#is that a lot of the times things get worse or seem worse before they get better. i think we're fine in the long run. But.

[fallenhunnyapple]

Sketchy doodles for another AU. Details + a bonus in under the cut

An Angel Lucifer appears in Heaven. No one knows why he's there or how he got there, but it doesn't seem as though the Lucifer in Hell has been replaced, this is just a whole second Lucifer. His memories only seem to go so far as the early days of Eden. Days where he was friends with the First Humans but before he had developed any sort of relationship or even real feelings for Lilith.

Adam, sort of shaken but also sort of Eager to reconnect with his first friend and the more pleasant memories of Eden, advocates to let him Stay. This Lucifer hasn't done anything, he doesn't even know about the Tree of Knowledge and it's not like Eden exists anymore for him to try it anyway. Lucifer is granted the ability to live in Heaven, but Adam will have to be responsible for him. Adam agrees and now has to watch over a Naive and Friendly Lucifer.

Lute is Less than Thrilled. She doesn't like that Lucifer is always around and she doesn't Trust him, even if Adam seems to. She does eventually warm up to him, but given her personality it doesn't really seem like she does. But Lucifer notices and he considers her a good friend. He ends up spending time with just her without Adam (she's basically angelsitting because Adam had other things to do) and they bond a bit and she's willing to accept that he's Not the Devil and that he's no more threatening than most non-exorcist Angels.

And once Heaven determines the same, he's tasked with Working with Emily to maintain the Happiness of Heaven's residents. Emily keeps an eye on him, but mostly they are both very positive personalities that play off each other well and they become fast friends. The first time he spent the day with Emily was the day of the first Extermination since Lucifer got there. Someone had to watch him while Lute and Adam were away. He doesn't know about the Exterminations (Most of Heaven doesn't so it's no surprise), and he doesn't even know about Hell. It was deemed... For the Best if he was kept in the dark about that. No one knows how he came to be and they don't want to risk anything happening because he finds out about the other version of him.

Lucifer is Very In Love with Adam. It wasn't immediately or anything. At first he was just really happy to have his best friend back, especially when everything was so different from how he remembered it, it'd been thousands of years after all. But he spent most of his time with Adam and anyone could tell you that Adam was less of a crass asshole with Lucifer around. Not by much, but enough to be noticeable. And over that time, Lucifer still saw a lot of who Adam was in Eden but also came to appreciate who he was (No one understands why)

It took a while before Adam was comfortable enough to take off his helmet around Lucifer. Sure he knew his human face, but he'd definitely changed over the years and his insecurities about his face were made Worse when Lucifer only knew him at his Best. Lucifer finally got to see him maskless one night when Adam let him see him before bed. And Lucifer was super smitten. Yes his face was Different, but not in a way Lucifer thought was bad. Adam definitely looked Older and Tired, but he thought it was Endearing instead of put off. After that he would sometimes watch Adam sleep-

Adam for his part is in emotional turmoil. Yes, he was in Love with Lucifer in the Garden. But completely against his better Judgement, his feelings have evolved and he's in love with the King of Hell. He's reluctant to think about Angel Lucifer that way because he represents a simpler and more innocent time and he doesn't want to corrupt that with new feelings.

Lucifer eventually confides in Lute about his feelings and she tells him that 1) Adam isn't into men and 2) He doesn't do committed relationships. It won't end well for him if he tells Adam. Lucifer is hurt but appreciates her honesty. He decides to tell him anyway because it's getting hard to keep it all to himself when he's around him everyday.

Well, the confession goes about the way Lute said it would. Adam tells him he doesn't like dudes and he doesn't hold it against him because who wouldn't want a piece of him? But they're still friends, that won't change. Lucifer already braced for it and it hurts but he accepts that answer. The only thing is, now that its out in the open, his friendly nature is So Much Easier to read as him pining and him being in love. So Adam has to just deal with Lucifer's love being thrown at him every day. The behavior hasn't changed Too Much, but his understanding of it has. But other people of Heaven definitely Know. Its so obvious to them that Lucifer is in Love with Adam. Some people criticize Adam for leading Lucifer along and bad mouth him. Lucifer doesn't like hearing anyone talk poorly about his best friend and will chastise and scold them.

It's finally when some winner/angel tells Lucifer he should get Adam flowers (as a joke, they think it would be funny because Adam doesn't have an ounce of Romance in his whole body) that things change. Lucifer does get him flowers! And he gives them to him when they're alone and Adam has removed his helmet. This is the first time Lucifer has been Proactive about his feelings and Adam doesn't have the cover of his Mask to hide his true reactions, so he can't deny how the gesture affects him. He was really only ever able to keep himself in check about his feelings for Lucifer because Lucifer wasn't Doing anything different. He wasn't Pursuing him. But now? Now he can't deny it anymore. Lucifer asks for a kiss and he gets it.

Bonus:

As an Angel, Lucifer didn't know or understand much about sex. It was meant for Reproduction and Angels reproduce asexually so he had no interest in it. It was a thing for the creatures of Earth to have, not Angels. So he has No Idea it's a recreational thing and despite the fact that he knows Adam and Lute fuck around regularly, he just Really doesn't understand why and they don't explain it either. So after Lucifer and Adam are together, Lucifer wants to understand Better and discovers the fact that it is, in fact, something that can be done Recreationally and its supposed to Feel Good. So, of course, he wants to experience that with his new Boyfriend. Let him learn what all the fuss is about~

[korlkorl]

YAY! i greatly enjoyed your shoujo au!!! it was amazing to read, ty for your contribution to humanity u r doing god's work frfr!!! would you be willing to write a hanahaki au for the twst second years? (preferably an angsty ending, but if you would prefer something happier, that's 100% fine with me!! i'm not picky!!) 🤭♥️

hanahaki + second years

hanahaki: a fictional disease caused by unrequited love in which you vomit blood and flower petals (flowers tend to relate to the person you) and although there is an option for treatment, you become numb to emotions. if you don’t get treatment, you die.

(I decided to add how the twst seconds years would treat the disease— will they get treatment or not?)

not very good angst warning under the cut!!!

riddle rosehearts

riddle grew up alone, mostly. every time he seeked for comfort, for company, it’ll fall apart. it would always go wrong, he’d lose everything the moment he got too greedy.

riddle still struggled to properly face trey and chen’ya after all those years, even if he got better with it. it was too embarrassing, too lame. he felt like a loser. a sore loser who deserved nothing. oh sevens, did the world have something against him?

things were looking on the bright side. he was out of his mother’s furious grip, he has more freedom than he ever did (even if he goes by strict rules) he could make as many friends as he liked and hang out with them as much as he liked.

he still preferred being private, however. he liked his friends, you included. they were more understanding of him than any other member of the school. although he’d twist and turn in bed when he thinks back to his overblot (how embarrassing of me! he thinks) he would still much prefer being with those who accepted him a long time ago.

you weren’t too big on sweets. you liked them, sure, but the more you ate the more your mouth felt itchy. knowing riddle’s sweet tooth, sometimes, you’d secretly pass your unfinished slice of cake or unfinished strawberry tart to him. riddle rosehearts, the strict, germaphobic, lowkey a dictator, heartily took it.

if it were anyone else, he’d just stare at them in disbelief. but the thought that you bit into the very sweet treat, it threw him over the moon. he’d read of indirect kisses before, in cheesy romances he read in his spare time. he doesn’t know if this is actually an indirect kiss, but don’t make fun of him, he’s still learning!

riddle has a lot of firsts, like the first time he tried that strawberry tart, or the first time he learned that playing with friends is fun, or the first time he ever overblotted, or the first time he fell in love.

you were his first love.

he turns red when alone, imagining your face and your laughter and your joy. your silly mishaps that he has no heart on lecturing you over, or your inability to understand some of the assignments. he finds all aspects of you cute— wonderful? he doesn’t know how to describe what he’d feeling, but it gets him all giddy.

he’s frustrated often, the way he started blushing violently when you ever get in close contact with him and how you always, always seem to be unaware of this. oblivion would send you to hell.

he’s been feeling quite nauseous lately, probably because of his failed attempts of clumsily sending you signals about how he feels.

it was to a point where he threw up… petals? petals…??????? oh my god, he’s throwing up petals!!!

riddle distinctively remembers reading about this during his first year, a disease of romance, love, and failure.

his heart sinks. maybe that’s why you failed to notice.

things never go his way, riddle thinks. he’s always feeling alone. every time he gets greedy for comfort, he loses it at the highest point of his life. when things are getting better, it takes turns for the worse. that’s why riddle likes to follow the rules.

by his third year, riddle’s back to being his strict, controlling prefect. except something’s different, he’s not as angry anymore.

that’s to be expected, though. ever since the surgery, riddle has never been the same.

ruggie bucchi

he has grown up to treasure everything he has.

ruggie isn’t as financially stable as others, he wasn’t lucky to be fortunate enough to get what he wants, whenever he wants.

so when he does get what he wants, ruggie makes sure to keep it close to his heart like it means everything. most of the time, it does mean everything, all of it. his life.

he hardly gives away his things (please don’t mention the kids at the slums, he’ll turn awfully shy.) and takes anything he’s given.

when you would give him the tiniest amount of food, he’d gladly snatch it from your hands and walk away snickering.

easy target for food is what you are, he thinks.

most of the time, when people give things away to him, ruggie just assumes that it’s unwanted. he’d take leftovers no problem. it’s only when you’d constantly hand things to him, always have something to give him and remember he exists, does he think you’re odd. I mean, he’s fine with taking the forgotten leftovers, but what could he possibly do when you don’t forget him?

watch ruggie clumsily fiddle around with his fingers, scanning the area for your presence. he has learned to not worry, as you always manage to come find him everyday without fail. he feels noticed.

he starts to crave for that attention.

ruggie treasures things. he keeps them close in his heart very carefully. but what would he do when you steal his heart instead? where can he hide all the things that mean everything to him?

somehow, he doesn’t mind. he wants you to see him more, ruggie bucchi, his true self.

the crave he has for you is for some odd reason, unmet. you’re oblivious to his shy antics, the way his ears turn flat when you walk away or the way he holds onto the hem of your shirt just for a second longer.

notice him.

notice him.

notice him.

when you see the way he unconsciously covers his mouth whenever you meet eyes with him, or the how he’s constantly going to the infirmary, will you finally notice him?

there’s a trail of your favourite flowers.

ruggie bucchi keeps all the special things close to his heart. when you take his heart away, how else can he express his pathetic, unrequited love? by coughing up a disease ruggie would’ve called embarrassing and shameful if it weren’t for you.

azul ashengrotto

azul is sensitive. he notices things way too easily. the tiny, insignificant details of someone and how they react, he will notice. that is how azul finds out how a person truly feels about him.

even if azul and that other person were considered close friends, azul would still notice the tiny little details that make him unlikable to them even just a little. it’s been a habit for as long as he could remember.

everyone always had something they disliked about azul. it was fine with him, that was normal. everyone dislikes everyone about anything. it’s not like it deters long lasting relationships. azul shrugs it off, it doesn’t bother him. it’s comforting, even, knowing what people think about him.

so it was obvious to say it was near-horrid when no matter how much time azul spent time with you, he could not spot anything off about you, anything that said you didn’t like him.

as much as azul notices how people act around him, he also notices other people. he knows all their flaws, their good sides and their bad sides. even if he couldn’t read your thoughts about him at all, he still expected to see something out of the norm about you, a bad trait, something that made you human.

to him, you had none.

were you god? how come you were near-perfect in his eyes? during cold months, the tips of your nose and ears would flush pink like a cute plum while azul turned embarrassingly red. he thought it was ugly and didn’t make him look good, but there nothing to prove that you thought the same. he couldn’t tell anything about you at all.

you were like a confusing puzzle piece to him. unsolvable, unreadable, flawless. perfect.

it took a while to adjust, but his unwavering respect for you turned into wavering thumps of his heart and dodging eyes. maybe you weren’t perfect after all, maybe azul just likes you.

the terrible urge to impress you grew stronger everyday.

he wanted to look as perfect as you did to him.

but how can he possibly ever look perfect,

when he is sick?

hovered over the toilet, azul clutched his chest as petals slid out of his mouth as if it were apart of him. well, it is apart of him, I guess. his love for you is one with him after all.

azul is sensitive, but he tries not to show it. not only is he good at catching the little things, he’s quick to anger or get hurt. the best he can do is hide them. so he hides the feeble emotion he calls love and comes back after winter break just as the same. he’s dutiful and runs his business like he normally would, and still hangs out with you time to time. he just feels more… empty? you’ll never know why he seems to be this way, no one really knows about the surgery.

jade leech

jade is often avoided by many people.

people find him creepy, odd, off-putting, unnerving… and more comments he hasn’t bothered to find out about.

those names don’t really bother him. in fact, he enjoys it. he loves watching people squirm in fear over something he says out of the blue. It’s exciting to watch a person try to decide if they should run away or not, unaware of jade’s capabilities.

he’s used to people avoiding him. for the sacrifice of entertainment, he isn’t all that popular. jade leech is used to it.

you were different, however.

your simply didn’t find him creepy. anything he said that was weird, you’d laugh it off and say something weird back too. jade’s height, creepy smile or the way he talks, it doesn’t seem to throw you off at all. you’d smile and wave at him when no one else dared to, you’d easily graze your skin against his and pay no mind, you’d approach him without second thoughts. It was like mutual trust, something jade has learned is difficult to find when you’re him.

so you meant everything. you were just as new and exciting, a pleasant surprise from the predicted fear everyone else has. you made him feel… seen for the first time in his life.

soon, everything you did was like a horror movie (weird analogy, I know. but it’s jade leech we’re talking about!) the intensity of when the killer would approach, or when the character is alone and vulnerable, his heart pumps like wildfire as he watches expectantly to see what the new surprise would be. his favourite feeling was when the victim would die or escape, the tightening in his chest releasing as he excitedly watches what would happen next. that was you. you were his favourite feeling.

he loves the way your eyebrows moved in expression when you talked, he loved when you sneezed and looked around expecting a “bless you,” he loved the odd ways you attempted to hold your mug comfortably and most of all, he loved you. he love you very, very much.

jade leech is used to all kinds of things. he’s used to people avoiding him, he’s used to his brother’s tendencies to groan and complain at everything, he’s used to azul’s creepy capitalist tactics.

what he’s not used to, however, are the bubbly, excited emotions he feels when he gets to experiment with his beloved mushrooms, the way you took over his thoughts like the plague and most of all, he wasn’t used to the flowers spilling out of his mouth.

this was odd, per say. jade knew of the hanahaki disease. he knew of all the downsides of it. but he never worried, because, how could he, jade fucking leech, ever love someone so pathetically?

he hoped that you’d love him back too. he oh-so deeply wished he was just as new and exciting to you as you were to him.

the blood meticulously dripped amongst his fingers, flower petals sticking to it alike. he laughed at himself. he’s always imagined that if he’d ever possibly get this disease, it’ll be flowers related to the water like lotuses or water lilies. he never thought he’d start coughing up such pathetic land-dweller flowers.

it was fine, though. jade would get used to it, eventually.

because after all, he’d rather die than stop loving you.

floyd leech

floyd is scary, he knows that. He’s quick to anger, moody, tall and intimidating. He’s doesn’t really care, though. He just does what he wants. He doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal.

he likes fun surprises, something new, exciting. he thinks you meet that of that.

you’re not as scared as others, you respond to his pranks and squeezes positively, you respect his mood swings and he even caught a few glimpses of you defending him. he thinks you’re so cute!

it’s not odd to talk about the leech twins without mentioning you. floyd follows you every and jade just goes wherever floyd goes. it’s like a little trio.

you don’t get scared like others when he gets upset, return his squeezes (hesitatingly…he hugs tight!) and find him rather silly than scary.

jade thinks you were almost made for floyd, considering how well you two get along. although jade has been with floyd the longest, he can only tolerate to a certain point for you, however, it seemed to go endless. you were so much more patient with floyd then with anyone else. although floyd made be subtle about it, he’s grateful.

floyd adored you. you were everything he loves, for he loves you.

loved you.

loved? (love)

floyd started to ignore you. you’d tilt your head in confusion— you were upset. why would your best friend suddenly act like you weren’t even there? he wouldn’t even get mad, he’d just turn the other way.

it was only so long ago when floyd was hunched over in his bed from a terrible stomach ache. jade was horribly surprised to see bloody petals staining floyd’s bedsheets.

floyd never bothered with these things. for the first time in a while, he read a book out of his own volition to figure out what it was, only to rip the pages apart when he read what hanahaki was.

childishly declaring that he loves you no more, floyd would stay away from you like the plague, whilst secretly filling his system with flowers that will kill him for ever loving someone so deeply.

floyd is gonna disappear from your life completely eventually. you’d wonder what caused your best friend to suddenly hate you, while his family mourns over the loss of a loved one, as floyd refused treatment, because he foolishly decided to love you.

kalim al-asim

kalim grew up very sheltered in a loving family. The only concept of love he has is of his parents, who hold hands tightly and gush over the cutest things. they often warn him of the danger of love, and that he must be careful about the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

kalim, although clumsy and stupid, always kept that in the back of his mind.

you were like a breath of fresh morning air. growing up knowing very little, you were the newest, most brightest experience there was. kalim was sure you were the one. he was completely sure, why else would his heart thump so fast?

he’d hug you and hold your hand, give you gifts you could never even imagine having and tell you how much he appreciates you.

kalim hasn’t gone around to mouthing the word “love” yet, but he knows that you know anyway.

so when he started coughing up petals, jamil was quick to inform the al-asim family. kalim was confused, he didn’t understand. this love wasn’t unrequited, there was no way!

it doesn’t matter, though. he’s gonna continue loving you, you and him are gonna be happy together someday, eventually. maybe not in this universe.

kalim woke up in a hospital bed, his heart heavy.

he loves you. but he forgot what that feels like. he loved you. somehow.

jamil viper

jamil is smart. he’s smart and knows his worth. this is why he hates being in second, he knows he deserves so much more.

why does he always to have do worse than kalim? why does he always have to be second place? jamil is smart enough to know his potential. he also knows how much he’s holding himself back for the sake of hierarchy. he hates it.

it’s not a surprise when jamil finds himself unconsciously doing slower than certain people to appear normal. his main purpose in life is to not stand out, hide in the shadows, survive. like predator hiding from prey because if found, it will be caught by the silly humans.

you’re completely different from him, though. you’re as normal as a person can be, yet you aim to reach for the stars and hold it close to your heart. jamil understands your desire to outshine people all to well. he’s been in that spot, is in that spot. he pities you.

so he sticks around. he’d casually follow you, hang out whenever he can, help you with assignments so you can be the best version of yourself. he’s voraciously living through you. if you achieve your goals, that’s enough for him. at least he was apart of something meaningful for once.

it catches him off guard, however, when you encourage him to reach for his goals as well. it’s like you’re holding his hand and pull him amongst the galaxies to gently place your hands onto the hot touch of a star.

he knows that’s near impossible to reach, from the moment he was born, his life was chosen for him. but he thinks he could reach the small goals.

jamil secretly pats himself on the back for grazing against your skin for a second longer than usual, treat you to a nice meal or help you ace a test. he hopes that at least one of the goals he could reach in this lifetime is to be with you.

jamil is smart enough to know that he’s not just sick. not when blood trails down his chin to his arms, as flowers spill from inside him.

he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could have something for himself for once. not hold himself back, grasp tightly to what he wants the most.

jamil is smart enough to know his own worth. he’s definitely not worth enough to you.

silver

silver likes the little things. he enjoys the way birds chirp in the early morning, or the way the dandelion petals flow against the wind as he watches you scrunch your nose and blow on it. and then both of you guys start sneezing. ah, summer pollen, a reminiscent part of nature.

he loves the way you hold your pencil, the way you like to tie your shoelaces, how you cut your sandwiches. these small, unnoticeable traits catch his eye quite often, and he’s developed a fondness for them.

he’s a man of little words. silver doesn’t talk much, so when he thinks of these things, he never says it out loud. maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice how he felt about you.

he was so calming, and so gentle, it tugged at your heart when he’d smile softly and tilt his head ever so slightly so the cute birds could carefully place a beautiful flower crown on his head. he’s so princely, you think. a perfect knight in shining armour, loved even by the nature.

often you’d tell him how lucky any girl would be to be loved by him. your comments made silver hopeful.

silver is a man of little words, he likes to spend his days watching rather than showing. when he does finally speak his true thoughts, he genuine, honest. his words roll off his tongue so easily and smoothly, perfect fit for such a princely man (as you call him)

so when silver does finally open his mouth to speak, talk, say of what he felt in that very moment, he throat closed up. maybe he was nervous, maybe he was lame, because to both of your guy’s horror, blood spilled.

he didn’t really know what was happening. only when he felt the urge to throw up in the infirmary did he realize what was going on.

he was familiar with hanahaki. his father always told him stories of how fae would love so strongly to humans who hated them, that those who were unlucky would be induced to vomiting flowers.

when silver thought he was fae, just like his sweet old father, silver swore to himself that he’ll never love a human. now that he knows that he is, in fact, human, silver starts to doubt himself. maybe is, in a way, a fae.

it’s alright, though. silver is man of few words. he likes to watch rather than show. he doesn’t mind what could happen to him, he won’t tell anyone. he’ll just watch you from afar, filling his heart with melancholy love until he reaches his end. which might be soon, for he loves you so strongly.

a.n: my phone is on 6% as I type this I will edit this tomorrow morning when I wake up. sorry for replying so late I had tests coming up and I had to study!!! </3 thank you so much for the kind comments and I’ll catch up to requests soon! feel free leave any requests :3

[bitethedevil]

Rambling about Raphael again: I’m getting more and more convinced that stealing from Raphael is an asshole move no matter what.

I just killed Raphael for the first time yesterday. I had gotten the scene where he comes home before but that was way back in my first playthrough and I chickened out back then. The battle itself was awesome, don’t get me wrong but it felt…unsatisfying? Sad even.

I’m obviously not excusing anything he’s done to Hope, but we don’t really know anything about Hope before we have already taken the decision to go to his house.

I found something in the House of Hope that I hadn’t seen before (it’s on the ground in the main area where the fireplace is iirc):

Like yeah, we know that we don’t really need the Orphic Hammer if we’ve played the game before and all that. But does Raphael? It seems like he genuinely thinks it’s a fair trade. Dude lives in the Hells. I’m sure he really does expect the worst from people (especially someone like the Emperor). So he offers us a deal that he really believes is fair, and what do we do? We go robbing his house, fucks/kills his incubus, meddles in his business and essentially spits him in the face. Bonus asshole points if the last thing you ever say to him is that he’s a shit at sex.

Raphael is evil, no doubt, but he hasn’t really done anything to us. If you don’t take the deal, he simply leaves you alone (unless you refuse the Emperor in the end…in which he essentially calls you a dumbass but still helps if I remember correctly) even though that deal is the closest he’s been to the crown in millennia.

Which brings me to his reaction. Obviously, he seems angry right before the fight, but mostly I got the feeling of a man who has been utterly humiliated. His quote that went along the lines of: “Take away their free will and they’ll call you a tyrant. Let them indulge in it and they become tyrants” is kind of stuck with me. I think that Raphael could have potentially treated us a lot worse if he wanted to, but he chose not to (obviously that’s also to get us to trust him, but still). Which is why it stings even more when we fuck him over.

Think about his diary entries. The man has nightmares about us besting him. Imagine how stupid he must feel when that fear turns out to be true and that he shouldn’t have trusted us to keep our word.

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

It's time.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Chapter 30

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2:00 AM, May 12th

A sudden jolt ripped you from your relatively peaceful sleep at around 2:00 in the morning.  Your body had been growing somewhat used to the Braxton Hicks contractions that seemed to plague you for a better part of the previous weeks.

This was not Braxton Hicks.

The pain seemed to start in your smile before radiating outward, almost reaching the tips of your toes and the pads of your fingers.  You felt it deep in your core, a painful cramping, almost stretching sensation that made your stomach leap into your throat.

It was happening.

You swung your legs over the side of your bed and grabbed your phone.  You had it planned out.  Law was sleeping at the hospital in a call room.  His surgery was today, at 8:00 AM.  Your knees were shaking, barely holding your weight as another contraction began to pulse through you, making you lean back against your mattress and slowly sink to the ground.  Your water hadn’t broken yet, and you were spotting the day before, but your doctor said that was normal.

You fucking hoped she was right.

[Ugh… hello?]

Your voice barely reached the phone you held to your ear.  “Sh-Shachi… it’s happening.”

A sudden rustling and a pained-sounding grunt resonated through the speaker and the line went dead.  You crawled across the floor to where your hospital bag was stored, your hand just barely reached one of the straps when another cramp ripped through your abdomen, making you squeak out a pained whimper.

You heard your apartment door burst open, probably startling your neighbors, and frantic footsteps ran across your home and to your room.  The light in your bedroom flicked on, momentarily blinding you, and Shachi stood panting in the doorway.

“Penguin, I need some help over here!” he shouted, approaching you and taking one of your arms.

The second man sprinted into the room, helping Shachi haul you to your feet.  With Penguin’s arms still supporting you upright, Shachi grabbed your heavy hospital bag and began a mad dash toward your door.  

“I’m going to stay here with Bepo, alright?” Penguin muttered, sleep still heavy on his tongue as he helped you into the hallway and into the elevator.  

You were wearing a ratty pair of house slippers and your usual pajamas, but you barely had time to think about your appearance when you could feel your stomach contracting with each movement.  You had no idea what giving birth was like, but you were progressing fast.  The only thing you could respond with was a weak nod, clenching your teeth.  The walk from the ground floor to Shachi’s car in the front parking lot was a blur for you, the only thought in your mind being the immense pressure in your swollen belly.  It was only going to get worse before it got better, and the thought made your palms more sweaty than they already were.

You were helped into the passenger seat of Shachi’s beat-up car, barely having time to register your anxieties about this hunk of metal taking you to the emergency room in the dead of night.  Your hands involuntarily wrapped around your belly, trying in vain to soothe the pain that continued to throb within you.  

“Good luck!” Penguin called as Shachi closed your door and sprinted to the other side of his car, almost throwing himself over the hood.  The car rattled to life as he twisted the key in the ignition.  He carefully maneuvered through the dark parking lot, out onto the main road, and you were off.

—

5:00 AM, May 12th

Law’s circulating nurse was holding a walkie talkie.  It wasn’t often those were found in the operating prep room.  The team was pensively getting ready, donning their gowns, following their glove procedures, and securing their masks and face shields when the static-filled sound of the receiver flooded the room.

[The helicopter is landing.]

The patient was in the prep room, still completely intubated, barely clinging to life.  This operation was his and his family’s last hope at a somewhat normal life, free from tubes.  Law closed his eyes and shuddered a deep breath in, then out, before placing his own mask on his face.  A few hours ago in the stuffy call room he slept in, he was forced awake by a night terror of the mother whose son had passed away almost a year ago.  Her screams still bounced around his head like a bell chime, loud, obnoxious, and utterly petrifying.

He thought about you sleeping at home.

“Have I received any calls?”  He turned his attention toward his circulating nurse who had placed the walkie talkie down, another nurse helping him into his second pair of sterile rubber gloves.

She pulled his phone out of her pocket.  Nothing.  The only notification on his home screen was a text from the day before from you reading, ‘Good luck baby!!!  I love you!!!!’  She shook her head, placing his phone in her back pocket.

“Don’t be surprised if we receive any calls during the operation, my wife is supposed to be giving birth in a week or so.  It’s all hands on deck at home, but this operation is our top priority right now.”  Law flexed his fingers under his gloves as he watched his staff bustle around the prep room, preparing all their instruments and materials before retreating into the primary OR to receive the patient from pre-op.

“Got it,” she replied, her voice low and patient.

Law hated that his priority wasn’t with you when you needed him around most.  But in the face of the most important operation of his life, there wasn’t much he could do.

—

6:09 AM, May 12th

Shachi wasn’t allowed into the delivery room with you due to not being family.  The only one who would be allowed was Law, and clearly, he wasn’t going to be available in quite a while.  Shachi had tried to call him throughout your triage check-in, but his phone had gone straight to voicemail.  No surprise to you, a man was getting his entire chest cavity replaced across the hospital.

Still… you missed him.  A lot.  It was certainly a bizarre feeling knowing that he was technically in the same building as you, but across the expansive hospital campus and a few floors down.

Your loneliness was far more palpable in your delivery room, however.  The entire space seemed bland and boring, and you were already hooked up to more tubes than you were pleased with, which is to say, four tubes too many.  You had a hose in your nose for extra oxygen, an IV drip in your arm, and two electrode patches on your chest monitoring your heart rate.

Your contractions had lessened somewhat in the time it took for you to arrive at the hospital, and according to the on-board delivery doctor who greeted you in the room, you weren’t even dilated.  You still had a long way to go.  You had barely eaten the breakfast that was brought to you, the buttered biscuit looked far too gray for a piece of bread, and you were effectively running off of bland applesauce and a small dosage of pain meds.  They couldn’t give you any more until your active labor started, where you could then opt for an epidural.

But you saw that needle.  You were even starting to question that.

The few contractions you felt throughout the morning were intense enough, and you were barely mustering up the courage to prepare yourself for what was surely to come later in the day.  You were still holding out hope that your labor would progress naturally and that there would be no need for an emergency C-section, or any sort of emergency procedure at all.

Your body now had one job.  It had failed all the others, but now that you finally had a successful pregnancy, there was only one job left to do.

Your dazed staring at the ceiling was interrupted when the doctor who admitted you re-entered your room.  She had a calm smile on her face, slight bags under her eyes that displayed more of a long career in delivering babies than acute exhaustion, and the sight of her soft smile lines around her mouth immediately filled you with a sense of calm you had yet to feel all morning.

“Mrs. Trafalgar, how are you doing?” she asked politely, pulling up a chair and sitting by your bedside.  One of her hands rested on yours, a gentle pat for reassurance.  “I reviewed your patient history.  I see your husband is the leading cardiothoracic surgeon with our hospital!”

The fact that she immediately jumped to singing your husband’s praises instead of rapidly addressing the two elephants in your patient charts that read ‘Spontaneous Abortions at 7 and 12 weeks’ brought a smile to your face.  “He is.  I’m sure you’ve already heard the news going on down there.”

She rubbed your hand again.  It was then that you noticed she had her own wedding ring on her left hand.  She looked like the kind of woman to have a sweet partner.  “Indeed I did, it’s been the talk of the staff for months.  Our hospital’s first, and probably only, dual cardiopulmonary transplant.  Frankly, it’s an honor that your husband was chosen to perform the operation, there is no one better qualified than him.”

You picked your head up from the pillow that was supporting your neck.  The bed you were laying in was tiled up so you were more sitting rather than stretched out.  “Have you personally met him?” you asked, your eyes lighting up.

She nodded.  “When he first got the position of lead surgeon, he was made to do a speech in front of the hospital staff to recognize his achievements.”

You remembered that day.  While you couldn’t attend due to your work schedule, he had spent the two weeks prior agonizing over what he was going to say.  He hated public speaking and everything involving it, so having to write a small speech was his worst nightmare.  You weren’t even married yet.  His reward for a successful conference was a steamy night in the bedroom with you, and as far as you knew, he did well enough that he came home and was immediately ripping his clothes off.

The doctor’s voice rattled you out of your daydream.  “It is a shame that he can’t be here right now,” she sighed.  “Hopefully your labor progresses slowly enough that he can be here for the actual birth.”

“I hope he’ll be here when they actually arrive,” you groaned.  “He’ll never let himself get over it if he misses it.”

“And it would be unfortunate for you, too, dear.  Don’t forget about you.”  Another hand pat.

You grinned.  She was right.  Your husband might have been one of the country’s most accomplished surgeons and was currently about to undertake the most daunting procedure of his life, but right now, you were the one preparing to birth two babies.

—

8:43 AM, May 12th

Law gazed down through his face shield at the exposed chest cavity of the man under the sheet on the operating table.  Multiple metal frames were holding his ribs open, his sternum sawed in half to expose the fragile, failing organs underneath.  His heart somehow was displaying visible wear, almost like a machine in a factory would begin to rust.  But both of his lungs were riddled with odd growths and morbid discoloration.

“Was it noted in his patient history that he has COPD?” Law asked, his voice displaying confusion rather than horror.  The poor guy was already getting two new lungs, it’s not like that would change.

“I’m not sure it did, Doc,” one of the nurses across the room maintaining the organ cart replied.  “Does he?”

The head anesthesiologist peered around his machines toward the open chest cavity.  “Yeesh.”

“Okay, professionalism, people.  Thank you for answering my question,” Law barked sternly, bringing his team back into strict focus.

The sound of the organ cart was filling the room with a foreign atmosphere.  It wasn’t like organ transplants on their own were very common in their hospital, but to have the giant artificial box pretending to be a human body supplying a constant stream of donor blood and oxygen to a detached heart and lung trifecta was quite a shocking sight for most of the nurses.  The heart itself was fully exposed, hoses connected to every valve.  It was beating morbidly with each pass of blood, circulating a non-living machine.  Some drops of blood from the exterior of the tissue trickled down the wet organ and collected in a small puddle at the bottom of the tray it was held on.  Some of the team could barely even look at it.

The heart had to be transplanted first, due to the way he was cut open.  They could replace the heart from the front, where his ribs were separated, but his lungs would have to be removed from the sides of his body, under the arms.  The scar tissue on the man was going to be quite the sight in a few months.  

The team was only about 45 minutes into this procedure.

Law’s shoulders were already sore.

—

10:00 AM, May 12th

Your phone was blowing up.

You had texted Ikkaku that you were admitted to the hospital and that your labor had begun, but was progressing slowly.  You didn’t think she’d be able to keep it to herself, but the sheer speed in which she had informed your other close friends was almost dizzying.  After only about 2 minutes, your phone began chiming with a near constant influx of messages from your friends and coworkers, all wishing you the best of luck with your delivery.

It was a weekday, afterall.  Ikkaku probably sprung up from her chair and sprinted around the office like the boy who cried wolf.

When the doctor said your labor would be progressing slowly, she meant it.  And you were already tired of it.  Two in the morning was already far too early for the human body to be functioning, and you weren’t able to get a lick of sleep in the hospital bed you occupied.  Each time your eyes fluttered closed, another contraction would ripple through your body and remind you of exactly where you were.

It had now been about eight hours since you were admitted.

Your cervix was 1 centimeter dilated, and your water had yet to break.

Nurses were constantly in and out checking on you and your condition, but conversation was rarely exchanged.  Instead, most of your time was spent in silence, staring at the bland burgundy walls of the delivery room, the machines you were hooked up to to supply you with fluids and oxygen, and the door to the rest of the maternity ward.

The door you wished would open to reveal your excited husband running to be by your side.

“How are you doing, dear?”  Your doctor popped her head in once more.  She entered the room fully and pulled on a fresh pair of gloves.

“Hanging in there,” you replied.  You were embarrassed with how dejected you sounded.  You didn’t intend to seem so… lonely.

The doctor positioned herself at the foot of her bed and gestured for you to maneuver your legs into the cold metal stirrups that connected at the end. The stirrups hurt your back enough as it was, and the weight of two babies against your spine did little to help, but you bared through it.

“You’re at about 3 centimeters now, you’re progressing very well!” she called, removing her head from between your legs.  “In another few hours, you’ll almost be ready to go!”

Your heart panged with excitement at finally giving birth, but also extreme desperation.

Your contractions were progressively getting closer and closer together.

You wanted Law.

—

11:51 AM, May 12th

Law’s phone rang from the back pocket of the circulating nurse’s scrubs.  The entire team let it go to voicemail.  A human heart was being removed from an open chest cavity, clutched like a sacred, scarred treasure in the blood soaked hands of one of the surgical assistants, while the man was fully hooked up to the quadruple bypass machine.  He now had a mechanical assistant serving as his heart and lungs while they retrieved the new ones.  There was no time or energy to be spent on a phone call.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be bringing your phone in for this operation, doc,” one of the nurses said.  Law could hear the sarcastic grin from under the surgical mask.

“I thought about it, but I’d worry too much,” Law grumbled back, wiping his gloved hands on a sterile towel.

“You’re such a good husband,” the assistant anesthesiologist cooed from across the room.  “I hope my husband is as attentive as you are one day.”

Law felt blood rush to his face.  He kept his mouth shut while the organ box was wheeled over to the bedside.

—

12:10 PM, May 12th

[Hey, have you heard from Law at all?  How are you doing?]

Shachi’s voice over the speaker of your cell phone was able to clear your mind somewhat.  Your contractions were still even and decently spaced out, but you were growing more and more aware of every sudden shift in your body as the seconds ticked by.  “No, and I probably won’t hear from him at all until tonight.  The operation started only four hours ago, they probably haven’t even gotten to the lungs yet.”

[And you?  How are you holding up?]  The redhead reiterated his second question.

“I’m holding,” you muttered back.  “Doctor said I’m still about 3 centimeters dilated, so it’ll still be a while before I actually start, you know, giving birth.”

[What does that mean?  3 centimeters dilated.]

“That’s how large the opening of my cervix is,” you clarified.

A long pause over the phone’s speaker followed.  [What’s a cervix?]

You paused.  “It’s… the entrance to the birth canal?”

Another pause.

“Shachi… you know where babies come from, right?” you asked, your contractions suddenly the least of your worries.

[I do!]  His voice was defensive.  [When a man loves a woman and all that shit.  But what does a cervix have to do with any of that?]

“Have you…” your voice trailed off.  “Have you and Penguin made out yet?”

[Oh, yeah.  We made out, like, two nights ago.  Why?]

You considered your questions answered.

—

1:00 PM, May 12th

The entire room was silent as Law worked, his deft, experienced fingers expertly sewing up even the smallest of blood vessels in the donor heart.  It had been about five hours now since the start of the procedure, and everything was progressing as planned.  Even faster, at that, much to Law’s delight.  The entire team was working as one fluid unit, just as discussed for the months leading up.  When the front of the man’s chest cavity was repaired, however, was when the trickiest part of the procedure would begin.  The patient remained attached to the bypass machine as Law finished the final stitches on the aorta.  It would still be a little longer before he could be fully removed.

The man was filled with tubes.  Down his throat, down his stomach, in his chest, in his arms.  It was an incredibly uncomfortable sight.

The assistants worked in tandem to close up the chest cavity, securing all of the muscle, bone, and erroneous tissue back into place.  It was like putting together a very convoluted and high-risk jigsaw puzzle.

Now the lungs were next.

His phone rang again from the back pocket of the circulating nurse’s scrubs.  Due to the small down time, she reached in and pulled it out, assessing the screen.

“It’s your friend, doctor,” she called.

“Text him to just tell you what’s up,” he asked back.  His mind had become so focused on the operation that he barely had room to think about anything else.

Hi, this is Dr. Trafalgar’s circulating nurse!  Is everything alright?

The three little dots indicating an incoming response appeared, then disappeared, then appeared, then disappeared again.  After what felt like an eternity, an answer finally came up.  A confusing one, at that.

Orca

Uhhhh idk how to relay this properly cus idrk whats happening, but tell him his wife is 3 centimeters dilated???

Oh god.

“Uhm…” she nervously called.

“What is it?” the stone-faced surgeon asked, his back to her as he assessed the organ transplant box that still contained two human lungs.

“Your wife is 3 centimeters dilated?”

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

—

1:15 PM, May 12th

[So I got handed over to that circulating nurse.  She said she’d tell him but she obviously couldn’t do much more.]

Shachi had called you back after hanging up the first time, just to inform you that he had finally gotten through to Law, or at least, Law’s cell phone.

You sighed in relief.  That was the most you could ask for.  You were just happy that he’d be able to know.  “Thank you, Shachi.  You’re not still at the hospital, are you?”

[Nah, I’m getting ice cream.  It’s hot as shit out.]

Lucky bastard.

—

2:30 PM, May 12th

Law had two sides.  Analytical and focused, and the Protective Husband.

In the operating theater, those two sides were in a western-style duel against one another.

In front of him was a near-comatose man with the left side of his ribs cut open, a withered, diseased lung slowly being removed from his body.  And on the complete opposite side of campus, two stories above him, you had begun labor.

And he wasn’t there.

“Doctor, I thought you said another week or so,” one of the female nurses asked, her voice both curious and concerned.

“That’s what I assumed,” he replied, his tone a bit snippy.  No one could blame the poor guy.  He was having babies.

“How far along is she, again?” another voice asked.

“35 weeks,” he replied, delicately slicing through a patch of diseased lung tissue.

“It’s premature?!  Oh goodness–”  One of the nurses began to freak out over the implication, but another colleague was quick to calm her down.

“With twins!  They’re having twins, it’s alright,” the other nurse explained.  “With twins, it’s far more common to be delivered somewhat prematurely.  If the rest of the pregnancy was healthy, there’s no need to be alarmed.”

Law was inwardly thankful from his colleague’s explanation.  If anything, she unintentionally lessened the tension in the theater by ten orders of magnitude, making it far easier for him to focus.  

The harder he focused, the quicker this procedure got done.  And the quicker he got done, the quicker he could run to your side.

—

4:00 PM, May 12th

It had been about 14 hours since your labor officially began, and you barely had a lick of sleep.  The hospital lunch had not been much better than the hospital breakfast, and now you were dreading the hospital dinner.

It didn’t help that your contractions were now substantially closer together, and your cervix was now 6 centimeters dilated.

Law was now in surgery for about eight hours.

One of the evening shift nurses was in the room with you.  She looked about your age.

You turned your attention toward her as she fixed another fluid drip onto your IV pole.  “How long do you think a heart and lung transplant should take?” you blurted.

Your question clearly caught her off-guard.  “Oh gosh, I mean… a single heart transplant is, like, six hours, right?  Give or take?”

Your head flopped down onto your pillow.  He was nowhere near close to being done.

—

5:30 PM, May 12th

The topic of relieving Law with another surgeon mid-operation was now floating around the theater.  Despite being adamant that he refused to leave in the middle of a procedure, his fellow colleagues were determined to let him go.  Maybe it was just the exhaustion getting to everyone.  They had just now removed the left lung and were preparing its transplant for insertion, and they still had one more organ to go.  He couldn’t leave.

“We’ll get this done a lot quicker if we all focus,” the surgeon demanded, insisting his staff return to their focused attitudes.

It was clear that everyone, despite performing their duties well and maintaining a smooth workflow, wanted Law to go see his wife.

One of the anesthesiologists was a mother to three, and was now being drilled with questions.

“How quickly did you dilate with your first?” one of the nurses asked.

It took a few moments for her to think about it.  “I think I was in active labor for about 24 hours in total,” she replied.  “It was loooong.  But, I was also only carrying one, and I was 41 weeks pregnant, so he was quite big!  I would imagine a 35 week twin birth might progress a bit quicker, since the babies aren’t quite as big as that.”

Great.  Just what Law needed to hear.

His worst nightmare was flashing through his mind as he began to suture the transplant lung.  You in crippling agony, screaming and crying with no support from the doctors or nurses, forced to give birth alone.  What if you hemorrhage in the middle of delivery?  What if the babies weren’t positioned properly?  What if you passed out or suffered spontaneous cardiac arrest?  What if one of the babies died during delivery?  What if they both died?  What if all of you died?

The assistant standing next to Law watched in awe as the surgeon, who clearly wasn’t thinking about the surgery, sutured arteries together with robotic precision.

—

7:05 PM, May 12th

You were quickly losing track of time.

8 centimeters dilated.  The doctor told you that your body would know when you needed to push.  And now, almost all the way there, with your room now flooded with staff preparing for your birth, you felt the need to push.

[whereserpentswalk]

There's a demon that's been spotted around your city, around your neighborhood. All the local monster hunters are getting ready to find it, it won't be the first time some dangerous creature got loose in your city and had a hunt out for it. But this one is dangerous, she's faster than most cyptids, humanoid but not from a humanoid species that's known or common, and she's deadly, a few days after she's spotted its found that she kills. Somebody was found dead in the winter snow, on a street corner, with her claw marks on his chest.

You're not a monster hunter. But you are interested in these types of things, and you thought you spotted her one night and chose to give chase, against your better judgment you gave chase. You just want to see her, you just want to see something so strange, so inhuman. And when you see her she's as strange as you can imagine, most of her looks humanoid, slender and graceful, like the most beautiful human you've ever seen, but she has eyes with slit pupils like a cats, and long horns coming from her head, and sharp teeth in her mouth, bat like wings come out her back, and a scorpion's tail from the base of her spine, and where her genitals should be, instead there's the body and head of a snake coming out of her body. She's beautiful and horrifying.

When she comes near you she doesn't hurt you, she just looks at your camera. She doesn't seem to know what it is. When she realizes you're as harmless as you are she let's down her guard. You're afraid, but you slowly realize she's not interested in hurting you. She seems cold, it's very cold and she's not wearing any clothing. You offer to let her into your apartment, just for a night, just because nomatter what she is she deserves to be warm.

She lays on your bed for awhile, she seems so excited just to be on a bed, just to see a bed. She spends awhile under the covers. You were originally planning on letting her sleep on your couch, but she seems so excited to have a comfy bed. She finds one of your plushes and starts cuddling it at one point. You've never seen someone so happy just to have a place to rest.

In the morning the demon is still there. You don't want to kick her out. You bring her food and she seems really paranoid, it seems like a lot of people have hurt her before. You have to leave the room while she eats. But she does seem really happy to have something to eat at all.

Eventually you ask her about who she is. She says she doesn't have a name, and doesn't remember when she was born. She admits to having killed those people, which scares you to be reminded of, it scares you to hear her say it. But she tells you they shot at her, and she doesn't seem like a good enough lier to lie about that. They shot at her the momment they saw her. She was demonized for it, but it's the right of all creatures to attack someone trying to kill them, rather than die.

She really likes being in your apartment. You let her barrow your clothes, though she doesn't like wearing clothing, except for pajamas which she wears when she sleeps. You show her cartoons she can watch, and give her paper and pencils to draw with. It takes awhile for her to be willing to show you her drawings, but when she does they're quite good, you compliment them, and her face lights up. It takes her awhile to feel comfortable being touched by you too, but when she let's you she starts to love your affection, she likes being pet, and hugged, and cuddled, you don't think she's felt these things in a long time.

You let her stay longer than you expected too. There's still people hunting her. And there's still the winter, she says she's been through worse, but it's getting colder. Eventually you even introduce her to some freinds who you know you can trust. You just let her rest there, and part of you home this can just be a way she can exist, getting to draw, and have her head pet, and laying in bed when she wants to. You end up talking with her a lot, she's passionate about stories, and about things she finds pretty, and she loves asking you about the world, and about humanity, about all these things that are alien to her.

Eventually she tells you she has to leave. You try to tell her to stay a little longer, but it's a demon's nature to be free. She's been hurt by humans before, hurt by more than cold and bullets, but by binding spells, and deals she shouldn't have made. And as spring comes she needs to find a new city, and new space to exist it. You spend your last night together cuddling in your bed, and she tells you of ancient lands, and stories nobody else remembers. And then in the morning she's gone, she said she might visit you again, but for now she's gone. You thought you would see her leave but she spared you that pain, she thanked you for being warm to her as you fell asleep, and let your hands run across her cold skin. And now your room lays empty.

[saltygilmores]

@frazzledsoul shared an absolutely baffling take that she spotted on Instagram . Someone claimed "People are so distracted by Jess' looks that they overlook the fact he is a calculator (calculated?) person only at the age of 16 it's alarming and SICK that Jess knew how to manipulate Dean and Rory's relationship to make them feel uncomfortable with each other! Jess did this to make Dean feel insecure and paranoid so Rory got progressively more distant and Jess can take Rory away from him!" Dean wasn't insecure and paranoid until Jess showed up? I smell a trash take! Lessgo! I notice Dean's supporters who blame Jess for being a big ol Ruiner seem to gloss over Dean's jealousy over TRISTAN (who was nothing more than a bully and a harrasser that Rory wasn't dating or even interested in). If everything was so dang hunky dory for Dean and Rory (Lol, that rhymed) before Jess shows up, what is Dean's excuse for being insecure, paranoid, and making Rory uncomfortable for the entire first season of the show, another 5 episodes of season 2 until Jess shows up, then another some odd epsiodes into season 2 until Dean and Jess even just meet each other or are simply aware of each other's existence? The first time we truly see the rivalry between Dean and Jess start brewing on screen isn't until Bracebridge Dinner (2x10), and then it heats up for realsies in A Tisket a Tasket (2x13). So before 2x,10, who was using their psychic abilities on Dean to "make him" treat Rory like crap for 30 some odd episodes? He treated Tristan with the same jealous contempt as he did Jess, and I would argue it was even worse. in fact in Love, Daisies, and Troubadors, Tristan grabs Rory's books without her consent while Dean is in the Chilton parking lot. All he has to do is see Tristan with Rory's books (that she didn't want him to take and was trying to get back from him) and he doesn't ask Rory any questions. His temper is instantly set off and he becomes scarily jealous in the school parking lot and starts raising his voice at Rory in front of hundreds of other students.

Not to excuse Tristan for being a bully. Poor Rory is exhausted and she should probably just give up on boys, run away and join a nunnery. But we're talking about Dean The Butt Forrester here. Just seeing another boy carrying Rory's books was enough to set him off.

Just a very select few examples of Dean being insecure, paranoid jealous, and just a garden variety asshole, and Rory's "comfort" with him, long before Liz stuck Jess on that bus to hell:

See, he's more than capable of being a butt clown all on his own! Sorry Dean Lovers, ya'll get five seasons worth of your lover boy and we only get 1 and a half of Jess. You can't use Jess as a "get out of jail free card" for every shitty thing Dean does.

[entomjinx]

ONE PIECE CHAPTER 1113 SPOILERS!!!

It's tagged, it's in bold, if you didn't see it that's on you, but I'm sorry. (I'm also a little sick so sorry for how this starts to turn a little insane at the end.)

The reveal makes perfect sense. I've seen a few people struggle to figure out where it came from, so I'm gonna explain why it makes perfect sense and then pop off with some silly theory.

The first hint at the fact that the One Piece world is sinking exists all the way back in Long Ring Long Island.

That seems like an odd place to start, but it's the first time we're shown how drastic the tides of the ocean in the One Piece world can change. It's enough to separate entire parts of an island, causing it to appear as separate islands, once every year.

This implies that the tides change drastically over the course of much longer periods than it does in the real world.

After that, we get to Water Seven and discover that it's sinking, and that the Aqua Laguna is getting worse every year. We also know that it's caused by the water receding at Long Ring Long island. We're also outright told that they want to make the city float to stop the sinking problem.

We also, much later, see just how high Wano is in altitude.

Knowing that the Redline is so tall that it cannot be passed by any ship, cannot be broken through, and that Mariejois is sat right on top of it only adds to why it makes sense.

The world isn't "sinking," those some islands technically are(Water Seven, modeled after Venice), the tides are going to rise exponentially, and fast.

The force of the water would instantly drown most people, and those who survived would be those who could get to higher altitude islands, the sky islands, Fishman Island, or the Redline.

And because I know someone will try to point this out: land bound plant life can temporarily survive underwater, so Ohara's 5000 year old library tree would be fine for a a bit while submerged. There's lots of places with high tides who's plant life is just fine. (This also could explain why they'd be so willing to throw the books into the water. Not only was it to save them from the fire, but many of them had likely been submerged for long periods of time before. They knew the books would be find in the end because they had record of it. And well, it's mentioned in the chapter that Vegapunk means to finish what Ohara started.)

This would also explain how thorough the government was able to be with wiping out information from the void century. If only a few places can survive, then few things that tell the truth will survive, and even fewer people.

Do I think I'm 100% correct about any of this? Or course not, it's Oda. It's One Piece. Things are pretty much never predicted with 100% accuracy. But that's my thoughts on why it makes sense. Now we get into theory:

I have several points to make, so I'm going to write out the shortest ones first.

-This would, completely unironically, explain some of the centuries long racism campaign against fishman. They have no reason to fear the high tides. They will survive no matter what happens on the surface, and that scares the humans who cannot.

-I think that the extreme tide is a part of why the bridge is being built in Tequila Wolf. I believe the bridges purposes is to connect all the highest points of the world so there's no need for ships to carry them. This way, the Celestial Dragons will still have access to more slaves, produce, and anything they can't get within Mariejois on their own during the time period when everyone drowns.

-and now we get to the big one:

I think that the reason the 20 kings and their people destroyed the ancient kingdom is because the ancient kingdom had a way to survive the high tide while keeping the maximum number of people safe in the process, and while being able to save many more people. They refused to ask for help, and were instead afraid of the power the ancient kingdom held, so they sought to destroy it.

I think that the ancient "weapons" were instead a means of survival, and the reason they were hidden is because the 20 kings would have used them as weapons instead. We don't know much about the ancient kingdom, so much of this is speculation.

I think Pluton was a large enough ship that it could carry the entire kingdom. We've already seen some massive ships in One Piece, and Iceburg intends to turn the entirety of Water Seven into a ship, so the idea of an island sized ship isn't all that odd.

If you continue to think about it, why did none of the Beast Pirates manage to find Pluton while searching for the poneglyph in Wano? I have two theories for this based on the fact that we're told Wano would have to open it's borders in order to get Pluton. If the walls would need to be torn down, then we can continue to assume that Pluton is massive.

Theory one is that Pluton is is hidden within the mountain itself, and that the mountain was man-made to hide the ship. Not only would the walls need to come down, but the mountain itself would have to be destroyed. They would also need a way to survive the high tide without it, so creating a mountain that is high enough in altitude to keep them safe would have been a necessity. I think this is the more believable of the two theories.

Theory Two is that Pluton is Wano. The entire island is the ship, and many of Wano's people descended from the people of the ancient kingdom or those they rescued. This one is much less likely, but it's still a possibility in my mind.

We know that Poseidon was the former mermaid princess, and that the current one is Shirahoshi. She can control the sea kings. Why would this be important? Because if everywhere floods, then the sea kings, who are already very large creatures, suddenly have an influx of room to move, food to eat, and places to lay eggs. It would cause a population spike. *However,* that would cause an ecological disaster within the food chain. The sudden influx of sea kings would be desperate for any food they can get their hands on, and many would likely die of starvation. This means they need some way to repel them from the large ship.

We don't know anything about Uranus yet, so I've nothing for you.

Another thing we know about the ancient kingdom is that they seemed to be friendly with everyone, or at least it's implied via how many friends Joy Boy made.

Fishman: Along with the bonus of having Poseidon, the fishman also have access to the tree resin from Sabaody. Should the ship(Puton) or the ancient kingdom ever need to submerge in order to keep people safe or to have a temporary air bubble, They'd be safe.

Lunarians: The people who originally lived on top of the redline. Sinee the redline is high enough to not sink, it would have made sense for them to be trade partners.

Skypians and Shandians: Another race with wings. if the tides really got too high, then they could join them in the sky sea for a time. They could also trade with them.

Minks: Zunesha was a friend of Joyboy's. We don't know much else about that situation, but it's likely that Zunesha is plenty tall enough to keep the minks from drowning, and they could have traded often as well. Maybe Zunesha was even able to do something similar to the giants.

The Giants: This feels like the most important one to me, and not just because of recent chapters. Obviously the giants think very highly of Nika/Joyboy, but it's also very likely that Elbaf is tall enough to survive the high tide, and if not, the the giants themselves are. If you look at what's known about current giants, some of them are tall enough to walk along the sea floor, and the ancient giants were so large that it's said they pulled and moved continents.

Why is that bit important? Because a ship the size of an entire island would likely need a lot more than sails buoyancy to move quickly. The ancient kingdom was pulled by the giants. They moved to different areas to rescue people and to trade so that life continued while the tide was at it's highest point.

Another random thing that supports this is the giant's vehement hatred towards Charlotte Linlin. She has Totto Land, which is supposed to be a place where all races live in harmony, but it would be a mockery of what the ancient kingdom was like, and for giants, who live about 300 years, that's only a few generations back. They would still have stories about the ancient kingdom and remember the truth.

Again, I don't think anything I predict will ever be 100% accurate, but I hope you enjoyed my rambling nonetheless.

[isa-ghost]

I see you have hcs, do you have any for mr fitmc?

Yes!!

Here's some ones of his relationship with Phil past and present too bc I don't think I have Fit standalone ones until now.

Obviously these will apply to AMFMN Fit too!

Fit is extremely observant and perceptive. Years of roaming a wasteland, spending every minute of every day documenting, chronicling, exploring and witnessing so much really sharpens those kinds of skills. Not much gets past Fit unless he simply wasn't there or doesn't know. All it takes is an inkling and he'll start connecting dots and making theories.

It's why he Hates the Federation. Not only is he an anarchist, he hates the way they make it so easy to keep him in the dark. It's why he weaseled into it in the first position he could get. Being a janitor sucks, but it's something. Anything to get a foundation for making next moves.

He struggles with trust though. He trusts people, but very few if any does he trust whole-heartedly. Pac & Phil are likely the only ones he trusts that much. And even then, he doesn't confide in anyone nearly as deeply as he does Ramon. Spending so much of his life in 2B2T has taught him to reserve trust for people who prove without a doubt that they're ride or die with you. He wishes he didn't find it so difficult to trust more people though.

Okay complete 180 in vibes here but I'm very passionate about this one: Fit has a giant warhammer that's his weapon of choice. Chainsaw, scythe, potato cannon, whatever other stuff he's got is good. But big fucking hammer. With those muscles? Oughoughouhgh.

By the way he never in his life had experienced people simping for his muscles or flirting with him prior to being on QI. It was whiplash and it's changed him for the worst /pos

On the surface it seems like Fit is pretty cold or at least disinterested in stuff that leans on the vulnerable side. It's not entirely wrong, he's spent so long in a place where vulnerability gets your base blown to smithereens or gets you robbed blind or both. But he Does enjoy such things. I mean, just look at the Fitpac date! And hugs? Hugs rock! He'd be so much worse off if he didn't let loose or let himself lower his guard every now and then. It takes a lot of energy to keep those walls up, it'd be unhealthy to never let them down. Especially in a place like Quesadilla Island, where it seems like it's a bit safer to do so. Honestly, he's the opposite of disinterested in letting walls down. He wants that more than anything, and it took being put on QI, becoming a dad, and falling in love for him to realize it.

Which makes keeping up this facade really hard. Not just the whole "snooping for data" thing, just Everything Fit has built himself to be over the years altogether. He doesn't want to keep holding people at arm's length and looking over his shoulder all the time anymore. It's exhausting.

That's not to say he wouldn't relapse right back to how he was before QI softened him up, though. Again, those trust issues. Purgatory really fucked with his head for a while. And plenty of things that happened after, like the whole Phil Ender King thing, really didn't help either. What he's going through is a form of healing, and healing isn't linear.

He isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Be it with dirt, blood, or otherwise. His motto is you gotta do what you gotta do. He's a very means to an end kinda guy. And despite wishing he could shed being so hardened by the 2B2T Wastelands, he does value that it's given him this kind of strength. It takes a lot to be willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want.

The reason Fit loves fofoca is not only because he enjoys indulging his inner drama whore. He's spent most of his life roaming a place where secrets were as good if not better of a trade than actual currency. When he first arrived on QI, he wasn't entirely sure how to just. Casually socialize. There's little to no risk in it. It was incredibly foreign to him. But it turns out that gossip is like trading secrets in a different font. He's good at that. So collecting and spreading fofoca is how he taught himself to appear kind of "normal" to the other islanders.

Most if not all of the above is also evidence to support the fact that Fit in general is a very adaptive person. You can put him in any environment, as soon as he gets the gist of the status quo and what kind of stakes he's dealing with here, he'll manage no problem. Chances are he's experienced worse. Purgatory and the prison are 2 good examples.

Calling back to the wanting to be vulnerable + confiding in Ramon the most things, GOD is he grateful he got such a brilliant son. Ramon learned a lot from him, but even so, he already had many of the same traits Fit does. It did wonders for bonding, and it's part of what made trusting Ramon come so easy. He's glad he got a son that's so understanding of the way he operates.

The only thing stopping him from taking a page from Cellbit and just starting to kill Feds for information or other reasons is because he knows he'll get more out of playing the long con and letting himself be strung along. Infiltration goes further than outright brutality in his eyes. Brutality is saved for something you no longer need anything from.

Btw his stealth skills are fucking insane. In 2B2T your detection is life or death, and it'll only end in your favor if you can talk sweet enough or have something worth bargaining with. He often did one or the other, but even so, a historian like him typically lacked anything of much value to most bandits and the like. He was simply charismatic and lucky. Which means staying hidden, laying low, and moving with more calculation than a math class is more beneficial to him. And boy has it come in handy on the island too.

In his time on QI, once The Horrors all started, he's learned he really likes having intense intellectual talks with other islanders. Strategizing, theorizing. It feels like the survival he's so used to but with less imminent threats on his life. Bagi especially is an absolute delight to get into these kinds of talks with. It feels like casual socializing and the kind of talking he's used to at the same time. Very much his jam.

[66sharkteeth]

Weekly thoughts!

Hooboy, the big episode! First off, I think everyone knows by now that you probably shouldn't read these if you haven't read the latest episode, but I ESPECIALLY mean that this week! Talking about some way bigger than usual spoilers.

Phew, this was a big one, both from a writing and drawing perspective. I actually spent a full day on that last panel alone, but writing it took way longer than usual too. Going back and forth between Bell's speech and Jericho's backstory played perfectly like a movie in my head, but it was really hard to portray it as a comic and it was one of the few times I was struggling with the limitations of the format. I think I pulled it off though, since everyone seemed to follow along fine! So while it was probably just a neat scene to everyone else, I'm rather proud of that haha.

As for the actual contents of the episode, I'm also glad everything hit w/ the majority of the audience for the most part. I know a handful were confused about if that was Bell or Jericho who did that, but to those people, I remind you it's been loooong established Jericho can control his extensions (Bell, Charlie, and Claude. Remember, they all took injections of Jericho's blank space?). Also on that note, Bell does not have her own scion... Only Rex and Jericho do. Bell, Charlie and Claude all took injections of Jericho's blank space, thus get to borrow some of his power. I recommend re-reading ep 80 if you need a refresher.

I do consider this ep kind of a big reveal of Jericho's true colors. I mean, you guys have known he's the main villain for ages now, but this is the ep that reveals his "better world for blanks" act is kind of a façade and what he's really seeking is a worse world for humans. The fall of humans benefitting blanks is just kind of a bonus. I'm glad a few people caught onto this with the fact that one of the worst horrors he experienced was having his autonomy taken away from him, then he proceeds to do just that to Bell.

And speaking of Jericho's horrors- Before this season launched, I dropped a bunch of hints about upcoming things. One of them was that the most disturbing scene (in my opinion) was coming up. I was actually referring to what happened to Kallie. I'm not sure if it was as disturbing to everyone else (I totally get like if Claude's leg thing fucked people up more), but being evaporated into nothingness but not dying was an existential dread that really fucks me up haha. If it fucked even a couple of other people up, then I did my job.

I don't have too much else to say about the contents of the episode. It was so hard to bite my tongue for weeks as everyone predicted pretty much every character but Desmond was gonna get it. I'm sorry I don't have too much else to say about him right now given what happened, but I definitely will in the upcoming weeks.

I guess the only other note I have is I might as well address something that bugs me slightly- It's definitely a minority but there's a handful of people who seem done with the series because "too many things go wrong." To which... I'm not sure what to tell ya. I'm fine with critique and criticism to be clear, but honestly, this is one thing I'm actually really confident I'm good at balancing. I'm not sure where people are coming from with "nothing good ever happens in this series" when this season alone has had probably the cutest and fluffiest scenes. Rex has a canon girlfriend, he had his first kiss with her, Desmond was reunited with his sister and learned to accept himself, Lyss learned to move past her trauma and accept blanks, Rex was reunited with Shnee, Rex's scion turns out to be a puppy dog w/ a crush. I'm aware a lot of these got kind of crushed with this latest ep...but that's.. kind of. the. point??? That's how you write tragedy and impactful scenes??

I dunno, maybe this is personal to me because it's ALWAYS bugged me when someone tells me they think a show is bad because it's "too dark." Like no... It's not *bad* because it's too dark, you just don't like dark themes, and that's okay. I TOTALLY get if CoB has gotten too dark for some people- it's definitely hit some hard themes and subjects, but I don't like to accept that as a critique. It just means it's not for you and that's okay. There's a ton of other great comics that are more light-hearted! I think the TLDR of this is it will always annoy me when people say something is bad just because it's not their taste.

Now. That said... everyone is completely valid in their hate of Jericho. I, however, still love him.

[jamiedc-they-them]

Good People (Platonic)

Summary: While in the Wasteland, running on nothing but fumes and even less hope, you meet someone. Someone who might just be the one thing you need in a place like this: a friend.

Note: This is shorter than my usual stuff (both in terms of words, probably, and also just in terms of content - more so a scene than anything else; maybe a series of short scenes showing Lucy's arc if you guys want and how her friendship with Y/N develops?) Let me know in an ask!

You were a survivor. You had been since the moment you were born, but you weren't sure how much longer that was going to last.

Your day hadn't started off good, you see. You were running out of water and had passed out earlier due to some kind of infection - no idea what it was or who/what it was from, you had come across a lot of beings and things in your travels - and some guy had thought you were dead and even pissed on you just in case. Was not refreshing, or nice.

You had fought him off, tackling him to the floor and punching him quite a few times. You didn't kill him, however. You just left him be after that.

An odd fellow with a briefcase who promise you everything you could ever want passed you by. He gave you something that gave you a boost. You had no caps, so the only piece of fluid you had left on you - your water container - was given to him in exchange for this item.

So, now you were even more screwed then before.

The man even seemed to somewhat pity you, but he still left.

You find an abandoned bus. It's been picked, recently or otherwise doesn't really matter, picked clean is picked clean. Or, well, as clean as you can get within the apocalypse.

"Hello?" a voice says. You spin around, reaching for a weapon you don't have as you lost it in the scuffle before, and so instead duck down - hitting your head on one of the seats.

You hear the person outside cringe.

"Sorry," she says, earnestly to your shock, "that sounded like it hurt."

"...It did," you find yourself saying in reply, but still keep your head done.

"Sorry," she says, again, "it's ok," she assures you, "I won't hurt you. I promise."

You peak your head up. The first thing you notice, is how clean she looks. She gives you a bright smile.

"Hi," she says, enthusiastically.

You just blink at her.

"It's ok," she assures again, "my weapon is away. I just - I just wanna talk. I'm a bit lost out here give, you know, everything is mainly just sand."

You guess that's fair. So, against your better judgment, you make your way to the stairs at the bus, and sit down. The woman sits down, letting out a sigh, glad to be able to rest for a moment.

She stretches. You adjust your neck. You must've slept funny.

"I'm Lucy," she says, holding out a hand to you.

"Y/N," you say, shaking her hand. Feels weird, being this open with someone.

"Y/N," she says, "that's a nice name. I never knew someone called Y/N before."

You're about to ask her why, when you see what she's wearing.

You whistle, or as best you can with a dry throat, it's croaky but the idea comes through, "you one of them Vault Dwellers?"

"I am," she says, and you're unsure if it's a proud statement or not, "but, I do also recognise my privilege for being one."

You hum, "how you finding up here?"

"Hot," she says, "we have air conditioning in the vaults. So, it's weird not being able to just turn down the temperature."

You chuckle. She smiles.

"Thank you for not trying to kill me."

You gesture to yourself, "don't exactly have anything to do that with, you know? Besides, you're not a bad person. I've met some bad people, you ain't one of them."

"Thank you. I knew there were good people out here."

You shrug, "I don't think I'm exactly 'good', but I've known worse."

"Well, I'm glad I've run into you. You're alot nicer than the previous man I met."

"Yeah, there'll be people like that..." you pause, then ask the question on your mind, "what brings you top side, Lucy?"

"Oh," there's a hint of hope, mixed with sadness in her eyes while she answers, "I'm looking for my dad. Some horrible woman called Moldaver took him. She steals dads."

You may internally find that last part funny, but you find yourself saying 'I'm sorry' to her about her plight. She thanks you once again.

"You're not crazy like that other man."

She's blunt, you'll give her that.

"I can be," you don't quite know why you're insulted by it.

She cocks her head to the side, "I'm good at reading people," you aren’t sure on that one, but you don't say anything, "and you're not like that previous man."

"What'd he do?"

"Drank most of my water. You ever met anyone like that?"

"Guy pissed on me this morning. Another stole my canteen."

"Oh..." Lucy says. You nod, expecting this to be the end of your conversion, but then she reaches behind herself for something. Instinct makes you freeze, but she just gives you a reassuring smile once again, and holds something out to you.

Her own canteen.

You look at her, doubt, confusion, and thanks all in your eyes at once.

"Take it," she insists, shaking it a little to tell you that there is still water inside it, "I mean it."

"But, that other man --"

"He's greedy. You aren't. And, judging by your lips, rough voice, inability to whistle, and slight grovel to your voice, and the way you hold yourself," perceptive too, "you need this more than I do."

"You sure?" she nods. Hesitantly, looking from her to the canteen as you reach out - her leaning forward to help you with your lack of energy due to dehydration and all - you grab it. It's not harsh, you don't rip it out of her grasp. Your actions are slow, deliberate.

You open it, and lift it up to your mouth, letting a few water droplets hit it.

You close it and give it back to her. But she pushes it to you again. This goes on a few more times.

"I meant what I said," she says, "take it."

You look around at the desert, "next water well won't be for a while."

She shrugs, "there's a town nearby. There should be some there. But, either way, you need this a lot more than I do."

You drink the rest of it. And, you feel ok. Not great, but better.

You cough a bit. Both due to whatever illness you have, and just from the water and how fast you drank it.

"That's a bad cough," she notes, taking the canteen back.

"Ah, it's nothing," you say, waving her off. Had worse infections.

You stand up, and she holds her hands out in case you fall. You put a hand up, telling her you're ok.

"Well," you say, "thank you for that, and the talk. Good people are few and far between. Best of luck --"

"Hey, wait!" she calls out as you start to walk away, "wait, please. Maybe - maybe you can help me."

"I ain't exactly much help given the lack of weapons, strength, and my illness."

She frowns, "well, once we find my dad, we can go back to my vault, we have doctors there who can help you and give you a good meal!"

She's preppy, but soon that softens in her eyes, "please...I can stop people from...urinating on you."

You snort at her disgust of the language. She has a lot to learn. Social ettiquite may exist in some places in the wasteland, but not everywhere.

"Well, when you put it like that..." you say, before smiling. She beams at you.

"Okey Dokey!" she exclaims.

"Okey Dokey!" you find yourself saying in kind, not mocking for once - you and your mouth had gotten you into trouble before, it was nice to not have some agenda with it this time. To let your guard down.

"Have you ever been to Filly before?" she asks you as you walk side by side. Though, she slows up a bit as you try and both get your strength back and keep your remaining bit.

"Once or twice when passing through," you say.

"Alrighty then," she says, glad to not be going in completely blind, "'this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.'" she says to you, clearly quoting something, based on her voice. You look at her confused.

"I'll show you the film when we're back at the vault," she says, before you continue on your way.

It's good to meet someone who didn't want to kill you on sight or extort you or something.

It was nice to not be alone anymore.

Lucy feels the same way. She has a sort of guide now. A friend.

An actual friend from the outside.

She's glad.

And, little did she know how right she'd be. It would be a friendship that would stand the test of time and everything in between.

Lucy had just met her best friend.

You had met yours.

Even if you both didn't know just how dark and dangerous the road ahead would get...

[nohoperadio]

Here's a little breakdown of my personal relationship/non-relationship with various types of aesthetic self-modification (?, I feel like there might be a word or at least a more elegant phrase to denote this category). The point is not to offer my "take" on each thing but to express the different feelings/desires/inhibitions my psyche manifests around them. Some of these will approach awkwardly personal territory, fair warning! You may notice that basically none of them are especially positive; I'm going to leave off from analyzing that pattern for this post.

Tattoos -- I think tattoos as a concept are extremely cool, frequently they're cool in practice also and I like seeing other people's, but I don't think I've ever had even the smallest urge to get one for myself. I'm not totally sure why. The lack of an obvious thing to get is one factor, I feel like "band tattoo" would be the most likely thing for me to have but I don't like the idea of directly lifting a band logo or album art and I really don't like the idea of a lyric tattoo (I offer no justification for these prejudices), so I'd have to get clever with it if I'm doing that and I'm not very clever. More broadly, I predict that my enthusiasm for any artwork I put on my body would fade through overexposure in a matter of weeks if not days--other people describe "barely knowing it's there" after a short time--which on top of making the value of the project seem dubious, I feel like having a permanent image on my skin that I don't actively love would be something I'd feel bad about rather than neutral. Like "man, that thing's on my arm and I don't care about it at all, that sucks" rather than just not noticing it. Maybe I'm wrong about that.

(Tattoos are the one that got me thinking about this whole subject I think, it feels like they're reaching a ubiquity in the culture where it's almost like you're expected to have a reason not to have one rather than a reason to? Maybe that's just a people-I-know thing, anyway it got me thinking about why I don't want one.)

Piercings -- An interesting thing about me and piercings is that it's virtually impossible for me to notice when somebody has them unless I'm like, actively consciously scrutinizing their face (or whatever it is). When I was about ten months into my current job I asked my co-worker who I worked closely with almost every day "hey when did you get that septum ring" and she was like "well way before I met you". That is simply how it is with me and piercings and I make no apology.

If my inability to perceive piercings (perceirvings...) makes me indifferent to the idea of getting one, what makes me actively hostile is the total certainty that I would fiddle with it constantly if I did. I know these hands and their ways and there would simply be no dissuading them, it would be so bad you guys, oh my god. This is probably the hardest no on the list I think, although I haven't finished the post yet so idk maybe I'll think of a worse one.

Makeup -- There's undeniably a lot that's very beautiful in the universe of makeup and there's also the weird dark side, I have dabbled a little in this area and in my heart I feel more positively than not about it, but it's just never going to be a sustainable part of my life because (not unrelated to previous para) I am a perennial and unrepentant face-toucher. I will be itching and rubbing my face-skin and also inflicting other hard-to-characterize punishments upon it (is this "stimming"?) until the day I die and anything that wants to be on my face has just gotta deal. It would probably be better if this was not the case but I don't make the rules, sorry.

Haircuts -- When I was a child I haaaaaated getting my hair cut, like the physical sensation of it? Was so horrible and would usually make me cry and always ruin my day (is this "sensory overload"?), I didn't understand why I was being made to go through this ordeal and basically as soon as I reached an age when I realized my mom couldn't literally force me to do it if I just stubbornly refused hard enough--that age was 13 I think--I stopped. I haven't had a professional haircut since that time although I'm sure I could cope with the sensory aspect at this point, it's just not a habit I ever picked up again (I've had a couple of non-professional ones from my ex who just kind of wanted to try it, in a not particularly ambitious or dramatic fashion). Sometimes I feel like I should, but idk. My hair as it stands is not optimized for making me look hot but I don't think it looks especially horrible either, it's just kind of whatever I think.

Complicating factor here: I've had trichotillomania since I was 15/16, and it's hard to imagine it going away at this point but it's a lot more under control than it used to be, to the point where you can't really tell just from my appearance that something's up now. I say "under control", I have very little conscious control over it and usually no conscious awareness that I'm doing it, but over the years the compulsion seems to have unconsciously settled into a routine where it's just kind of... sculpting my hair into a more-or-less normal silhouette? Like I sort of have a fringe and stuff despite no haircuts. Oh I guess this doesn't make sense unless I clarify that I mostly break rather than pluck the hair nowadays, that's a big part of the gradual unconscious shift that's occurred.

A fun thing about trichotillomania is that it often makes people really uncomfortable when you talk about having it, which sucks for me because it makes me feel lonely, but I guess it sucks for the person feeling uncomfortable too in a smaller way. If you're one of the people who feel uncomfortable around this topic, sorry! Quite genuinely.

Gender transition in general -- I feel like I'm just, just on the boring side of cis-by-default. I think about transitioning shockingly often for someone who's never gonna do it, like it's not searing a hole in my heart or anything like it is for a lot of people but it occupies that "it would be cool to learn an instrument" kind of niche in my thoughts, if that makes sense? (Probably a bit stronger than that analogy makes it sound, it's on my mind frequently but not with a massive sense of urgency attached I guess is what I'm getting at.) I can see myself taking the plunge if the medical technology was like 10% better, or the social technology was like 20% better, or with some medium-sized changes in how my personality was configured, but this life being this life there's no way in heck the juice would be worth the squeeze. If I had one fifth of the executive function required to do all of that lying to doctors and learning how to clothes shop and having awkward conversations with people in my life and all the rest of it, well I can list like ten things I'd rather spend it on first. And I don't!

Glasses -- Love wearing glasses, 10/10 no notes. I knew since I was like 11 that my face should have a pair of glasses on it and I was very smug when the optician agreed (I did not cheat on the eye test in any way for what it's worth). The only times I'm not wearing glasses are sleeping and showering. I don't even carry a case because there's no point because I simply don't ever take them off. This is probably overkill, I think as a kid I was instructed to only put them on when I need to see something in the distance, ignoring that and just wearing them permanently has probably led to my vision weakening to the point where they're now pretty much mandatory in every situation, but I don't give a shit about that because just let me wear my goddamned glasses okay, fuck off. It's actually crazy how much I like wearing glasses, this is the only true thumbs up on the list.

I remembering trying to explain how I like my glasses to a then-close friend of mine many years ago when the subject of laser eye surgery came up in conversation, he said I should get the surgery and then just wear glasses with non-prescription lenses. When I tried to explain why that wouldn't be the same at all he was adamant that I was just being stubborn. That guy was a wonderful person in many ways and I loved him very deeply, but man what a dumbass thing to say.

Facial hair -- There are so many great beards and moustaches in this world, there are few more cheering sights than someone bearing some swish whiskers who's pleased about it, but personally I don't wish to be involved in that business at all.

I never learned how to ride a bike -- Obviously this one doesn't belong on the list, it doesn't fit with any of the other categories, and yet I feel compelled to include it here. And why should I resist that which compels me? This is my post. Yeah, I'm the oldest of four siblings, we were all given bikes at the appropriate kid-on-bike age, the others picked it up but not me. I liked it when I had stabilizers on my bike, then they took them off and I started falling off the bike, and after a very short amount of time I gave up. Like I didn't get mad injuries or anything, it just felt like I wasn't improving at it quickly enough and I didn't feel like keeping it up so I didn't. Early indication of my bad personality.

Fashion in general -- Clothes shopping has always been extremely aversive to me for whatever reason, it's gotten a little better in recent years, I have been able to exist inside clothes shops for long enough to purchase a small thing or two, but eh. Most of my tops are band t-shirts I bought at gigs, most of my bottoms are exactly identical pairs of jeans, there's just not much going on you know? But unlike with most of the items on this list I would really like to be doing this properly. I would like to wear cuter things with prettier colours and designs. This one's an actual goal. But so far I haven't really made progress. The aforementioned shopping sucks thing, plus a fear of being so aesthetically clueless that I just make myself look like a big idiot if I try anything risky, plus the fact that doing things that are not my established routine is tricky in general--these are barriers for me. I guess another barrier is that the things that would be most interesting to try out and therefore most potentially motivating fall into the wrong-gender-clothes category and therefore bring into play some of the barriers from that other category a few ones up. I did actually somehow get myself to dabble in that area some years ago to a modest but positive degree of satisfaction. It'll probably happen again. The patterns and causes that determine whether I can or cannot find motivation to engage in a thing--they are mysterious indeed.

Like horn implants or whatever other crazy miscellany -- I don't want anything in this category and don't have any non-trivial thoughts about it either. Including this section for completeness only.

---

Well, there you have it, that's the post. Now you know a bit more about some of my little weirdsies. If you actually made it through the whole thing, a) how interesting and b) why not tell me a little weirdsy of yours in return, whether it pertains to the above list or not? Why not get all antiphonal on my post, that way I'd get to know a thing about you as well, it might be a whole fun kind of deal. You don't have to though, I didn't make this post to try to snare people into letting themselves be known, I just kind of made it to be a post mostly. I make all sorts of kinds of posts you know? And so I thought I'd try one that's like this.

[solradguy]

The hell's up with all these anti-trans men/masc memes lately because I'm getting real sick of it real quick. It's not cute and it was never funny.

[cerise-on-top]

I was on Tik Tok and a video appeared of a woman getting ready (makeup, clothes, etc.) to wait for her police wife, I thought of this scenario with Alejandro. Could you do a oneshot like this?

Hey there! Please don't request oneshots or fics or something like that from me, I usually only write those when I'm inspired ^^; I made an exception this time, but please keep that in mind!

Waiting for Alejandro

Among those gentle dreams of twosomeness, where the lovely was the ordinary and loneliness was as far away as the end of the universe, you prayed. With your eyes closed, with your mind showing you beautiful, vivid dreams of your loved one caressing you, giving you the love you yearned for, you murmured along words of love. The gods would be benevolent enough to let you experience that happiness just once more. Where the wars would never end, where the fights were eternal, you hoped for a small respite from it all, granting such to a lone, tired soldier. A warm hand on his cheek, a smile you almost forgot in your wake, tender words exchanged. The pain of being alone was forgotten for just another moment, tearing your heart open any other time. But alas, a dream was as fleeting as a petal drifting through the wind.

Birdsong, louder than what you were used to, tore you from your peaceful slumber, the light shining through the window. It was not bright, but it almost blinded you. And even on this morning, as the birds sang about their love for one another, as they joined one another into an aria of affection, you felt the lightness of your bed. Even this morning, Alejandro had not yet joined you. You turned to his side, images of him slumbering away flickering in front of you. Your safe haven, your sanctuary of rest, was incomplete without him. Taking his pillow into your arms, you closed your eyes. His scent had faded entirely by now. As it was, nothing remained aside from blurry memories. Had you taken him for granted this entire time? Had you not been a good enough partner? Would he even return? Pangs of insecurity gnawed at your heart. Everything was going to be alright, Alejandro was alright. He was going to return soon.

And on your nightstand laid your phone. In your sadness, it seemed less appealing than usual. And yet, somehow, this morning, you felt more drawn to it than usual. Anxiety coursed through you. A simple “I’m coming home tonight” would ease any and all insecurities you had, but the disappointment of not seeing any messages would be too great. Taking it off the charger, you held it in your phone for a moment, running your finger along its case. Curiosity was a strong drive for many, but for you it held more sadness than anything. How long has it been since you had last seen Alejandro? Too long, but today likely wouldn’t change anything. Devoid of any contentment, you sighed. Maybe you should go back to sleep, delude yourself within those dreams of love. He was to return, for you would fight a seven nation army by yourself and boast an empty victory otherwise.

Another few minutes passed, sitting hunched over your phone without ever turning it on. You didn’t know the time, it didn’t matter. It was nothing you needed to know for the time being. An answer to your prayer came in something you didn’t want to see: Your phone vibrated, the screen lighting up and displaying a message.

I will be home in one and a half hours, wait for me 🥰

The sender was Alejandro.

Without batting an eye, you unlocked your phone, hovering your fingers over the virtual keyboard. You wanted to respond, you needed to, but your mind went blank. What were you to say when your mind wouldn’t respond, but your heart sang a little tune? Dancing in its cage, soon to be freed from its shackles. On its stage, it grew warm underneath all the lights. There was naught but a single person as its audience, but the cheers were as wholesome as they were genuine. It beat, it danced in hope. One and a half hours. All this time you were alone, you grew tired, exhausted even. Jumping up from your bed, you made haste towards your closet, picking out some lovely clothes. Alejandro had always loved seeing you in these, complimenting you every time. Today was a day unlike any other. It was special to you in so many ways, you hoped you could make it a day unlike many others for Alejandro as well.

The time spent in the bathroom was not marked by its brevity. Your hygiene made for the base of it all, combing your hair and brushing your teeth so you could feel clean. Although you would have loved to indulge in this little ritual, there was relatively little time. Between rushing to put on your fancy clothes and applying your makeup, you messed up quite a few times. Your speed could have rivaled that of professionals. Even as you poked your eye a few times, even as you applied more makeup than what was likely needed and you had to scrape off little bits. Looking in the mirror, your heart sank. What have you done to yourself? The precipitance caused you to look questionable at most. Alejandro deserved better than that. It was a special day, one to be celebrated. You could under no circumstances afford to look the way you did.

This time with more leisure, you applied everything yet again. Although you may have looked far from perfection, Aphrodite would have been proud of you either way. Rushing to look at your phone, you looked at the time. Ten minutes and the text would have been one and a half hours old.

You stepped outside. The warm sun hit your face and you looked around. No one yet. For as much as every fiber of your being wished for the time to fly by, for those ten minutes to be skipped, you tried to submit to your patience. You had waited for months, surely you could wait another few minutes.

And yet, those ten minutes didn’t seem to pass. If pain and suffering could turn seconds into minutes, then this little waiting game of yours had been turned into hours. Even as you took in the sun’s warm rays, closing your eyes while remembering all those times Alejandro complained about your vitamin D deficiency, as he forced you outside to soak up the warmth, the time didn’t seem to pass. With a sigh you leaned onto the rails.

Thanks for the ride, amigos!

The door to a car was forcefully closed shut and you opened your eyes. Indeed, there he was in all his glory, waving to those who had driven him home. The waiting had paid off. However, you had no control over yourself as you slowly moved towards him. As if on instinct, as if a moth drawn to flame, as if a child seeking its mother’s affection, you sped up, running right at him. Your heart beat loud and heavy in your ears, it was almost unbearable. However, he, too, seemed to have taken notice of you, standing still as he awaited your embrace.

Stumbling and tumbling about, you eventually reached him, wrapping your arms tightly around him. If he was smoke in the air, then you were the jar he was being captured with. You never wanted to let him go again, simply reveling in his touch instead. Alejandro seemed to reciprocate as he wrapped his arms around you as well, laughing as he did so.

“Someone’s very eager to see me today, eh? Good to see you too.”

“I missed you so much, you have no idea.”

The grip he had on you was somewhat tight, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. And for a moment, he was no longer a fighter, holding the one he loved the most. The wars were over for the time being, he could finally focus on something equally as important. And for a moment, the world was at peace. However, in order to protect such properly, he had to let go of you eventually, holding onto your shoulder for a moment longer still.

“Look at you, all dolled up just for me. You look stunning today, mi amor.”

“Thank you, I wanted this day to be special for the both of us.”

Taking on his role of a warrior yet again, he put his arm around you, shielding you from any and all harm there may be. Even in the comfort of his own home, Alejandro couldn’t help but fight whenever needed. It was his calling, his raison d’être. Even during the most peaceful times, threats of war always lingered. His walls were high still, only lowering them so you could get inside his heart and paint it with your love. Walking you towards your shared home, he hummed a little tune.

“I’m so glad to finally be home again. Now I can spend my time with you and relax a little bit.”

“Shit, I didn’t cook anything, though. I’m so sorry, Alejandro.”

He laughed yet again. That melodious, loud laughter you came to adore over the years you spent with him. After opening the door, he gave you a gentle peck to your forehead.

“Don’t worry too much about it, we can always just order some takeout.”

[guinevereslancelot]

job interview tomorrow 🙏

[britneyshakespeare]

i dont know where to scream about this but i honestly feel some sort of weird relief that r//nbow high is declining. i knoooow i know it's popular and they've been such high quality dolls and collectors have loved them and some(?) people like the web series (or do they? ive heard mixed things but ive never had any interest in watching it) but oh god. i just. sometimes it takes me awhile to appreciate modern doll lines and their aesthetics but i just could not get past their weird fish faces and in general i do not like monochrome styling themes. i realize their designers did so much with their concepts, i realize a lot of heart and effort went into them, and i completely understand why so many people were floored with the quality of the dolls and the rate at which they were being put out. even though the prices kept rising for them, you could at least see where your money was going, like they were always so well-constructed and doing new things. but like. at the end of the day. on a very basic level they were just never all that aesthetically pleasing to me and it was kind of maddening to see all that potential going towards a line of dolls that had just... like... facial proportions i could not get past lol.

[fleshdyke]

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