#but as you can see here it’s gradually expanding (a little)

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

“Pillar of Fire,” Scarlet Spider (Vol. 2/2012), #5.

Writer: Christopher Yost; Penciler: Neil Edwards; Inker: Karl Kesel; Colorist: Edgar Delgado; Letterer: Joe Caramagna

[stillfoodforguys]

One of my chubbier mates had decided to take advantage his size and try to win some money at a hot dog eating contest. The event was taking place in just a couple of weeks, so he made a plan to prepare his body for the task that required my help. He wanted to expand his stomach as much as possible to increase its capacity, so every day he swallowed me whole and asked me to squirm around as much as I could. Hopefully if I could stretch out the walls of his tank while I was in there, it would have a lasting effect.

I surprisingly didn’t mind having to go through with this so many times. The process of being swallowed felt like I was getting a full body massage from his throat, and the warmth inside his body was oddly soothing. The only thing I felt awkward about was his constant moaning while I squirmed and pressed into his soft, stomach walls. I couldn’t tell if it was from the strain I was putting on his internal organs, or whether he was secretly getting off from the sensation.

The goal was to be able to eat 100 hot dogs, and with just a few days left we managed to get his limit up to 98. I knew the next session would likely be our last, but what I wasn’t expecting was his refusal to release me after coercing one final belly massage out of me.

“Sorry man, but I want everyone to think this was all natural talent. Can’t have anyone finding out about you’ve been helping me train. Now let’s see how much more food I can fit in here with you!”

Caring little about how I aggressively thrashed around in response to becoming part of his dinner, he crammed hot dogs one by one into his gluttonous mouth as fast as he could. The chewed up sludge gradually filled up the space around me until I could no longer move, his belly ending up so swollen and heavy that he was pinned to his chair. He belched and rubbed it with satisfaction and pride, though he wasn’t anywhere near his goal of 100 tonight on account of the man-shaped slab of meat he needed to melt down.

[undermine-the-instinct]

A million Bucks

Chrollo x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You and Chrollo are both dorks waiting for any chance to info dump. Also. Chrollo gives you a million dollars. Literally, it's in the title.

thank @ddarker-dreams for their latest Chrollo concept amongst others inspiring me.

“Come! On! Enough exposition about the flowers, we’re going to miss it!” Watching your boyfriend go off on color and symbolism about each flower patch you passed in the botanical garden had been cute; You imagined him to have studied up on this ever since you expressed a desire to go. It was adorable, but if he kept talking like this the both of you were going to miss the sunset, and that was something you did not want to miss.

He lets you drag him by the arm, and in your huffy mood, you can just sense the amused little smile he wears, and you pull him along faster along the path.

“We still have around fifteen minutes before the sun sets, dear.”

“So? We can't just go when the sun is about to set–it's a gradual thing, watching the sky change color and such…Just trust me.” You pat his hand and he chuckles.

The hill is a perfect height, and you happily plop yourself down when you reach it, sighing in bliss.

“And now we wait.” There are already couples of all sorts sitting in the grass around you, and Chrollo immediately takes the spot next to you, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh.

“So this is what you wanted to see.”

“Yes, isn’t it pretty? It’l be even prettier in a few moments.”

“Hm,” He puts a hand to his chin and you know he's about to ask one of his questions.

“Tell me, common folk tend to romanticize watching the sunset, but if removed from their conventional daily schedules, would a person be able to tell the difference between sunrise and a sunset?”

“I think it’s pretty easy to tell though? Daybreak is softer, pinks and blues and lavenders and the like. Though the same colors could be found here too…Maybe because it's more tranquil? Everyone is still mostly asleep during the daybreak so you can hear the birds and the like.”

“Yet I can hear the birds now as well. And, excluding telling factors such as sound or general aura, could you truly tell the difference?”

You shrug.

“I'm not sure? If you plopped a random person on a hill such as this, but with no accompanying factors of time– like the street lamps turning on, or the clock or business folk walking home— how would they know?”

Now he’s got you hooked, time to unload some of the random trivial knowledge you have stored in your brain. You tilt your head in thought and carry on.

“The sunset often has a more yellow tone though? Sunlight is composed of a multicolored spectrum, just like a rainbow. It passes through the atmosphere, which is a mix of gaseous molecules like oxygen and nitrogen and water vapor, at a slant as the sun drops towards the horizon. The atmosphere is thicker during this time since during the day, general activity and the sun’s beams cause molecules to swell and expand, so the sun’s light rays have a harder time traveling. The short blue and violet waves have a harder time traveling, even the yellow and orange ones, which is why more densely packed and thus polluted areas usually have red sunsets. We’re lucky today to see such a bright orange sunset, but I guess that’s just a testament to how clean the city is. I knew I voted right.”

You laugh under your nose, but soon a question pops in your mind.

 “On another note though… these names that we give to these different times; Daybreak, dawn, dusk, twilight, noon, day and night…for a person who doesn’t know such things how would they apply them? Couldn’t daybreak also refer to the sunset, or to twilight, since that's when the day ‘breaks’ into night? Afternoon is pretty straightforward, but what is the concept of noon to someone who's never experienced it before? I mean, everyone has experienced noon but–” 

You look up, and the light is so bright and orange for a moment you could’ve sworn you saw your lover covering a lovesick smile. He quickly transitions to wiping his mouth, and you’re left stupefied if that really happened. There is still the slightest red hue on his ears, and a glimmer in his eye, but that could just be the sunlight.

“Well that's getting into the topic of linguistics, and the pattern we apply to languages for the patterns we apply to our general lives. It varies greatly among language and culture, different regions and dialects. There's certain parallels though to be found. Like how in many languages, like Spanish, day is referred to with the masculine, in this case ‘Buenos’ and night as the feminine ‘Buenas’. Apollo and Artemis, Lugus and Rhiannon, Inti and Mama Quilla, Huītzilōpōchtli and Mētztli, etcetera.”

“Oh, but that's getting into gender and its role in religion. And what about cultures that are the opposite? Like Ameratsu and Tsukuyomi-no-mikoto? Sol and Máni? And at this point, if we’re speaking about an established and organized religion then that means that such patterns have already been set and defined, and our original question has already been answered by our hypothetical person or peoples.” You grin and lean in closer to him. His hand creeps along your thigh but you let it.

“Removing all factors, How could one tell the difference between a sunrise and a sunset? They’d have to rely on intuition, with the absence of context clues. Maybe they’d be able to tell, since humans are mostly Diurnal? What do you think?”

He just stares at you, drenched in the sun’s rays, and gosh he’s really freaking pretty. Modeling contract when?

But he just keeps staring, and now you notice the way his pupils are dilated, the way he's leaning in.

“Chrollo?”

“I think,” he licks his lips before he speaks. “That you’re going to miss your sunset if you keep on.” You’re already flailing a little before he finishes his sentence, and Chrollo can't help the expression on his face as you eagerly lift your head to the sparse clouds up above.

“As riveting your conversation is though.”

“Oh shush you, we almost missed it!”

True, the skies edges were being beaten into blooming shades of indigo and plum, slipping into a golden orange and bleeding red at its sinking core. It was nothing he hadn't already seen before.

But you were acting like it was your first time; Your widened eyes glowed in the reflection of the sun, painting you in golden armour. It painted your hands, gilded your hair, lay heavy over your eyelids, and slick across your mouth like honey, opened slightly in awe. It seemed to almost pool on your tongue, and he so wanted a taste.

“Why are you staring at me?” You say, not keen to pull your eyes away. More's the pity. If you turned your head you would catch a glimpse of a man so besotted, drowning willingly in a love he never once thought he’d ever be able to experience.

“I seem to find you more captivating dearest.” 

Your brow pinches, adorably, but you scoff a laugh.

“Don’t be silly, you see me almost every day. You’ve seen my face a hundred times.”

“And I've seen the sunset a thousand more. So why would I choose to look at a dying star when I can stare at you?”

The sun is almost gone, but the red hue on your face doesn’t fade, and something in Chrollo’s chest warms; purrs and curls, like a snake.

He inches forward while you huff.

“Mister Casanova over here trying to be smooth…Just what are you thinking?”

It might be indecent, the way his hand smooths along your inner thigh, but he finds he doesn’t care. Neither do you, when you finally turn to look at him, and your breath hitches with how close he is. It's getting darker, but not all of the street lamps are on.

“I’m thinking…” And he smooths your hair away from your neck. You shiver. “That right now, I'm much too endeared by you to deny you anything you might ask.”

“Oh really?” Your tone is amused, disbelieving but he nods. Goodness he was…Ah, how did Uvo and Shalnark put it again? Whipped?

“Okay, I want a million dollars.”

His expression doesn’t change. “Alright.”

“Alright? Don't tell me you’re that easy love.”

“I’m afraid I am, for you dear… Is there anything else you desire?” You flush darker, but in a bold move you grab onto his collar and drag him down into the grass for a kiss.

Your mouth does taste sweet.

A few days later, you were relaxing at home…Until you decided to go to your local coffee shop and treat yourself. Your favorite barista made your drink perfectly, and you checked your bank account to see whether you could give them a more generous tip then your usual, to find something very shocking. Now you’re pacing your bedroom with your phone pressed to your ear.

“.....Yes, dear?” Finally he picks up. You immediately lay into him.

“Chrollo? Honey, dear, darling, apple of my eye, gem of my heart…I seem to be in a bit of a conundrum.”

“Is that so? How about you explain it to me so I can help you.”

“That's exactly why I called. Now, can you tell me why there is suddenly an extra one million dollars in my bank account? Hm?” You know it's his fault. You know it.

“Hm. Maybe your boss gave you a raise?”

“Oh, is that so?”

“You have been working hard dearest.” Cheeky bastard.

“Chrollo.” He chuckles on the other end of the line, and you feel like the top of your head is going to blow off.

”Chrollo.”

“Alright, alright. It was me.”

“And why in the nine circles would you do that?”

He’s silent over the line for a minute, you can only hear the hum of his car, so you assume he‘s driving, wherever he is.

“Well, you asked for it.”

“What–”

“As your spouse, isn’t it my duty to attend to your every want and need?” You slam the phone down on your bed, and immediately smack face down into a pillow, and scream. What the hell. You can hear his muffled voice on the side, and pick the phone back up after about a minute of suffering.

“Are you alright dearest?”

“My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined.”

“Oh? Now that won't do. Would another million make you feel better?”

“I will literally leave you if you do that.”

“I always knew you were a thief. Not content with just my heart, are you?”

You sigh hard and pinch the bridge of your nose. There is an anxiousness curling tight and hot in your belly, and his amused tone of voice isn’t helping.

“Where did you even get this kind of money?”

“I won the lottery.” You yell his name and he laughs, full on laughs, you’re sure your face is completely red by now.

“I'm truly serious.”

“I’m not going to accept that as an excuse.”

“Fine. Then it was inheritance from a rich estranged aunt of mine. Perhaps I'm secretly the CEO of a major conglomerate. Or perhaps I own a couple of mines. Maybe I got lucky with the stocks I invested in. Whatever makes it easiest for you to accept, darling.”

“Accept what?”

“I think we both know what I’m alluding to.” There's that tone of voice again. That tone.

Sometimes, Chrollo just…puts you on edge. There was always something eerie about him, and while he could shrug it off and be his dashing, charming self, you couldn't deny that he sometimes made the hairs on your neck stand on end.

He was too observant, you could never sneak up on him. Never.  And he liked to stare, a lot. He was also crazy observant–bringing up little tidbits of info and conversation you brought up years ago with perfect clarity. He acted the most odd when you were your authentic self, like he was simultaneously amused and fascinated by your ‘quirks’. 

Like when you would stop to talk to and help strangers, or when you’d return a wayward shopping cart to its right place, or when you stop to pet the local stray cats. You had always brushed it off with probably him being jaded, a bit awkward (he doesn't get internet lingo, he doesn't know basic meme culture but can tell you in excruciating detail where the murderer went wrong in whatever documentary you’re watching), but you cared for him. The good outweighed the strange, right?Even  if he was gone so often, or never took off the wrapping around his forehead or changed in front of you, or how he could sometimes move so fast.

Your partner is creepy, honestly. But who doesn't want a borderline cryptid boyfriend? You stay with him anyways.

Maybe that's to your own detriment.

You sigh again, feeling like five years has been taken off your life. “You can't just drop a million dollars into my bank account Chrollo.”

“And why not?”

“Because… Because!! A million dollars Chrollo?”

“I see no issue with it. And I’m not taking it back.” He cuts you off before you can start your next sentence.

“I don’t see much value in material wealth. It makes no difference to me. Consider it disposable income.”

“Spoken like a true bourgeois.I can’t believe I betrayed my fellow man for a blood sucking parasite.” You wipe a fake tear away.

“‘Parasite’? I'm quite partial to spiders myself.”

“Ew, whatever.” Of course he would like spiders. “I’m donating your money to charity then.”

“Alright then. It’s your money now dear.”

“...You’re amused by all this, aren’t you.”

“I’m not quite  sure what you mean,” sounds of traffic overtake the line as he goes silent for a moment.

“I’m just endeared by your humility and generosity. But there's no need for theatrics dear. What's mine is mine, and what's mine is yours,” you can just imagine the smugness radiating behind that genial smile.

“And naturally, you are mine, so my point stands..”

You’re silent, and Chrollo waits for your response. You just sigh again, and shake your head.

“I can’t understand you sometimes.”

“There's no need for you to, darling. Just indulge me.”

“Yeah? And what would you like?” You tease, slipping into familiar territory. He hums in thought as if he doesn’t already know what he wants.

“Let me take you out to dinner tonight. No fuss from you.”

“You already made a reservation huh.”

“Of course. Five star." Oh dear goodness, this man is going to be the death of you.

Well, at least if you fall ill due to the stress of being with such a man you can actually cover your bills, and then some.

“So what do you want me to wear?”

“Something long sleeve, we’ll be dining on the open balcony.”

“You’ll just give me your coat if I get chilly. Anyways, I asked you what you want me to wear?” He goes quiet and you try not to grin.

“You said indulge you, right?”

He’s quiet over the line, before he laughs low, and despite yourself there is a flutter in your gut.

“You’re a wonder Darling.” he mutters something about ‘missing this later’  but before you could make head or tails of that he continued.

“Wear something black. Surprise me.” You roll your eyes and yourself off the bed, padding over to your closet.

“You and your monochromes…Alright, where are you?”

“Just a few blocks away.”

“That hardly gives me enough time to get ready.”

“No need to rush, we have time. I set the reservation for eight tonight, so you still have a few hours.”  

“Then why did you come so early?”

“What if you need help zipping up your dress?” You laugh, and close the closet, having grabbed what you needed.

“Whatever, let yourself in with the mat key. We’ll talk about your disposable income when you arrive. And you can put the roses away yourself when you come.”

His voice is smooth and deep with mirth. “How did you know I brought roses?”

“You always do, dear.” You hear the sound of a car roll up to the driveway and grin, hanging up the phone. You rush into the bathroom to get ready.

[roobiedo]

Happy Solarpunk Aesthetic Week and Winter Solstice! ❄️

While we do celebrate here, we don't actually experience winter in my region, or any of the classic four seasons! The weather here is basically a coin toss between searing heat and torrential rain lol. So while I was musing over how to adapt a solarpunk aesthetic to a tropical lifestyle, I came up with this!

Lengthy explanations and chaotic ideas below:

Disclaimer: I am not a science-y person, so I'm not sure how any of these would technically work or what materials would go into making them. Hopefully one day someone could figure it out, but I'm just having fun sharing these ideas for now :)

-----

What works well both in harsh sunlight and heavy downpours, plus is already something that people here use everyday? Umbrellas! How cool would it be to have an umbrella that absorbs sunlight during the day, and turns it into a personal spotlight at night? Or perhaps it could absorb and store large amounts of rainwater, to be re-used later or released somewhere more useful?

My main inspiration for this is the bamboo. This plant already plays a huge role in our lives here -- culturally, economically, and from what I recently learned, ecologically too! Our region suffers from floods often, and bamboo can help to control the flow of water, for example through their roots providing a barrier against soil erosion, or their ability to store large amounts of water and release it gradually during drier seasons. (And that's just one of the many reasons why bamboos are awesome and solarpunky!) I thought it would be cool to have water stored in the 'bamboo nodes' of the umbrella shaft, which could then be detached and used individually, or as components in other tech!

I chose the Amazonian lily pad as the canopy design because 1) it looks big enough to cover a person, 2) it has a wide surface for solar panels to 'photosynthesize' energy, 3) its container-like shape looks as though it could hold rainwater like a funnel while it trickles into the shaft, and 4) it just looks really pretty! Realistically, this canopy might not be able to do everything at once, so I'm hoping for this tech to be modular and highly customizable -- as in, you could replace this 'lily pad' with something else that serves a different function! I did play around with some other designs, here they are hehe

Hibiscus: Our national flower! Have these bad boys growing in my yard so I thought why not. Not sure what functions it would have yet... perhaps the pistil could be a sensor for gathering weather data? Or maybe the anthers are little lights? Maybe it attracts BEES???

Mushroom: Not familiar with the fungi in my area yet so I went with the classic Amanita. Though now I'm kinda regretting because! Wouldn't it be so cool and lunarpunky to design it based on a bio-luminescent mushroom, so it would make sense for the umbrella to glow in the dark? AGH missed opportunities ;;

-----

Anyway while I was designing the umbrella I thought about giving the model a cool fit too, so tadaaa! A customizable pair of pants that can be worn as a shorts + half-skirt/sarong combo during hot weather, or extended to become a full pair of jeans during colder/rainy times! I used zippers as the connectors because they seem easy to sew on and I like the punky vibe it adds to the outfit. HOWEVER, I'm realising that might be inconvenient or way too time consuming for some people. Maybe buttons, magnets or hook-and-loop fasteners would be easier?

As for the shirt, idk that was just for fun. Maybe it changes colour/design based on the surrounding temperature?

-----

So YEAH that was my longer-than-expected idea dump for this week! Thank you for reading <3 If you have any thoughts or ways of expanding on these ideas please please please share them with me I'm just really excited to see what people think waaaaa!!! ok bye stay hydrated

[shellswritesstuff]

hi, hear me out. johnny with a s/o he meets at wu shi? like they are also a part of the earthrealm gang. THANK YOU!

(YES. OKAY OKAY I SEE THE VISION. I loooove the idea of reader being part of the main group, if you want more lmk,, id love to expand on this.)

Johnny Cage/Reader - Wu Shi Romance (HCS!) (SFW.)

𖦹 When you first arrived at the Wu Shi Academy, you felt at peace. A bit hopeful for the fights to come. You were eager to meet your teammates, those who would take on such a task to defend Earthrealm must be great people.

𖦹 You were right! For the most part...

Kung Lao, Kenshi, and Raiden were all here on their own volition. Their own personal missions and reasons for being here were noble, and you respected them. A friendship would soon blossom.

𖦹 And then there was Johnny Cage. Movie star, model, self-proclaimed 'sexy pants.' Being from Earthrealm, you knew exactly who he was. You've heard quite a bit too.. some things worse than others. 𖦹 You were a fan! Johnny's movies were some of your favorites, and now you get to meet the guy. You were excited to train in the same place as him, maybe even learn a thing or two!

𖦹 All of this was true... until he opened his mouth.

"Well hello there, pretty lady." Johnny waltzed up to you with what was either confidence or stupidity. (You'd soon come to know it was a mix of both.) "I know you're new here and all.." He raised his left arm, flexing for you.

"So, if you're ever in need of a sparring partner.." A mental note to kick his ass was taken. "...I'd be a luckiest man in the academy to get my hands on you."

This guy cant be for real right? The only way this could get any worse is if he... WINK! There it is. 𖦹 For next few months, you'd be training under Liu Kang. Spending just about all of your time with the team. (If you want more about their relationship developing lmk! I'm planning on making a drabble or maybe a slow burn!)

At first, Johnny's flirting was non-stop. Jabs between training sessions, compliments via passed notes during the monk's lectures, you name it - he's tried it. Though, his antics never failed to make you smile. It was harmless, and on days where you couldn't bare even your own company.. he was surpisingly... docile. (As well as he could be.)

𖦹 "I'm not feeling it today, Cage." You let out a huge sigh, adjusting your wrist wraps. "I'd give anything to have slept in. It's not my day, as I bet you can see." That morning, Liu Kang had you all run around Wu Shi, only stopping to do various fights. You'd felt sick from the moment you woke up, if you can call little sleep you've had rest.

Johnny had caught up to your speed, running beside you. He had said some pun about how we're 'running' out of time before the tournament. You'd at least cringe and maybe even laugh, but he only got a huff in reply. You thought he'd poke you some more, add to the impending migraine coming your way. Much to your surprise, he just ran faster.

"OH!" He collapsed to the ground, catching the attention of a few passing monks. "OH THE HUMANITY! I THINK I MAY HAVE.." Johnny winked at you before grasping his side. "PULLED A HAMMY! THIS.. THIS IS IT FOR ME.. OH IF ONLY SOMEONE WOULD HELP ME." He reached out his hand for dramatic effect as people surrounded him.

The training drill was swiftly cancelled for the day.

After dinner that night, you found yourself at 'injured' Johnny's door.

"Knock knock." You made your presence known as you slid open the sliding door. "Feeling better after pulling that hammy?" Johnny sat up with ease, meeting your gaze as you leaned against the partition. "Learned that in Hollywood?"

"Who said I can't act, huh?" He grinned, pretending to shove dust off his sleeves. "More importantly, are you feeling better?"

𖦹 From that day on, you two would gradually grow closer. Sitting next to each other for breakfast and dinner, and even partnering up for sparring. He'd still insist on going easy on you, but after a few ass kicking later, Johnny would learn not to underestimate you.

(I have SOOO much to say, so I'll make this a two parter! Thank you soooo much for reading and my ask box is open!!)

[a-cure-for-hysteria]

Crowley attracts neurodivergents because he smells like us.

(Expanding on my previous rant about how we see ourselves in him). No, not saying he's autistic coded or anything like that, just that - and you probably don't struggle to see where this is going - he kinda portrays several very common autistic experiences. 1: First, he's a naïve 'kid', clearly with a special interest (machines and building things), something he's very skilled at. He assumes he's allowed to ask questions about Creation, not trying to hide his frustration when he doesn't understand why things are the way they are. He does not mask. 2: Then, he's cast out of Heaven with the rest of the angels who asked questions, after them having waged a war on Heaven (?). He fights for good, he wants justice no matter what. 3: After the Fall, his naïvety is gone, replaced by bitterness and cynicism - but even on the walls of Eden, he's still nice to someone who presumably never hurt him. 4: We see him turning into a snake at will in Eden. He slithers around, tempting Eve, pulls strings - still, for justice. He has started masking, and does it well, but believes he does it for good. 5: Throughout history, he mostly spends his time alone or in situations that don't offer connection with others, completing tasks for Hell, gradually losing his sense of self. He still cares, he still want's to be a good person, but he doesn't know what "good" is. Everyone's a hypocrite, and he feels all alone. All he has is his sense of justice, and he comes to believe that he can only trust himself. 6: Aziraphale, arguably also portraying several common autistic experiences, is the only person who understands Crowley. Possibly because he has a different trauma to that of Crowley's, but definitely still a trauma caused by Heaven. Aziraphale knows WHY one masks in Heaven, something Crowley learns too late. 7: Crowley wants to isolate from the world, is angry, traumatized and wants nothing to do with Heaven or Hell. At some point, this requires him opening up just a little to that other weirdo he keeps running into, and they form a partnership - initially only because of common interests. I might be reaching here, but a lot of autistic people have "common interest acquaintances" morph into friendships, they often can't be friends with just anyone. They need a good reason to. And Crowley and Aziraphale's shared desire to do as little as possible (and later, save the world) is such a common interest. 8: Via engaging through their common interest, Crowley opens up more and more. Again, we see the naivety we witnessed earlier (In The Beginning, S2E1) - that happy kid who just enjoyed seeing his machinations take form. For him to dare a romantic relationship with Aziraphale, it is essential for Crowley to (at least begin to) heal the trauma caused by Heaven. Him allowing himself to experience pure, naïve excitement is a prerequisite for love, I think. Without this change, he will be on his toes at all times, never letting his guard down. 9: He finally reaches a point where he forces himself open, out of desperation. It wasn't done right - it was done with fear and anger, but he was vulnerable enough, and finally naïve enough to try. This was immediately punished by Aziraphale, who abandoned him (not necessarily what happened, but definitely what Crowley feels). 10: And so, Crowley might retreat back into his hard, cynical shell, having lost the only person who gets him. Better just self-medicate, with alcohol and whatever else not shown on screen that I can promise you Crowley does. It's the "autistic, care-free kid to bitter, cynical, functional addict/goth-adult"-pipeline.

[just-another-josh]

Write

“Wake up, zrhueiao.”

The sound of her wife’s tender voice is the first thing Lena registers as she is roused from her nap. As her awareness expands, the infrequent chirp of birds can be heard reverberating through the open living room window. The sound of ‘Mad Money’ droning from the television playing quietly in the background.

The suffocating smell of acrylic paint and turpentine assault her overly sensitive olfactory receptors, forcing her to turn her head towards the cool December breeze wafting in through the open window.

She begins to slowly stir, a light stretching of her arms and legs reminding her she’s lying prone on the living room couch, her favorite comfy spot. Her contentment is quickly overshadowed by the dull ache in her lower back, tight shoulders, sore breasts, and a very full bladder. 

Yep, still pregnant, Lena thought ironically.

“C’mon sleepyhead, time to get your cute little butt off the couch.”

Lena gradually opened her eyes, her wife’s grinning face the first sight to greet her. As her eyes focused, she realized Kara was floating just above her, the Kryptonian’s body parallel to her own. When they first started dating, Kara’s casual use of her powers in similar situations startled her. Now, after two years of marriage under their belts, Lena didn’t bat an eye.

The CEO lazily grinned at her hovering wife. “You have paint on your face,” she pointed out groggily.

Kara made no effort to wipe at her paint-stained face, instead rolling her eyes. “Well of course I do, I’ve been painting.”

Lena lazily grinned. “How’s the mural coming?”

A beaming smile lit up Kara’s face. “Should be finished in an hour or two, tops,” she emphatically boasted.

“I can’t wait to see it.” Lena’s smile matched the intensity of her wife’s. She cupped Kara’s face with both hands and pulled her into a chaste kiss; deftly avoiding the splotches of paint peppered around her wife’s face. “Help me sit up,” she asked once they separated. She offered her hands to the Kryptonian who gently accepted them and effortlessly guided Lena to sit upright. A light touch of vertigo threw her balance askew once she was fully sitting upright; a recent development plaguing her for the last few weeks. As she a number of times since the issue emerged, Kara remained by her wife’s side to keep her steady until the dizziness passed.

Once her equilibrium returned to normal, Lena became acutely aware of the increased pain in her lower back as the additional weight settled on her overstressed muscles. Lena shook it off, old news after thirty-five weeks carrying twins.

“What time is it?” Lena asked as she rubbed her sore neck.

Kara fidgeted and smiled sheepishly at her wife. “It’s four o’clock.”

Lena was aghast. “I’ve been asleep for three hours?” Kara confirmed with a timid nod. “Christ, I slept through the whole afternoon,” Lena whined. Frustrated, she ran a hand through her loose, tangled hair.

Kara lowered herself to sit next to Lena and began rubbing her lower back. “Hey, you needed to rest,” Kara soothed. “You’re carrying two very active, very hungry girls. I know staying home and lounging around is the complete opposite of your normal routine, but you have to give yourself a break.”

“Little parasites,” Lena growled, a look of faux disgust on her face.

Kara softly giggled and pulled her wife closer, Lena shuffling to rest her cheek on the hero’s shoulder. Kara kissed the top of her wife’s head. “Three more weeks, zhaote. Three more weeks and we get to meet our kir kruvuzhs,” she whispered.

Lena snuggled further into Kara’s arms; her agitation slowly escalating. Tears filled the CEO’s eyes. “I’m so tired, Kara. They’re not even here yet and I can barely function, and that’s after I’ve had eight hours of sleep. How the hell am I supposed to keep it together when the girls are here and I’m sleeping in ninety-minute intervals?”

Kara squeezed Lena as tight as she safely could and pressed a lingering kiss to her head. “Because I’ll be with you every step of the way. And for those times I can’t be here, Alex, Sam, Eliza, and the rest of our family will be right there as backup.” Kara began to slowly rock her wife. “El Mayarah, remember?”

Lena nodded, too choked up to speak. She buried her head in Kara’s shoulder and let herself fall apart. Once considered taboo as a result of her Luthor upbringing (or as her therapist put it, indoctrination), Lena felt no shame in being this raw, this vulnerable with her wife. The progression of Lena’s emotional maturity was a testament to her work with her therapist, Kara, Sam, Alex, and a litany of other players from her found-family. It took a village, but Lena had learned to manage her insecurities to the point where she could express her emotions without feeling any shame.

After ten minutes of crying together (her wife joining in because…well…Kara’s a bit of a crier), the couple managed to separate from their embrace. An emotionally drained Lena leveled her wife with a deadpanned look. “Fucking hormones.”

Kara’s involuntary snort led to both devolving into a giggling mess. Kara thoughtfully placed her hand on top of Lena’s, a look of concern etched across her face. “Zhao, have you written in your journal today?” she delicately asked.

After thinking about it for a brief second, Lena sighed, “Not yet.”

“Do you think doing a little writing might help you feel better?”

Lena pursed her lips in consideration before nodding. “Probably.”

Kara smiled. “Stay here, I’ll go get it.”

Lena grabbed Kara’s wrist before she could stand. “First things first, I need to pee.”

Kara rolled her eyes as she began guiding Lena to her feet. “Shocker.”

******

Two years ago, Kara and Lena embarked on their journey to become parents. When they decided to bring a bundle of chaos (Lena’s words) into their lives, Lena spent the next year constructing a Kryptonian birthing matrix capable of creating a viable embryo made up of both human and Kryptonian genetic material. It was a daunting, painstakingly long task, but with the combined efforts of Lena, Zor-El, Eliza, Alex, Brainy, and Caitlyn Snow, they were able to successfully produce an embryo using Lena and Kara’s cells.

While the birthing matrix was being constructed, Lena and Kara had decided they wanted the baby to be carried to term and born naturally. That was the easy part. The hard part was deciding who would carry the future baby Luthor. After dozens of civil (and not so civil) arguments between the soon-to-be expectant parents, it was decided that Lena would carry the aos.

Considering the glut of fertilization drugs administered to and embryos implanted in Lena, it should have come as no surprise when the first ultrasound revealed that she was carrying twins (it totally was).

The morning sickness during the first trimester was so severe Lena contemplated putting herself in a medically induced coma until the twins’ due date; luckily Kara and the rest of the Super-family were there to guide her through her nausea-induced insanity.

The increase in Lena’s body temperature was another fresh slice of hell that came with the pregnancy. She wasn’t just hot, but Amazon rainforest in the summer hot. It was another aspect of carrying twin Kryptonians she should have seen coming. Kara’s body temperature always ran at least one to two degrees hotter than the average human’s. As Lena always ran a little cold, she welcomed snuggling with her Kryptonian space heater. Now pregnant with the twins, Lena carried the equivalent of two radiators in her womb. She had never sweated so much in her life; it poured out of her like a fountain. Even with the air conditioning at full blast wherever she was, it became routine for her to have to shower and change into dry clothes at least three times a day. At the office, she did her best to mitigate her overheating by wearing sleeveless blouses; she would have given anything to be able to wear shorts but knew that was unacceptable in an executive setting.

The start of the second trimester brought a modicum of relief to the miserable CEO. She was more energetic, her libido came back with a vengeance (much to Kara’s delight), and she could keep her food down. Therein lay the biggest challenge of the second trimester, and the rest of her pregnancy, for that matter: her insatiable appetite. Being pregnant with Kryptonian twins required her to consume twenty to thirty thousand calories per day, anything less resulted in Lena becoming extremely ill. As a result of her daily caloric requirements, Lena quickly surpassed her wife’s already excessive levels of food consumption. Entering the Luthors’ house and finding empty takeout boxes, empty containers of gelato, and discarded bags of Funyuns strewn about became the norm. Especially the Funyuns. Lena craved Funyuns like a junkie craved their next fix. On more than one occasion, Lena could be heard screaming something along the lines of: “Kara! If you don’t get your perfect little ass to Costco and get me Funyuns before I run out, I’m going to put kryptonite in your fucking mouthwash!” or “Don’t you dare tell me to wait for the delivery driver. What’s the point of being married to Supergirl if you can’t get me my fucking Funyuns now?!?”

Despite her second trimester falling in the middle of the summer heat, Lena was able to manage her chronic overheating by spending extended periods at the Fortress of Solitude. It wasn’t uncommon for Kara, Sam, or Clark to find the CEO comfortably lounging around the frozen structure wearing nothing more than a loose tank top and shorts.

It was around the middle of her second trimester that Lena decided to start a journal. It served as a way to record the changes her body was going through during the first four months of her pregnancy. The entries were cold, clinical, and devoid of inference or emotionally driven content; only measurable, fact-based information. The thing read like a study published in the New England Journal Medicine. Lena had no intention of doing some cliché pregnancy journal. There weren’t going to be any ultrasound pictures, trimester planners, baby registry lists, or other keepsakes. She was Lena-Fucking-Luthor, and there was no goddamned way in hell she was going become some dipshit scrapbooker.

Kara was already taking care of that.

A month into her journaling, the couple had a miscarriage scare. Lena went into a full-fledged, panic induced spiral.  Despite reassurances from…well…everyone that the twins were safe and healthy, Lena was inconsolable. At first, she blamed herself; her completely absurd and unfounded list of why she was at fault was longer than most novels. After a week of self-flagellation, Lena shifted the blame to focus on her wife. It was subtle jabs at first, Kara rationalizing that her wife’s comments were just her way of venting. But after a week of Lena’s increasingly hurtful barbs, Kara had had enough and called her out on her behavior. The argument that ensued was on a level not seen since Lena stole Myriad from the Fortress five years prior. As the argument reached its zenith, the yelling was so loud that Sam’s super-hearing picked it up all the way from her and Alex’s house. Luckily, Alex and Sam were able to intervene and separate the couple before they said or did anything that couldn’t be undone; Sam staying at the Luthor house with Lena, and Alex taking Kara with her to the Danvers’ residence.

After a restless night of sleep, Kara returned home and, after a tense conversation, the couple agreed to a truce and enrolled in couples’ therapy. It was during one of their sessions that the therapist suggested they start journalling daily. Kara had been keeping a journal since shortly after her arrival on Earth, so she easily agreed. When Lena proposed using the “journal” she’d already begun, the therapist allowed it with one stipulation: the CEO had to record not just her medical stats, but her thoughts and feelings as well. After minimal cajoling from Kara, Lena begrudgingly agreed.

At first, Lena was at a loss as to what to write. Well, she knew what she was expected to write but she didn’t know how to articulate her feelings. For several weeks, after recording her medical stats, Lena would stare at the remaining blank space on the page unable to corral the chaos in her head into coherent sentences. This would go on for several minutes before she’d put the journal back into the drawer in her bedside table with a huff, trying to convince herself that she would be able to come up with something the next day.

After a particularly difficult day at L-Corp, Lena was able to break through her writer’s block. That day, Lena recorded her weekly measurements as usual followed by recounting the events of the day, her frustrations with them, ways that she handled those moments poorly, and how she planned to avoid repeating her mistakes. By the time she put her pen down, an hour had elapsed, and she’d managed to completely fill six pages.

 And Rao be damned, she actually felt better afterwards.

From that point on, Lena was making daily entries chronicling her workday. Her writing slowly began to include entries about both her professional and her personal life. The journal pages quickly became filled with her thoughts and feelings without the clinical structure that once governed it. Soon she wrote about anything and everything: observations from the day’s events, anecdotes, strangers she had encountered, ideas for new projects, her family, her pregnancy, the twins, Kara, her hopes, her dreams, her doubts, and most importantly, her fears. Cataloguing her fears gave her the opportunity to later assess them in a logical, calm manner as opposed to the panicked state that they originated from. Thus, robbing them of their power to control her life.

The irony was not lost on Lena that her brother was an avid journaler as well. He too would fill volumes upon volumes with his meticulously organized thoughts. But that’s where the similarities ended. Lex’s journals were filled with his bitterness, anger, xenophobic rhetoric, and obsessive hatred for Clark and Kara and ways to kill them; all laced with his usual arrogant narcissism. By contrast, Lena’s journals focused on love, compassion, inclusiveness, and ideas for creating a better tomorrow. They served as a reminder of the progress she had made in learning to love and accept love; a chronicle of where she’s been, where she is, and where she hoped to be in the future.

When she began her journaling voyage, Lena never imagined that it would become an integral part of her life. For her, doing her daily entries was just as natural as breathing, it required no forethought.  She fully intended to continue journaling indefinitely; well past their therapist’s prescribed duration. The only question in her mind was what to do with the journals in the future. She already shared most of the details of her daily entries with Kara as part of their therapy. She had no intention of letting her friends and family read them, not even Sam. Truth be told, she imagined passing them on to the twins if/when they became expectant mothers themselves.

In the event that one of her greatest fears came true and she was…taken from her family prematurely, she left instructions with Kara to give the journals to their girls when Kara felt it was the appropriate time. Lena hoped that they would serve as a reminder of who their mommy was and how much she loved them; something she wished her mother had been able to do for her. While she was grateful to have her mother’s grimoire, it didn’t tell her anything about who Elizabeth Walsh was. It was very important to Lena that her girls knew who their mommy was as a person and not as some generic abstract. She had no doubt that their jeju would do everything she could to keep her memory alive, but Lena felt that her written thoughts would be a clearer, more profound reminder.

“I’m finished.”

The pen in Lena’s hand stilled as she looked up to see a very giddy Kryptonian. She was surprised that Kara had finished the mural in the nursery so quickly, but a quick glance at her watch confirmed that she had been lost in her writing for over an hour. She set the journal and pen on the coffee table and met Kara’s bright smile with one of her own.

“Done-done?” Lena said with a feigned look of skepticism.

Kara put her hands on her hips and stuck out her chest à la Supergirl. “Done-done,” she gloated. “Now get that cute little butt up so I can show it to you.”

“Well get those ridiculously hot biceps over here and help me up,” Lena said as she made grabby hands. Kara positioned herself in front of Lena and gently gripped her hands; a small grunt escaping Lena as her wife smoothly pulled her up. “Darling, my ass is anything but cute or little. Maybe it’s time for a new endearment?”

Kara shrugged. “Okay, but “get those deliciously pregnant titties up” doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well,” Kara said with a mischievous smirk. “But I’ll give it a shot.”

Lena snorted and shook her head. “Ah, there’s my boob girl,” Lena purred. “I wouldn’t worry about it though, I’d say they’ve rolled off your tongue quite a bit lately,” she said seductively. Kara’s cheeks quickly dusted pink, producing a triumphant smile from her wife.

As they reached the foot of the stairs leading up to the second floor and the nursery, Lena turned to her wife with an expectant look on her face, eliciting a confused crinkle from the hero. “I am not waddling my fat ass up those stairs. Put your back into it, Supergirl.”

[lorei-writes]

Like Father, Like Daughter

Chevalier Family AU Fluff

Centred around Chevalier and his daughter, Rosalie (between 3 and 4 years old).

Ah, as the title says. A little sweet something.

“You’re late, daddy,” she declared. “For bedtime.” Chevalier remained silent, unable to rebut her claims. Frozen eyes turned towards the lord, now shivering, chills gradually becoming obvious trembling. “B-busy?” “Indeed.” Chevalier strode past the man.

Words filled the quiet of the palace corridor, distorted as if limping after falling from the trembling lips. Chevalier stifled a sigh. The lord in front of him gestured animatedly, perhaps wishing to compensate for his inability to speak – a prey to fright, yet another offering on the altar of irrational fears. The noble face alternated between red and white, hardly honourable sweat coming over the man’s brow as his shoulders jerked to dislodge the sounds locked in his throat. Chevalier turned his gaze towards the window, blooming rose heads peaking from above their misty shawl, embroidered with the last specks of the scarlet sunlight. An act of mercy was due, although he would still have to think to decide which of them was the one being spared.

“As you may be able – can, of course, can, you can – imagine – see, that is, yes, My – Your! – Highness –” The onslaught of words continued. Chevalier, however, was neither listening nor leaving the place. Perfectly occupied with the shadow reflected in the tall glass pane, he stood, awaiting the inevitable. Brown eyes met his, as if on command.

“Rosalie,” Chevalier called. “Why are you here?”

The chattering ceased, all attention turning towards the girl – no older than three or at most four springs – stepping from behind a corner, arms folded over her chest. Dressed only in a night gown, she tapped her bare foot against the cold stone floor, lips pouting and brows drawn towards each other in a most sincerely exaggerated frown.

“You’re late, daddy,” she declared. “For bedtime.”

Chevalier remained silent, unable to rebut her claims. Frozen eyes turned towards the lord, now shivering, chills gradually becoming obvious trembling.

“B-busy?”

“Indeed.” Chevalier strode past the man. His cloak fluttered briefly, however, he reigned the fabric in as he crouched in front of the girl. Clasps sighed while being undone. Her pout only intensified; her shoulders squared, the little avatar of just wrath itself glaring her fiercest, coldest glare… Until he poked her forehead. Taken by surprise, Rosalie forgot how to frown, lips parting to protest against such blatant disrespect. If only granted more time, surely, she’d give him a piece of her mind.

If.

Indifferent to chill reaching up his back, Chevalier wrapped his daughter in his cloak to then scoop her up in his arms. He caught her foot, although he needn’t have – all the evidence had already been laid out, the icy toes only ridding him of any futile hopes. Like father, like daughter, they scowled at once.

“You will catch a cold.”

“No, no, no,” she began her reply, just as he started to talk.

The palace corridors seemed to have lengthened for that evening alone, each turn and every staircase a witness to the path Rosalie must have walked by herself. His arms tightened around her of their own accord, as if that alone could undo what had already been done, the list of various threats she could have run into expanding itself in his mind. The guards paled at their sight, however, no words were said out loud. There was no need for that.

The door to Rosalie’s room opened. Chevalier stepped inside, careful as he trod forward, all too aware of the treacherous building blocks and partisan dolls just lingering, crawling over the floor for him to trip over. Plush carpet muffled his steps, but the bundle he held in his arms still sensed the increasing proximity of the much dreaded bed. Rosalie hugged her father with more force, insistent not to yield. Not yet.

The frame creaked as Chevalier set Rosalie down, small arms refusing to let go of his neck until he lay beside her. A sigh spilled from his chest as he reached for the duvet, to at least try to tuck his little girl in.

“You need to stop running away like this, Monkey,” he murmured against her hair.

“B-but you were, you were late,” Rosalie argued, voice hitching despite her best efforts to remain calm. She huddled to him clumsily, her legs getting tangled in his cloak… But her struggle was cut short, his arms pulling her close. “And uncle Clavis said… said I should count to one hundred. And then go look…”

Chevalier felt another sigh stir below his ribs, but did not say anything, instead rubbing what he hoped to be soothing circles over her back. “I won’t be late again,” he assured.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he whispered the moment the word left her lips, as if the few seconds spent awaiting the question were noting more than a mere courtesy.

Few practised kicks sent his boots to the floor, a little fumbling was all it took for his gloves and jacket to follow suit. The one thing Chevalier could not as easily remedy was the length of the bed, but that, that was of little consequence. His legs dangling off its edge, he made himself as comfortable as he could get, arms pulling the bundled up Rosalie on top of his chest. Hair fell over her face as she nuzzled into him, little arms stretching to keep him in place. With still mildly unsure hands, Chevalier smoothed the unruly strands down.

“What story should I tell tonight?” he asked, his voice but a whisper, a feather falling in accordance with the wind’s whims.

“A long one, daddy,” Rosalie murmured, her words a gust, an irrecusable request.

Not that Chevalier minded allowing himself to be swept away. She’d grow up fast. He’d be wise to commit those moments to his memory well.

--

Tag List: @lancelotscloak @violettduchess @pathogenic @fang-and-feather @tele86 @rinaririr @keithsandwich @cheese-ception

Tell me if you'd like to be added to my tag list :)

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Personality through quote

Thanks to @elsie-writes here and here and @leahnardo-da-veggie here!

Rules: have your OCs respond to a given prompt then give the people you tagged a prompt

Got long, below the cut :)

[A quote about feelings]

Lexi: "I have a lot of feelings...they all are pretty intense. Every emotion is like that for me. When I'm happy, I'm ecstatic, exhilarated. When I'm sad, it's like I'm depressed. I get just a little stressed and my anxiety flares up, and I start crying. It's a lot, honestly."

Maddie: "Feelings are fine and cool, I guess. I like my feelings toward Lexi and Kelsey. Don't really like my feelings toward someone like Brycen. Not sure how I feel for others, though. They like me, which is cool. I dunno. Feelings are super weird."

Ash: "I think I'm starting to understand feelings of others better now that I've discovered my telepathy. It's interesting, seeing how I experience other's emotions. It gets a little metaphorical. Fascinating stuff."

Gwen: "I mean, Lexi was once upset and I was sent to comfort her because I was apparently the most empathetic there. I'd say I'm in touch with my emotions. I get a little too emotional at times. I hold back a lot more than people think, though."

Robbie: "Dude, feelings are kinda dope. Like our brain just feels sad and our chest physically hurts. Doctors can't explain it. [Pause] Okay, both of my parents are doctors and they kinda can, but it's cool regardless."

Akash: "Huh. Well, it's important to feel feelings, and it took me a while to face them. I'm good now, though. I think it's important to face them."

Jedi: [silent for too long] "Well, *rubs back of neck* "I like to...think of myself as someone in touch with his own emotions...."...*nods*

Carmen: "No."

[A quote about their thoughts on NFTs and/or cryptocurrency]

None of these guys would like it but this is a fun prompt!

Lexi: "Isn't crypto a scam? I don't like the idea of that. Just stick to regular money."

Maddie: "NFTs don't make any sense. Just right-click the image. Downloaded."

Ash: "Honestly, I feel like owning an image sounds fun in a silly way, but I'm not that reckless with my money. Would rather spend it on tangible things."

Gwen: "I'm uncomfortable with the idea of people charging you to own an image, fake money or not. I mean, why not make actual art?"

Robbie: "Oh my God did you see the NFT ape movie? Dude, it's so bad. I can't believe there are people this stupid."

Akash: "Not only is it unethical, it literally makes no sense. The money isn't real? Why would you do that? Like, have you looked at the value of crypto?"

Jedi: [intently listening to someone explain crypto and NFTs] "Well, now that is just ridiculous. How in the world do they expect to regulate that?" [A few more minutes of baffled rambling]

Carmen: [also had to have someone explain it to her, but she interrupted more] "Are you kidding me?! Is stupidity a common genetic trait among Ceters?!" [More ranting]

[A quote about remembering the ones they lost]

Well uh I'm not gonna go into any major spoilers so I'm gonna expand the meaning to more than just death.

Um, gradually gets sadder because my first few have not experienced their main trauma yet >:)

Lexi: "Oh, I had so many friends in elementary school! I mean, I still have a lot of friends, but I miss those who went off to different intermediate schools. It's okay, though! I found them on social media, and a couple had phones by fifth grade. I should totally hook up with them again! Thanks for asking!!"

Maddie: "I guess Brycen. He was my friend before he became a jerk. I would like to be friends with him again. Like, then him before he was a jerk."

Ash: "I miss the friendship I had with Shelby. I don't know why, it was literally only for a week or two. But there was...something about her friendship that sucked me in. I still have Lexi, so I think I'll be okay. Then there's my ex-stepdad, Frank. He was sometimes fun. Toward the end he became rude. Before that, though. I miss when I felt like he was a dad, I guess."

Gwen: "My grandfather died when I was very young. He was amazing, though, and I am just glad I remember him. He read stories to me and played with me. And then there's my cat, who we lost a few months ago. She was really sick. I still miss her."

Robbie: "God, I miss Lalika, Akash's mom. She was basically a second mom to me. I talked so fast around her as a kid. She was just starting to learn English when we met, so I don't know if she got everything, but she would always smile and laugh when I did, paying attention to my emotions so she could respond appropriately. But I also loved to read aloud my favorite books to her, so I helped in that regard I guess. She went to all my plays. She made sure to get something for my birthday, and Sam's, separate from Akash's gift. She was amazing."

Akash: "My mom. Every day, I miss her. It's...hard to move past it, I guess. She would listen to you. I still remember her songs that she'd sing, and I still listen to them. She loved taking pictures and filming everything, which I am so grateful for now. She fought for me, when the school district dug their heels in about something. Made sure I had everything I needed to succeed. She was the best."

Jedi: "My mother fought for me my entire life. She pushed to get me an accelerated academic program, fought to drag me and my sister to a better place where I could thrive. Fought my father when he...let us say, went too far. She was fiercely protective. I owe her my life. I just wish I could have repaid her."

Carmen: *scoffs* "I knew Atsila my whole life. Why wouldn't I miss her?" [Yeah sorry that's all you're getting out of her]

Tagging @dyrewrites @ceph-the-ghost-writer @elsie-writes @mk-writes-stuff @aalinaaaaaa @sam-glade @thebejeweledwatercat @winterandwords @mysticstarlightduck @somethingclevermahogony + anyone else ;)

Prompt: A quote about a weird habit they/someone else has.

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

[sonohban]

Oh this is something I'm awfully excited to ask you but I keep on forgetting!! But anyway, if you'll create an alien race based on bugs in dragon ball how would you go about it? Like what would be the most important detail do you think they should have? (I want to ask you about specifics of that race too but I don't want to pressure you on answering since I'm sure that would be long. Just an idea of what an alien bug race can be would be awesome!)

THIS IS SUCH A GREAT QUESTION..... because it makes me think so hard i can't think of anything conclusively :') first up is- would this insect race be one species? one family? one order? or just a mix of all different kinds? there's literally around a million insect species and almost 30 orders that are INCREDIBLY diverse in form. i don't want to paste every single example here but here's just the silhouettes to give you an idea!!

(deep longing sigh, a graphic from one of my favorite papers by misof et al. 2014)

but also i could just. make up a new bug entirely?? 😳 like just smash together my favorite characteristics from across the insect world... what sounds good to me atm is cool wings (i like plain membranous more than the scaly wings of butterflies/moths, you can get cool patterns with them too), the general horse shape of a mantis/snakefly and sound producing organs (insects make noises in different ways! crickets stridulate by rubbing their wings together, cicadas expand/contract their tymbals, hissing roaches compress air through their spiracles). i like the idea of insects singing to communicate, it's pretty much only to attract mates or scare predators but i think it's a generally romantic idea :'3 i also think it's cool to consider aspects of physiology, like insects have an open circulatory system (their organs are bathed in hemolymph instead of supplied by vessels), they have a more decentralized nervous system (can still get around despite lots of their body missing), they can overwinter, among other things. oh i think i'd also like them to be holometabolous (larva>pupa>adult rather than a nymph that gradually sheds into its adult form) because i want to see proud parents holding their cute little worm babies :3c

in terms of dragon ball i can say what i won't do- toriyama i'm making a callout post on tumblr dot com- there are insects other than cicadas (although i LOVE cicadas) but i am tired of these things

it is a real structure found among the true bugs (order hemiptera, includes aphids, leafhoppers, cicadas, etc.) called a cibarium which basically houses the big muscles the herbivorous members use to suck up plant juices. SUCK, you say?? yeah these things don't have chewing mouthparts so shut your weird beak mouth, cell. you're supposed to be sucking up people with that instead. their mouths have been modified into straw things called a rostrum which you can barely see under the cibarium of that cicada. if i had to make an alien race based off these kinds of bugs, their mouths would remain rostra and i'd definitely have them communicate through sound production only. that would be hella cool.

(also while we're on the cell callout train, cell's wings are based off the shell of a beetle which are technically called elytra but THERE'S ALSO SUPPOSED TO BE MEMBRANOUS NORMAL WINGS UNDERNEATH! insects typically have two pairs of wings and the shell of a beetle is just the hardened first pair.)

hehe sorry that went on for a bit. take some bonus doodles that this inspired although i wouldn't consider these examples of a sentient alien race. i really like snakeflies and think they're adorable OTL

[licncourt]

begin again COOKED as a post-qotd fix-it (fave fic! <3) but i need to know your thoughts on prince lestat/how you would re-do it in the correct way. to this day i still think LESTAT becoming prince monarch of all the vampires is one of the craziest decisions made during the novels. to me lestat is a prince in the same way that jack skellington was king of halloween (that includes the running away to cause delusional hijinks that ultimately jeapordize everyone)

Aaahhh thank you!! That fic is my child that I birthed so I appreciate it more than you know! It's actually BA's one year finished-iversary next week, my baby's all grown up.

I've talked about that before actually in this post about how I would rewrite the whole series, but I can expand a little here!

Firstly, this could've been two books instead of three. There was nothing going on in there that required three entire novels

Things that have to go entirely: aliens, test tube clone baby Viktor, Atlantis. Sorry, not salvageable

I think rather than the Amel thing, it would have been cool if the sacred core had started corrupting Lestat and altering his behavior as host, maybe changing him gradually into a animalistic, violent folklore-like vampire, making him slowly lose his mind like Mekare, or erasing his sense of self to become a blank host. Then it's a race against the clock and vampire magical biology to save him. This could be the first PL book

Ideally, I think this book should be narrated by Louis and focus a lot on his growth as a character as he finishes his personal. It would bring some happy ending closure to the IWTV version of him without being a jarring change. I also think having his POV for the best of his and Lestat's relationship would be a nice full circle moment from seeing him describe their worst. The idea of Lestat losing himself to the core and them potentially coming together too late would add good drama as well. Maybe this is Louis' follow-up memoir describing how they fixed things

The Rhoshamandes conflict can stay for the second PL and final VC book, but I think it could've been less boring if the drama between him and Lestat had been better fleshed out. They have a lot of similarities that weren't used to their full advantage. It would really highlight Lestat's growth to have him defeat what he could've become

When Lestat reunites with Louis, they would actually have some long, hard conversations about their past, ones that continue throughout the PL trilogy

Hopefully an explanation for why Lestat has made this 180 is included, even if it's just the crushing realization of his own loneliness and longing reaching critical mass after twenty years of who the fuck knows what

The cast is pared down to the strongest written and most interesting characters so the story isn't spread so thin, probably Lestat, Louis, Armand, Gabrielle, Marius, Pandora, and maybe a small handful of new characters with significance in the story. I think Seth, Fareed, Sevraine had the most potential to be good additions to the primary roster if she wanted to add on

Cool characters from the original like trilogy like Maharet and Khayman are expanded on rather than killed offscreen to make room for more Anne Rice NPCs. If we're going to kill someone from the trilogy, please God let it be David Talbot

This goes without saying I think, especially from me, but Louis would be restored to his former glory as a true main character alongside Lestat instead of relegated to lobotomized housewife. There was so much potential for him in an active consort role. We also don't get to see how he got to such a peaceful place at the end of PL, so I would like to see him work through some stuff on the page

I would either cut the Rhoshamandes/Benedict storyline because of how redundant it is with how it mirrors the Marius/Armand dynamic or do something to differentiate it as its own relationship. At the very least, maybe the similarity could be highlighted to become a character beat for Armand

As far as Armand in general, I would make him a much more prominent player. I think he's a great fit for a court setting and could create a lot of intrigue as well as adding coolness factor. I'm always torn about whether I like the reveal of his romantic feelings for Lestat, but in the interest of keeping SOME things intact, I would just play it differently. Primarily, I think he becomes way too agreeable (similar to Louis) in how he submits to and idolizes Lestat, so I would love to see him come into more conflict with Lestat in spite of those feelings. Maybe we can see him make some peace with their history and let go of that intense emotion for something healthier

If we're going to keep the sex injections (IVs, whatever), I think we should do more with it than have Lestat prematurely ejaculate into a random woman. I think there's potential for a very interesting new dynamic with Louis and Lestat. It would be cathartic and maybe an interesting part of their healing process and of becoming a real couple for the first time

That's what I can think of for now, but I might update later!

[wombatwisdom]

Thoughts from the Gather Conference

I want to take some time to engage with some of the speakers from the Gather Conference. I do want to share my thoughts with others, but mostly I'm doing this for myself. Also, my thoughts are based on my recollections of speeches I have only heard once and do not have the text to review, so everything is my paraphrasing and interpretation.

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

Charlie Bird and Allison Dayton spoke one right after the other on Day 2 of the conference and whether intentional or not, their messages paired nicely.

Charlie's address, entitled "Resolution through the Gospel of Christ" focused mostly on dispelling the myth of having to choose between being a child of God and a member of the LGBTQ+ community. He believes that the idea of needing choose is a lie and one that is held onto by traditional thinking. His call to arms was to actively choose both, be a child of God who is out and proud.

Allison Dayton's speech, entitled "Enlarge the Place of Thy Tent", was focused on reaching out to people in the "wilderness of life" and invite them into our tents. She was clear that the tent in her analogy is not the Church as an institution but rather the personal tent of our lives. She said, quite clearly, that we cannot do much about the church's policies of inclusion, but we can invite everyone into our circles of love regardless.

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

Potentially controversial take here, so fair warning.

To the outside observer these talks seem a bit toothless, especially when looked at from an activist lens. Enlarging circles of love and being out and proud children of God on their own seem like harmless and lackluster. If you are looking for monumental change, will either of these acts actually accomplish that?

I'm also not sure Charlie or Allison have alterior motivations here, they may not be actively trying shake things up, but my Machiavellian little soul can help but see something deeper going on here.

The church is often times miles behind when it comes to social change and obvious activism hardly ever results in much more than name calling. True change in the church comes from those in minority groups gradually carving out acceptance and many many many meetings with those in power. And since most of us won't sit in counsils with those in control, we must settle with carving out acceptance.

Here is where Charlie and Allison come in. There is something transgressive in what they are saying while still remaining technically within the doctrines of mormonism.

Charlie's approach feels similar to Harvey Milk's in the 1970's. Milk's philosophy was that everyone should be out in all walks of life to show that "average people" knew someone in the LGBTQ+ community. This was controversial at the time and still is now, but I can see the appeal of this approach. And I personally think there was some success in the normalization of a very specific type of "queer person" in the mainstream.

Charlie's proposal directly confronts the belief that some Mormons hold that the LGBTQ+ community is somehow not part of the Momron community. Or that we shouldn't be. And I do think that being out, at the very least, would force people to recognize we exist and we are unavoidable.

Allison's approach is different but reaches a similar outcome (and can be practiced by Allies and LGBTQ+ folks). By encouraging people to expand their circles of inclusion she is subtly disrupting the status quo in Mormonism. Ultimately she is proposing a grassroots movement, first of love and support, that if grown large enough might force larger change.

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

Now again, this is my inference and thoughts. And both of these approaches are very quiet forms of activism that don't ask for very much and deliberately indirect. This is, if it is anything, the long game.

I think I wanted to share this because often this type of advocacy is either dismissed entirely by critics or is easily missed by those looking for it as the advocacy is implied rather than stated.

At the end of the day, advocacy in this space is controversial, difficult, and messy. And while imperfect--i think that there is at least hope to be had. Because even if change doesn't come, Charlie's and Allison's visions will still be vital in building community which is always needed.

[piglet26]

A Year In the Mess and the Millennial Cross Rory Bears. WINTER

Let's address the elephant in the room while I have you front and center. Rory in A Year in The Life was a commentary on millennials. Amy Sherman-Palladino, the creator, confirmed this was the inspiration for Rory's turn in AYITL. Rory was saddled with all the complaints the previous generations have of millennials such as millennials are spoiled, entitled, privileged blah blah blah. Hey now, now that we have not one but two generations under us I do understand the desire to complain (and be terrified). Gen Z and Gen Alpha general aesthetic is to be Billie Eilish lite as in angry, depressed, violent, or, antisocial. They have the lowest attention span recorded in human history and Taylor Swift is their greatest philosopher. Jesus take the wheel

The problem? None of this was in Rory Gilmore 1.0-character DNA. Matter of fact who the hell was Rory in the revival?! What the hell happened to her? We don't know. The Palladino's don't even bother expanding on it, but who does?! When it comes to Millennials we're to be mocked not understood. Most millennials came of age where there was a horrible job, house market and were in an economic recession. Our lives were being taken over by technology and social media. Rory picked a profession that was still mostly print at the time of her college graduation.... this is an entirely digital market now and one readers now pay for if they want something of substance. How lucrative is a real authentic journalism career? Not just think pieces or a seat on CNN or Fox News roundtable?

This is why A Year in the Life was a Mess

Believe me, I wanted to love it. This is my childhood we're talking about here. I loved Stars Hallow. Love my Gilmores. Yet, when I finally tuned I did so when just a hint of dread.....gradually all my fears were realized. Thus after 6.2 hours concluded somehow, we got somewhere, nowhere, found out little, nothing at all, were satisfied and just plain frustrated. So, let's break this mess down by episode. While mainly I will cover how the revival failed Rory - I will mention other frustrations because I can.

Winter

Why is Rory only in town for a day?! She's gotta leave for London soon. What has she been doing?! Ok, she's written a piece in the New Yorker, but how does that work?! Are you on staff? Do you submit freelance pieces and they choose them? She's a good writer, she's always been a good writer, and she's shown she is capable of running a paper - why is she struggling?! They doubled down on the millennial annoyance by having Rory abandoned Brooklyn as it was going condo and Lena Dunham. Subtle.

Super-Proud Luke is and always will be cute and Rory is so his kid. He's now a subscriber to The New Yorker which he reads every week just to support Rory. Also, he's attached her article to his menus so everyone can read it. Which she treats as cringe instead of sweet and supportive, but I'll let it go. Luke, Lorelai and Rory really are found family and super adorable.

Yes, the bit about everyone forgetting Paul is funny but THIS ISN'T RORY?! Paul seems genuinely sweet and thoughtful not just to Rory but her whole family so why are we doing this? Again, this is someone's depiction of a millennial. I guess we're really shitty to great guys. Rory had never been previously depicted as self-centered jerk just slightly oblivious as well all are.

It's a thrill to see all the old characters make a cameo.

The loss of Ed Herrmann was a gut punch to his cast. You can tell. It's also serves as a gut punch to the audience. We will miss you old chap. Rory following Emily around at the repast is the first hint of old Rory we've seen on this show yet.

It also serves as another wasted opportunity. No one except Emily seems to be genuinely affected by Richard's passing. The Gilmores are a small family, but a tight one. The patriarch passing surely would've affected all three gilmore girls deeply. It would've been better had we found Rory on a cooperate writing staff in London (employed by Logan) that she quit to spend more time at home to support her mother and grandmother. It would've been nice had Richard's passing compelled her into finding meaning beyond professional success. It would've been nice if they showed her pursuing something related to Richard from a journalistic perspective. They could've showed her on the road chasing a story to run into Jess or Dean or hell any of the countless characters. SOMETHING. Instead, we got spiraling millennial which is continuing to just seem misguided.

Berta and her roving family is trash and I didn't need them.

Emily starts in on Rory current state of homelessness which bring me to my next point of contention..... How is Rory broke?! She's had Trixie/Gran, her grandparents, Logan, Luke and her father?! I don't care that she's privileged unlike a lot of the privileged but not as privilege youtubers who enjoy spitefully and bitterly complaining. Despite what these grips say no, Rory's success has never come easily to her. The reality she was studying and investing her teenage years in academic pursuits while Rory's haters were partying or watching TV. Rory's always been resourceful and yet can't find a way to make a steady income in addition to writing. What's going on?

April/ Knock-off Rory is annoying, and it doesn't escape me that Luke prefers Rory. I'm glad hehehe. I mean he has a kid biologically and yet he considers going to Rory's graduation as going to his kids graduation. Side note: I know the creators would like to pretend that season 7 never happened but what are we doing here?! LnL have seriously never talked about having kids in the last 9 freakin' years?! Well at least we know why..... miscommunication and we needed a way to write medical Paris Geller into the story. Surrogacy is actually perfect for a medical student that doesn't actually like sick people.

Paris Geller ah I love this cold-hearted little psycho.

Okay Rory is writing a book with a queer drunk brit who steals food from other people, this is who she wrote her New Yorker piece on. This is the depiction of the feminist on the show.

I love Logan and I Love Rogan, but WHAT ARE WE DOING?! Why are they both having affairs with people they don't care about. Rory cheated once? twice?......okay Rory is a cheater, but why?

Paris and Doyle but of course they did! Can't have a happy couple in Stars Hallow or anywhere near it for long. I can see them having problems though because they've always had problems and sexually resolved them. Plus, in Paris's ideal functioning world she's married to Rory and Doyle.

WHY DOES RORY GILMORE HAVE ALL OF HER SHIT ACROSS FIVE HOMES?! How much stuff does she have? Honestly. Rory was always organized. At this point we've just got a personality transplant.

Once again, this is the main problem with the revival. None of this is behavior or characteristics we've associated with Rory. It's insert millennial here from a jaded baby boomer.

This is exhausting....................................... and I'm gonna have to take this in shifts. Next up spring.

Side note: Christmas here would be amazing and so charming.

[scoundrels-in-love]

If this is communication, I disconnect (I need you, you want me, but I don't know how to connect)

Vash does as he promised - he comes back. But he doesn’t come back to her. To anyone at all. Not even himself. It’s just a shade of him which haunts her apartment and the December streets, clad in anonymity provided by his pitch black hair, new coat in a darker shade and glasses that are far too reminiscent of Wolfwood’s to not set an ache in her chest each time Meryl sees him put them on. VashMeryl with references to VashWood and MashWood | On AO3 | | Grief | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Angst with Hopeful Ending | Lack of Communication | Sometimes talking is hard but the silence is even harder |

Vash does as he promised - he comes back.

But he doesn’t come back to her. To anyone at all. Not even himself.

It’s just a shade of him which haunts her apartment and the December streets, clad in anonymity provided by his pitch black hair, new coat in a darker shade and glasses that are far too reminiscent of Wolfwood’s to not set an ache in her chest each time Meryl sees him put them on.

At first, she does all she can think of to tether him - tries to talk with him and gives him space when all he gives her is silence or feeble attempts at distraction in response, comes home early to cook a meal or take him to her favorite diners, brings donuts and easy chatter from the office. 

But as days stretch into weeks and weeks into months, Meryl finds herself slowing, like she is gradually bleeding out from all the falls she’s taken in her attempts to get through or across, or even under, the walls Vash has enclosed himself in. She is afraid he will suffocate in there, but nothing she does seems to give him even a pinhole of relief.

And ever so gradually, she catches herself stalling going back to her apartment (she’d briefly thought they’d end up calling it theirs) after work, unwilling to play the game of guessing if he will be there, waiting for her with a hollow smile as he tends to the the tree sapling he brought with him, or if he will be gone. Perhaps for the last time.

“Mr. Vash needs time. Just let him know that you’ll be there when he is ready to talk,” Milly says sweetly, thoughtfully, after she catches Meryl curled up at her desk, stifling sobs in the quiet office long after everyone else has gone home. “He needs you more than ever, Ma’am.”

Meryl doesn’t think that’s true - it’s her that has always needed, wanted him and it hardly feels different now. She is the one that lays awake at night, listening into the darkness and wondering if he’ll wake crying and if he will let her comfort him. He hasn’t since the first weeks he spent there - the only sign of his nightmares and pains that he doesn’t manage to hide is the redness of his eyes in the mornings. 

She hopes he doesn’t see the same on her. (Knows he does.)

Every now and then, she gathers all her determination and makes another attempt to reach Vash and, sometimes, it almost feels like they are getting somewhere - sharing a laugh that sounds mostly sincere or allowing their shoulders to rest together as they eat in silence that feels companionable, not like a cold desert night’s wind. Sometimes, it is almost like he is on the brink of actually telling her of those months, those goodbyes she didn’t get to witness, but then she watches his gaze drift somewhere away, inward and she knows she’s lost him, again.

It’s all she does these days.

She is tired - of missing him, of chasing after him as if he was halfway across the world from her, not on the other end of her couch, drumming fingers in an uneasy rhythm on his knees before springing up and giving an excuse for why he must go out. 

It comes to a head one evening when they sit at her small kitchen table, feet carefully arranged not to touch, sharing dinner. The ever-permeating heaviness in her chest expands, gets stuck in her throat, when she thinks she might as well be sitting here with a stranger, with how little she knows about what Vash thinks or does these days. 

“Have you thought about going to Ship Three?” The words pour out of Meryl before she can think through for a third time if she should say them.

He looks like a man who has been slapped, but has been expecting it. And she doesn’t know which part makes her heart sting worse.

It will not be less painful from here, she knows.

“Why do you ask?” Vash deflects and, for once, she’s almost, almost grateful. Because a yes might’ve made her cry, like a confirmation that it’s only the promise keeping him here. But now the ball is back in her court, she has to be the one to say the cold and cruel things that she doesn’t want to, but has to.

Meryl tries to start it off gently, at least: “Luida wrote they all miss you, didn’t she? It’s been a while since you’ve stopped by.”

Vash ceases poking at the food on his plate, puts the fork and knife down with measured movements and proceeds to punch the air out of her lungs with his next words: “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Her voice breaks and she swallows thickly before continuing. If only that could be the whole answer. 

“No. I don’t want you to. But I think it might be better if you did.”

When Vash says nothing, she, too, gives up on the pretense of eating and clutches her hands tightly in her lap as she lifts her eyes to look at his carefully blank face. It’s a kind of emotion on its own. 

“I love you, Vash,” she says and with his sharp inhale, realizes this is the first time she’s said it out loud to him, but she can’t pause, can’t hesitate or she will do something foolish, like asking if he -, “but I don't think staying here is helping you.”

He remains silent and the heaviness in her chest begins to tip over into an aching frustration. She’s once again talking to a wall that has somehow found itself placed in her kitchen, in her life.

“I can’t do this anymore. I’ve tried everything I know and then some and yet you’ve never felt further from me than now. All these months and you haven’t trusted me with a single shred of your pain.” 

Meryl stands up, the sound of her chair scraping against the floor jarring. There isn’t enough space for her to pace, so she stands there, hands clenched and, for once, at the same eye level as Vash who is slumped in his seat. The frustration is stoked into anger by his continuous silence, a want to shake something, anything, out of him taking over. Between it all, the bitterness steeped in the cracks and divots of her heart for months rises like bile and spills out.

“Hell, you won’t even tell me about Wolfwood. As if it’s only your grief and you’re the only one who loved him, just because-”

(Because there was never time and place for me to love him in stolen moments like you could. Because your fingers carry the memory of his warmth and of his coldness once death took its due. Because you feel like you could’ve prevented it, where I could have never made a difference in his borrowed time.)

He flinches at that, and for a second, Meryl feels satisfaction. It’s not fair, she knows. But she is so tired of being thoughtful, when she has to cradle this abyss with her ribcage while Vash acts as if none of this impacted her, as if she’s a stranger that he cannot bear to burden with even a glimpse of the whole story. It’s hers, too, for fuck’s sake. 

All these years spent chasing after him (them), loving him (them), all the horrors that have broken her to pieces from which she had to rebuild on her own, all this time being considerate since he came back, all this time grieving one man she never said goodbye to and one she did not know if she'd see again (and has she?) and here they are, or rather, are not. 

“You just… Exist here,” Meryl says, her voice cracks between anger and the first burn of tears. 

Vash’s hands twitch as if he wants to reach for her and she wishes he would, but then stillness takes him again and without an anchor, she is pulled deeper into this dark place where she can’t breathe, can’t think. Every fearful, painful thought she's tried to swaddle and keep contained in the long, lonely hours of nighttime comes forth, tears through and out of her.

"I don't understand why you're even here, if you're not letting me in. Or even near you." 

Her voice is watery in a way Meryl hates and her fists tighten to the point it feels like her skin will split over her knuckles, baring the bones as she is baring her pain.

"If it's the promise, if I am just an obligation you're regretting and don't know how to deal with… I can release you from it."

There is a soft, almost whimper-like sound from Vash and she forces herself to look at him, take in the handiwork of her own hurt spun together with the cruelty of voicing it like this.

His expression is no longer blank and she doesn't - doesn't feel like she knows him enough anymore to decipher emotions there, but it looks a lot like devastation. And she regrets it. Regrets shooting him point blank when he is already down. (Part of her is surprised that she could, that somewhere beneath his numbness, he did, does care.) Regrets because she's torn herself to pieces in the process, too. But she's been doing that since he came back, inch by inch every day, so maybe now she can finally start healing. Even if it scars and knits all wrong. 

Meryl unclenches her fists and her fingers ache as she wipes at her face, smearing the tear streaks. The silence around them feels stretched and blurred the same way.

"What do you want me to do?" Vash asks when she is so close to begging him to say something, even if it is to call her a horrible, cruel, unfeeling thing. (He wouldn't even be wrong.) His voice is quiet, shuddering and makes more tears spill down her cheeks.

She has to bite her lip, so hard that blood floods her mouth, so she doesn't start sobbing outright. He sounds so lost, like nothing makes sense anymore, like he wants her to give him a path to walk on because he’s never had the luxury of such a choice, only a burning, damned destination waiting. 

And she could - there are so many things Meryl wants for him. She wants Vash to let her learn to love him, every broken, jagged-edged piece that doesn’t fit together anymore and that he’s kept concealed, she wants him to mourn all the way to the bottom of the ravine that cleaves him in half and be next to him as he does, she wants him to let himself eat and savor it again, she wants him to laugh again one day, she wants him to be kind to himself for once, wants him, wants him, wants him-

But most of all, she wants him to want any of it. Want her. Anything. She won’t be the next person to take up the mantle of dictating his life, even if it’d be easier for him.

"I want you to live. To learn what that means for you.” Her voice sounds thin to her own ears, bending under the weight of her intent, her breaking heart as she continues: “And I don't know if you can start that here."

Vash curls forward, burying his face in his hands for a moment, and Meryl feels like collapsing on the kitchen floor next to his chair. Maybe they can cry together, just this once. But then he is raising his head again, expression shuttered once more as he nods: "Okay."

And then he stands up and leaves. 

Not for the last time, not yet. But she feels like it might as well be.

In two days, Vash is standing at the door of the apartment that was almost theirs. His satchel rests by the doorjamb, as does the basket to be strapped on his back, in which he so carefully has placed the tree seedling.

If she doesn’t say something now, he will turn and leave with barely a goodbye and it will be another bead of regret in the adorned string that is slowly choking her. They’ve scarcely spoken since that evening, not even tiny pleasantries, and Meryl needs him to know that she isn’t casting him out, that she doesn’t hate him. But she can’t think of any words to convey it.

“My couch will always be available for you,” she says instead. He regards her quietly and Meryl hopes he finds only sincerity and none of the desperation for him to take her up on the offer some day. 

Vash nods softly and she feels the seconds ticking by, heavy with their mutual hesitation. 

“Can I…” Meryl inhales deeply, bracing herself for the way this will turn her inside out and the very real possibility of his rejection, “can I hug you?”

Vash’s lips part in muted surprise and then he slowly spreads his arms and she throws herself at him, before he has time to reconsider. 

Her arms slide beneath his coat, clutching at the back of his dark shirt and Meryl presses her face into his chest, hoping that the heat of him will dry up the first well of tears in her eyes. It doesn’t.

Vash’s hand comes to cradle the back of her head as the other wraps around her shoulders, tentatively at first and then almost crushing as the first sob shudders through her body. This is the closest they’ve been in this half a year they’ve spent living so close it was almost together. 

It’s a thought that wrings another sob out of Meryl, loud enough that she almost misses Vash’s whisper.

“I love you.” 

She stills, not even breathing, unsure if she imagined it. Vash's hands tighten around her as he bends over her awkwardly, pressing his face into her hair.

“I love you," he repeats, now at a volume that does not permit mistakes of mishearing, not even with the tremble in his voice, "Wolfwood told me to take good care of you and look at what I’ve done.”

“He should have stayed and made sure you do, then,” Meryl says, swaying deeper into Vash's arms with an angry longing for what could have been. 

It is the first time they've spoken of Wolfwood like this, like he - or the lack of him - is something they can let into the room with them, acknowledge together. Like he was a person, not a wound with a face. Part of her fears Vash will push her away for it.

Instead, she feels him nod: “Yeah. Yeah, he should have.”

And then Vash is slowly sliding down, crumbling on his knees, as he holds her still. He buries his face in her shoulder and she feels the sobs shaking his body before she hears them. 

Her arms shift to wrap around his shoulders and she thinks how frail he feels in this moment, like a teenage toma whose bulk is mostly feathers and posturing, though she knows, knows the strength of his body and heart goes beyond that of any human.

She's seen it, has had it written across every nerve ending in her body as his memories and his feathered weight crushed her, has feared it and has had to untangle her own overwhelming fragility from it. And in the same way, she knows the pain and the guilt that runs through Vash like a river system that she's read used to define humanity itself once upon a time on Earth, knows every loss since then has only added a new stream. Knows he's been drowning this whole time in the ocean where all the rivers meet.

So she holds him, hopes it's enough to keep him afloat if only for a moment, and cries with and for him.

They stay like that, clinging to each other like the only way to remain upright for themselves is to make sure the other doesn't collapse, for a time that might be hours or infinity or maybe just a handful of minutes, ached to the bottom of every second.

Eventually, Vash's sobs subside and so do Meryl's and then the silence is only interrupted by a sniffle or hiccup from one of them in the aftermath. She is afraid again, of what comes next, or what doesn't.

Her fingers tread through the soft hairs on his nape, one final indulgence before she has to take the next and perhaps the last step. Meryl draws a deep, shuddering breath, her voice hoarse on exhale: "Do you want me to let go now?" 

Vash is still in her arms, has been for a while now as if he's forgotten that he is supposed to need to breathe now that it's uncomfortable after crying. And yet, it feels like the question freezes him. They both know it's not just about ending this embrace. 

Her heart beats so painfully loudly in her chest, it must sound like a drum to him. Five beats, six beats, seven - please, end this agony, she thinks. I've been saying this goodbye for so long, I can't endure the waiting for it any more.

"No..." He sounds unsure, like a child that doesn't know what answer the teacher wants to hear, so he gives the one he's got and prays it's the correct one. It punches a pained sound out of her as she turns her head and presses her lips to his temple, a few quick tears racing down her face.

"Then I won't," she tells him, finds a way to somehow embrace him tighter still. It hurts her arms, hurts where the metal plates and wires on his body press into her, but she will take these pains of imprinting, of becoming his mirror gladly. 

He looks at her then, truly looks at her, with intent and without flinching away when she meets his gaze. She stays in that moment, tries to write her heart across her features, but knows even a novel wouldn't be enough to convey it.

They remain silent for a long while, just allowing themselves and the other to look, until a bitter sort of absurdity comes to Meryl. "Why can we only be honest when you're about to leave?" she asks, softly, and finally lets go of him enough to bring one of her hands to cup Vash's face, thumb stroking across his cheek, wiping at the drying tear tracks. 

He leans into her touch, eyes fluttering half shut, as if he can't bear to stop looking at her, and it makes her heart drop into some weightless space. His voice is quiet, mournful: "I don't know. Maybe it's that I don't know how to stay."

Then his expression shifts, the determination in it akin to the one she'd seen during countless hopeless fights and situations he'd turned into something else, something better with sheer want to. "But I want to try. Being honest while staying."

"Me too," she promises, because her heart's truth often comes too late and too loudly.

Meryl doesn't know if they will ever truly leave this in-between space, where the shadows of parting are so bitingly stark against the too bright, scorching suns of possibilities, where goodbyes swirl around them like dust and sand almost constantly.

But, she thinks, if they can move even a little closer to the edge, to peace, maybe they can settle down. They both have lived in colder and lonelier places, after all.

[lolitastories]

NOT A CHAPTER

Chapter 20:

“Are you sure about this?” I shake my head no. I am not sure about this or many other things but when I think of that one thing, it makes everything feel right. “You could always do it here at the ranch. I can tell all the workers to leave for as long as yall need” Rip bumped my shoulder with his and the glare I gave him set him back right again. “Sorry. Have to be careful with your state nowadays”

“Shut up or I am revoking your rights” he lifts his hands in defeat. “Plus it's still not set in stone until Kayce says yes” I turn around noticing Rip wasn’t following beside me anymore.

“So I am doing this for nothing?” I laugh looking at his stupid expression as he holds the last pieces I needed to finish what I had planned for Kayce.

“Your love for me should be enough” I continued walking knowing he would follow eventually. “It's not even that far away either” I roll my eyes looking at the distance. It is far but I wasn’t going to admit it knowing he would offer to ride the horse down to the water.

“You know what I just realized?” I don’t turn or respond knowing he would just continue talking. “Recently you have been letting yourself go” I stop at the remark, turning to look over at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?” My eyebrow rised and a hand on my hip.

“Not in a bad way” My head turns a little to the side still waiting for him to continue. “You came down here with a wardrobe and it has gradually changed and it's good on you” I was still waiting. “You looked great before and it was what you were used to, do you like what it is now? You used to say you would never get used to this and how it wouldn’t look good on you” ah.

“Things changed Rip” I shrug, turning around to continue walking. “I certainly never saw myself staying in a place like this. I was born in the country but my heart always belonged to the city. A place where people don’t sleep. As early as 5 in the morning people are already out and about. You don’t need cars because you turn a corner and everything you need is there. But things change. I was never afraid to get myself dirty. I had boundaries and now it has expanded. Kayce made me love this place even more and settling here is what I crave more than anything now”

“Love changes you” I burst out laughing shaking my head. “Yes, big guy. Love does change you” Beth has certainly done a number on him since they got officially together. Before he could ask I left him with a bigger question in his head. “When are you two going to get hitched?”

“That's personal” I rolled my eyes.

“Aww. Is Rip the big bad wolf getting nervous?” I chuckle setting down what I had on the floor.

“I pick my timing. It's not time yet” He lowered his voice and I nod understandingly. What Beth and Rip has gone through hasn’t been easy and now that they are together, they aren’t rushing it.

“Alright big guy. Last trip.” I smile walking back to the ranch. By the time we reached the ranch it was 10 past 6.

“I will go ahead and take the last thing there and I will be on my way”

“Thanks” I smiled heading to the main house. I walk in seeing Beth, Tate, and John sitting in the living room talking. “Hey” I smile at them before taking a seat.

“I heard you’re doing something special for my little brother” Tate stands in attendance curious when he hears his dad mentioned.

“Something like that” I smile leaning further into the seat. I didn’t tell them what I was doing purposely. “I felt like it was my turn to do something for him. I know I am no romantic but I better up my beat if I don’t want to lose him”

“Trust that boy won’t leave unless he is ripped away from you” We laugh hearing the front door open.

“Can we have a talk in my office for a minute?” I look over at John and nod. We both stand heading to his office. I look back noticing it was Kayce walkingt through the doors. I leave him with a smile before walking into John’s office and closing the door. I turn around and take a seat before eyeing the folder he was sliding across his desk.

“Can you talk to me?” When John found out about Kayce and I, it wasn’t a pretty ride. It took months before he could even turn to look at me. But of course like a true Dutton he came to find me when he needed a lawyer who knew how he liked things done. I didn’t deny him since I owned him for everything I was. I still wasn’t going to stay if he didn't do something bad against me because I am still a person. But since then we have been getting closer and closer. He leans forward resting his elbows on his desk.

“When I saw you on my land years ago I wanted to do what I do with everyone else” Get rid of them one way or another. “I wanted to, but that was until I looked into your eyes. Scared. Alone. Broken. I saw that look constantly in my kids” They have had their share of it. “When I decided to bring you in I was going to make you a cowboy but I knew with those clothes you wouldn’t last a minute” I laughed knowing he was right. “You gave so much prospect to someone who belongs in a place like this.” He stands up reaching around the desk to lean against it infront of me. “And one day when I saw you and Kayce speaking. I saw the conversation unfold and it was like seeing two old people '' I furrowed my brows unsure on where he was going with this. “I didn’t want anyone messing with his future since he left. I wanted him to learn when he decided to leave this land that he wasn’t going to get better.” Tingles in my legs start moving all over my body. “I knew you being here would change his mind” I stood up and was a little dumbfounded.

“So you paid for my schooling to teach Kayce a lesson?” This has to be a cruel skit. I don’t know why I was angry. I believe in things happening in the right time so I wasn’t angry at the missed opportunity to be with Kayce years ago, I was upset that I was part of a lesson.

“You have to understand that back then you were just a little girl who came into our lives. A chess piece” I let out a frustrated chuckle shaking my head. “Since that day I saw the attraction between you two and my eyes were blinded with anger to see Kayce just give up”

“Wasn’t that what you wanted years ago? It would have made him come to his knees and beg you to come back” I sigh letting the upsetness defuse. I go to take a seat again. “What is your point in telling me all of this?” He takes the folder and places it on my lap as he kneels infront of me.

“I wanted you to know everything. You are about to be family although I considered you family for a long time "I look up in disbelief. “I was telling the truth when I told you, you are better than this place. You were already broken and this place would finish breaking you but when I saw how Kayce helped you and how you helped him I realized you two are strong enough for eachother to stay together.” He moves to open the file and reveal papers that needed signatures. “And for it to work properly with no further headaches I need you not to be attached to us professionally.”

“You’re firing me?” I was shocked.

“I need you to make your own choice. If you want to continue with the Dutton Ranch you are more welcome but if you decide not to, you are still part of this family regardless” I smile nodding my head.

“Either way I am here to stay” I close the folder and throw it on the desk. “You will be receiving an updated contract in a couple of days. I can’t let my number 1 client go” I smile standing up.

“Send it to my lawyer” He smiled gently, motioning me to follow him to the door. He stopped me by my arm as soon as I tried to open the door. “Thank you” I only smiled at his words, nodding before I left towards the living room.

“Is everything okay?” I nod going over towards Kayce and wrapping my arms around him.

“Everything is fine.” I look outside seeing the sun setting. “But nothing will be for what I have planned if we don’t leave right now” It was already past 6 so I was running behind schedule.

“You know you can’t get rid of me right?” I nudged him a bit as we walked down the path.

“Not like I have an option now” He furrowed his brows looking confused at my comment. I hold up my hand. “I would have to return the ring and it's too pretty” I smile, grabbing onto his forearm.

“So all it took was a pretty ring” I shrug

“Yeah! You put a ring that sparkles in front of a girl and a man with pretty eyes and they would fall to their knees in a second”

“I didn’t have to put a ring in front of you to get you on your knees those other times” I turned around shocked.

“Shut up” I slap his arm pushing him away. “And for your information I wasn’t as happy those other times” I cross my arms and speed walk to get to the destination faster.

“You seemed pretty eager” I try my best not to chuckle as I feel him wrap his arms around me making us tumble a bit until he caught balance.

“Yeah well, I was pretending. It helps the moment” I look away. I hear his low chuckle and his head falls inbetween my neck. I almost melt to the touch of his lips placing careful kisses.

“Baby,We both know that is a lie but.” He grabs on to my jaw making me look at him. “If you don’t like it, I am more than happy to be the one on my knees all the time” I held on to what I could but my legs were functioning less and less as he pulled me closer.

“If you don’t stop we won’t get to the surprise” I whisper as he hover over my lips. I want him to kiss me. Just like a couple hours ago.

“Alright” He sighs. I cursed at myself. I wanted him to see the surprise I had for him but the feeling for him was stronger. “Ready?” I nodded with my eyes closed trying to take a deep breath in and suddenly those strong feelings slowly started turning to sadness. “Are you okay?” He cups my face as I try my hardest to hold in the tears. “My love, talk to me” I shake my head as I tried to speak but no words came out. I feel his arms pull me into a hug and that is when the tears start to spill. “Whatever it is we promised to talk about it and figure it out together” I feel a kiss on my head before he pulls me in closer. “If you are not up for it can we go back? I won’t be disappointed” I lift up my head to look at him shaking my head no. He goes to remove the hair that was now sticking to my face due to the tears. “You sure?” I worked too hard on this and it was something important to not due today because if I wait any longer I will die.

“Am sure” I grabbed his hand and removed myself from him and continued on walking. “Am okay” I say, feeling his eyes on me. “I don’t understand my emotions right now but I can tell you that showing you your surprise will make me feel much better” I look back sending him a smile and pull him closer so I could wrap myself in his arm.

“Baby-”

“Shh” I quickly quieted him seeing the lights lit up. Fairy light hanging around the closest trees. A blanket on the floor with pillows just like he set up for me. But with the exception of something big in the middle of the set up.

“You got me a horse?” I laugh seeing his expression. His small smile with confusion trying to be nice to me. I grab on to his hand and pull him forward. “Baby?-” I roll my eyes walking around the young horse and pull the rag around his neck so Kayce would see it. I lift my eyebrows trying to give him a hint to go on and read what it said. As he walks forward I walk around to move behind him. I wait and I wait for a good 5 minutes.

“Kayce?” The humor in his reaction soon became anxiousness. I was worried to look at what reaction he had to the words. I took a step forward but soon froze as he turned to look at me.

“You are not joking with me right?” I shake my head quickly. “Because if this is a joke, it’s one cruel one” Soon I was on the verge of crying again.

“It's not a joke Kayce” I walk forward taking his hands and placing it on my stomach. “This is real”

“A baby?” A smile finally appeared in his face allowing the stress and fear to slip right off my shoulders.

“Our baby” I smiled bigger, pulling his eyes to look at me.

“Our baby” He connects our lips for a short second before wrapping his arms around me. “You are having our baby” I laugh feeling even happier than when I found out. “A baby,” He whispers, still holding on to me. “Really?” He pushes me back carefully to look at my face.

“Yes Kayce. I confirmed it with the doctors last week”

“You went to the doctor without me?” I roll my eyes laughing at his sadness.

“I just went to confirm there was a baby. I promise, you didn’t miss anything that important. You will be invited to further doctors appointment when it really counts”

“I better be. That's my baby in there.”

“Sure is Cowboy.” I smile grabbing onto his face to pull himin for a kiss but he takes them off but doesn’t let go. He only pulls me around so my back is now leaning against his chest.

“How are you feeling about it?” I sigh. I was content. There was nobody else I would rather do this with. He is caring and respected my wishes to wait until I was ready. Truthfully when the positive test came I forgot how to breathe. Tears came and I fell to the floor crying. It felt like hours before I could stand up and take another test to make sure. Once that one came out positive too, that was when the tears were happy tears. Saying I wanted to have a baby was one thing. Knowing it actually is happening and now it's a reality, it stomps you. “I can’t lie and say I was 100 percent ready. My heart stopped and all the confusion and uncertainty came to mind.” He rubs my hands and arms listening to me. “But then I came to feel happy. I realized that I wouldn’t be doing this alone. This baby is going to have a wonderful father” I look up smiling at Kayce. “A crazy family”

“Yeah they can count on that” I laugh.

“You forgot to mention me!” We looked out to the darkness as now the sun had gone down and the only light was from the fairy lights.

“Tate?! What are you doing out here?” We looked left and right and didn’t see any small figure.

“Oops” I hold in my giggle looking over to Kayce. “Forget I am here!” That was when I lost it.

“He is part of this. I felt it wouldn’t be right without him here” I whisper. “But he was supposed to come way later when the food arrived” Kayce smiles. “You can come out bud” We turn our heads hearing footsteps.

“Did I mess it up?” He came out shyly towards us.

“Of course not” I motioned him to come closer. “Do you want to tell him about that” I point at the horse.

“Yeah!” He takes Kayces hand and starts pulling him. “I picked it all by myself for my baby!” I smiled hearing him call the baby his. Of course I had to tell Tate about the baby. Well truthfully I had no other choice. I was in the bathroom for too long. He came to check on me. He wasn’t oblivious when I told him the test was a thermostat. Since that day he has been calling the baby his baby and I couldn’t be more happy about his reaction. I smiled at Kayce who looked back as Tate ran around the horse telling him how he is going to prepare and train the horse for the baby. As Kayce turns his attention to Tate again I tell myself this is what I needed. I needed someone like Kayce to come into my life. So I could love and be loved and getting Tate is a bonus.

[happyhealthycats]

Hi there! I hate to be a bother to you, but I wanted to share a kitty success story I think you might enjoy!

I rescued a cat from a not so great household a few years ago, and I still remember the day I got her home she was just so scared. The poor thing was covered in fleas and bruises and all fluffed up in her carrier on the ride home. One of the main things I noticed when I got her home was that she was incredibly shy about food. She would startle if any loud noises occured while she was eating her kibble, and she would refuse treats and actively avoid human food even when bites of it were offered to her (never at the dinner table, because that sets bad habits, but as treats later in the day). It became obvious that food was one of her big triggers, and so I made it my personal mission to make her comfortable knowing that I would never hurt her even if she did act up and steal things. My first order of business was to offer her some treats beside her kibble, alternating them to see what she liked and disliked (apparently she has an affinity for seafood and turns her nose up at steak) and then leaving the room while she ate. That seemed to do the trick, and gradually she became more accepting of treats offered to her, even willing to eat with me present and eventually directly from my hand. Needless to say her palate has expanded greatly over the years she's been with me, and while she still sometimes has reservations about eating treats with me watching, she's become a lot more bold. No more is the skittish kitty who freezes at loud noises and slinks around the house, for now I often find her hanging out on the couch (a place she previously avoided like the plague) and sticking her face in bowls of greek yogurt left unattended for too long. I honestly can't bring myself to be cross with her for the latter action, though, because it's proof of just how far she's come in terms of trusting people and showing her colourful personality. Plus, for my efforts I've learned that she's quite the cuddle bug! She insists on sleeping in my bed every night, or at the very least on one of her other perches in my room if I'm moving too much in my sleep. She may be a bit of a troublemaker now, but I'd rather have a prissy kitty than a scardey cat.

Here's some photos of the little lady herself! Lumi!

This one was taken right after she stole $2 from my wallet. She looks so pleased with herself, for a cat who has no use for money. It was a good photo op, though! (even if the background is messy because I was rearranging)

This photo was taken about a week after she came home! She still looks a little skittish here, but the fact that she's willing to sit on the console stand to smell the flowers speaks volumes about her progress. She really likes flowers, so whenever I get them I make sure to out then where she can reach. (She's not in any danger of poisoning, because she has no interest in eating them. She just likes sniffing 'em)

Here she is hanging out in her second favourite place in the house; my bed! She prefers sitting on pillows, so she has a side of the bed all to herself. This time she decided my pillow was more comfy, though.

I have a million more photos of her to share, but I'll avoid making this ask too long. Sorry if I'm rambling, by the way! I have a fever at the moment so I'm kind of incoherent, but I just really need to tell people about my cat-

I just gotta say (mostly to cover my own ass) keep in mind cats can still get sick from the pollen of certain flowers, so they're still dangerous even if the cat's not prone to eating them. Great story! I'm happy you were able to have so much progress!