#verse: ill name it later

[voxuli]

Starter for @visage-of-hell

She'd ended the moth demon with a whimper, rather than a bang.

Vox thinks Valentino wouldn't have liked that; however, now Val's brains are splattered over the carpet, and Vox can't be bothered to care.

If Visage had thought she was getting away with this in total secrecy, she was sorely mistaken. Nothing went by in this city without Vox's notice. She wasn't subtle, and Vox liked to keep tabs on Carmine as a rule of thumb. The hellhound hounding after Val's territory had quickly landed herself on a list to keep an eye on.

But Vox... Well, the thing that people didn't seem to understand was that the Vees were a business partnership. For all they acted and clowned around on TV, it was strictly work. Valentino had never exactly been what Vox had considered a hard worker. And Vox was getting more than a little tired of constantly having to change out his head.

So if Valentino had gotten too complacent to keep proper tabs on people gunning for his position, well... what right did he have to expect Vox's surveillance on the matter?

So he'd sat back. And he had watched all the moves that she made. And when it came down to it... He'd watched Visage put a heavenly bullet straight into Val's head. Dumbass. He'd told him he should invest more into angelic detector systems.

He has two thoughts. The first-- Good riddance. The second?

He's glad it was this one. She had spunk.

Vox slips into the grid with the practiced ease of several decades, blinking into the entrance of Val's ruined studio from an unoccupied outlet. The corpses around are neater than the average hellish massacre, gore and mess kept to a minimum. He nudges one out of the way with the tip of his shoe and spares a second to schedule a cleanup crew.

A subtle gesture of his claws brings Valentino's latent security systems back online, just in case this goes south. He reaches into the building's intercom system, projecting his voice throughout the entire building.

"You run a tight ship, Viz. I like someone who can operate cleanly."

Vox smiles, a glowing Cheshire grin in the darkness of the lobby.

"How about we have a chat, face to face? I think there might just be a vacancy here with your name all over it."

[cuteteacakes]

Thanks to the gentle prodding by @bricxbrac I'm going to add a boys' academy verse for eligible muses.

Some examples of students: Hibiki Shun (as an upperclassman) Caspar Caspian Sylas Duncan Kamesh (the exchange student :0c) Beau Nickolai Ilya Noah Merry Skylar Akira Darcy (the school ghost :0c) River Jet Alder Cedar (another upperclassman) Lyle

Jackson and Étienne would be two teachers ofc (I feel sorry for them already)

Gotta think of a good name for the boys' school hmmmmm.....

HENCEFORTH IT SHALL BE NAMED RIDGEWOOD ACADEMY FOR BOYS

[dirtylimerick]

@n0tdavid wants a random book-inspired starter

"She's gone." Sean had tried to sound brave about it. Steady about it. But the truth was that he was fucking terrified. Perhaps it said something that Bowie was the first person he thought to call. "She was with me in my flat, and then I went to work, and now— now Nova is fucking gone, she's— she's been gone since yesterday and I've called her phone, I've called the police, and they're doing fuck all to even check into it."

He didn't give Bowie time to react before he fell into explaining everything. From the asshole at work, to coming home to an empty flat, and how the police brushed him off saying some bullshit about how they'd checked Erendreich's, found nothing, and that girlfriends ran out all the time on their boyfriends. Send her some flowers, the exasperated detective had said. Sean thought about going to the station just to punch him. Instead, though, he'd stayed. Stayed, and fretted, and searched Erendreich's house himself.

He did not tell Bowie he'd already broke in once.

"If you or Jenna or someone else went to the station and talked to them, maybe you could make them listen," he sputtered, beginning to cry again. "Nova wouldn't just run away like this. That bastard Erendreich did something, I just know he did."

[elkenbulwark]

verse;// lost in the woods

Post BG3 act 3 verse. Birvor, after either his brother dies (in the final battle), or his brother sets off on his own journey in the night (leaving him behind - wow, rude), sets off either alone or with a companion or two (including Bob, the farming sorcerer who thinks his magic comes from potatoes @apalestar) to the north of Fae'run to experience the orc side of his culture. There, he settles on a plot of land and becomes a reindeer farmer.

[britneyshakespeare]

... Men that make

Envy and crooked malice nourishment

Dare bite the best.

Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury in The Famous History of the Life of Henry VIII by Shakespeare and Fletcher

[bitchimasnake-sss]

I wanna see how the monster trip would react to their partner begging for round two..

maybe I'm just dirty or smth but I really wanna see Sanji's nose bleed /j

ahaha making sanji nosebleed is kinda my passion /hj

🌙thinkin' about: the monster trio! vs round two!

cw: pussydrunk boys. nsfw thoughts include: cunnilingus, creampie, overstimulation, cocky men, doin' it raw. oh, and pussydrunk men. okay, thats it. MDNI OR ILL HUNT YOUR PETTY ASSES. m.list

monkey d. luffy:

❤️monkey d. luffy knew — from the bottom of his heart — that you were the girl of his dreams. there was no doubt about that. the way you smiled at him, the way you pouted when he would annoy you, the way you happened to lecture him when he would act reckless. you were his, no doubt. ❤️but holy fucking shit. looking at you all bleary-eyed and tongue-tied, he almost felt his heart rip him apart whole. looking up at him with such a desperate look that it almost knocked the wind right of his lungs and replaced the air he breathed with something much more sinister. what did you want of him? he was all yours from the very start. ❤️covered in sheen, strands of jet-black clung to his forehead and his heavy breath fanned over you spent face. his cock had stayed buried within you despite painting your walls white a few minutes prior. despite making you cum twice already. shifting his weight on his elbows, he bent down to press open-mouthed kisses all over your pretty face. and as he felt weak nails breaking the skin of his biceps, his eyes met yours, "what's wrong, peach?" "l-luff," your voice stuttered, and he almost grinned at the the sweet falsetto, "hm?" "'nother round, please?" ❤️and how could monkey d. luffy say no to the girl of his dreams? grinning ear to ear, his larger palm intertwined against your weak ones. bringing you dainty palm up to his lips, he pressed down a messy kiss just as his hips pistoned into your cushiony heat, "ah ah, luffy. fuck—" "shh." a delirious smile on his face, lust-induced haze in his eyes, and your name on his lips, "don't need'ta say twice, baby."

roronoa zoro:

💚as a swordsman, roronoa zoro revered himself to be a man that could mask all emotions, all calculations behind a stoic look-of-stone. but were you so well-versed in him that you could read his mind? seemed like that since you were begging for the very thing he was ready to give. "zo." you looked over your shoulder, a stern twinge in your words despite your trembling lips and teary eyes, "again, please." "ha-hah, again?" his thumb circled your twitching clit, enjoying the way you squirmed under him with every wicked swipe over your overstimulated cunt. faux concern on his tongue, he teased you, "think you can handle it?" "yes. another round, please." bobbing your head up and down so fast, looking back at him with such raw emotion that he felt a lump in his heart where you were. fuck, why did you have to be so pretty? 💚snuggling his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his heady words accompanied the frenzied touches across your swollen clit, "might regret it later when you can't walk." "i don' care, zo— want you." you whined, your sweet voice so close to his ears. and who does he think he is that he can say no to you? nothing. he's a fool at your hands, always. 💚 and you should really be careful what you wished for. because as the swordsman dragged his tip all the way out just to push it right back in all of a sudden jolted you forward. your moans muffled as you bit down the pillow, "s-slow down, zo— ngh fu—" "c'mon," he purred, words strained as he tried to maintain whatever sanity he had, "you asked for this."

vinsmoke sanji:

he has a nosebleed as soon as you call out his name in that weak voice of yours but let's pretend he's got game. 💙vinsmoke sanji treated you like you were glass in battles. scared of out his wits that one wayward shove, one reckless pull and you would shatter. but what a fucking hypocrite he was! becausr right now, he was the one wrecking you. experienced fingers curling within your plushy heat, his tongue toying with your swollen clit as his eyes watched the woman over him fall apart. "hah, fuck." you panted, walls clenching around his fingers dangerously as nectar pooled from your divine body down his greedy throat. he almost felt himself come undone as your feeble voice called out his name. 💙he knew the routine by now. vinsmoke sanji would lap away at you like a man starve as you will try to pry him off by squirming and pulling his hair. in retaliation, he would grab your thighs harder and continue eating you out till you cried out his name loud enough for everyone to hear. simple enough, right? 💙but right now as he looked up at you, he didn't find you clenching your eyes and trying to pry him off. instead, you met his eyes with a hungry glint. reddened, kiss-bitten lips commanding him, "sanji, again." "hm?" his eyes widened, and as he pulled back, your slick shined on his lips and jaw. he looked up, grinning like the devil, "what did you say, my love?" at his sudden inspection, your throat closed up. voice growing weak, feeble, "a-again?" he answered by sinking his face back against your heat. and the last thing you heard before you lost all semblance of sanity was a rough rumble of, "again."

a/n: NOT PROOFREAD, IM LEGIT GOING OUT WITH FRIENDS IN LIKE 2 MINS AND I NEEDED TO POST THIS BEFORE I LEAVE AAAAAH anyways. ahem, ahem. am i ever gonna get tired of these men? no. so, just enjoy. okay, a genuine question: should i add ace, law to my usual roster [i.e. the monster trio]? i love writing ace so i'm just finding excuses lmaoo and with law, i think it'll give me good practice before i transition into long fics for him. let me know what you think lol. credits: @rookthornesartistry for the dividers! tagging: @mist-ixx [let me know if you'd like to be in the taglist!] m.list

[hard--headed--woman]

Hello and happy Pride Month everyone ! 🏳️‍🌈

As promised, I am going to talk about an important lesbian in history everyday. And this first post is about one of my favourite :

Renée Vivien !

I have seen some people talk about her here but she clearly isn’t as famous as she should be, and she deserves way more recognition!

Renée Vivien, whose birth name is Pauline Mary Tam, was a British writer poetess, who wrote her poetry (and most of her works) in french ; born in 1877, she died in 1909, at only 32 years old.

Renée was openly a lesbian, and she never tried to hide it despite the society she lived in being extremely homophobic and considering homosexuality as an illness. In her poetry, she mentions her love for women a lot, and wrote a lot of love poems for several of her lovers. This even earned her the nickname “Sappho 1900”. ("Sappho 1900, Sappho cent pour cent").

Of Sappho, she was by the way a huge fan : in 1903, she published the work "Sappho", in which the poet's Greek texts are followed by a French translation, as well as verses by Renée Vivien, which thus "completes" the remaining fragments of Sappho's writings. This collection greatly helped to anchor Sappho's work and her identity as a lesbian woman in our culture.

Her work consists of :

Twelve collections of poems, totalling more than 500 poems

Several translations of Greek poetesses (including Sappho)

Seven books of prose

Around ten novels (written under various pseudonyms)

A posthumously published collection of short Gothic tales (written in English this time)

A book about Anne Boleyn's life

It is also possible to read her diary and the letters she exchanged with her lovers, friends and other personalities of her time, including Natalie Clifford Barney, Colette, Kérimé Turkhan Pacha and others.

Pauline studied both in Paris and in London, then decided, once she came of age, to come and settle in Paris. She published her first collection,"Études et Préludes" in 1901, under the pseudonym R.Vivien. This pseudonym later became René Vivien (the male version of Renée) then Renée Vivien, the name under which she will be remembered. We can easily guess that she first chose these neutral then masculine pseudonyms to be able to write and be published despite the misogyny and homophobia of her time, especially given the themes exploited in her writings.

Sadness, death, ancient Greece, love, despair, solitude and love are the most recurrent themes in Renée's poems. There is actually a poetry prize in her name, the Prix Renée Vivien, which rewards poets whose themes and style are close to those of Renée Vivien.

Among Renée's best-known lovers is Natalie Clifford Barney, a famous writer and poet, with whom she had a relationship for several years before leaving her, tired of her infidelities. It is said that Natalie never accepted this breakup and tried until the end to get her back by all means, sending her love letters even years after.

Renée then had a relationship of more than six years with the rich Baroness Hélène de Zuylen, married and mother of two children, with whom she traveled extensively around the world and collaborated on the writing of several works (under the collective pseudonym Paule Riversdale). In a letter to her friend Jean Charles-Brun, Renée admitted that she considered herself married to Hélène.

While still living with the Baroness, she received a letter from a mysterious admirer, Kérimé Turkhan Pacha. What followed was an intense four-year epistolary relationship, interspersed with brief clandestine meetings. In 1908, however, Kérimé, the wife of a Turkish diplomat, put an end to their relationship when she had to follow her husband to St. Petersburg. This break-up probably contributed to Renée's tragic end.

The writer was in deep psychological distress, which only worsened from 1908 onwards. Alcoholic and suicidal, she began refusing to eat properly, and attempted suicide with laudanum. After this failed suicide attempt, she contracted pleurisy, which left her very weak, and then chronic gastritis due to her alcohol abuse. She gradually fell into anorexia, and, with her limbs paralyzed by multiple neuritis, she died on November 18, 1909, aged just 32. Her death was attributed to "pulmonary congestion", probably due to pneumonia complicated by alcohol and anorexia.

After her death, intellectuals, artists and newspapers, out of lesbophobia, tried to make her forgotten by the literary world, describing her as a woman of evil and damnation, perverse and cruel, going so far as to invent for her a life of crime, debauchery, orgies with married women, violence and cocaine consumption.

Today, Renée Vivien's name is no longer known to the general public, and is never mentioned alongside those of great ans famous poets such as Arthur Rimbaud or Charles Baudelaire, despite her gorgeous poetry, her immense talent and fascinating work.

She's personally my favourite, and not only because she was a lesbian. Her poetry is the most beautiful, interesting and deep poetry I have ever seen. She deserves to be as famous as Victor Hugo or Paul Eluard (and even more famous, in my opinion lol).

Here is one of her poems, with its english translation :

A link to some of her poems (in french but you can use a translator) ;

And two links with some of her poems translated into english : 1 and 2.

You should totally buy and read her books and poems, I have them and they're amazing!!! I'll post more translations of her poems in the future for those interested.

Anyway, thanks for reading and see you tomorrow for the second post!

[packagecfgirlyevil]

Stella was used to being arm candy. 

She’d been doing it for years, really. A pretty girl to show off at some event or gala or another, willing to done the dress and heels and glam herself up before talking up her date to whomever was around.

A lawyer looking to make partner before he decided that was more important than her as a person. A politician enticed more by her culture than her views. Even a social media creator, who told her right to her face that she was merely a face that looked good on his feed. 

Landon was different. A creative, for one, someone who appreciated art and beauty in the small happenings of life. Someone who saw her not just for her curves and bright pink lips but for her brain, her ideas, her passion. 

He was also startlingly earnest sometimes; she let off a small burst of laughter, but she knew he meant it. It mattered to him what she thought of his work, of who he was. 

“I’m glad I came too,” she said with a demure smile, a slight flush creeping over her cheeks. “Thank you for inviting me. I needed a night out like this. Now, tell me a little bit more about this showcase. Anything in particular I should pay attention to?”

@packagecfgirlyevil whispered for a vamp starter

Night is a beautiful disaster in the rawest sense. A natural nocturnal rush feeds him before a tender touch of lips may connect with another fresh pulse. He never sets out with bloodshed on the mind but thirst tickles his throat often. Tonight the man finds himself particularly parched meeting his ‘date’ for this event. Interesting how a simple thing can prove so enlightening. Much as the brunette has been since they connected in this city. At first it was all business with his photography studio. A perfect location to lure the living; Landon chose his meals as he did his photo shoots. Careful and attentive to details because it matters when he needs to showcase his work. It has proved vital to him in this world. Perhaps it is not as vital as growing close to the woman currently here by invitation.

“I wasn’t sure if you had time tonight but I’m glad you decided to come.” Landon’s smile is genuine. A taste of the Victorian gentleman of his past life, he’s never outgrown his chivalry. Despite this unholy curse he’s still very much a man who desires to prove himself. Make an impression on every person he sees as important even. She’s captured his attention more than any other. In how many years is a big question because he hasn’t been intrigued by a woman since he lost his fiancée? “The studio showcase wouldn’t be as intriguing as it is right now without you here.” People are mingling, drinking and taking in the gala.

Art is a form crafted from the minds of creative talent everywhere but this? This is his life’s work. Old photographs he has from decades ago along with new snapshots marked with accolades. Awards he may accept but he already has a prize in his sights. “You might not realize how deeply invested I am in your opinion, Stella. I find it better than most.” His dark eyes swept over her face. Capturing Stella like a photo has its merits. He’d remember the way she looked tonight years from now. If he never gets the opportunity to properly make her his he’ll think back to this beauty in the night.

[nshmuras]

WE CANT BE FRIENDS - wait .. JIA??

synopsis : you and riki have been friends for over 10 years. but.. you started to fall for him unexpectedly one day and to your unlucky surprise , the day you were about to talk to him about your feelings he announced he has a girlfriend. weeks later he showed up at your doorstep explaining that his girlfriend wants him to cut you off.

- you walked down the school halls , looking around at everyone to see just one girl .. at least ONE that riki could possibly like.

you listen into everyone's conversations discreetly so you can hear just a snippet of his name to get a clue but so far .. you had no luck.

you were about to give up and just go to class until your friends came up to you with looks of shock and it was clear they knew something that you didnt.

yunjin , karina and kazuha approach you and immediately start to bombard you with random words all at once.

after a few moments you put a hand up to stop them "okay okay woah.. slow down guys." you said as you looked at the three girls.

"all of you tell me whats happening, i cant understand you if your speaking over each other." you said.

yunjin spoke first "yn! we heard something about riki and his crush ... but. you might not like it." she said holding your shoulders

huh? you might not like it? now you were even more anxious and curious.

"what do you mean?" you said in anticipation and curiosity as you waited for either of them to speak.

it was silent between you four except the background noise of students which were burned out by your suspension.

then, karina blurted it out. "riki likes your enemy jia and he's planning to ask her out tomorrow!" she said in a rushed tone.

wait ... JIA??

hours after school ended you were laying on your bed in despair, the rest of the day at school you ignored and avoided riki at all cost .. you couldn't face him after what you heard.

- you looked at your phone and answered karina's call with a "hello?".

she immediately started to talk and it seemed very important.

"yn! i dont know when this happened but i saw riki go to jia during the end of the day. i think hes gonna ask her out!"

the sentence hung in the air for a while until you spoke up "i wonder if hes gonna tell me. or maybe i should ask him tomorrow?"

"i think you should, maybe then you can get to the bottom on why he's crushing on your enemy." karina added and went silent before speaking again

"wanna have a sleepover?" she said softly since she knew you needed to have a chat.

"yeah.. ill pack my stuff and come."

last /\ next

taglist : @goldenmellow @won4kiss @helenngxz @luv4rikii @qwonyoung23 @lukesboo @pnghoon @yoichiislovie @dreeki @suneng @en-verse @itwasntmee @en-gelic @yangjungwonnie @mygnolia @kairoot @elysianiki

buns note : these chapters might come out faster than usual since i kinda dont wanna make u all wait

[firstfullmoon]

In 1981, Israeli Mossad agents assassinated Palestinian Liberation Organization member, writer, and intellectual Majed Abu Sharar in his hotel room in Rome. Abu Sharar was a close friend of the Palestinian poet and writer Mahmoud Darwish. In 1984, in his collection A Siege for the Eulogies of the Sea (Hissar li-Mada’h el-Bahr), Darwish included the final version of his long elegy to his friend, “The Final Meeting in Rome.” This poem in particular is largely untranslatable in English. The untranslatability is not so much due to the technical demands of the surreal lyric’s transformation of song into an act of liberation. Instead, the untranslatability relates primarily to the question of audience. There remains little room in English to receive openly, unequivocally, the freedom song of Palestinians in its myriad forms.

But I can simplify all this jargon in a single word, a name: Majed. Majed’s name permeates the text of “The Final Meeting in Rome.” In a moment of genius, in the penultimate section of the text, Darwish explodes language with his friend’s name through an unexpected refrain—as if Darwish had been writing the previous pages for the sole purpose of arriving at this stanza: “Good morning, Majed, / good morning, / get up to recite Surat al-‘Aaed.”

In the Quran, there is no chapter, or Surah, titled al-‘Aaed—a word that means the returnee. Some may argue that one solution for translating the stanza would reside in changing Majed’s name to Ali, for example, so that the impact of the rhyme is maintained: Ali/the Surah of the returnee. But that is self-deluding. English, much as it likes to argue otherwise, still struggles to accept at least two major points about this linguistic construct in Arabic. The first is the beautiful, divine presence of the Quran to elegize a Palestinian martyr (irrespective of their religious affiliation, if any). The second is the Palestinian right of return, dead and alive.

Darwish stuns his audience by blurring the boundaries of blasphemy. He is not echoing a specific Quranic text. He elevates the Palestinian question to touch the moral arc that bends toward justice in the universe. He delivers a mystical experience no one objects to in Arabic. He invents a Surah in the Quran and attributes its title to his “friend, brother, and last love.” The entire Palestinian body in one named Majed. The entire human history of return in a Surah.

Among the poem’s memorable lines, there is this couplet: “As if I could protect my heart / from hope. My heart is ill.” This ailing heart arrives near the end of the poem and disseminates into Palestinian flesh. What Darwish manages to describe, in topical yet visionary manner, is astounding, precisely because the poem does not claim to see the future. Yet here we are, more than forty years later, and every word of the closing salvo that I have translated is true.

I took liberties with this last, translatable section of “The Final Meeting in Rome.” Since one aspect of the original untranslatability is in the name—Majed—I clearly see that today, Gaza is the untranslatable name in the poem.

[goddessofroyalty]

hello! the fanart of Viktor with a baby you reblogged this week got me right in the soft feels u.u would you consider revisiting the Work/Life Balance 'verse? (random ideas: pregnant Viktor dealing with a minor illness (very minor, not a complication, no real threat to his health and no threat whatsoever to the baby, but Jayce is still fussing over them)? how a newborn affects Viktor's already hectic work/sleep schedule? either Viktor can't or chooses not to nurse and good papa Jayce does his part with formula and bottles?)

Kind of combined the second two parts of this into what I’ve written but more leaning on good papa Jayce helping feed their baby. Maybe I’ll figure out a quick 4th scene (to even out the POV’s) that focuses a bit more on Viktor’s messy sleeping schedule. Have also made a note of the first prompt as well to do separately.

I’ve given up and am naming this kid Naph as well. Why? Because it’s a nice easy name for me to kidnap and gods knows Arcane played fast and loose with League lore anyway. Also I like it and it has become the default in my brain if nothing else fills the space. It can be easily subbed out if I decide on something different later.

Warnings: past-mpreg, omegaverse (I refer to the baby as pup that’s literally it), some mention of after-birth pains (nothing major just a bit tender)

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

Viktor wakes to the sound of a baby crying.

“I’ve got him, don’t get up,” Jayce says as the sleep fades from Viktor’s brain and he remembers that it is their baby that is crying not just some random abstract one. Their baby that Viktor had given birth to days prior and had finally been allowed back home that day. The doctors happy with both their progress.

The bed shifts as Jayce gets up to go to their child. Viktor pushes himself up on his arms to sit up more as he does. Wincing as his weight settles on where he’s still tender from the birth.

“I told you not to get up,” Jayce says holding their son in his arms as he looks back at Viktor. It is a good image and one Viktor could get used to seeing. Will get used to seeing, as surreal as that feels.

“And I have not gotten out of bed.” Nor will he be. Not when he has a perfectly good and willing Jayce to get things for him while he still heals from the birth. To make up for you having done all the work to this point Jayce had said and Viktor had nothing to gain from fighting him on it. “What’s the time?”

“2AM. And you can go back to sleep,” Jayce says. “He just needs a bottle.”

“I’m awake now.” Viktor had never been able to go back to sleep once he woke. There always something he’d rather be spending the time doing than tossing and turning. “I can hold him while you heat up the bottle.”

“The doctors said you need rest,” Jayce says despite it being clear he needs both hands to keep their son settled which would leave none free to prepare a bottle as well.

“I am resting!” Despite how much he misses it he still hasn’t returned to the lab since he was put on bedrest in the final trimester. Working on formulas and schematics from bed can hardly be considered work. It’s just keeping his mind occupied. “Let me hold him.”

Jayce clearly wants to argue but he relents when Viktor raises an eyebrow. Carefully handing their son over and only taking his hands away once the baby is very secure and settled.

Viktor would almost be offended at the lack of trust but he all-too-well understands the impulse. It turns out newborns are tiny and so delicate. It is almost terrifying to think about all the different ways they could accidently hurt him. It is scary to even have him in Viktor’s arms but also nerve-wracking when he is not within easy reach.

“I’ll be right back,” Jayce promises, only taking his eyes off them when he physically leaves the room.

Viktor once again examines his son while he waits. He had hoped their child would have taken a little more after both of them rather than looking mostly like Viktor but it is still impressive to think mere days ago Naph was still growing inside him and now the boy is alive and experiencing the world, frowning up at Viktor as his tongue peaks out between tiny lips, followed by a small cry of impatience.

“Not much longer,” Viktor promises. If his milk had come in the wait wouldn’t have to be this long. But it is useful to know that Jayce can look after their son entirely on his own if needed.

Naph is still far too young to actually understand what Viktor is saying. Another louder cry being made as Jayce hurries back into the room.

“No, no, don’t cry, I got it,” Jayce rambles, sliding into bed beside Viktor, warm bottle in hand. He pauses when Viktor holds their child back out to him. “Uh-“

“You said you were feeding him, no?” Viktor has no problems with doing it as well but Jayce likes to feel useful. And Viktor likes to watch him with their son.

“Right, of course,” Jayce recovers quickly. Carefully taking their son back into his arms, offering him the bottle. It only takes two passes of the teat for the tiny mouth to open to let it pass.

“He is hungry,” Jayce says as their son makes quick work of the bottle.

“I suppose it was a big day for him.” For Viktor and Jayce they came home but all their son knew until the day before was the hospital.

“It was,” Jayce agrees, shifting slightly to allow Viktor to lean in closer and push the fabric from their son’s onesie down from where it had crept up to his mouth. “But we can all rest for now.”

Viktor gives a hum of agreement despite how he already itches to get back to the lab.

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

Jayce wakes to find himself alone in the bed.

It isn’t that unusual. Neither he nor Viktor can be said to have a normal sleeping schedule even before their pup was born. But Jayce still never likes it when he reaches out for his partner only to find cold bedsheets.

He pulls himself out of bed and shuffles to the main living area. There’s no point trying to get back to sleep anyway and he might as well check on Naph to make sure he hasn’t woken in the night.

Viktor had apparently had the same thought whenever he had gotten up. He stands in front of the blackboard they had set up so they can make any changes to their equations even when not in the lab, a piece of chalk balanced in the fingers of the hand resting on his cane as the other holds their son steady where he is swaddled against Viktor’s chest. A slight bounce with every move clearly to keep the pup settled.

“I put coffee on,” Viktor says, not even turning around to acknowledge Jayce. Not that Jayce wants him to – he’s perfectly happy just watching his partner and their child together.

“Thanks.” There’s an almost empty baby bottle next to the coffeepot. It’s cold to the touch so Jayce rinses it out in the sink and puts it to the side to be sanitized with the others. He makes Viktor a cup of coffee as well as his own. “Couldn’t get him to go back to sleep?”

“He doesn’t want to be put down,” Viktor says, looking away from their life’s work to their son. “Clingy. Like his father.”

Jayce can hardly blame his son for that – he wants to cling to Viktor too at times.

“I can take him if you need to write,” Jayce says as he brings Viktor’s coffee over to him. Tapping his partner on the arm with it before placing it down on the table they keep next to the blackboard almost exclusively for coffee. He picks up the old empty one and takes it back to the sink.

“It is fine,” Viktor says with a small shake of his head, his eyes flitting back to the blackboard. “I have nothing new to add to it anyway.”

Jayce would suggest Viktor go back to bed then but he knows his partner would have as much a chance of going back to sleep as he would.

Instead he joins Viktor at the blackboard. Close enough that Viktor can shuffle over and lean against him while they both try and figures out how the equations fit together and wait for the morning sun.

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

“Jayce!” Viktor calls because he is in the middle of wiring up the controls for the latest iteration of Hexgates and their son is crying. Jayce is just doing some paperwork, necessary, yes, but nowhere near as dangerous to be walked away from in the middle of.

“Huh?” Jayce asks as he sticks his head into the room before realizing why he was called. “Right. On it.”

“Up we go,” Jayce says as he picks their son up from the cot they keep in the lab for him to sleep in while they work. Out of the corner of his eye Viktor watches his partner hold their son high to sniff at his backside. “Nope. Must be hungry.”

Viktor returns his attention back fully to his work as Jayce carries their son into the kitchenette of the lab to heat up a bottle for him. He’s still at it when he two return, their son still in Jayce’s arms as he comes to watch over Viktor’s shoulder.

“How are you going?”

“Nearly finished.” The wiring had nearly taken him all day but it should be worth it.

“And then we can test it?” Jayce asks despite the fact he should already know the answer.

“Yes. They should lead to a less, uh, jolty experience when the jump is made.”

Jayce doesn’t respond, but Viktor can hear him pace around the lab no doubt bouncing their child in his arms as he does to keep the boy settled and not distracting Viktor’s work.

Viktor doesn’t alert his partner to the fact once he finishes. Instead watching the two of them for the minute it takes Jayce to notice himself. He had been told by many how lucky he was to have Jayce as the father of his child and, really, he cannot argue it.

[duncebento]

my academic taylor swift hate and lyric comparison:

to tear apart some tortured poets lyrics further my point that taylor swift is NOT the white girl taylor swift fans claim (but madison cunningham IS,) here's an analysis of 2 verses + chorus from two songs of theirs:

in choosing cunningham's "your hate could power a train" (left) and swift's "my boy only breaks his favorite toys" (right), my purpose was to illustrate the difference in lyrical choices while the two similarly-billed artists deal with similar themes: both songs have tongue-in-cheek, darkly ironical attitudes in drawing attention to the way the Man, a character in the song, mistreats them, and the titles reflect this.

both songs begin narratively, setting scenes. cunningham begins with a visual and a joke: we have laboratory-related sense-info (blue light, white coats, and radio waves) but she sings that ultimately, there is no neuroscientific explanation for the way she behaved with the Man-- the scientists can't figure out how to get her autonomy back. furthermore, a theory/reality dichotomy is visually represented by the labratory vs. the farmland. she's lost her autonomy "to the land", to labor, which has buried her underneath it.

the first line of taylor's verse seems in media res-- we understand that whatever is happening with the Man is part of a pattern. (note that we can assume the Man to be childish because of his characterization in the title.) the second line already muddles-- "the voices in his head" implies mental illness on the part of the Man, perhaps in line with the "tortured poets" atmosphere (this is affirmed by the genius annotation...) anyway, we get that swift and the Man were having "days of wild," but mercurially, his attitude toward her has suddenly darkened as a cloudy sky. this Man, childish, has "purchased" swift as though she were a "sick" army doll (though later on she analogizes herself to a barbie doll instead?) the sort of toy a young boy might buy for the purpose of roughhousing. when "rivulets descend [her] plastic smile," we get that she is referencing the Man's stormy mood as well as her own tears.

as a listener, cunningham's visual setting scans more naturally to me: i get "neuroscientists in laboratory" + "buried in farmland" with more ease than "mentally ill Man?" + "summoned storm to end wild days" + "childish Man purchasing taylor as an army doll." swift's first two ideas aren't set up solidly enough for me to feel like i understand her direction.

(you'll see that now cunningham moves to a second verse while swift goes straight to the chorus. i'm going to choose to review the second verse before the chorus, because i feel that swift's first verse hasn't explained enough to warrant the narrative peak of her chorus. neither does her second verse, though. but i digress:)

in her second verse, cunningham characterizes the Man. his name is often spoken, and hearing it chastises her ("torch to the skin" implying a religious sort of chastising, specifically.) he is authoritative ("not to be crossed"), even to the extent of wanting a godlike power. and a little play here: when the Man says "god and man," he dichotomizes between the christian god and human beings, but madison points out that she is "under the table--" as a woman, the Man does not actually consider her to be on the same level as him under god, but doglike (catching the excess) beneath him. though their relationship is not narrativized, we can get the impression of a small-town preacher or mayor's wife, making herself miniscule underneath a man who is respected (his name being spoken often) perhaps more than he deserves. the final line of the verse (and my favorite of the song,) "left to be strung over two-thousand frets," is a darkly playful visual analogy for a train track, mirroring the frets on a guitar neck. the Man, in his "race" for godlike power, is like a train barreling over her body (and this sets up the connection to the chorus!)

in swift's second verse, she continues to lament her frustrations with the Man to the audience. the two "could have played for keeps this time" (the idiom is surely used to extend the motif of childhood games) and developed a long-term relationship. but this conversation is another part of their toxic cycle; swift is "repeating herself" like a pull-toy. "put me back on my shelf," directed towards the listener, seems a throwaway line, and the annotations agree. finally, one of swift's "stock" sayings in this relationship has been that the Man "runs because he loves [her]." carrying on the army doll metaphor from the first verse, we could say that the Man's enthusiasm about taylor is less about his care for her and more about his own entertainment, much like a small child's excitement for a toy may not necessarily translate towards tender care. again, i find these connections a bit loose. the annotation says that "running" might allude to paparazzi photos of joe alwyn, so as someone not tuned in to the ARG of your average taylor swift song, i may be lacking background information. swift's choice not to characterize the Man any further in this verse is somewhat conspicuous: after two verses, we as the listener know (1.) that the Man treats swift like a child treats his toy, that (2.) their relationship seems cyclical, with swift ultimately excusing his behavior, and that (3.) she feels the two of them could have easily been in a longer and more stable relationship. however, we are not given any insight as to the Man's mode of behavior: the title tells us that he "breaks" swift, but the song itself has not actually touched on this. as such, the chorus feels rather "tell-don't-show."

finally, chorus! cunningham's chorus is simple; really two sentences: "what does it say about you (that) your hate could power a train?" an affront to the Man: despite his positive image, she sees him as hell-bent on terror. but then she lambasts herself: "and what does it say about me (that) your love could get away with anything?" despite what she knows, she has allowed herself to shrink underneath him, so long as he rewards her with a paltry love (think of the scraps off the table from earlier.) simple and catchy. while this simplicity runs the risk of romanticizing the Man's toxicity, any ambiguity on her stance is cleared up more directly in the latter part of the song, not shown here.

as to swifts chorus: "but you should've seen him when he first got me" is almost a throwaway; it does function to let us know that the Man was not always like this, but this characterization is afforded nowhere else in the song, which prevents me from cultivating a real narrative interest. swift is "queen" of "sand castles [the Man] destroys"-- add that to the "child's play" motif-- but again, knowing nothing about how this is happening, or what swift considers said castles to represent, this does little for me. if i were being generous, i'd say that this line is about the Man's inability to support taylor even in her paltry interests, her "sand castles." then, the two of them "fit too right" together, like "puzzle pieces in the dead of night" (+1 to "child's play," +1 to "sexual euphemism.") because of this compatibility, she "should have known" they wouldn't last-- which, again, isn't narratively supported, but is perhaps auto-referential to swift's established history of breakups. ultimately, anyway, the dark humour of the title line ends up feeling pretentious: it's unsupported by the content of the song, save for aesthetics, and so comes across as melanie-martinez-ish to me, while lacking even the aesthetic devotion martinez possesses. personally, i expect this is the sort of song that sounds more profound to someone projecting their own breakup narrative onto it. in and of itself, though, it fails to compel me lyrically, and that's to say nothing of the music, which does not seem to have advanced from the "blank check" days.

speaking of, here are the video links so you can listen to the opening verses yourself. i'm interested if you had your own thoughts on certain lines or if you experienced them differently from me so let me know lol

[ltwilliammowett]

The Legend of the Princess Augusta or the Palatine Ship

The legend goes back to the historic shipwreck of the Princess Augusta at Block Island in 1738. The ship is known from several contemporary accounts and from statements made by the surviving crew after the sinking, which were discovered in 1925 and reprinted in 1939. The British merchant ship Augusta sailed from Rotterdam in August 1738 under Captain George Long and a crew of fourteen, carrying 240 immigrants to the English colonies in America. The passengers were German Palatines who came from the Palatinate, which is why the ship was referred to as the "Palatine Ship" in contemporary documents, which explains the later confusion about the name. The ship was on its way to Philadelphia, from where the passengers were possibly travelling to a German-owned settlement on the James River in Virginia.

The Burning Ship, by Albert Bierstadt 1869

The Princess Augusta's voyage was ill-fated: The water supply was contaminated, causing a "fever and flux disease" that killed 200 passengers and half the crew, including Captain Long. First Officer Andrew Brook took command when severe storms forced the ship off course to the north, where the survivors were exposed to extreme weather conditions and dwindling supplies for three months. According to the crew, Brook forced the passengers to pay for the remaining rations. Apparently he tried different routes to Rhode Island and Philadelphia, but the storms drove the damaged and leaking Augusta to Block Island. She ran aground in a snowstorm at Sandy Point at the northernmost end of the island at 2 p.m. on 27 December 1738.

According to reports, Brook rowed to shore with the entire crew and abandoned the passengers on board. The Block Islanders apparently did what they could to help. They convinced Brook to let the passengers disembark the next day, and later retrieved their belongings when he left them on board. They also buried about 20 people who died after the shipwreck; the Block Island Historical Society erected a memorial plaque at the site of the "Palatine Graves" in 1947.

The authorities took statements from the crew, but what happened afterwards is unclear. Apparently the crew was not charged for their actions, and they and most of the surviving passengers made it to the mainland, from where little is known about them. Two survivors remained on Block Island and settled there. Most reports indicate that the ship was deemed unsalvageable and was forced out to sea to sink. It may have been set on fire to sink it. According to some reports, a woman, sometimes referred to as Mary Van Der Line, was driven mad by her suffering; she was forgotten and sank with the ship, according to these reports. However, no remains of the wreck have ever been found, and there are indications that the Augusta may have been repaired and sent on to Philadelphia.

There is a rich oral tradition of this event, and numerous sightings were reported in the late 18th and 19th centuries. The legend was immortalised by the poet John Greenleaf Whittier in "The Palatine", which faithfully reproduces the traditional story in verse. Which gave the Legend it's name. On Saturdays between Christmas and New Year's Eve, locals still sporadically report seeing a burning ship pass by. Folklorist Michael Bell, investigating the legend, found that almost a year after the incident, two versions of the night's events were circulated.

The Palatine Graves

The Block Islanders insisted that their citizens had made a valiant attempt to rescue the crew, while the New England mainlanders suspected the islanders of having lured the ship to them in order to seize their cargo. Both legends agreed that a female passenger had refused to abandon ship when it sank, and those who claim to have witnessed her reappearance say that her screams were heard from the ship.

Today, a plaque at the Mohegan Bluffs where the ship is said to have run aground reads: Palatine Graves - 1738. Some claim that those who died that night are buried underground. However, Charlotte Taylor of the Rhode Island Historical Preservation and Heritage Commission has stated that no physical evidence has ever been found to support either this claim or the legend itself.

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

Free Day: NHS is the elder brother from the Nie clan and thus is the person who appointed MY as his deputy

Set in this verse with requester permission.

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

He had thought that introductions were going well, but as soon as he mentioned why he was there and who had sent him, Nie-zongzhu's welcoming smile vanished.

He didn't look annoyed or anything of that sort, instead he seemed... embarrassed.

"Oh! That's- ah... Well..." he mumbled, awkwardly scratching his neck-

-Meng Yao politely pretended not to notice that there were already a great many scratches there-

-then he sighed. "I'm sorry. Whatever promotion you were told this would be was a lie."

A creeping-crawling feeling started to form in Meng Yao's stomach, similar to the one he used to get as a child whenever one of the adults would promise him something and then pretend not to have done so later. "What do you- I-I mean, could Zongzhu clarify for this one, please?"

"I do need an assistant, but as far as the disciples and soldiers are concerned, the position is a joke. Or a punishment. Nobody wants to work with the sect leader in-name-only when they could potentially gain a position of actual importance."

The creeping feeling gathered together into a stone. He felt dizzy all of a sudden.

He was further surprised when Nie-zongzhu quickly gave up his own chair and even helped him to sit. "Why are you telling me this?"

"We may have only talked a little while, but from your descriptions of your time helping our side, you seem hardworking and trustworthy. I like you enough to be honest with you," Nie-zongzhu said simply.

Honest with him. Which was more than he could say for the men who'd promised him a better rank in return for his effort. And much kinder, too.

"If... I were to stay, what would be required of me?" he asked cautiously.

"Are you good with sums? Recording counts? Names and faces? Taking notes? Reading maps?" Nie-zongzhu listed off, and he nodded an affirmative to each one.

And finally- "Do you get ill around severe injuries? Blood and broken bones and all that? I know you said you were on battlefield cleanup before, but it's, ah, different when you're looking at someone still squirming and screaming."

"I've seen enough," Meng Yao said. "And I have some training in battlefield triage."

"Oh, excellent!" Nie-zongzhu said, clapping his hands together with a smile that seemed to lighten up everything about him in a way that... was actually very endearing. "Those soldiers really had no idea what they were throwing away, did they? But their loss is my gain!"

Despite himself, Meng Yao felt his face grow warm under the praise.

"Alright, then, let's get you set up with a place to sleep and your scribe kit, and then we'll get started with the kitchen and infirmary supply lists for today, okay?"

"Yes, Zongzhu."

---

By the time he made it back to his new cot and tent, Meng Yao was exhausted.

But he also felt... accomplished.

Tailing his new sect leader as he bustled about the support camps for the front line, he had found that despite the lack of respect the combat cultivators and soldiers gave him and his quiet meekness, Nie-zo- Huaisang, the man had insisted- actually had a very keen and complicated mind when it came to strategy and logistics.

Every worker, from medic to cook to farrier to message runner, that they met with had been introduced to Meng Yao by name, and it was clear they appreciated the recognition, along with Huaisang's string pulling to keep their supplies filled and their tools in good condition.

He was also quick -and genuine- with praise, both for them and for Meng Yao, who couldn't remember the last time anyone but his mother had ever spoken of him so highly.

It was... addicting, in a way. The sweeter Huaisang was to him, the more of that he wanted.

He couldn't lose sight of his goal. He was still aiming for his father's sect.

But... having found himself a shelter of sorts from the storm of public ridicule... maybe he could let himself enjoy it.

Just for a little while longer.

[obsessivemusicfr3ak]

10/18/24 12:00 AM

NEW FUCKING MACHINE GIRL ALBUM JUST DROPPED WE FUCKING LISTENING BITCH

1:Ok fr tho already heard first song from single its aight (better than i remember now that im listening again) ((theres also no lyrics out yet so im not gonna mention those at all))

2:Second song titled "nu nu meta phenomenon" is fucking INCREDIBLE the sound design and awesome drums continue the awesome trend of live instrumentation mixed with glitchy elements that leads to a heavenly experience!

3:Glitchy goodness continues on the third track, which has some amazing synth leads that are just a fucking amazing vibe. The ending is great aswell! A nice build up and climax to some CRAZY noise.

4:The standout element of this album is definitely the drums. The groove you get from them is exemplified perfectly on this track. Pretty nice track although ill have to let it grow on me a bit ngl.

5:This track is completely unique from anything else ive heard on the album. (I cannot get over the fact that the first verse uses the same flow as your favorite martian on mr douchebag.) The sound design continues to be otherwordly, legitimately so on this track sounding like music from outerspace. The latter half of this track is a lot more smooth and enjoyable than the first half.

6:Ohhh my god this interlude is amazing. Super ambient yet creepy vibes. Just a really nice relaxing track im definitely coming back to a ton.

7:Ive heard this song before. Absolute peak. Easily top 3 machine girl songs ever released, imo. Perfect blend of awesome electronic drums and live instrumentation in the more "punk rock" sections. The idm sections have an awesome groove and the transitions to the punk rock sections are just SO good. When this first dropped i was very surprised by it, but hearing it in context it makes perfect sense and fits snuggly as the center of this album.

8:Super cool track. Awesome drum grooves with some really unique vocals. Overall this is just a really fun song, with the high pitch really "bright" sounding instruments. The switch up later on brings a really nice element to this track aswell. Will be returning to this track many times i can tell. Not much to say here its just really good lol

9:The high pitch vocals really make this track for me. Super (again) groovy feel and awesome sound. The chaotic ending gives this track a good feel that makes it stand out from the rest of the tracklist

10:Living up to its name, "Grindhouse" starts with super dark feeling, as if you are in a house party on acid in a movie. This track just gets me moving man its so dancable! The second part of this track blends themes of house and techno with the experimental dark sound going on here, machine girl style with crazy sound design and distinctly machine girl vocals. This song just has a bounce to it that i love.

11:Another great interlude that sounds like a radio transition on a bad trip.

12:Transition into this song was amazing. The vocals already are captivating me with this aphex twin drukqs synth vibe, similar to cock/ver10. Vibing hard to this crazy ass track, just loving this switchup midway through, suddenly switching to a nice chill beat that still somehow sounds cracked out. AND IT SWITCHES UP AGAIN! Holy this song is so fucking good... the bass synths going loud in my ears and insane sounds im hearing definitely makes this track sound exactly like its name, "schizodipshit". The glitchyness adds to it aswell, and the cut back to reality with this simple beat right after omggg this song is phenomenal!!!!!

13:This was the third single for MG Ultra, and i love this song through and through, from the starting section with amazing drumming and superb chorus. I know the lyrics by heart to this song already i love it so much!! Its super relatable to me with it being about being belittled in small ways adding and not feeling respected by your peers. With lines like "psychic attack, when you're talking shit behind my back, psychic attack when i fall and hear your laughter" reveals this theme. Amazing final track that is a perfect closer for this just amazing album.

FINAL THOUGHTS: This album is the start of a new direction for machine girl, one of punk rock influence and more live instrumentation which I am really excited for! This keeps the same crazy energy and wild sound design and mixes it with punk rock groovyness. A must listen for machine girl fans. They have outdone themselves with this record. 10/10

[goldfishlover52]

INCOMING BOYGENIUS THEORY

so we all know cool about it. Ruined my life. I digress. So my theory begins with their three individual verses and how incredibly similar their word choices and metaphors are (as well as melodies and lyrics) to THEMSELVES

Juliens verse for example: dive bars, cowboys, tattoos, words like "fool" and "cruel" that are more commonly used in the south or more rural states. Her verse is so incredibly *her* that its ALMOST as if she's talking about herself.... wink wink

Lucys verse: very articulate word choices (which is common amongst her solo career music) as well as more deeply rooted, uncommonly used, unique, personalized metaphors and ways of phrasing her words as if she were DESCRIBING HERSELF. She writes most of her stuff in this manner. "I came prepared for absolution, if youd only ask" is one of my favorite lines ever and it beautifully represents lucys songwriting ability and style, and this style is very much HER... again... almost like shes talking about herself...... hhhmmmm

Phoebes verse is very closely related to her solo career music as well. Her metaphors, like lucy, are deeply rooted but not as analytical as lucy's. You dont need a whole lot of brain power and understanding to really know what she's trying to say. "I can walk you home and practice method acting, ill pretend being with you doesnt feel like drowning" is a verh good example of phoebe's writing. She uses "method acting" as a metaphor and then not even like two seconds later uses "ill pretend", which is obviously just telling the listener that she's faking emotion for the sake of the other person's feelings while KNOWING its hurting her inside.

And throwback to a theory i read a while ago on tiktok, god bless the person who came up with this, i do not remember your name;

This song could very well be about their individual coping methods and how they deal with things like breakups, depression and especially the feeling of losing someone. And although this song is applicable to a lot of scenarios, this song could be about themselves!!!!!!! Their coping mechanisms!!!!

- verse one, reminiscing, nostalgic, more of a bittersweet feeling is described in juliens verse.

- verse two, preparing for absolution (release from guilt, obligation or punishment; this definition is from google) but not getting it, preparing to let go but never letting go, lingering on the feeling until it consumes you!!!!!! Helllooooo!!!!!

- verse three, knowing this person is hurting you, lack of communication and a silent understanding of "we know that we should talk about this but we both know we never will" is ttttHHHORRRROUGHLY portrayed and explained.

Just HEAR ME OUT GUYS PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!