#(and largely spearheaded by One person....)

[astrowarr]

aside from martyn, grian is the ONLY person who didn't die this session. every single other person died at least one time. do you know fucking insane that is. correct me if im wrong but this has NEVER happened before

[mochatsin]

When MC can Draw (Dateables Version)

Drawing and the arts is one of the things you’re most passionate about. There’s a lot of things, and certain demons, that are out there to give you inspiration to draw. How will the dateables react when they find out you’re a great artist?

Wow my first dateables version of my prompts. Hope i’ve written them all well. This version is requested from my tumblr :0 thanks for reading!

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Diavolo

Diavolo took notice when you saw your eyes lingering among the paintings during your tour around his castle. There were portraits of prominent figures from Devildom, from old kings to spearheads that shaped their history. He explains how there’s one royal painter for every royal king, thus the similar styles in every portrait. Since you’re an exchange student then it’s essential you learn about these demons, and Diavolo is happy to tell their tales for you. 

He was taking a stroll around RAD before going home when he spotted you in the school’s gardens, seemingly preoccupied. He wanted to call on you but he was more curious to see what you were working on. Diavolo watches you closely from a distance, afraid that you might hide from him if you spot him like how the others do.

To his surprise, he saw you working on a portrait of him in a style that’s similar to the ones he’s shown you. The way your eyes lingered on those paintings when he toured you around before, it clicks to him now that you were trying to study the art style itself as well. It’s almost identical, but with your added personal touches to make it unique.

His towering size doesn’t hide him very well when you immediately spot him at the corner of your eye. The pillars don't do justice to how large Diavolo is as a demon. You try to conceal the art you were making, it’s embarrassing when the subject of your art is actually a few feet away from you. But he quickly smiles as he walks over to you. Now that his cover's blown, he definitely wants to see everything up close now.

“I didn’t mean to be rude and spy on you like that. But you don’t need to hide anything! Even from a glance I could tell you’re talented. Would it be alright for me to see what you were working on?” You can’t really turn down such a polite request, but you most certainly can’t turn down the volume of his voice that’s booming with excitement as he flips from one page to another.

When you finish your portrait of Diavolo, expect it to be treated like a national treasure. A beautiful artwork of the young prince made by the human exchange student? It deserves the best frame that Diavolo can get his hands on. Expect Barbatos by your door the next day with high quality art supplies. He’ll treat you like one of the finest royal artists to ever live in Devildom.

Barbatos 

He invited you for some afternoon tea at the castle as thanks for lending him a hand in his duties the other day. Though there were some other matters around the castle that Barbatos needed to attend to, he asked for you to stay put first and help yourself to some of the treats he had prepared beforehand. 

You always admired the intricate designs of the tea set Barbatos always prepared whenever you came over. Since you’re a bit bored, you took out your sketchbook and decided to draw the fancy little tea cups while you wait for Barbatos to come back. 

The tea sets that Barbatos prepares always have beautiful pattern designs that range from dainty floral prints up to sets that look more expensive than the Mammon’s weekly bills due to how much the patterns are embedded in gold. If you look closely, you could probably spot little devils on it and it’s cute in its own way.

Little did you know he’s been actually observing you for a while now. He finished his last minute duties rather quickly since it would be rude to keep a guest waiting and that’s when he spots you keeping yourself busy by drawing, your glance going from the tea set to the paper. He wanted to admire that look you have whenever you concentrate for a little bit.

He lets out a small chuckle which gets your attention, a gentle smile on his face as he approaches you. “You’re quite the talented one, aren’t you?” Barbatos says as he takes a seat next to you, glancing at your sketchpad. “Maybe you can tell me more about your work while we enjoy some tea together?” 

Barbatos wouldn’t push for you to show anything, but he’ll be happy once you do. He’s impressed at how well you can make patterns that range from something simple to ones that have intricate details. He likes how you can make a portrait of the tea sets he’s been preparing, and secretly he grabs his finest sets to see if you’ll be inspired enough to draw it as well the next time you visit. Maybe he can also pull some strings to put your own pattern designs onto an actual tea cup and serve it to you next time. 

Simeon 

Sometimes you go to Purgatory Halls to get away from all the constant nagging and chaos of the demon brothers. It’s nice to find that peace and quiet you needed to do your daily tasks or just laze around since you felt like it.

Simeon lets you stay in his room for today while he tries to focus on writing for his novel. He plans on introducing a new character soon and since he trusts you, he starts talking about the character itself. How they compose themselves, what they’re like, the possible role they’ll play in the story, you get all these details before the chapter is even written.

Once he’s done talking he lets you get back to whatever you were doing while he continues trying to figure out how to write the next few parts. Though he soon hears the sound of scribbling pens and wondered if you were doing some homework? He could’ve sworn you were done with those already.

He turns around and to his astonishment, you were sketching the character he was just discussing with you earlier. Given his detailed accounts of the character, you were able to design it well. It’s an understatement to say Simeon is happy. He is ecstatic. You brought this character to life in just a matter of minutes all for him, and that brings Simeon more ideas on how to proceed with writing. 

“You never told me you actually knew how to draw. Your talent at visualizing is exceptional.” Simeon would listen carefully while you talk about your journey to the arts and how you honed your talents while he looks through your other works. Afterwards, he starts to praise your art like a professional critique, telling you what he loves in each work.

His heart skips a beat whenever he finds your old works that’s dedicated to his novels. Learning that you’re also talented with the pen like he is, just in a different element, makes him feel a little bit closer to you. If you’re not busy, he may ask for your help when it comes to visualizing something he’s having a hard time with. He’ll treat you to something nice as thanks!

Solomon

Being Solomon’s apprentice means that there are times he’ll require you to assist him with his research. There’s a few spells and potions that he wants to work on, though they all require a lot of preparation work. You both agreed on doing a bit of divide and conquer on those tasks so that it won’t be too time consuming to finish. 

You managed to do a lot of chores for him which is quite tiring, though Solomon is grateful for your efforts and he has one last request from you which he said is essential to the potion he’s making. There’s a delicate Devildom flora that Solomon harvested recently, and you have to make sure the flower stays fresh because it can wither very quickly if not taken care of and the potion would fail if that happens. He’ll take it off your hands once he’s done preparing everything else.

Normally, one would’ve kept it in a vase full of water and called it a day. Though you decided to not only put it in a vase, but draw up a summoning circle that would keep it fresh. It’s something that you learned from Solomon’s notes, and the sorcerer is astonished you drew the circle so accurately enough to work on your first try when he came to check up on you. 

“Now how did my little apprentice actually manage that so quickly? That would’ve taken me several tries to get the patterns done.” Solomon says with an amused smirk, staring at the circle in awe. Getting one line wrong would’ve instantly killed the flower but right now, he sees that not only is it very much alive but it looks more vibrant than ever. The magic is more potent, Solomon is sure that any potion he makes with its petals would be very effective.

While he was waiting for the potion to boil over in the cauldron, he decided to learn more about this hidden talent of yours. He makes you draw some summoning circles from one of his books, already starting out on the difficult types to draw. All of it is perfect somehow since you’ve had a history of drawing, so your hand is quite steady and you act like it’s no big deal. Solomon will definitely want to see your works in the future.

“A lot of sorcerers can cast magic, but not everyone has the talent to make summoning circles as quickly and accurately as you do.” That’s big praise coming from humanity’s strongest sorcerer. Though that means he’ll want to exploit that talent and call you over every time he needs it in his experiments, it’s a win for him either way because he gets to spend more time with you. 

Luke 

There’s a new event in Devildom where the angels and you were teamed up to open a stall that’s focused on selling sweets and pastries. Luke appreciates your input when it comes to taste testing his sweets since none of the demon brothers are able to give proper critiques like you can, Simeon tends to be a little too nice to Luke, and Solomon is never allowed near the kitchen. Ever. 

Your company is always welcomed and Luke would gladly add any of the sweets you recommended onto the menu. You always come back to the House of Lamentation with a bag full of samples you both baked that day, which always brings a smile to the brother’s face. 

You come back to Purgatory Hall only to find Luke seemingly having a dilemma. He reassures you that it’s not because of the batch of sweets and pastries since you helped him perfect the menu. It’s the fact he needs to make a logo and design for the stall. If it can’t attract any customers then all the effort you both put into baking this would go to waste. 

You sat down with Luke to brainstorm with him, watching the angel stare blankly at the paper with frustration while you ask him for what ideas he’s already had so far. Luke had to go back to the kitchen to pipe some frosting on the cupcakes, though by the time he came back you were already done with the sketch.

Luke is awed at the design, seeing as how you incorporated both his and your idea for the stall in a way that still blends well together. “Y-you’re incredible! How’d you do that so fast though? You know what, let’s show Simeon first!” If Luke had a tail, it would be wagging from sheer joy. He’d be so excited to get the decorations and paint for the stall that he almost forgot about the cupcakes in the oven. 

By the time the stall is finished and running, Luke would definitely flaunt your talent not just for helping him bake but for also designing the stall. “You like the design? They did that!” He would say with an excited grin on his face before pointing at you. Luke enjoys working with you that you both barely notice the brothers getting jealous over the amount of time the angel gets to spend with their human. 

[gallusrostromegalus]

What kind of wildlife is around in the Spirit World/Realm? The show had riding boars and river fish that I can remember, and if they grow things then the right kinds of little bees and gnats must be Around, but Just Those don't make for a full healthy environment, right?

We don't see a lot of animals in canon because animals are rarely a problem that shinigami have to deal with but some notes:

Thylacalines are not extinct in the spirit world! Actually, it's kind of a problem- Thylacalines will ONLY reincarnate as Thylacalines, and since there are none on earth, the entire peak population of them lives in the southern Rukongai. This is a problem unique to Thylacalines, as most extinct animals will reincarnate as other extant animals or humans or whatever, but nope. Not these assholes. Furthermore, killing a thylacaline in spirit world just makes it respawn elsewhere in the spirit world, as it was and with it's memory intact and those motherfuckers hold GRUDGES. They're also not native to any of the places the human souls in Soul society come from so nobody has a damn clue what they're doing here. Well, they know what they're doing- Mostly eating anything that will fit in their mouths and occasionally mauling people who don't respect their personal space- but why they're doing that HERE is unclear.

The Migratory Bird Act of Year 1066 was established shortly after the Seki-Seki stone wall and spirit barrier surrounding the Seireitei was established, and within the week, catastrophic numbers of birds died flying into the invisible barrier. The act was actually spearheaded by Yamamoto, who was immensely distraught by the unintentional carnage, and had to actually threaten the Central 46 with bodily harm to get them to legally change the Kido spell on the barrier to only block Sapient Souls and let the birds come and go as they please. It was a landmark legal case that established the soul society's remarkably robust environmental protections, and the Central 46's policy of isolation from the Shinigami, which would prove disastrously fatal to the organization almost 1,000 years later.

Many creatures we have on earth exist in Spirit world, but at massive Scale and varying degrees of intelligence. The Nago Boar was a wild boar of average porcine intelligence, but spectacular scale- 15 feet tall at the shoulder and many tons in weight. It was an infamous monster that made the Nago region borderline uninhabitable from it's rampages. It was one of the rare animals that became the problem for the Shinigami, who tried in vain to kill the beast for the better part of two centuries but unlike a Hollow who acts on instinct and has a very breakable mask, the boar was quite cunning and ended up with three zanpaktou lodged in it's cranium to no ill effect before the Gotei-13 decided to just pay the remaining farmers to leave in 1219. It was slain by a hired swordsman protecting a geological survey in 1308, and the battle was immortalized in the Epic Multi-scene Screen Painting "The Slaying of The Nago Boar" by Minami Zasso, who was working as a surveyor and illustrator when he witnessed the event firsthand. The swordsman in the painting is unnamed, but there is a persistent rumor that the distinctive facial scar of the unnamed swordsman matches that of Eleventh Division Captain Zaraki Kenpachi, but that would mean the man is at least 700, more likely over 1000 years old! Surely not!

The Eleventh Division has another peculiar association with an animal of ridiculous scale. In 1272, the annual "Ranking Day" tournament (in which the members of the 11th division and anyone bold enough to take part would battle for ranked positions in the division- including the right to be captain) took place outside the Seireitei in a relatively isolated area of the rukongai because 1271's Ranking Day had turned into an outright riot that destroyed part of the city. The commotion and blooshed attracted the attention of a supernaturally large Monitor Lizard, who joined the fray without hesitation, and devoured the 4th Kenpachi. Having met the requirements of "Defeat the standing captian in combat in front of 200 witnesses", and because nobody was brave enough to remove the captain's haori from where the lizard had become entangled in it, Tokagero Kenpachi was named the 5th captain of the 11th division. Tokagero Kenpachi remained captain of the 11th division for an astounding 234 years, the longest reign of any Kenpachi, and via highly suggestive hissing and occasionally eating people she disagreed with, lead several important reforms within the division like "Pants Required" and "No showing up to work drunk" and "instituting the first 5-day work week and successful labor strike in Soul Society" though that last one was mostly the work of her long-suffering lieutenant, but her apparent taste for strikebreakers certainly helped the cause. Tokagero Kenpachi was lost in the infamous Tonsure Riots of 1606 when she vanished down an open manhole cover and into the sewers. No body was ever recovered, and her wherabouts remain unknown to this day.

[cyber-clown]

i think that this tweet is art. i do NOT mean that i think the picture itself is art - i mean the tweet. i'm sure many people (probably including the shitposter who posted this originally) will disagree with me but i'm going to give you a quick surface level explanation of why i feel this way.

first of all, we're greeted with this vapid little soundbite of a comment. i think the cultural awareness of the piece in question makes this hollow comment with plasticine emojis ring even more frictional with the original work. instantly, we're given a stock, throwaway "wholesome" twitter caption to lead us into the "finished" work. there's something very interesting to me about this contrast - typically, captions like this are intended to be uplifting but shallow. their purpose is to bring attention to a little bit of context, gear the audience to feel a certain way, and then bow out, forgotten. this caption instead raises multiple ideas (incorporation of generative AI, the concept of "finishing" a piece that was intentionally left unfinished by its deceased creator) that are guaranteed to draw aggression from a large number of people

the contrast, then, of this piece is informed by multiple factors beyond it itself. it assumes the audience will have not just a familiarity, but a predisposed reaction to this kind of post - a kind of absent-minded, agreeable reaction to stimuli. in my opinion, this works to call into question the immediate context of the tweet:

the piece is framed as a quote reply to this relatively standard engagement farm tweet. as we will briefly cover, the piece uses external conversations and contexts to call into question the relationship people, especially online on social media, have to art, its creation, its value, and its place in society. what i, personally, find poignant is the way this then goes on to prompt a discussion on the original tweet for which the piece is an addition to - is it vapid and disrespectful, or perhaps generating a conversation and teaching people about the poignancy of art? is this conclusion in any way changed by its structure and intent, that of a twitter reply chain aimed to generate algorithmic presence and attention? is it less offensive to use the work of somebody who died of AIDS to boost your twitter metrics than it is to force your way in to "fix" or "finish" it?

the piece makes its intention to call external biases and topics into question almost immediately - the concept of "finishing" Keith Haring's unfinished painting, the nature of our consumption of art, and the AI movement and frustrations that it is a spearhead of a wider reification and commodification of art. what is rough must become polished, what is abstract must become literal, what is unfinished must, then, be finished, even if its nature as an unfinished work has been subsumed into the wider conversation around it.

this is, frankly, inflammatory. the author is clearly aware that the character they are portraying here is one who many people - even those who may not otherwise have strong feelings on the topic of AI in art - will take issue to and challenge. it is an idea that generates strong animosity for a wide variety of reasons. it is in this animosity that i believe interesting discussions can be raised. what, if anything, would we consider a respectful way to build on this piece? for example, is the display of Keith Haring's unfinished painting in a way becoming a part of or extension to the art itself? after all, the mere act of deciding to exhibit an unfinished piece by a dead person is, in itself, a decision that contributes to the discussion and perception of the piece in its wider social context. are there pieces of art we wouldn't consider disrespectful to complete, and is that effected by the tools and techniques used, the people who do it, or the meaning they put into it?

finally - the image itself. the layout of twitter as a platform quite literally frames the "finished" artwork, thrusting it at the viewer as if to taunt them. it is a work that simultaneously completes the original piece while adding absolutely nothing. there is no new visual language, there are no new ideas. the author has left no personal touch on their attempt at an extension of the original work - neither any additional commentary nor some reflection of relative personal tastes or skill levels. this is no botched restoration of jesus. the generative algorithm used has, paradoxical to its flawless reflection of technique, made some clear stylistic errors - the pattern extends out to the borders, shapes are remniscient of Haring's work on the original piece yet lack any kind of grounding or believability, turning into an abstract jumble of distantly familiar shapes. it is, somehow, only evocative of the piece that it literally is. the image presented has nothing to say because it, by its nature, cannot say anything. and yet it has generated such a strong set of reactions to itself.

most notable to this abstraction of intent, in my mind, is the way that the algorithm has covered the original's running paint. the paint dripping from the borders of Haring's handiwork conveys a grim message - his signature bold, controlled brushstrokes are in stark contrast to the sharp, thin paint, evoking a similar discrepancy to that of Haring's inspired worldview to his cruel circumstances and tragic death. this is covered in the "finished" version. like a forest paved over, the poignant, challenging, and uncomfortable are replaced with the safe and standard.

this destruction of subtext is painfully remniscient of a time where it feels as though iconography refuses to die, constantly recycled by people who couldn't give a single shit about artistry or creativity unless it has the potential to be more exploitable than any alternative. in this environment, ground must be retread as much as possible. there is no prior character undeserving of a spotlight, no location undeserving of a setpiece, no event undeserving of retelling, no dead man undeserving of sparing his work the airbrush. it is a total stagnation - no corpse may be left to rest in peace if there is the potential that it may be continually exploited for gain.

so, to cut myself off a little, that is how i feel. this piece is subversive, it is frustrating. it calls our preconceived patterns, behaviours, and biases into question. it raises potential issues over how we engage with art - both the corporate subsumation of it in our culture along with the smaller scale calficiation of art into a tool to prompt brief, unchallenging reactions during periods of engagement with the corporatised internet. it also challenges the current direction and application of artificial intelligence as, effectively, an easy tool for those who do not care to engage with art to extract value from it, which raises further questions about the exploitation of artists and labour as a whole in our society. i think it is incredibly interesting how so much meaning, feeling, and conversation can be generated by somebody shitposting on twitter

[wolfnanaki]

Regarding Wani

Yesterday, a new trailer for Cavemanon’s upcoming Snoot Game spiritual successor, I Wani Hug That Gator!, was released. The game finally has a release date of February 14th, just a week away, Valentine’s Day.

In the aftermath, a thread popped up on 4chan featuring alleged developers leveling accusations about working conditions of Cavemanon and the behavior of Nerd, the Mormon founder of the group who spearheaded Snoot Game’s creation. These accusations have included people not being financially compensated for years of work, or only being given a pittance if anything at all; Nerd manipulating drama behind the scenes to drive select people out of the project; large, unprecedented changes to the game’s story that lead to the multiple delays; and Nerd planning to pocket all of the game’s profits for Exit 665, his YIIK-inspired pet project.

Here's the thing. I’ve known about a lot of these accusations for the past few months. After I was doxed over talking about my problems with Snoot Game’s transphobic messages, I’ve had people start to reach out to me with dirt on Cavemanon’s working conditions. But everything I’ve been told was done so in confidence. It’s nearly impossible to levy accusations towards someone who’s caused harm if you’re not willing to put a name to the words, because then you look like you just made it up. But I can also understand devs not wanting to speak out and put their name to this project, considering the vitriolic nature of the fandom.

I’m a person who believes in workers’ rights and fair compensation. One of the many reasons I championed KO_OP (a worker cooperative!) and Goodbye Volcano High was their dedication to living the ideals they espouse; they have four-day workweeks, Goodbye Volcano High was fully union voice acted, and the devs constantly push for the game industry to embrace unionization. For me, having a belief in the same ideals, it would be hypocritical of me to have a “serves you right” attitude towards what’s happening with Cavemanon.

So: If you worked for Cavemanon and you’re willing to speak out about the working conditions and compensation, and you’re willing to put your name to your words, please reach out to me. I want to put together fully detailed documentation of everything that’s gone down with this project, so something like this doesn’t happen again. I don’t know any of the legal ramifications of anything I’ve read – it feels illegal to me, although I’m not a lawyer – but I want anyone who feels like they were screwed over to know that there’s someone in their corner.

[bangtanhoneys]

Yoongi & Grace: Future's Gonna Be Okay

It was nice to not have many plans now his military service had been announced. His tour across the world with his solo trilogy albums was completed, his tattoo was revealed, he had seen his brothers and now the healing could truly begin. Of course, he had seen the news blow up on Twitter and ARMY’s response.

‘Couldn’t have Big Hit even us more than 24 hours? We’re not recovering from the concert.’

‘First Yoongi breaks my heart by crying and now he does this? What the hell SUGA?!’

But it is what it is.

It has to be done.

It had been great to have dinner with all six of the boys and Grace. Of course, she wasn’t going to miss out on seeing his last concert and he knew she had been backstage, ready to take the mic from Adora in case she needed to jump in to cover the tracks he couldn’t get through. As much as he struggled, he got through those three tracks even with tears and snot covering his face.

He loved her for that. That she was always there, ready to jump in. She did it for everyone.

It was also nice to see the family dynamics at play again with Seokjin & Grace reunited, Jungkook reunited with his adopted parents, Jimin back with his sister, and Taehyung back with his partner in crime. How they controlled the grown-up maknae line with gentle prods. How they soothed an anxious Namjoon and a bouncing Hobi.

Yoongi had the chance to sit back and watch it all, surprised he missed the feeling even after living alone for the past couple of years.

Now he would be the next one to leave.

And he knew what it was like for Grace to say goodbye to Seokjin and Hobi.

Now she would have to say goodbye to her twin.

It was always joked that Yoongi and Grace were two cats in a pod. The near enough same personality, the cool exterior but the massive warmth underneath. How they would do anything for anyone. Yoongi’s shadow. Grace’s bodyguard. Yoongi’s safe place. Grace’s go-to.

Four more to go, another four to say goodbye to. All while prepping for her own solo career and world tour.

Of course, he found her in the practice room, the layout of the stage printed on paper and stuck on the mirror for everyone to memorise. The set list (which was changing every week) was printed up on the wall with handwritten notes from Grace, their performance director, choreographers and even the dancers.

Notes of costumes were on another wall with approval stamps from Balmain and Louboutin, more notes from the stylist team.

The whole floor at HYBE had been dedicated to Grace’s solo career with Bang’s office right at the end, the one spearheading the whole thing. Grace’s own team, now currently nicknamed the Queen’s Guard, was spread across other rooms. Yoongi was proud of her, in more ways than one.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he said as he closed the door behind him and found Grace sitting on the floor, dance practice clothes on but covered in sweat, looking up at the setlist.

“Are you changing your mind again?” he then asked, sitting down next to her while handing over a large mug of tea and a doughnut.

“No, it’s pretty much finalised. There’s just a couple of tweaks to make with each stop but I’ve got a plan for that,” she smiled as she gratefully took the offered items and wrapped her hands around the mug.

Of course, a lot of it had been hidden away from the boys as she wanted it to be a surprise for everyone including ARMY. So many surprises were coming their way that it was going to be a rollercoaster month starting from November and all the way through to when they came back together in 2025.

“How are you feeling now the notice has been put up?” Grace asked, nudging Yoongi to look at her.

“It’s a relief. It’s hard and it’s worrying but Seokjin-hyung and Hobi have done alright. And the military have been informed of my shoulder so we’ll take it day by day. How are you feeling?” he turned the question onto her, turning his head to fully look at her.

“Four more to go,” she muttered with a dry laugh. “I agree with ARMY when they say the quicker you all go, the quicker you get back. And I do feel that. But not seeing you all for at least eighteen months is hard. Jungkook’s is going to be the worst.”

“Well, he is your baby after all.”

He grinned at the look he got and took the doughnut back, breaking it in half so he could have some.

“But you’re going to do well. ARMY is going to explode with all the things you’ve got planned and I’m sure Seokjin is going to be with you when he comes back for most of your tour, or he’ll at least try to be. And I’ll be keeping up to date with it all,” Yoongi said around a mouthful of the doughnut which Grace tutted at.

“I know. I suppose I’m kind of getting used to the idea I’ll be on my own but not fully. I know you all will be watching and supporting. But it would be nice to have you all there anyway.” Grace finished off her tea and set the mug on the floor, letting out a long sigh.

The two stayed silent as Yoongi finished off the doughnut he brought. They stayed like that for a few minutes until he pushed himself up, brushed down his hands and held out his hands for his sister to take.

“Come on, Gigi. Let’s go for dinner, my treat.”

Grace took hold of her younger brother’s hand and let him pull her up, giving her a quick but tight hug.

“Oh yuck, I’m covered in sweat now.”

“I’ve got more dancing than you to do. All you did was stand there and bounce around.”

“Bounce around? Did you see me sweating?”

“I saw you standing there yelling shibal for the world to repeat.”

“Aish.”

[billionairebabes]

I'm Back!! Kinda...

I know it's been a while since I posted my own content or writing but I wrote this a few years back and never shared it but I know this would be helpful to a lot of you girlies now that the job market has once again taken a downturn. I originally wrote this after landing my first full-time job post-2020.

Like many, I graduated into a pandemic and found myself looking for my first job in the midst of a nationwide hiring freeze. The process was grueling but in failure, there are also many lessons learned and luckily, my search ended in success at one of the biggest tech companies in the world. In the past few years, I’ve worked at some of the biggest and best companies in the world making it past several rounds of interviews, impressing my future colleagues, managers, and even VPs so it’s safe to say I know a thing or two about landing a job. Here goes!

B's Guide to Landing Your DREAM JOB PART 1!

If you’re still in college there are a few things I would suggest a few things. 

Start interning as soon as possible. The sooner you start practicing interviewing at companies you’re interested in, the better. Also, a few internships on your resume prior to your graduation will help A LOT. Trust me. You’ll have experiences to speak about in all those behavioral interviews as well. 

Become friendly with the professors in your field. They can become a good reference for you later. Even if only one to three times a semester go to your professor’s office and chat. They can also put in a good word for you for programs. This brings me to my next point. 

In most industries, there are conferences each year that either offer discounts (or free tickets) to college students and/or are directly aimed at college students. If you’re a POC, find programs aimed at diversifying that industry. These conferences often have recruiting opportunities with large companies and most times the interview process won’t be as rigorous compared to an applicant who may have applied online. I would recommend compiling a list at the beginning of each school year with these program names as well as their application due dates. 

Don’t join clubs just to have them on your resume. Aim for leadership roles or redirect your time to other personal projects that interest you. It’ll make for a better conversation with your recruiters and hiring managers to say “I built XYZ because I was interested in ABC” rather than “I was just a member of that club and went to the meetings once a month.” 

This varies across industries but for the most part, your GPA isn’t all that important especially after you land your first job after college so breathe. 

Perfect your resume and this part couldn’t be more critical. In the age of ATS (Applicant Tracking Systems) and fierce competition, it’s become vital that your resume can stand out and communicate very clearly how you’re qualified for the job. Here are my resume tips: 

My favorite program to create resumes on is Canva. They have a ton of great templates and are super customizable and not to mention, it’s FREE. 

Use quantifiable measurements to show your results if possible. 

Use action verbs at the beginning of your bullet points. Personally, I believe each description should have at least 3-4 bullet points but never only 1. Here are some of the words on my resume: Constructed, Spearheaded, Managed, Collaborated, and Lead. All of your descriptions should state what you did, how you did it (programs used, methods, etc.), and the outcome.  

I personally think every resume should include your: Experience, Skills, Leadership/ Professional Development (for college students this could mean conferences attended, programs, boot camps, etc.), Projects (shows independence and initiative), Contact, and Education. Make sure your LinkedIn is included in your ‘Contact’ section. You should have a personalized LinkedIn link, that’s free. 

Your LinkedIn needs to be at 100% completion. This is a place where you can really show off because there are no space limits. This can showcase every job or internship you’ve ever had, every program or project you’ve had an impact on, etc. The better your LinkedIn, the better chance you have a recruiter finding you and inviting you to interview for a role they think would be a good fit. 

Your profile picture ideally is a professional one but if not possibly find time to take one in natural daylight with a quality camera and a plain background. I’ve also seen people using AI to now turn regular pics into professional ones. 

Interact with posts, comment, and share. This will help get your name and profile circulating. 

Announce that you’re looking for a job to your network. Include your resume and what you’re looking for in that post. You never know who might see it. 

Grow your network and the easiest place to start is with people you’ve gone to school with and current or previous coworkers. 

Put your resume on your LinkedIn profile (You can do this by attaching a media file) 

Know your elevator pitch and know it well because every single person you interview with will probably ask you this. My elevator pitch sounds something like this: 

I’m Britt and in  June, I graduated from Icy University with a degree in Math and a minor in Sociology. Throughout college, I completed a number of internships doing _______ and have developed skills in _______. When I was a senior I learned about (or developed an interest in) _____  and did _____ to grow my skills or learn more about it. Now that I’ve graduated I’m looking for a role in ______ where I can continue to ______. (My elevator pitch is now different now that I’ve had two full-time roles but you get the point)

Now we apply. 

LinkedIn is your friend here and my favorite job posting platform. Set up Job Alerts for companies you’re interested in so that you have a better chance of being an early applicant. 

As annoying as this is, you will have to edit your resume for almost every position you apply to. Use the words they use to describe your roles in your work history and remember to always save your resume as a PDF. This definitely will help you get past the ATS system. Remember to adjust the words used in your ‘Skills’ section too but don’t lie. These days, many companies with decent salaries are giving applicants take-home assignments. This applies to your cover letters as well. (I no longer write cover letters though, no one reads them).  I saved every version of my cover letter and could eventually just mix and match paragraphs according to the type of job I was applying to. Of course, you will still have to change some words to best match the position’s job posting. 

The LinkedIn stalking begins. Find someone at the company you’ve applied for and invite them to connect but ALWAYS include a note.  In this note, you will give a very brief introduction and your reason for messaging. Mine usually looked something like this: Hi ___, I’m Britt and I recently applied for the ____ position. I’d love to learn more about the department, the team, and the company. Would you have 15 minutes to chat sometime this week or next? Thanks in advance, Britt. 

My tip is that you find a manager on the team rather than a recruiter for the company. I find that they never accept invitations but managers usually will. 

On this call, you’ll discuss exactly what you mentioned in your opening note, and remember to have prepared questions for them. If you make a good impression, most managers will be willing to forward your resume to the recruiting team. 

Let me know if you all want a part 2 on how I prepare for my interviews. I’d say I have an interview success rate of about 90% in the past 2 years! 

[orangepeelshortbreadcookies]

I'm sorry, but TLT Clarisse La Rue is a pitiful loser, right?

Okay, so I've seen enough takes on this hellsite that go 'Slay queen slay!', 'She's such a cool badass!', or 'I want to be her.' about Clarisse in the new PJO show that it started to make me uncomfortable. Full disclosure, my personal cocktail of mental health issues and neurodivergence does make it a bit harder for me to detect irony, especially when it's dissed out in large quantities (ie. 'gaslight gatekeep girlboss', I'm always confused if the term is meant to be ironic or not). So if this rant is excessive, it just has to be excessive because I need to put it out there, for my own peace of frazzled mind.

Ergo kind people of Tumblr, I'm entreating you to please assuage my anxieties of this one particular matter, it being that: We all understand that Clarisse is a bully AND a child who needs help, right? Comments like 'She's so cool and powerful!' are meant to be ironic, right? Because it is obviously not cool that Clarisse spearheaded (pun-intended) two other older, bigger, more experienced kids in ganging up on this smaller, younger child who just began his training and lost his mom, in an ttempt to force him to admit to a lie she wanted to believe in. In fact, it's actually pretty fucking pathetic of her, not to mention cowardly, seeing that she ran away from the bathroom right after her lackeys had fled, afraid of facing Percy alone, right?? And it's equally as pathetic, as well as dangerous and foolish, that she attempted to do the same thing again during Capture the Flag, with the very intention of physically harming, possibly killing, her victim, and as a result playing directly into Annabeth's hands with blind rage and bruised ego, achieving nothing but a broken spear and deepening embarrassment (girl got doused in toilet water and did not learn. Gotta admit, she deserved having that spear broken). Right??

Please tell me, I'm not the only one who's seeing that this is a girl who's struggling so hard to get ahold of her insecurities, they're practically oozing out of her pores in droplets behind all that bravado (amazing acting choices by Dior Goodjohn, btw). That I'm not the only one who's clocking that the traditional, singular Greek heroes' cult of glory, which is among many letters that spell out Luke's, as well as Ethan Nakamura's tragedies is also what Clarisse was raised on. And the toxic masculinity, in which aggression is the only acceptable form of emotional expression, that we as a society spent so much time in dismantling, a trait that male characters like Percy and Grover are adored for not exhibiting, please tell me that we all recognise that Clarisse is MARINATED in it.

RIGHT???

[dawnsedits]

There's an Endless Road to Rediscover

Aquaman 2 spoilers ahead!

Mera and Orm were best friends, once upon a time, but she had to accept long ago that the boy she used to love had become a villain she had to defeat. It was the only way to save the world, and imprisoning him was the only way to protect Atlantis. But when life brings them together one last time, she discovers that her best friend isn't as lost she thought.

(Or: Five times Mera and Orm had history, and one time they had a future.)

Mera & Orm ~ 7.4k ~ AO3

“Clear out, guys. I have private stuff to discuss with my wife.”

Arthur’s voice stirred Mera from her nap. The guards outside of her hospital room obeyed, swimming out to take up new positions at a discreet distance as he drifted inside. He perched on the edge of her bed, gathering one of her hands into both of his, rubbing nervous circles around the back of it with his thumb. “How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’ll be back to full strength in a day or two,” she assured him. She pushed herself more upright, waving off his attempt to stop her. “What are you up to?”

Tense at her side, he watched the last straggling guard reach his distant position. “There’s only one person who might know where to find Manta,” he said lowly, “and I’m about to go break him out.”

Orm.

Even unspoken, his name hung heavy in the water. Atlanna had spearheaded the negotiations, fighting tooth and nail to keep him in an Atlantean prison, but once it became clear that continued arguments would only spark a war – a war that neither the Brine Kingdom nor Xebel would support, leaving Atlantis alone to fight over a single man – even she had swallowed her protests and allowed them to take him. They all had, largely relegating their varying levels of guilt and grief to private conversations and locked boxes in the backs of their minds as the years swept on without him. The Fishermen would never let him go, and they were forbidden from so much as checking in on him. What more could they do, besides carry his memory with them and take care of the kingdom he had left behind?

Risk war once more to break him out, apparently.

The thought had certainly crossed her mind, not to mention Atlanna’s. She had even convinced Mera to go to her father together to request that he send spies to locate where the Fishermen had imprisoned him, a request that he did, much to their surprise, begrudgingly oblige. It had only ever been a fantasy, though. A fantasy that neither queen could make a reality, not with the fate of their kingdom at stake. No matter how much they loved the boy he had been.

“You were friends, weren’t you, when you were kids?” he asked. “You don’t talk about him much, but I think Mom mentioned that at some point.”

Mera sat on the balcony of her bedroom in the Atlantean palace, her legs swinging over the edge. Orm sat cross-legged beside her, snacking on some tuna and watching sharks and other animals swim peacefully by. “That one has a cool scar,” he said, pointing at a hammerhead with a jagged gash across its gills.

“It does.” She squinted at the shark, studying its form. “Do you want to see what I figured out how to do yesterday?”

He looked at her curiously. “Sure.”

Biting her lip, Mera held her hands a few inches apart and concentrated on the water between them, feeling every molecule. Her palms glowed blue as she twisted them together, picturing the hammerhead, and slowly, a miniature version of the shark took shape, outlined in the same glowing blue. Orm stared, his eyes huge with awe. “Whoa.”

Mera grinned. Carefully moving her hands so they were above and below the recreation instead of beside it, she started moving it in slow, small circles, its tail flicking back and forth. Its outline wavered, bubbly and unsteady, but Orm didn’t seem to notice. “Can you make a mosasaur?”

“Maybe,” Mera said. “Or I could do this.”

Closing her fist, she turned the shark into a ball and lobbed it at Orm’s face. “Hey!” he yelped, spluttering. “I’m gonna get you for that.”

“You’ll have to catch me first!”

Pushing off the balcony, she dove towards the seafloor, the levels of the palace flashing past her. Orm leaped after her, abandoning his tuna, and they raced around and through their home, scattering schools of fish and startling the servants. Their laughter rippled through the water, a joyful soundtrack to a carefree moment that she wished would never end.

“Yes,” she admitted, speaking the words aloud for the first time in… she didn’t know how long. “He was my best friend.”

That’s why it broke my heart to save you in your first battle. That’s why I tried until the very last moment to convince him to follow his mother’s teachings. That’s why I’m glad you didn’t kill him to take the throne, and why he still haunts my nightmares when I think about him in that place.

“And you still worked with Vulko to take him down.”

Arthur’s voice held no edge of accusation, no bladed question wondering how she could do such a thing, but her locked box of guilt rattled dangerously regardless. “It was the right thing to do.”

He nodded, drumming his fingers against her hand. “What was he like?” he wondered. “You know, before all of that.”

Mera closed her eyes, picturing the smiling boy who used to play soldiers and pirates with her. “He was curious,” she murmured. “He loved stories and languages, and he had his head buried in a book every chance he had. It didn’t matter if it was fiction or non-fiction.” Despite the pain of remembering, a nostalgic smile crept into her expression. “He was shy, at first, always following Atlanna around like he was her shadow, but once he let you in, he was as eager and playful as Junior. We used to call each other ‘silly.’”

“Silly?” he exclaimed. “You, I get. I mean, you use your fancy superpowers to throw Junior’s pee in my face. But him?”

“It started as a code word,” she explained. “Our way of talking about Atlanna in public after her execution, especially around his father. It evolved into a nickname as time went on, I suppose.” She frowned. “I don’t remember when we stopped using it.”

“Probably when he turned into a dick,” Arthur said. She pursed her lips. “Sorry.” He looked at her, twining their fingers together. “It must’ve been hard for you, having to turn against him.”

She firmly ignored the rattling box. “It was the right thing to do,” she repeated.

He tilted his head sympathetically, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “That doesn’t mean it was easy.”

“There must be another way,” Mera protested, pacing around their safehouse. She hated how dry the air felt, making her skin itch, scraping against her throat and lungs. She hated hiding from her father, from her best friend, from the people she had believed she could trust. She hated this.

“There is not,” Vulko said, impossibly calm amidst her constant movement. “I know how much you care for him, Mera. I care for him as well. But-”

Her heart screamed against the plan the vizier had laid out, screamed against the mental image of her best friend dying at the hands of a stranger. “Then why are we essentially plotting to kill him?”

“The boy we knew may very well have already died with his mother,” Vulko said gently. “He has fallen too far into his father’s influence since her execution – Orvax has made certain of that. The best we can do now is protect our kingdoms, even if that means one day placing Arthur on the throne that Orvax has taught Orm to never surrender. You know this, or else you wouldn’t be here.”

Mera stopped dead in her tracks, her shoulders slumping with defeat. “I know.”

“No,” Mera allowed quietly. “It wasn’t.”

He sighed. “Am I doing the right thing now? He’s in prison for a reason. If the Fishermen find out-”

“Hey.” Mera cut him off, squeezing his hand. “For all of his flaws, there is one thing about Orm that has never changed: He is loyal to Atlantis. He will do what is necessary to protect it, as will you. If breaking him out helps you do that, then it is the right thing to do.”

Arthur met her gaze, unease glittering in his eyes. “What about when I have to send him back afterwards?”

Mera shook her head helplessly. “You don’t have a choice.”

“He’s still my brother, however much I hate him,” he insisted. “He’s still your best friend. He’s still Mom’s kid. She thinks she can hide it, but we all know how much it kills her, leaving him in there. We all know what they’re doing to him. Sure, he deserves prison, but how is that the right thing?”

My best friend died with his mother.

The old mantra swam through her mind, the only thing that had eased her conscience as she plotted his downfall. It grated against her heart just as much now as it had on her first day working with Vulko, but it was as instinctive as breathing. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, Arthur. His imprisonment, however cruel, protects our people. We all know that as well. Including him.”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth lifted. “You do pay attention when Mom watches Star Trek.”

Mera huffed a tiny laugh, grateful for his ability to find humor in any situation. “Sometimes.”

Relaxing, Arthur leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I love you.”

She leaned into the kiss, welcoming every ounce of comfort he offered. “I love you, too.”

With renewed purpose in his strokes and one last squeeze of her hand, he hopped off her bed, heading off on his mission. She resettled as the guards returned to her side, determined to heal in case he needed her, but peace eluded her without her husband by her side. Grief and rattling boxes stalked her dreams, the sea carrying her tears away as her heart ached for the boy she used to know.

-----

He did need her, of course. Fortunately, her father was visiting her when Topo arrived with his message, and she hadn’t allowed him to leave her behind. Ignoring his protests and her lingering pain, she plunged into the wreckage of Devil’s Deep with Atlanna, racing into the chaos to rescue their husband and son. They split up when they found Arthur alone, Mera waiting outside the volcano with him while Atlanna went after Orm. She returned with him pinned to her side in a white-knuckled grip, and Mera’s breath caught in her throat, the remains of her burns twinging in empathy with his smoldering wounds. Swiping aside the debris still flying around them, tugging Arthur along with her, Mera led the way to the refuge of a nearby island.

Watching Atlanna help Orm out of the water and tend to his wounds, her well-worn mantra failed her.

Hardly conscious at first, he clung to his mother, irresistibly reminiscent of the way he used to cling to her when he was nervous at big events. Even as he regained enough strength to sit up on his own, he still seemed to huddle in her shelter, comfortable only in the safety of her arms, a comfort Atlanna was more than happy to give. She never let go of him except to get more seaweed, as attentive to him as she always had been when they were young, paying little attention to the conversation happening around them until Orm joined it. As much as their lives had changed since her sacrifice, their love for each other evidently hadn’t wavered in the slightest.

If that hadn’t changed, if his loyalty to Atlantis hadn’t changed, was it so impossible to believe that more of her best friend had survived the years than she and Vulko had assumed? Hope dared to glimmer in Mera’s heart. If my best friend died with his mother… can he be resurrected with her, too?

Her father’s words sliced through her thoughts. “Why is he even here?” he demanded. “He should be on his way back to prison.”

A wave crashed against the rocks behind him, punctuating his question, and she flinched from the spray. Why does it even matter? she asked herself. He’s going back regardless of what he does here.

“We should hear what he has to say,” Atlanna said, shifting slightly closer to Orm, her grip on his knee tightening, not quite able to hold the king’s gaze. Orm watched him out of the corner of his eye, successfully cowed by his anger, unable to defend himself.

Mera recognized those old reactions, remembering the tension that had always pulled taut between those two and Orvax, remembering the way they had always bowed to him in the end, no matter how much pride they had to swallow to do it. She hadn’t realized it then, but Atlanna had been walking the finest of lines, balancing shielding Orm from his father’s abuse with playing the subservient wife to protect her secret family, and Orm had always been caught in the middle, his mother’s child and his father’s pawn. They were performing that dance again now, the two of them against the world, just vying for a little bit more time together before more powerful forces tore them apart. Another part of their lives that hadn’t changed at all.

There’s still so much we cannot do.

“I made that mistake once,” her father retorted. “That’s why I know he can’t be trusted!”

He had a point. Orm’s silence spoke to that. Family or not, best friend or not, he had done terrible things to the surface and the undersea kingdoms alike, lying at every twist and turn and leaving a vast trail of destruction in his wake. A moment of vulnerability with his mother didn’t change that. He had upheld his end of the deal, fulfilling the service Arthur had broken him out to provide – it was time for him to return to his penance. The time he had already spent outside his cell had been a massive enough risk as it was, and every extra minute, every extra person who knew only increased the likelihood of the Fishermen discovering he had escaped.

“And he cut off my claw!” the Brine king added, waving the appendage around for emphasis. “This thing took a whole year to grow back.”

But it did grow back.

Maybe it was childish, maybe it was foolish, but didn’t he deserve a second chance? Not everything he had done was irreversible, and they were trying to forge a more forgiving Atlantis. They had all lost too much to archaic ideals and Orvax’s petty whims to follow the old ways, and Orm was trying to help. It was a second chance that could never go anywhere, but what he had done, he had done for Atlantis. He deserved this chance to protect the kingdom they loved from his own mistakes.

If that also gave Atlanna the chance to see her son again, to hold on to him for as long as she could… Mera linked her leg more securely around Arthur’s, her stomach churning at the mere thought of anyone taking Junior away from her, of knowing that he was in pain every day and never being able to ease it. I would do the same in her place. Who am I to take this chance away from them?

Her voice died in her throat, logic caving to emotion. She couldn’t say a word to support her father, and Arthur took it a step further.“Look, he wants to stop Manta, same as we do,” he broke in, looking defiantly at the two senior rulers, as if daring them to argue with the one true king. “And just for the record, the only reason we made it this far is because of him.”

Atlanna smiled beneath watery eyes at her older son, silent gratitude for the defense. Orm stared at his brother, Mera’s own surprise reflected in his eyes. No one could say that her husband was known for his tact, but for him to so boldly stand up against the two kings who had just saved his life, entangling themselves and their soldiers in a situation that could start a war in the process, and in support of the brother he hated, no less? It was a new level of daring, even for him.

No. You don’t hate him anymore, do you?

Arthur leaned forward, giving Orm his full, undivided attention. Taking his cue from his brother but still uncertain, he directed his next words only to their mother. “I saw the Lost Kingdom.”

Atlanna stared incredulously, not quite committing to a definite answer when Arthur asked her if that was possible, carefully phrasing his question to place the uncertainty on his own lack of knowledge rather than any doubt that Orm spoke the truth. Even when her father questioned him, even when Orm recounted a story no one had known for centuries, Arthur’s attention never wavered. He believed his brother. He trusted him. Enough that Orm picked up on it, gaining confidence even as he carried on explaining something impossible beneath her father’s withering stare.

Something has changed between you two.

It had been hard to miss Arthur’s concern when he told Atlanna that Orm was still trapped in the volcano, and Orm’s relief when they stumbled out of the water together, but she had chalked it up to the heat of the moment, to Arthur’s innate instinct to protect and Orm naturally being glad to be alive and reunited with his mother. Yet when Arthur decided it was time to go and stood up, he ignored the lingering wobble in his step to go to his brother, and Orm actually took the hand he offered, rising with his help as much as Atlanna’s. The heat of the moment was long gone, but the care remained.

They’re beginning to love each other, she realized, stunned. Part of her had hoped for this once, when they were young and Orm was still his old self when he was out of his father’s sight, hoped that maybe the stranger Vulko put so much faith in could learn to love him enough to save him. She had caught a glimpse of that long dead dream when Arthur spared him, but this… He’s forgiving him. Truly, genuinely forgiving him. And if Arthur can forgive him…

“Don’t get reattached.”

Her father spoke so only she could hear, joining her as the others walked away. She rose to meet him, matching his volume – though, she suspected, for entirely different reasons. “My husband trusts him,” she said, emboldened by their unity. “That is enough for me.”

“Arthur is blinded by familial connection,” her father said.

“Please,” Mera scoffed. “Two days ago, Arthur hated him more than anyone. If anyone here is blinded by familial connection, it’s you.”

He bristled, anger etched into the lines on his face. “He is not my family.”

“Yes, he is,” Mera hissed. “Don’t deny it. Not to me. I saw the look in your eyes when your spies informed us where he was being held. I remember how you loved the boy who welcomed me into his home when you and Mother left for the front lines. He was meant to be your son-in-law, and there was a time when that meant something to you. It still must, because you wouldn’t still be this furious at him if you didn’t care. You are taking this far more personally than Arthur ever has.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she swept on. “Orm has suffered for what he did, Father. He has suffered more in the last four years than most people will in a lifetime, and his only reward at the end of this is to return to that death sentence. Yet here he is, helping us however he can. If our kingdoms survive this, if your grandson still has a world to grow up in next week, then it will be in no small part due to his aid. He wants to fix the mistake he made by bringing Manta into our world. Arthur and I are not the blind ones for trying to see that good in him despite all he’s done. You are blind because you refuse to see it at all.”

His stance only hardened, his fists clenching at his side. Mera spun on her heel and marched after her family, holding her head high even as a not-so-tiny voice in the back of her mind wondered if she was placing too much faith in the man who had very nearly succeeded in killing her and Arthur.

It matters to me. It matters to me if my best friend is still beneath the armor.

-----

Her home was burning.

Mera screamed into the night, terror and agony and rage like she had never known tearing out of her throat. If she had been in the water, the ocean would’ve been roiling around her. She staggered away from the flames, away from the porch where she had sung to her son and told him about life in the ocean, closer to the shallows where she had given birth and heard his first cries. Months of memories flashed before her eyes, more precious than she had ever known was possible, and she could feel every single one of them slipping through her fingers like sand leaking out of a shattered hourglass. She was a daughter of Xebel, a queen of Atlantis, one of the most feared warriors in all the kingdoms, and she had let Manta take her son. What had been a fleeting fear on the island had suddenly become her reality.

The man willing to destroy the world just to kill her family had her baby.

“Mera.”

She screwed her eyes shut. The agony made her weak, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her, and the terror made her panic, her empty hands shaking. She couldn’t focus on those emotions. Clenching her fists, sucking in ragged breaths, she imagined tearing every drop of water and blood out of Manta’s body. She imagined making him scream as her son must have screamed when he was ripped away from his grandfather. “I’m going to kill him,” she snarled.

A hand grabbed her arm, not painfully, but far too roughly to be Arthur or Atlanna. “Mera.”

She whipped around, yanking her arm from Orm’s grip. “Where is he?” she demanded. “Where would he take Junior?

“I don’t know,” Orm said, his voice, his entire demeanor steady. Infuriatingly steady. “You need to calm down.”

“Calm down?” she repeated, fury teetering dangerously on hysteria. “That man took my son. Do you know what I’m feeling right now?”

“No.” His voice dipped. “I don’t.”

“Of course not,” Mera snapped. “If you did, you wouldn’t ask-”

“Yes, I would,” Orm interrupted, “because I do not care what you’re feeling. You need to keep your wits about you.” He paused, glancing at the trio on the ground, Atlanna trying to soothe Arthur and care for Tom at the same time. “I don’t know much about family, but I do know that Junior will need you alive at the end of this.”

Her breath hitched, anger cracking in the face of a hope she hardly dared to consider. “You think…”

“I do.”

He almost sounds… gentle again.

Almost. There was a roughness to it, an edge he might not know how to shake after so many years following in his father’s harsh footsteps, but… it almost sounded familiar. It almost sounded like…

Hesitantly, he laid his fingertips on her arm, a featherlight touch that was suddenly her only anchor in the smoky night. “You will get him back, Mera. And when you do… a child needs their mother.”

The words plunged her back through the years. Back to her early days in the Atlantean palace, when Atlanna first took her under her wing and Orm had been her only friend in the kingdom. To when her father broke the news that her mother had been killed in battle and Orm was the first person she swam to for comfort. To when Orvax sacrificed Atlanna and their roles reversed in an instant, with Mera being the only person in the world that he could be open with about grieving for the mother everyone else called a traitor. Back to all the broken years after that, Orvax’s influence poisoning the sweet and silly boy she loved, until Mera had no choice but to turn against the villain he became.

“You cannot be reckless,” Orm said quietly. “You need to calm down.”

Not a day went by when she didn’t miss her mother, when she didn’t lament the lifetime of victories and milestones she had never seen. Atlanna’s execution had cut her like a trident to the heart, too, alongside turning Arthur against Atlantis and destroying Orm in every way imaginable. Arthur and their family would never let Junior face what he and Orm had gone through, but… No. I cannot let him grow up grieving. Not like we did. I need to survive this, too.

Slowly, in stuttering movements, she forced her fists to open. The anger began to dissipate. In its place, the terror and agony flooded in, her knees weakening and her hands shaking again, longing to hold her son. Tears welled in her eyes, stinging far more than the smoke and heat, and she grabbed the closest support she could find.

She grabbed Orm’s hand.

He twitched in her grip, startled. Inwardly, she cringed, realizing what she had just done. But she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t make herself let go. Desperate for any shred of comfort, aching for the days when Orm had always been the one to give it to her, she only clutched his hand harder. He dropped his gaze to the contact, and for a moment she feared he would pull away, that he would let go and abandon her amidst the wreckage.

He didn’t.

He held her gingerly, but he did hold her. He left their hands hanging in the air between them, letting her hold on for as long as she needed. Letting her hold on until her father arrived and she could fall into his arms, their fingers catching as she let go, almost reluctant to make the trade. It was more than she had thought she could ever ask for again. For now… it was enough.

She looked back at him, hovering near his family, consulting with the medics while Arthur and Atlanna held Tom. Maybe my best friend is still here.

-----

Mera gathered Junior into her arms, choking down a sob, his tiny coos the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. I will never let go of you again. She backed up to Arthur and Shin, twisting to shield him from Manta, glaring at the villain as he took his broken helmet off. Arthur touched her back, nudging her towards the door. “Go,” he ordered.

In any other battle, Mera would’ve resisted. She would’ve stayed to fight beside her husband, taking her vengeance, defending the kingdom they had both sworn to protect. Today, though, she didn’t hesitate to obey. Orm had been right – killing him didn’t matter. Only her son did. With Junior against her chest and Shin running ahead of her, she bolted for the exit, listening to the sounds of a scuffle behind her. Running footsteps. Arthur grunting. Bodies hitting the ground.

A trident hurtling through the air.

She whirled around, hair flying. Her eyes widened. It hurtled straight at her, deadly points aimed true at her head, already too close. She couldn’t dodge. She couldn’t summon a wave of water and ice to strike it aside. She could only watch it come, leaning back in a last-ditch effort to keep it from hitting Junior.

A shadow raced into the room, skidding to a halt beside her. The loud clang of metal on metal shuddered through her. The trident stopped dead in its tracks, inches from her face. Her eyes slipped to the side, landing on her savior.

Her gaze landed on Orm.

She had given him a chance. A chance to redeem himself, to fight for what was right, to simply see his mother again and get to know his brother before surrendering himself to his death sentence. She had given him a chance, and now, with his outstretched fist clutching the trident, he was repaying the favor. He was giving her the chance to live, to see her son grow up, to live the happy life he would never know.

He was protecting Junior from the heartbreak that had darkened her childhood and ruined his life.

“Mera,” he rasped. The trident lit up, that ominous green glow spreading out from his fist, reaching towards her and Junior. His entire body beginning to shake, his face twisting in pain and fear, Orm forced out a single word. “Run.”

Please don’t let this be the end.

She wanted to thank him. She wanted to stay with him. She didn’t want to leave him to fight this without her, like she had so many times when she had let the Fishermen take him, when she had schemed with Vulko, when she had gone home to Xebel and her father’s arms and left Orm alone with a tyrant who never loved him. She was an adult now, a queen with all the power they had never had as children, and she still wanted to do a million things they didn’t have time for, and a million more that the baby in her arms made impossible.

All she could do was take the chance and flee, an explosion of magic and her best friend’s screams following her out of the room.

-----

“They’re safe,” Mera whispered to Junior as Storm rocketed out of the churning water, Arthur and Orm on his back. “They’re…” She trailed off, swallowing. “Your dad is safe.”

As is your uncle.

The seahorse bucked as he arced downwards, propelling them towards the iceberg her father had dropped her and Shin on. Arthur didn’t miss a beat, kissing her exuberantly and bending to check on Junior, but Orm landed clumsily, panting, exhausted from whatever had transpired after she fled, from the wounds she knew all too well hadn’t yet fully healed. Aside from returning the trident her father had lost in the battle, the two of them exchanging a significant look as he handed it over, he hung back, separating himself from the reunions.

For now.

She thanked Shin with a kiss on the cheek and smiled at the Brine king and her father’s banter, but her thoughts stayed with Orm. Arthur stepped away from her, joining his brother, and Orm only greeted him with a nod, resigned acceptance in the set of his jaw. Mera busied herself with Junior, dreading the inevitable. Dreading Arthur confirming that there was no more stalling, that her brief reunion with her best friend was over, and she would never see him again.

“As far as I’m concerned, your debt is paid.”

What?

Arthur’s words drew everyone’s attention like a magnet. Mera’s head snapped up. Her father gripped his freshly returned trident tightly, bracing himself. The Brine king stopped complaining about his claw, and Shin shifted, unaware of the stakes but sensing that something significant was happening. Orm’s eyes widened, resignation transforming into disbelief, into something that couldn’t quite be called hope. “Not everybody’s gonna see it that way, though.”

You’re actually-

She cut herself off, waiting with bated breath as Arthur glanced at her father. He looked around, catching her eye. Please, she urged with a pleading gaze. See the good in him. It’s still there. He’s still there.

Looking back at Arthur, he said nothing, simply not objecting to his silent question. It was enough. Shoulders loosening, Arthur continued, “It’s too bad you went and got yourself killed back there.”

We are. I love you, Arthur Curry.

Before anyone could change their minds, Mera jumped in to back him up, to offer Orm a new chance that could go somewhere. “Yes,” she added, nodding at the endless expanse of ocean and shattered ice surrounding them. “With all this ice…” A grin broke across her face – the same grin she had once given him every time she had an idea that would get them into trouble. “It would be impossible to find the body.”

Orm stared back and forth between them, stunned, baffled, struggling to process what they were saying as Arthur told him to lay low and stay close. She couldn’t blame him – even she could hardly believe it. After so many years of trading Orm’s life for Atlantis’s security, Arthur had finally found a solution that protected both. Nothing quite made it sink in until her father nodded at Orm, confirming that he would go along with the lie, a hint of his old fondness softening his features. “Thank you,” he said, his tension easing, “brother.”

Arthur offered his hand, and as Orm took it, Mera looked at her son. You will get to know your uncle after all.

A weight lifted off of Mera’s shoulders. A weight she had grown so used to carrying that the guilt had become part of her, a weight that had crushed a part of her soul that she had kept locked away until now, when she could straighten up and look forward to a bright future with her whole family. Her best friend was back – scarred and changed, yes, but back, rescued from the ashes of his father’s destruction by his mother’s love and his brother’s forgiveness. He had fought for them, comforted her, and saved her and the little boy she loved more than anything. It was all the proof she had ever needed, and he wasn’t going to die alone in prison.

But his return came with a goodbye.

“Wait.”

He paused before he could jump off the iceberg, turning back to her, and now there was true hope in his eyes. She closed the distance between them, snow crunching beneath her feet, and stretched up to kiss his cheek, too. The last time I did that, you were still shorter than me. “Thank you.”

Junior babbled a happy agreement, and for the first time in their lives, Orm smiled at his nephew. “It was the least I could do.” Sobering, he met her gaze. “I’m sorry, Mera. For everything.”

The apology bled with history, with the regret of a lifetime of wrongs and agonizing choices that had driven them apart, but Mera only cared about the genuine step forward he was taking. “I know,” she said, more relieved than she could ever put into words to take the step with him. “Me, too.”

Shoulders slumping slightly, he let himself lean against her, just as he had before he learned how to hide his exhaustion at long formal events. Mera dug her heel into the ice, sharing his weight gladly, embracing the return of the trust she had lost long ago. “You know more about family than you think,” she murmured. “Don’t forget that again, silly.”

Unused for so long, the old nickname simultaneously caught in her throat and rolled off her tongue, strange and familiar all at once. He smiled at it, a tiny, nostalgic upturn of his lips. “I won’t,” he promised.

They lingered for a moment more, savoring the ability to be together again, with no more lies and bitterness dividing them. The locked box she had harbored for so long melted away in the comfort of his presence, a memory to be left in the past, unnecessary in the light of a path forward. “Go on, then,” she said eventually, finding the strength to let him go in the knowledge that they would reunite again soon. “Be safe.”

Devoid of the chill of the false politeness they had used as armor for years, the words warmed the air around them, and she pressed a little harder against his arm when he returned the sentiment just as sincerely. “You, too.”

Pushing off her shoulder, he turned and leaped into the ocean. Mentally, Mera started running through cover stories, mapping out when they could begin pushing the Fishermen for an updated treaty. Arthur stepped up to her side, wrapping his arm around her, and together they watched his brother disappear into the waves, swimming towards his freedom. Swimming, she assumed, to once again find safety in their mother’s arms.

This time, no one will tear us apart, she vowed. I won’t let them.

-----

Mera landed lightly on the end of the dock, spring sunshine warm on her skin. Tucking the tablet she had brought under her arm, she strode towards the lighthouse, searching for one landbound family member in particular. Following the sound of his voice, she found him sitting in his chair on the porch with Junior, uncle and nephew equally content as he read Pinocchio with more awkward versions of the ridiculous voices Arthur used, Nemo curled up at his feet. Mera couldn’t help but pause, enjoying the precious sight that had become commonplace, yet never seemed to lose its novelty.

Nemo interrupted the moment, pricking his ears and trotting over to her with a happy bark. Orm broke off when he caught her looking. “Look who’s here, Junior,” he said, closing the book while Mera scratched Nemo’s back.

Junior’s disappointment vanished the second he saw her. “Mama!” he exclaimed, reaching for her eagerly.

Beaming, Mera joined them in the shade, trading the tablet for her son. “Hello, sweetheart,” she greeted, kissing his forehead. Even all these months after his kidnapping, holding him felt like a miracle, his weight a comfort in her arms. “Were you having fun with Uncle Orm?”

He answered with an enthusiastic string of noises that she took as a yes. “That’s g- Wait.” Amongst the adorable nonsense, she swore she caught a word. “Did he say Ormy?”

“Unfortunately,” Orm muttered. Nemo pressed against his legs, wagging his tail. “I’m going to kill Arthur.”

The front door opened as she laughed. “Mera!” Tom said, sweeping her into a hug. “We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“We finished early. A first in diplomatic negotiations with the Fishermen,” she said wryly. Tom chuckled. Orm stiffened, glancing from her to the tablet. “We didn’t want to all rush off as if we had somewhere to be, so Arthur and Atlanna stayed behind for the celebrations. I got to come share the news.”

“Ah,” Tom said. “In that case, why don’t we give the two of you some privacy?”

Kissing him again, promising to see him soon, Mera passed Junior to his grandfather. As they stepped inside, Nemo following on Tom’s heels, she took a seat on the end of the couch beside Orm. “Atlanna sends her love.”

“She always does,” he said fondly, though his attention was clearly elsewhere. He handed the tablet back. “An early ending seems like a good sign.”

“It is,” she said. Fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve, he leaned forward, watching her power up the tablet and open the notes she had taken. Tilting it so he could see, she scrolled to the section that concerned him. “As soon as the new treaty goes into effect, peace between Atlantis and the Fishermen Kingdom no longer hinges upon your imprisonment.”

She let him take the tablet, holding it delicately, as if the slightest wrong move would erase the words on the screen, destroying everything they promised. He read them again and again, seconds stretching into minutes as he took it in. Mera waited patiently – they had time. When he finally spoke again, his voice cracked with emotion, with joy and anxiety and everything in between. “I can go home.”

“Not yet,” Mera cautioned. “They were furious that Arthur broke you out to participate in the battle, and it took a great deal of care to remove this without raising further suspicion, since we brought no proof of your death. We still have to be careful that your return doesn’t make it appear as if we’ve been harboring you since the battle.” Unwilling to leave it on a pessimistic note, she finished, “It won’t be long, though, with this signed.”

Orm set the tablet down, his eyes drifting to the ocean, aching for the tantalizing freedom still just out of reach. Mera laid her hand over his. “Atlantis isn’t your only home anymore,” she reminded him.

He took her hand, holding tight. “I know,” he murmured. “I still miss it.”

“It hasn’t been the same without you,” she said, meaning every word. She had been looking at all of their old haunts and hiding spots with new eyes lately, looking forward to when he could fill the empty spaces with her again, to when he could help her tell their stories to their family and show Junior all the best parts of growing up in the palace. “I can’t wait to see the look on the Fishermen queen’s face when you come back.”

His laugh didn’t reach his eyes. “I understand why she did it. I certainly sent people there for less.”

“We all understand why she did it,” Mera said, running her thumb over his knuckles. “That doesn’t mean you deserved it.”

“I did,” he whispered, leaving his mouth open as if he meant to continue, but no words came out.

“No, you didn’t,” she said firmly in his silence. “And even if you had, you’ve more than atoned for your mistakes since then. You deserve to go home.”

He drew in his legs, massaging the knee that had never quite healed after his years of torture. She didn’t press him further, letting her touch speak for itself. Finally, he asked, “What if the people don’t accept my return?”

“I don’t care.” She cupped his cheek, guiding his gaze to hers. “You are family, and you belong with us, whether we’re here or in Atlantis. We will bring you home, and if anyone has a problem with that, we will fight for you. All right? We haven’t come this far to give up now. We love you, Orm. I love you. Your homecoming may not be an easy path, but it is a path I will make sure you can walk.”

He weighed the speech, searching for the “but,” for yet another one of the caveats that had shadowed his entire life. “All right,” he said at long last, tilting into her touch without protest, accepting the reassurance. “Thank you.”

“It’s what best friends do,” she said. It’s what I waited too many years to do. Nudging his good knee with her own to take any bite out of her words, she added playfully, “Don’t make me regret it.”

He gave her a small smile. “I don’t know. If Arthur makes me sit in on any debates between your father and the Brine king…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “There’s always a good prank to play on him when he inevitably falls asleep. It’s far more entertaining than it used to be. Besides,” she continued mischievously, “I suspect he’ll hardly have a chance to rope you into anything before you come back up here to see Stephen the first chance you get.”

He shook her off, tugging his hand away, clearing his throat as his cheeks reddened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t,” she teased. “That’s why you’re looking at anything but me. Tell me, how many times has he texted you today?”

The door swung open again, Tom reemerging holding a case of beer as well as Junior. “So,” he said, “are we drowning our sorrows or celebrating?”

Visibly grateful for the interruption, Orm took the beer from him, focusing far too intently on freeing three bottles. “Celebrating.”

Tom grinned softly, giving Junior to Mera and taking the bottles that Orm handed him, giving her the other once she had Junior settled. “That’s great news, son.” Popping the cap off and sitting on Mera’s other side, he held it out. “To the future.”

Relaxing in a way he never had around his first father, Orm clinked their bottles together. Mera added hers to her in-laws’ toast, the sound pleasant and promising above the gentle crashing of the waves against the shore. As much as she had appreciated keeping secrets for Orm instead of from him, protecting him instead of betraying him, she was more than ready for this era of their lives to end once and for all. Soon, her months of leading the negotiations would come to fruition, and nothing would stand between him and being a fully-fledged member of the family both above and below the surface. They would both, at long last, have everything they had ever dreamed of and more – perhaps not in ways they had ever envisioned, but they would have it together.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

“To the future,” they echoed.

[not-goldy]

Right now there are a lot of ex tkk out there who left after Paris. Some of who wrote little to late apologies to Jimin for believing he was the devil/villain, when now they realize that title belongs to the big TK accounts who hand fed them lies. The ones who helped brain wash them & half this fandom & harass everyone. They swallowed that pill & accepted their ship is not real and Paris actually happened. Now they're just sitting around alone cause the people they thought were their friends turned their back on them for seeing the light. These people could do the funniest thing right now, the right thing. Those TK GC's and twitter spaces they were a part of and saved. Full of Tkk & big Tk accounts slandering Jimin & plans to sabotage him and vile lies they made up to spread and openly hated on Jk cause they were mad at him, spearheaded by those active TK accounts. They could email them to bighit. DM the screenshots they held onto, to Jimin and Jikook report accounts. Get these big TK and anti accounts taken down. They were on the inside and know first hand things said in private in those space. How manipulated they were and seeing how its continuing.

Their own leader, told them models called Tae Monsieur Gayhyung in Paris, only for the models to say it was disgusting lies. Instead of admitting he lied on purpose cause he didn't think these people would release statements, he let you all take the blame and look like deranged fools for spreading it and deactivated and came back a few weeks later like nothing happened and you let him. The person creates lies every day and You help spread them. Then the person deactivates cause they can't take the heat and you take the fall and he gains new braindead followers when they come back.

I know It'll never happen tho cause they aren't brave. I on the other hand would be a raging bitch, the whistleblower and expose the fuck out of every damn one of them MF's who helped gaslit me.

I HAVE THREE LARGE BREASTS AND A TAIL.

I'm alway prepared to recieve new Jikook believers into my large bossom and feed them with content 😌

They can start with @nightswithkookmin

And if they want to interact they'll find me here.

I'm open to receiving their confessions about Jikook in my ask box. Shit if it's good I'll even share it so everyone can read it.

If it's triggering and full of doubt I'll send them straight to purgatory.

Tuktukkers are indeed very much manipulated and gaslit into believing things they shouldn't believe if they had a little bit of brain cells in their skulls.

Like it's that simple, you don't even need analysis you just need to use your head, if you believe no two relationships are equal then you'd rightfully assume there must be something unique and special about every ship. Start by individualizing every ship. Start there and if you don't that's how the madness begin.

And if you believe TKk and JKK are two Unique ships- what sets them apart? You don't find this out if you succumb to the prevalent cognitive roadblocks prevalent in TKK land. To find that out what makes them each truly Unique, desist from minimizing, trivializing, overlooking, going against your instincts and going against common sense. One plus one is two. If it she's a duck it's a duck. You don't need to bend and twist and squeeze your brain out.

The common truth and fact of the matter is, however "close" TKK were in the past,however they try to be close now, Jikook are closer. That ship has sailed. However jikook try to normalize that closeness, neutralize it, do damage control- it really doesn't change the fact that out of all BTS pairs they have the most chemistry, are and do come across as the most intimate because you simply can't hide intimacy if it's there between two people.

It shows in everything they do and say.

It's like whatever Vmin have. You can't minimize it. You can't sweep it under the rag. No matter how long they go without producing Content- when they do that content will always light up warmth in our hearts.

You can't take vmin soul mates away from them no matter how much analysis you make, no matter how much you think they hate eachother underneath. They would still be Vmin.

Jikook is jikook no matter what anyone says.

And ooh for TKK, once you clock what their dynamic really is- you may not think of them as Jikook but you'd definitely appreciate them same.

I know a thing or two bout whistle-blower laws and I'm very good in street fights- if you do decide to be a raging bitch, I got your back🤭

[endcant]

a big reason why i personally respond very strongly and publicly about internet censorship bills is because every tool and support ive ever had to understand my trauma, cope with my mental health issues, historically contextualize my experiences, and become a somewhat functional adult, were all found online. the friends who support me found me online. my ability to do my art business & be my authentic self in the same place at the same time is thanks to the expressive powers of the internet. almost nothing good in my life would have been possible if there was legislation like KOSA enacted when i was a child. which is why i have been openly speaking out against legislation like this ever since i was a child.

one example of the problem here is that the heritage foundation intends to use KOSA as a way to sue websites into censoring information about LGBT+ issues and sex/reproductive health. they said it publicly, and i have no reason to think they’re bluffing. the heritage foundation is also the main party behind Project 2025 (an authoritarian agenda for the U.S. political right published and free to read online). they should be taken seriously because they have proudly played a massive role in deciding what Republican public policy be will be since the Reagan administration. if you are politically active online at all and don’t know whether your most dearly held causes are under threat by this group, type “the heritage foundation’s stance on” into your favorite search engine, take a look at the recommended searches, and get ready to have a very bad time. (…unless you’re one of those rare far-right political users on this site, in which case you’d probably have a pretty good time)

this is happening alongside the recent growth of the “parental rights” movement, whose achievements include promoting book bans, trying to suppress any information they deem to be “Critical Race Theory”, as well as harassing and threatening people for supporting LGBT+ kids. they aim to silence any voices that don’t fall in line with their agenda. moms for liberty is a prominent example of a harmful “parental rights” activist group; they have repeatedly done things like this. i have no doubt that these groups would absolutely utilize KOSA to further prevent children from accessing important educational information.

Rep. Marsha Blackburn, the one of the two legislators who has spearheaded the push to pass this bill through the Senate, is a self identified “hard-core” “politically incorrect” conservative who came into the Senate during the Trump administration. She is also part of the larger Tennesseean right-wing political apparatus that has brought this state wonders like cities where public homosexuality is illegal, and a county where the juvenile detention rate approaches 50%. these people do not care about the wellbeing of children. they are doing awful things here that the majority of tennesseans do not support. there are many other recent, infamous examples of similar state and local human rights failures throughout the US. if you let them have their way, these post-Trump Republicans will do their best to bring this kind of nonsensical, authoritarian governance to the entire country and potentially the rest of the world, given the role that U.S. law plays in the reality of the international internet.

i have been mostly sharing others’ posts and contacting legislators on my own time, but on December 6th, a letter was published in support of KOSA that was signed by 200 organizations— largely mental health and childrens’ health related groups. i believe that far-right political groups will use KOSA to silence the kind of online information that helped me with my own mental health when i was a kid, and that kids are currently relying on today. ultimately, i think it is a shame that these 200 organizations think they can get away with publicly supporting a bill that is so widely criticized and politically fraught.

[reality-detective]

Just to let you know things ARE happening behind the scenes, I'll leave this here 👇

Operation Warp Speed Architect Arrested

U.S. Army Rangers on Saturday arrested Operation Warp Speed architect Moncef Slaoui, the Moroccan-born pharmaceutical mogul who in May 2020 spearheaded the administration’s efforts to poison 300 million Americans by January 2021, a source in General Eric M. Smith’s said.

Slaoui largely flew under the radar throughout the Plandemic. The media seldom mentioned his name, focusing instead on publicly influential figures like Fauci, Birx, and Collins, articulate public servants who spoke better English. Our source said Slaoui was relegated to media obscurity because the administration thought he looked shady and that Americans wouldn’t trust him.

And Americans would have been right not to trust a man who spent 30 years as GlaxoSmithKline’s head of vaccines department and was working at Moderna when Trump picked him to helm Warp Speed. At the time, Trump called Slaoui “one of the most respected men in the world in the production and, really, on the formulation of vaccines,” but was merely parroting what subordinates Michael Pence, Alex Azar, Admiral Brett Giroir, and Robert Redfield told him. They and others, our source said, were part of a major conspiracy to deceive President Trump into putting Slaoui in charge of OWS.

Slaoui faced criticism for holding $10 million in Moderna stock options and working as an advisor to Brii Biosciences, a firm with sizable Chinese investments. To avoid a conflict of interest, he begrudgingly resigned from those positions, then began working with then-Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar—who praised Slaoui as “arguably the world’s most experienced and successful vaccine developer”—to hasten Warp Speed.

Our source said that Slaoui, despite resigning from Moderna, continued receiving payouts exceeding $56 million after the FDA granted Moderna emergency-use authorization on December 8, 2020.

However, the military was less interested in Slaoui’s financial motivations than his knowledge that Moderna’s experimental vaccine had killed 34 of 600 Phase II trial participants in June 2020. White Hats, our source said, now have a wealth of evidence—physical and digital documents authored by Slaoui—proving he knew the vaccine caused myocarditis and potentially lethal blood clots but never publicly disclosed that information, even after Trump personally asked him if the shots were truly safe and effective.

“We have a treasure chest of incriminating evidence on Slaoui. This guy was one of the biggest violators of the Plandemic. We got a letter he wrote to Pence, saying he knew vaccines would kill people and that they could blame Trump for pushing Operation Warp Speed on the public. We have tons more that will be made available when he faces a military tribunal and hopefully gets hanged. We had more than enough proof to get him,” our source said.

The arrest, he added, came after Gen. Smith talked with Colonel J.D. Keirsey, a White Hat council member and commander of the 75th Ranger Regiment, the U.S. Army’s premier light infantry unit and special operations force within the United States Army Special Operations Command.

On Saturday morning, Rangers bashed down the door to Slaoui’s 7,500-sq-ft home in Zebulon, North Carolina. One of his three sons, Hussein Mohamad Abdul Slaoui, was present and pulled a pistol on the Rangers. He was shot dead, and the Rangers took Slaoui into custody. He shouted, “sayantaqim li allah,” or “Allah will avenge me,” as the Rangers shoved him into a civilian vehicle.

“We got him. We got the bastard,” our source said. “He’s just one of many. But we’re chipping away at them.”

As an aside, Slaoui was fired from chairman of the board of directors of Galvani Bioelectronics, a subsidiary of GlaxoSmithKline, in March 2021 after several young male employees accused him of sexual harassment.

[mthollowell-writes]

Find the Word Tag

Thanks as always to the lovely @axl-ul for the tag! You can check out their post here!

I'm a bit late with this one but better late than never!

Gently Tagging: @rowanmgrey-author, @imbrisvastatio, @wintherlywords, and @girlfromthecrypt

Your Words: blanket, house, light, color, soil

My words: chest, book, glass, interest, window

All excerpts are from Festival Project wip!

Chest:

Her father stopped and turned back. He winced as he settled himself down in the chair again. Seeing it sent a stab of guilt and anger through her chest. All this movement wasn’t helping his back injury.

Book:

A gust of cool air musty with the smell of old paper enveloped her. The archive was a simple library. Shelves stacked thick with books brushed up against the low ceiling and a large catalog cabinet stood flush against the left wall.

Glass(es):

And there was Eddie as he remembered him. Sandy-haired and lanky, with square horn-rimmed glasses that magnified the brilliance of those blue eyes. With his thick salted beard and patchy brown trench coat, he looked every bit of the eccentric academician he was.

Interest:

As much as Mariela hated to admit it, September had a point there. The press release hinted at persons of interests and possible co-conspirators. It opened old wounds and, with the uptick in supernatural crime, led to increased tensions between the mortal and supernatural populations in the county. The Edelhaus Church has seized on this tension by spearheading the growing “Normality” movement, which advocated for a classification system and more stringent policies on how the supernatural community conducted itself in mortal spaces.

Windows:

But there was no sleeping through this. He had drank his last can of beer for breakfast that morning. The worst winter storm in 40 years battered the house, icing the windows shut and barricading the door under several inches of snow. The ice on the roads made a drive to the nearest Deadman’s fraught with peril. That ruled out getting more beer, or any other essential to weather the days ahead.

[forgottnseccnd]

Mobile Dossier.

Put under a read-more due to length!

NAME.

Aurelius Augustus

ALIASES.

Primarch of the IInd Legion, Master of the Second, Second Master, Repentance Incarnate, the Penitent, Lost Primarch, the Forgotten, the Purged, Quiet Brother, Auri, Ri-Ri…

AGE.

Unknown, possibly ten thousand years old.

BIRTHPLACE AND BIRTHDATE.

The planet Iskaarre III within Segmentum Calor. Presumably was born around the 29th-30th Millenniums.

OCCUPATION.

Primarch of the IInd Legion (formerly), Unknown.

FACECLAIM.

None yet. May attempt to make icons in the future.

ABOUT THE PRIMARCH.

Not much can truly be gleaned from such old records– much historical accounts of the Emperor’s second Primarch had been erased from all Imperial records and any word of him had been sworn to secrecy. However, there are still scraps that have been found…

According to some old records, the Penitent had been found upon an icy snow world in the (ironically) named Segmentum Calor, within a small medieval colony, and was one of the first eight originally found. Apparently, when found, a parade had been made to celebrate the recently-found Tenth Primarch, when in reality, it lauded the Second. Soon after, it was learned that Aurelius was a psyker, specifically of the Divination principles, as he would attempt to divine the stars in order to learn of Mankind’s future. Never did he share his true thoughts, only staying within his mind. However, when he did (rarely) speak, he spoke through the usage of telepathy as a quiet voice in the back of someone’s mind.

The Second Master was a very stoic individual, rarely speaking and always contemplative– yet there were times where even he would speak out about his brothers, such as Fulgrim’s hubris. He is quiet, untalkative, and apparently humorless– however, this could be chalked up to anxiety as ancient accounts reveal the Primarch would not speak without his helm.

Nothing would be truly known of what happened to cause the Second Primarch to be erased from Imperial Records. Some Solar Auxilia had served alongside them, and apparently the Primarch was a part of the Rangdan Xenocides. Though, he would eventually be supposedly slain by another Primarch, supposedly Leman Russ. Though, it could be presumed that such sources mean the other Legions that the Space Wolves have butted heads with.

At some point, the Primarch disappeared– however, there are rumors of artifacts that can be found somewhere within the vast reaches of the Imperium. One of which would be a mighty battle-standard wielded personally by Lord Aurelius, made of the very rare auramite that boasted his Legion’s emblem with chains and thuribles, with the Aquila upon the top of the standard. Above the Aquila is a tall spearhead, making the standard into something akin to a ‘swordspear’.

Another would be Lord Aurelius’s Greatbow– a large bow composed of the same material that had been wielded with immense care by Lord Aurelius himself, with silvery designs embedded into it. There was no bowstring– but instead was possibly used with the help of his psychic ability alongside large great arrows created similarly to that of Psybolts. And the last, though much more grim, few artifacts would be the Lord’s very arms and legs– having apparently lost them by the time of his disappearance. Some say there is still psychic power within them. Now, some might say ‘chop a leg’ to bring good luck in reference to the Second Primarch– which bastardized the Old Terran saying ‘break a leg’.

None know where the Primarch is, but it is said that he may have had a large city-scale ship similarly to the Imperial Fists’ beloved Phalanx, dubbed Ursa Major by the Master of the Second. Some say it still lingers out there, with its Primarch still attempting to redeem himself to finally meet the Emperor’s fatherly gaze once more.

ABOUT THE LEGION.

Traces of this Legion are essentially nonexistent, save for scraps of records that suggest their Astartes were brought into the 13th Legion– however, this is unknown.

With what little can be found, they were suggested to have been fanatically loyal to the Emperor of Mankind to the point of interring themselves into Penance Armor, in which the armor’s connective points would connect directly into the respective Astarte without any sort of plugs and stabbing into their flesh. This would cause constant pain and possibly bleeding, yet it was said that such pain merely 'helped them find their purpose’. Such fanaticism would end when their Primarch would return and brought them comfort through teaching them astrology, which would ease their suffering and help them find new meaning and protect them from a 'strange evil’ through their own sort of faith. In honor of their Primarch, the Stars Repentant legion would chip at their dark blue Penance Armor to leave marks that were like the stars of the night sky, with higher-ranking Astartes having constellations. The highest-ranking would have constellations often seen from Holy Terra, such as Orion’s Belt. They also often had some form of psychic abilities– often, however, they were nowhere near the strength to that of actual psykers.

The veterans of the 1st Company were known to be simply called by 'Hear, See, Speak’, in reference to Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil. These elite Stars Repentant Marines would be the ones to wield the standards of their Legion and were considered a terrifying force on the battlefield. They would be deprived of these senses– focusing solely on innate psychic ability and gut feeling and are said to wield bolters with shocking ease. Of course, however, they are still left more susceptible to psychic attacks and Nulls or blanks, but especially Chaos.

So, instead of being fanatic for the Emperor after their Primarch’s intervention, they grew to become fiercely loyal of their fellow Space Marines, specifically those within their Legion and often treated one another as genuine family. It was rumored that when the Second Master arrived, he would help the young aspirants and neophytes get used to life as a Space Marine and treated them like his own flesh and blood.

Of course, some of the biggest shocks would be that the Stars Repentant Legion was a very diplomatic Legion. With most factions– save for the Orks and possibly the beginnings of Chaos and some of the Necrons if some stories are possible. Often, they would attempt to expand the Imperium by way of converting those from other factions into believing in the Emperor of Mankind’s ideals– at least, his more altruistic ones. Planets once claimed by the Stars Repentant Marines were often very diverse, completely contrasting their bloodstained fanatical history.

In the few Astartes of the Legion that may remain, flaws within the gene-seed began to appear like with many other Legions’ gene-seeds.

One such defect would be the Lord’s emotional connection to his Astartes becoming far too real. In moments of extreme stress or injury, these Marines may slip into a flashback of their Primarch– supposedly of the slaying of his sons and destruction of his Homeworld– and fight as he would. Brutal. Bitter. Enraged. By the time the battle is over, they will slip into unconsciousness and fall limp, temporarily losing feeling in their arms and legs as if they had been ripped apart, just like their Primarch. This intense rage and emotion, of course, leaves them very susceptible to Chaos Gods such as Khorne. However, remnants of their honor will still remain even to those that succumbed to his influence.

Space Marine Librarians, dubbed Diviners, will be far more susceptible to succumbing not just from their presence within the Warp, but by possibly witnessing the visions their Primarch once had. This often leads to insanity.

A rare mutation within the gene-seed actually allows for some Astartes to have a 'moving tattoo’, apparently something originally from their Primarch. Such 'tattoo’ moves like a map, covering their entire back and half of their arms, which helped to show the way. Some have called such mutation a 'psychic dataslate’, but humorously it often led to them joking they are walking star-maps. Often, it would show the galaxy they were currently within, and would shift, move about, or change if touched.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

An Indigenous organization is spearheading efforts to develop a system that could make it easier to flag other groups when an unhoused client is missing.

It comes after the slayings of four women last year in Winnipeg by an alleged serial killer.

Ma Mawi Wi Chi Itata Centre, a community service provider in the city, is leading the conversation with other agencies, including homeless shelters, on how best to protect vulnerable individuals while also respecting their privacy.

One possibility is a database of shelter and agency clients that can be shared among groups. Another, already underway at one shelter, is training staff to watch for predatory behaviour. [...]

DeLaronde says Indigenous women often move to large, urban areas seeking safety from what they are experiencing in their homes or home communities — and they don't want to be identified.

The question then becomes how can agencies support them, she says.

DeLaronde says she would like to see shelters and agencies have conversations with their clients about what staff can do if they don't hear from them.

"Develop a plan with them at the outset that allows for some kind of capacity for outreach and the safety check," DeLaronde said. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[marginaletchings]

Personally I feel like the rushed pace of Hazbin is more of an indictment of The Industry of making shows, especially animated ones, rather than of Vivzie and the crew.

There are also some issues I have with some interpretations and expectations people are having, like… Media also has its logistical limitations, especially “alternative” (subversive) media and media spearheaded by women. I personally would much rather they use their time wisely, even if payoff and key character moments aren’t always earned, than waste multiple episodes doing slice of life in an 8-episode season. (Looking at you, Steven Universe.)

I also don’t think y’all understand the limitations of the process of animating (in terms of time, manpower, budget, etc) —but also of how they may not have been able to get signed on with A24 and Amazon if they didn’t have big name actors going with it.

Y’all act like this is just Vivienne stomping around being a mean old Karen, when in reality, that is not how creative productions work. There is so much we don’t know but everyone is content to condemn the series largely based on emotional reactions, assumptions and too often, bad faith. It’s not even done airing yet.

Hazbin Hotel has its flaws—cram packed pacing being the main one—but as a huge fan of animated shows, who grew up in the 90s, to me it is a damn breath of fresh air. Do I wish they’d stop and just let us feel something more often? Sure! I’m sure Viv and the crew do too, if Helluva Boss is anything to go by.

Criticism of a creative work is valid, but only when it takes into account how that thing is actually made and most importantly, the context in which it exists. If you ignore those two things, your criticism is always going to ring hollow and come off as shallow and uninformed.

Shockingly, opinions aren’t always constructive criticism, and some folks seem to have missed that distinction.

EDIT: Would also kindly like to add that as a survivor of SA, abuse, depression, Husk and Angel’s song in ep 4 did not come across as victim blaming to me. Self pity and self hatred lie at the root of self destruction, and no matter how much you’ve earned the right to sit in that mire, admitting that you’re in a fucked up place is the first step toward acceptance and the path to healing. When you’ve been hurt, you grieve, and Angel was in a stage of denial and depression.

Sometimes, the only way to break through that powerful fog is for someone to tell you, yeah, shit is fucked up and you’re an absolute disaster, but you are not alone and I am here with you. I personally would rather have someone just be honest with me instead of spouting some saccharine nonsense. People always talk about how there’s a better place beyond what I’ve walked through, but I hated that, because it offered no honest assessment or comfort for me while I was still in the thick of it.

You can be so hurt that you’re lost in the pain and misery and you lose the perspective you need to hold onto any kind of hope. Husk offered him that hope, and without engaging in the Suffering Olympics. He was open and straightforward and genuine. No more bullshit.

And Angel doesn’t need bullshit, he needs honesty and people that care about him, who will be there through whatever comes next.

But that? That’s just my opinion.