to me? You’re guilty as charged…” — Zaria “Schizein” Kamora.

[lavelled]

how it dwells.

I’m used to celebrities giving a subtle nod to my predicament, but never has an actor become internationally famous for acting, in feminist terms, like a megawatted asshole.

Team Rachel 623: Your pearl-clutching, hospital-corner, sorority-hazing client must be numb to morality. This is some sick cruel stuff. I had a cousin share personal items without knowledge or consent. And share he did. This is worse. Is the rental accomplice just passing through? I think I can writerly outrun you.

She and her Team have benefitted from a decades-old wellspring imprisonment, pushed their climber toward even more notoriety with a regal marriage to none other than enemy number one, allowed disturbingly theatrical speeches on ivory tower racism and hardship, both of which are untrue and unladylike, and showed contentment only for professional births and payday.

Her Hallmark movie, Dater’s Handbook. The title alone. 8. Jail. Booked. Oh, the lucky break of forging career mileage in code fluency. I don’t understand the decision, as a 40-something, to do the flippity flipping flipsters act, yet has sex with the ghost of the rapey man who stole my life, gets wedded to him, does rockstar crowd greets and magazine covers, accepts awards, and has his babies.

This isn’t a job. It’s life.

And her lying evil husband took away my life choices.

Two women with integrity: Chelsy Davy and Cressida Bonas. I’m sure they’re beholden to royal NDA laws. However, their marriages expose your perverse nefarious intentions, their link to a distanced British girl, and how the ending should go.

By and large, the approximation of tragedy is fueled by your family and your wife. From stabbings in Solingen, Germany to NYPD officer, Gregory Purvis, shooting himself last week.

XXXTentacion—the rapper and writer was fatally shot in the Riva Motorsports parking lot in Deerfield Beach, FL. Almost exactly one month after your wedding. June 18, 2018. His debut album was titled 17. He was 20 years old. His little brother, 13, is Aiden Kerr.

Denis Yurievich Ten—the Kazakhstani figure skater and 2014 Olympic Bronze Medalist was stabbed to death in July 2018. Two months after your wedding. Middle name sounds like You’re Rich. He skated beautifully to Gene Kelly’s Singin’ in the Rain at the 2013 Worlds. He was 25.

Yountville Veterans Home—a residential treatment facility for brain injured post-9/11 veterans in California. The gunman, Albert Wong, a former patient, fatally shot three female health workers and then himself. March 9, 2018. Two months before your wedding.

Parkland High School Shooting—happened on Valentine’s Day. February 14, 2018. Three months before your wedding. Seventeen students were killed that day. Ages range from 14-17. The perpetrator was Nikolas Jacob Cruz. Cruz told a psychologist that he committed the shooting on Valentine’s Day because he believed that no one loved him and thus wanted to ruin that day.

Steve Bing—Hollywood financier, founder of Shangri-La Entertainment and Shangri-La Music; produced The Polar Express starring Tom Hanks. On June 22, 2020, he jumped to his death from the 27th floor of the Ten Thousand Building in LA. He said he couldn’t take the lack of human contact during quarantine.

Four students from the University of Idaho were all stabbed to death at their home on King Road in Moscow, Idaho. November 13, 2022. Victims: Kaylee Goncalves, Madison Mogen, Xana Kernodle, and Ethan Chapin.

What country can you guys get kicked out of next? Denmark? No. That’s my King Frederik X. Norway? No. That’s my Marius Borg.

The scripted controversy over a Blackamoor brooch in 2017. Google it. I detect an unavoidable Sicilian reference and a concession in there. However, it’s also Harold trying to reinforce marked minor territory, which was collaborated together—despite real hate crimes and a known rape-bed desire—by her team.

As long as Rachel and Harry live better lives than most, including myself, getting richer with no public divorce, they will be flanked by critiques on why the world should tell them to go away.

Hope you had fun; she’s the last woman you’ll touch.

K

[yourghastlycloseness]

it’s all

about chemistry. chemistry with another person can make you look so attractive. see jennifer garner on conan o’brien vs jennifer garner with mark ruffalo

just rewatched 13 going on 30 and it’s weird bcos this is my third rewatch. first watched it in 2004 (when i was 8-9 and didnt care abt the film much), again in 2008 with some friends at J’s house (we were all 13, and it was the end of the year, last day of school or smth) and now again at 29 in 2024, a year away from 30–this time with mom, and i shd never that this is one of the most comforting activities to do in life: rom-coms with mom

things i didnt notice/understand when i was younger:

- matty not leaving wendy for jenna. as a kid, i lost some respect for him for not going aft the person wld truly make him happy. but now i respect the shit out of the decision, choosing someone versus following your passions

- wendy declaring her man is her territory & going “i’m sure you’ll be just fine” when jenna says she doesn’t know what she’d do without matty

- that wendy is a doppelgänger of grown-up jenna

- was neutral abt their swing kiss scene before. now think it’s wrong

- i thought adult jenna was a shitty person before, but now i just respect her ambition

- the stabs (literally) at J Lo considering ben affleck and his two jens

- i have a slight fear of shirtless men and i think this movie is what started it all lmao with jenna waking up and finding that blonde naked guy in her apartment

- not sure how i feel about a girl who’s mentally thirteen falling in love with a thirty year old dude

- if they didn’t up together the first time, i don’t see how they wld in any other timeline, or at least i can’t see them being together without eventually breaking up. feel like some things are consistent, esp our most pronounced traits, like jenna’s ambition

[purplesurveys]

1828

Do you take a walk every day? I don't do it as a routine per se, like around the neighborhood – but I walk a lot for work. I'll have meetings and events set in BGC often, and that's pretty much the most walkable place in Metro Manila so I'll usually get over 10k steps in whenever I'm in the area.

Who was your favourite musical artist when you were 15? Do you still listen to them? I was in both extremes of the spectrum lol. I liked the indie feel of alt-J, Banks, and Hozier; but this was also the peak of my punk rock phase and I was listening to bands like Against Me, The Bouncing Souls, and Rancid. I will listen to the latter every now and then, but I've largely let go of indie acts.

What's your preferred way of getting the news? Either through the TV or online, through the accounts that I deem trustworthy.

If you go to flightradar24 dot com to see the radar, are there any planes or helicopters in your area right now? There's one flying over my province currently - it just passed my exact city - and is headed for Albay. All the other planes I'm seeing are clustered around Manila.

When was the last time you ate at a food court and what did you get? The last time I was at a food court it was in Malaysia, 8 months ago; I had nasi kerabu. It also came with sambal that even I couldn't handle lol, it was so spicy and it was the kind of spicy that was almost painful so I barely touched it.

Would you consider yourself traditional/old-fashioned? In some aspects; I wouldn't say it's my entire personality. I'm old-fashioned when it comes to recognizing hierarchies, doing things by the book, preferring to keep things as status quo...things like that.

How do you like your eggs cooked? Poached or over easy.

Have you ever taken a ride in a yellow car that wasn't a taxi? I may have! It's not a common color but in the thousands of cars I've ridden in over the years I must've been in at least one yellow one lol.

What was the last thing you had to return to a store and why? I don't really do this, but the closest equivalent has been returning a set of utensils to the counter at Starbucks since they weren't cleaned well enough and I was still able to see some food residue from the last customer who used it :( Gross. It's happened more than once too.

Do you need to get groceries right now? No, we just had our pantry replenished earlier this week.

What's your favourite place to go on vacation? Sagada and Bangkok are worthy of repeats, though I've only been in either place once.

What state/territory did you grow up in? Do you still live there? I still live in the same province I grew up in, down to the city.

What colour were the last socks you wore? Maroon.

Do you mark your emails as read even if you didn't open them, or do you let them just sit there? I barely touch my personal emails since no one sends me anything anyway and all I get on there are just promotional shit from websites I'm signed up to. As for my work emails, I read every single message – can't afford to miss even just one as I lead the entire department and I need to be up to speed with every single movement for every single deliverable for every single campaign for every single account.

Do you have a LinkedIn profile? I do but it's such a cringe website to be on lol so I barely use it.

Have you ever done your own compost? Nope.

Do you have any plans for tomorrow? If no, what about the day or two after that? I have a run event that I need to manage again, so I have another 2 AM calltime - my third this month. Fortunately this one's expected to end early, just around 8 AM this time, so I have the rest of the day.

Doesn't mean it'll be a day of rest though since I have a pitch coming up this Friday, so I need to spend a good amount of time tomorrow doing my research.

Would you ever get a tattoo on your hand or foot? My hand, so it can be more visible. If I'm gonna put myself through pain, I might as well be able to see it often haha.

Do you open your doors and windows on warm days? It's...the opposite. I'm likely to open everything so the air can come in.

Are the blinds/curtains in the room open or closed right now? Closed.

Who was the last person you said "I love you" to? Not sure, it may have been Andi.

Does your town have a bar or pub? Sure.

Were you mean to anyone in high school? Yes, but it's just to people I've seen being mean to others.

What's one of your favourite features of your phone? How it can extract details from photos. Helps when I either need to understand something in another language; or if I want to use a photo of someone in PNG format.

Have you ever accidentally started a fire? Nope.

Do you ever wonder where everyone's going when you're driving around? Sometimes. This mostly happens when I pass by the airport.

Do you forget things as quickly as you think of them? Yeah, this is happening more frequently now so I've started a habit of writing things down on my Notes app so I don't forget about them.

What is the last note you edited in your phone's notes app? Can't answer this at the moment, my phone's downstairs as I want to avoid any work messages that might come in this weekend lol.

Who is your favourite coworker? You can tell me about one from your past if you don't have one right now. Kata has always been my favorite. I haven't been as in sync with anyone at work as I was with her, and I haven't worked with her for two years now. I was also the closest with her, and ever since she left I haven't really been able to replicate that same closeness with anyone in the team.

Can you hear birds chirping right now? Nope.

Have you ever learned a language on your own, as in, not attending classes or lessons? I learned to read Korean entirely on my own – mere context clues helped coming from the sheer amount of Hangul subtitles they would have in variety/reality shows.

Do you know anyone who's adopted a child? Sure.

Are you good at parallel parking? I am, but I avoid doing it when possible hahaha.

Do you tend to wear your clothes more than one day before washing them? If I didn't sweat at all in them, yes.

What was the last video game or board game you purchased? Do in-app purchases count? I got a Friends category pack from a charades app I recently downloaded.

Pulp or no pulp in your orange juice? No pulp, but this is also because I've never tried pulp.

Is your middle name common? If we're talking about my second name, yes it's fairly common.

What's your favourite Robin Williams movie? Good Will Hunting. It's not your fault.

Do you decorate your house for Halloween? No.

[cottoncandy-cult]

Tw because I talk about a very dark anime near the end of my little ramble. I'll mark the end of the safety zone, under that is enter at your own risk 18 and up territory because the show I'm describing is basically the nuclear darkest side of history and has a lot of messed up events.

Never realized how active the Twisted Wonderland fandom was on Ao3 til now, I've yet to really find a place to stick as far as fandoms so Ao3 stills very distant and impersonal to me compared to places like here and and Wattpad. Like for me so far it feels like Ao3 is really professionally distant, Tumblr is a middle ground of friendly and responsive but still a little distant, while Wattpad feels like a house party. Like you know those Richboy Gojo fics that talk about Geto and Gojo always holding house parties where it's basically anyone who wants to show up can? Yeah that's how wattpad feels. It's where I started writing, so it's kinda like walking into your best friend's house during an active house party. I know where the kitchen is, I know where the drinks are, I recognize a lot of the people there even if I don't know them personally. I feel like Shoko at one of Geto or Gojo's parties.... I'm not sure why this got long, I was just trying to explain that Ao3 feels really solitary. But no, overall my point is I moved my Babification event for Twisted Wonderland on here to there last night. About 8 hours in I have 189 hits, a bookmark and 7 kudos. So I can definitely see that certain fandoms are more active than others. And I'm kinda bummed cause I'm like 99% sure that most of the anime I write for are gonna be dead fandoms or very low activity fandoms. I know this because the fandoms are already pretty low activity even on Wattpad and here. Like Black Blood Brothers, it was an old vampire anime with an interesting premise that fell off because it wasn't immediately popular. (The manga and anime world is cut throat, the underground anime market is saturated.) Now bare in mind it isn't cancelled, they just dropped it after it's first season. (Only 12 episodes but I really liked it). The fandom has been active enough that people have talked about petitioning for a remake or continuation, but not so active that there is a whole lot of interaction with their content. Sometimes these anime don't have any content available, much less limited content. I'd be happy with black blood brothers fluff. And I've always considered doing a rant and ramble series on anime I love but the fanbase is dead or just has a disproportionate number of willing readers to capable producers. Cause some of these anime I genuinely believe need more attention, especially when it comes to ones like BBB. Where they aren't really cancelled, just kind of sat aside. Cases like that would be the easiest to bring back.

🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

Though I know some anime probably aren't gonna be popular, people won't want to remake them because they're to risky. Like Basilisk (and it's later part Basilisk Ouka Ninja Scroll), this anime comes with so many trigger warnings. It has a lot of basis in Japanese history, but it does have a touch of "magic", but when I say history I don't mean the prettier sides. There is blood and gore, there is sexual abuse (it's once in each part of the series the women that it happens too are "enemy" kunoichi, there is base for this in history as many diaries have been uncovered over the years talking about how female ninja are warned about being caught and in some cases are "prepared" to handle sexual torture. I took a couple advanced history classes in highschool and history is always way way darker than the blood splattered one we're taught in the regular classes. I had a couple classes where you and your parents had to sign wavers stating you knew that some of what we'd be learning about could be very dark and messed up. Not excusing it, just adding context as to where this is likely coming from. As it is meant to be based in history, unfiltered and at its worst ) and that's just the start, political corruption, abuse, torture, trauma, self harm and suicide, manipulation and gaslighting, sexism, and in the second part at the very end a psycho tries to force the 2 main characters (which were reincarnations of the characters from the first part, and came back as siblings raised separate.) Into incest to use the corrupted virgin blood to resurrect Nobunaga Oda. There is kinda boy love but it's in that screwy historical way, it is an overall dark anime that is not meant for the squeamish or easily triggered. It's unapologetic in how it represents the darkest parts of the time period. So I can understand why it never got super popular, and why it can probably never be remade in this day and age. Plus the ending of the whole whirlwind is very bittersweet, so if your mental health is easily damaged or it is currently in question. I wouldn't recommend bingeing it all at once (it isn't a very long series, 24 in Basilisk and 24 in Basilisk Ouka Ninja scrolls. You could probably skip Ouka Ninja scrolls as it takes a very sad ending and makes it sadder. So it's very watch at your own risk.

I kind of lost the plot, I don't really remember why any of this was important. Just kinda felt like talking about something even if it isn't to anyone specific. I was enjoying a bit of rum while I transferred my stuff to Ao3 in case something happens with Tumblr. So uh... I guess check out my Ao3 if you're interested in any of my Ao3 exclusive writings. I have links to 2 of my books in my Masterlist, scroll all the way to bottom and ignore my singular attempt at smut on here. It isn't as good as my Ao3 smut.

[drsorrell]

Wed. 10.4.23

Dr. Sorrell's email:

You may already have heard this from the few SVC students whose phone numbers I have because they texted me questions, as I sent them an urgent group text while at Urgent Care, but our class is canceled tomorrow. *** You do still have to do what was going to be an "in-class" activity on Vance and Pruitt, though. I'll change the due dates for all sections to noon, but you need to complete it in order to be marked "present." *** I'm not happy because the in-class Vance discussion was always one of the BEST of the semester last year. But my 4-year-old has strep, and I possibly do too, so we need a day of antibiotics and being away from other people so we're not contagious. ​*** So, I'll keep this brief: Do the Vance/Pruitt activity (just a question, really), then read Mehta and Frum for Friday, when I will see you again. *** As always, let anyone on your team, in your pod, that you phone-know, know about this outside of this email via text or the social media thingies kids use these days. Kids…We might as well drop them into enemy territory to infect/defeat the enemy 🙂 I will go change the Schoology activity titles and due times right now.

Discussion: Vance & Pruitt: Pruitt believes Vance is a problem because he is "a story we want to believe is true" (454). Vance has white, male privilege, "urbanish" (not rural) (455) privilege, and his life trajectory makes him an "outlier," "an exception" (455). For Pruitt, Vance is like the illusion of the "American Dream." We want to believe that if we work hard and long enough, we can achieve whatever we want, but if we think that, we forget about the "complexity" (453) of the system: "the political economy of regions...and of the nation...and opportunity structures engineered by the government" (455). Pruitt wants to remind us that we do not have control over everything and, therefore, cannot do anything we want, despite the pull of the fantasy of the American Dream and people like Vance who represent it.

What do you think about this?

Is Vance right?

Is Pruitt right in her critique of Vance?

What is the American Dream, anyway?

Has the American Dream changed over the years?

How could this connect to Blanda, Boyd, Coryell, Alexander, or McWhorter?

ANSWER ONE OF THESE OR REFLECT ON THE ISSUE IN GENERAL IN A RESPONSE ON SCHOOLOGY (5-8 or more sentences should do the trick).

Homework

Read Ch. 20, Mehta (458-473) and Frum (474-483).

Complete InQuizitive: "Subject-Verb Agreement Errors."