#[ // he's totally immune to all forms of body horror but this is just different. ]

[ferromagnetiic]

✿

【 ⚙ 】  |  【 always accepting. 】 two headcanons for our muses' relationship. @lufitaro

One. Obviously excluding Killer, out of all of the Supernovas, Kid is most naturally drawn to Luffy. He would never admit this; in fact, he would deny it vehemently should Luffy ever attempt to press him on this secret. He could never live it down if this truth were to be exposed. Regardless of his immense embarrassment, Kid does like Luffy; if nothing else, he's undeniably interesting, and never fails to be a valuable source of entertainment. He's wild, eccentric, unapologetically himself, and unquestionably charismatic. These are all traits Kid can't help but take notice of. They're rivals before everything else, so he wouldn't be inclined to refer to Luffy as being his friend, but he at least finds him more endearing than the rest of the Worst Generation.

Two. Luffy was the first and currently only pirate to speak of becoming the Pirate King with the same conviction that Kid has used to make the same claim. They both share a similar level of assertiveness, and an unwavering determination. When Kid had spoken of his ambitions in the past, it had been met with ridicule; to hear Luffy recite the same lines with equal resolution was both refreshing and startling. He was the first person to ever mirror his own unwavering ambition, and though that did automatically pin him as the rival he would need to be the most cautious of, it also resulted in an unspoken degree of understanding and connection. They both want the same thing, and never has Kid met anyone so equally determined to get it.

Bonus. Kid finds the fact that Luffy's body has the properties of rubber to be kind of weird, and he's slightly grossed out by that sometimes. He doesn't always address it because he doesn't want to come across as being a wuss, but there have been a few times where Luffy has demonstrated a particular ability his elasticated body can perform, and Kid has internally thought "Ew, that's nasty."

[trifle-of-doom]

The Hawk X Demetri Manifesto

Okay, here is the thing. Despite being well past my teens, there's a particular ship of Cobra Kai that has drawn my attention, this ship being Hawk/Eli x Demetri. When I first watched the show, I was actually more invested in the adult characters storylines than the teens. I immediately rooted for Johnny and Carmen, and I was always hoping for more interactions between them. But then I saw episode 2x05, in which the atmosphere between the Binary Brothers becomes way more dense, and that's when I started to see some potential for them. Not because I'm a deranged person who fosters abusive relationships, but because I immediately caught the hurt/comfort dynamic of the duo, which is something that works really well when it comes to fictional relationships. However, it wasn't until 3x10 that I said, "Ok, that's official, I need to see more of these two! I totally support them!" And I was quite surprised to find a fairly large amount of people who are very committed to this pairing, to the point it's caught the attention of the screenwriters/producers as well. Honestly, I don't know if the showrunners will ever have the guts to make them an official couple, and chances are their supporters will have to keep reading between the lines of their bromance, but in any case, here is my take on why Hawk/Eli x Demetri is an option worth to be considered.

#1 - The Bromance

If there's something that many years of navigating the Internet taught me, is that the main driving factor for fan-made ships is the presence of either a solid relationship based on mutual brotherly love or a bitter rivalry that may or may not flow into hate/obsession. If you consider anime fandoms, there are thousand examples that fit into either of these categories: Yugi and Jonouchi from the Yu-Gi-Oh series (yes, that's how old I am), Yugi and Kaiba from Yu-Gi-Oh, Sakuragi and Rukawa from Slam Dunk, Light and L from Death Note, etc. And our Hawk and Demetri fit into both categories. When we first see them, they are the stereotypical nerdy friends (possibly childhood friends?) sitting at the losers' table, who have no one else but each other. When Eli is at his most sensitive and fragile, you can tell he feels comfortable being with Demetri by the genuine smile he has on his face as Demetri is joking with Miguel at the canteen table. Through his sarcasm, the mouthy kid acts as a catalyst to deviate the attention from Eli, speaking for him, reprimanding Johnny when he makes fun of his lip and trying to make him feel safe. Besides, you can see a certain degree of frustration in Demetri when Kyler and his gang are harassing Eli, and he's unable to do anything to defend him. And they even have a jingle for their friendship with a robot dance, I mean, how cute is that? But of course, a solid friendship between two helpless nerdy guys is not enough to spark a ship to be rooting for. In order for the magic to happen, another key ingredient is needed, i.e. a little bit of angst. Which brings us straight to the next point.

#2 - The Angst (aka the Hurt/Comfort Dynamic)

Even though I never liked the Twilight saga or any similar urban fantasy young adult works, I can easily see where the appeal comes from; the attraction to a charming, dangerous person who could either protect you from any harm or crush you like grape. Although with different franchises, I wasn't immune to the bad boy trope either (Yes, I'm looking at you, my teenage self drooling over Grimmjow from Bleach). If we can appreciate the genuine, brotherly friendship between nerdy Eli and Demetri, the shift that Eli makes as he transitions into Hawk and becomes more aggressive and dominant gives their relationship a totally different flavor. Attrition sparks a certain tension that, in the viewer's eyes, could either flow into a brawl or into passion.

During the mall fight, Demetri comes to the realization that his former best friend is actually someone who can crush him like grape. We see Hawk intentionally harming him for the first time, and Demetri's heartbreaking expression as he drops the line: "You'd actually hurt me?" And if that line gave us a pang in our hearts when we first watched Season 2, imagine rewatching it now that we know what happens in Season 3. Demetri is chased down the mall, running for his life, and then he's locked in a grip, as his best friend menacingly advances towards him. Demetri appears as the damsel in distress, however his friend is not the one who will fight to protect him, but rather his tormentor.

During the party at Moon's, Demetri manages to briefly go through Hawk's mask and reach out to Eli, thanks to a casual conversation about Dr Who. But then the beer incident happens, and Demetri defends himself with the only weapon he has – his loudmouth. The situation is reversed, and for a brief moment, he gets to be the dominant one as he discloses all Eli's most intimate secrets. Demetri is now actively contributing to the Hurt/Comfort dynamic; he's no longer just a target, but he's doing his part to enlarge that gaping hole that has formed between them. And Hawk didn't take it well.

From this moment on, Demetri becomes a sort of obsession to Hawk, who hunts him down the school, teasing him and taunting him sadistically, like a serial killer from a horror movie, during the big fight. Of course, in real life, this would be completely insane, and the police/a social assistant/psychiatrist should be called, but in ShipLand, these situations are pure gold. Okay, we get it, Hawk wants to get revenge for the humiliation at the party, and he wants to crush that nerd part of himself he sees in Demetri, but he does it with such an intensity that it borders on ridiculous. It's like this is his twisted way to acknowledge Demetri's presence. Eventually, Hawk ends up smashed into the trophy case, and I confess I felt a little disappointed when Demetri broke that hug to give Hawk a roundhouse kick. I mean, it was a great comeback, but I was sincerely hoping for a "No hard feelings man, let's get outta here!" scenario.

Getting back to the sick and twisted way Hawk acknowledges Demetri's presence, he destroys his science project after he got jealous due to him being confident in his nerd self and laughing around with his ex girlfriend (whom the writers insist he still has a crush on). Speaking of Moon, I have a feeling she likes Hawk mostly based on his badass appearance. Remember when she goes "I like this (mohawk) and I love these (muscles), but I'm not dating a bully"?

Then the football match happens. Okay, let's break this down. Demetri trips Hawk and acts all sassy, and a fellow Cobra Kai is immediately ready to take him down, but Hawk stops him. "Fight smart, he says". Too bad that literally 5 seconds earlier he had shoved a kid to the ground just because his ex girlfriend (again, duuuh~) ignored him when he winked at her. And then, as he's trying to intercept the ball, BANG, Hawk hits Demetri, sending him to the ground, pretending it was an accident. So, what does this tell us? That Hawk has some serious anger management issues? Yeah sure, but also that he cares about fighting smart only as long as it serves as an excuse to leave Demetri for him, because he's his designated target. Again, this is all but romantic, and it doesn't necessarily have to be interpreted as him lusting after his friend, but it's undeniable that this dynamic offers a lot of ship fuel.

The arm breaking thing is just too painful to even analyze. We see a completely helpless Demetri begging for mercy to his ex best friend, who has made No Mercy his life motto. And that scream, oh that scream. All I wanted to see was Hawk realizing what he had done and throwing himself on his knees while begging for forgiveness. But I'm glad that at least we get to see he feels awful for what he's done, and I like to think that, as he got home, Eli cried out all the tears he had in his body thinking about poor Demetri at the hospital, with a swollen broken arm, all because of him. Of all the situations, this is undoubtedly the most deranged and extreme, and if something like this happened in real life, the wrongdoer would deserve to be punished and would definitely need to be sent to therapy. But in ShipLand, this opens the road to many, many different scenarios, in which the bully understands his mistakes and shifts back to the good side, or the two share a tender moment after they reconcile, or the traumatized character has to to learn to trust the other one again, or the bully becomes overprotective of his former victim, etc.

#3 - A Rewarding Reconciliation

Finally, we come to the reconciliation, in which Hawk makes his heel-to-face turn. While we've seen him torn with doubt for an entire season about his sensei's teachings, his actions and the people he wants to surround himself with, the key factor that drives Hawk's redemption is the sight of his best friend being held down for him to beat. And with an epic stunt and his awesome KEEEH screech, Hawk jumps to the rescue of his friend. Like many of us, Demetri thought this was still part of the "Only I Can Torment Him" dynamic I discussed earlier, as he steps backwards a little concerned, but then he understands that action was actually meant to save him, and the two begin to fight side by side, in sync, watching each other's back. You can see Demetri's eyes sparkling at the thought of having his friend back.

Also, not only Demetri stands up to alpha bitch Tory in defense of Eli, but he also speaks for his friend when he's faltering, just like he used to. So kudos for Demetri.

#4 - The Red Oni, Blue Oni Dynamic

Binary Brothers are two sides of the same coin and complete each other with opposite character traits, visually expressed by the color red and the color blue. Being the color red typically associated with violence, rage, passion and irrationality, as opposed to blue, which is associated with calmness, melancholy and rationality, red is clearly the dominant color. Again, this opens many interesting scenarios for shippers.

#5 - Body Language

Besides the situations I described above, which may or may not be read from a romantic/attraction standpoint, there are also a collection of small gestures I noticed when rewatching the series with a more attentive look on their relationship.

- Demetri's heart-broken expression when Eli shamefully covers his lip during the anti-bullying announcement.

- The smile Demetri gives when Hawk responds "Hell yeah!" after Aisha proposes to crash Yasmin's party, implying he's learning to embrace this new wild side of his best friend

- The astonished look with which Demetri watches Hawk at the tournament and the way he's pissed no one knows his real name.

- How deeply hurt Demetri is when Hawk belittles him by saying: "Five against three. More like two and a half." He even tries to reply, but he's caught so off guard that words die in his throat.

- How Demetri takes a step towards Hawk during the mall fight, before Sam makes him back off, and how sadly he looks at Hawk's nearly unconscious body after Robby defeated him.

- How Demetri smiles and nods when he briefly connects with Eli at Moon's party, despite the mall incident.

- How Hawk watches Demetri juggle with the cleaning product from behind his bike helmet (how did he stuff the mohawk in there by the way)?

- Hawk's psychotic/sadistic faces when he smells Demetri's blood, and how he likes to hunt him down like he's his prey.

- Hawk's secret impulse to comfort Demetri after the arm breaking (I hope you get nightmares of Demetri's howl of pain for the rest of your life, Hawk).

- The way Hawk twitches his upper lip when he sees his friend Demetri in danger.

- How Hawk and Demetri are so absorbed in their new-found friendship, that they're caught off guard, and Demetri swings Hawk to allow him to deliver a kick using their handshake as a lever. And how they keep fighting together, shaking each other's hands even when they're out of focus and the attention is on Miguel vs. Kyler.

- How they're standing so close at Miyagi Do, in comparison with the other Red/Blue partners.

In conclusion, this kind of relationships are engaging and entertaining to watch, and they make us wish the best for the characters. They make us hope that, in the end, as Miguel puts it, love really conquers all (and what is friendship if not a form of love?), despite all the hurt they did to each other.

So this is it. I hope you enjoyed my Ted Talk. Feel free to share it with whomever you want, especially if you need some solid reasons why this ship has got some good potential.

And remember: the ship is in the eye of the beholder.

F.

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part eight

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

A/N: So here’s part eight!! It’s the first of two parts I’m dedicating to the Origins of the OC character. It explains her ties to Vought and the reason why she’s plotting against them. There is no Black Noir in this chapter :( but it’s important for the story. The next chapter will explain her connection to Mallory, and then after that you’ll be seeing much more interaction with our boy Black Noir!!

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

    Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

The Beginning

That night she found herself running in her dreams, just as she did every time she let herself sleep. It always revolved around the beginning of it all, the birth of what plagued her and would haunt her for the rest of her life. She always found herself back at square one, Vought Laboratories.

When she’d been diagnosed with a rare form of immune disease, her parents had been devastated at the lack of resources or therapies available. They’d do anything for her, and they scoured the country’s best hospitals and universities for medicines and potential therapies. Greg and Tara wanted their little girl cured, they wanted her to get a chance at life.

Finally, they found an experimental drug going through clinical trials that might’ve proved successful in correcting the genetic error that was triggering her immune system into attacking her own cells. A team of recruiters from Vought had approached them one day at a hospital, while she’d been getting ready for a check-up. They said they’d investigated her case and had spots available in their trials should she want to try it out. Since the medicine was still under observation, they could only assure an 85% rate of success, and at a lower price. They visited their home multiple times with fliers, power points and data. They assured her parents of the drug’s safety. While it worked in 85% of the patients it never demonstrated any kind of risk or dangerous counter effects. Her parents stayed skeptical for many months, asking questions, and raising concerns, but what ultimately pushed them was their daughter’s heart failure and hospitalization.

She was nine at the time. And as her time quickly diminished, Greg and Tara hurried and signed her up for the program. The experts and physicians at Vought visited her and gathered all of her information before quickly drafting the appropriate dosage for her. She’d have to stay at Vought Laboratories’ clinic far from the city, isolated from the outside world. They had explained this by pointing out the fragile state of her immune system, and the need for her to recover in a safe environment. Lies, so many lies.

The first months went by smoothly, and while she missed her parents, the little girl played with her new friends enjoying the renewed energy coursing through her body. She could run again, and dance and hop without needing to lie down. She could see her parents through a glass window during visitation day every week and they, too, felt relief when they saw her so lively, so different from the pale, skeletal figure she’d been after her hospitalization. Tara felt horrible over the first weeks of not having her at home, not being able to care for her and simply hold her daughter. But when she saw her on the other side of the glass pane, she couldn’t imagine stripping this opportunity away from her.

“Mommy, mommy, look,” the little girl would call while twirling and running around the room, jumping in excitement.

Tara pressed her hand against the glass, eyes brimmed with tears.

“Yes, honey, I see—you’re so strong now.”

The little girl just nodded enthusiastically.

A year later is when the trouble started. She had almost reached the end of therapy when she was moved to another section of the clinic with another small group of kids ranging from about ten to fourteen years old. They were shown a power point explaining their purpose in the project. She hadn’t understood at that time, but she now knew what they meant to say was “guinea pigs.” Basically, the drugs they had been taking had modified certain sequences in their genome in a way that diverged from other subjects. They wanted to understand why, as well as see how far they could go. They concluded by saying that they might end up with powers.

Now, superheroes already existed even though they weren’t yet such an important trademark. But people believed they were born that way. And here you had scientists telling young, impressionable children that they could develop powers even though they weren’t born with them. One can only imagine how they awaited with glee for the program to start.

The children saw their parents less and less, and this was explained by their busy schedule of medical visits, tests, activities, school, and sports which were all provided in this secluded, isolated section of the clinic. What they were actually doing was being subjected to insane amounts of physical and psychological stress. Now the drug had proceeded to cure and further improve their cell genes, but there was a need for an environmental stressor to induce the mutation’s manifestation. They had to wake these new, dormant genes, and for this reason they did atrocious things.

One kid, Norman, presented a gene that is found in organisms that can breathe underwater. They proceeded to force him underwater and keep him there until he was on the brink of drowning.

Another one, Chloe, was thought to be able to heal as her genome held a gene commonly found in animals capable of regrowing a limb, such as lizards. They cut, burned, and maimed her for results.

Some of the children ended up developing a reaction to the duress, awakening their evolved genes. Others died from the intensity of the physical torture. And of those who successfully became enhanced, only few ultimately survived due to the instability of their mutation.

A comment frequently noted by the physicians when taking the patients’ parameters was that the reaction, the gene’s manifestation tended to grow stronger and stronger ‘till it became unsuitable for life. In other words, it ended up killing the host.

Greg and Tara’s little girl too endured the process to achieve greatness, as they had called it. And at first, she’d been enthusiastic, dreaming of becoming a superhero. She stayed up late after-hours skimming through comic books brought in by the therapists. Only later would she understand they had preyed on their naivety and dreams. The children grew obsessed with becoming like the characters in the comic books. The little boys dreamed of becoming like Homelander, and the little girls dreamed of flying.

Greg and Tara couldn’t know that their little one, instead of learning in class, spent her morning being constantly electrocuted. The physicians had high hopes for her and projected that she’d be able to conduct great amounts of energy through her body without burning or dying from electrocution. Her feet in freezing cold water, she sat in a hard, metal chair with a wired contraption wrapped over her forehead.

Every day, she was subjected to shocks of increasing intensity. They talked of “jerking her awake,” hoping that the right shock would trigger her genes into working against the effects of the shock. Finally, one morning, the pain subsided, and she began to absorb the energy rather than try to escape it. It felt odd to her, a warmth pervading her completely. The physicians were beyond content, they were amazed by her abilities. She was a success. They quickly learned she was able to absorb different forms of energy and transfer it. She practiced sticking a finger in an electrical socket before touching the objects laid in front of her. Immediately, the object would fly away, scalding hot.

But the initial glee of having powers slowly faded away, and the girl who was turning twelve wanted it to be over. She just wanted to go home. She yearned to call her mommy and daddy to come and take her away, and every time she saw a cell phone laying around, she subconsciously moved towards it. Unfortunately, she didn’t know their numbers.

She talked about it with the clinic’s therapist.

“Why is this coming up now? Is something wrong?”

The girl fidgeted in her seat, “I just want to go home.”

The therapist gave her a stretched smile, cold and far too wide.

“I understand you miss your mommy and daddy, but you have to stay so we can make sure you’re okay.”

She whined, “But I’m doing better.”

“I know, honey, but—”

The little girl grew fussy and cut her off, “I want my mommy.” When the therapist began to comfort her with empty promises, that distinct feeling of total warmth spread throughout her body. Her eyes shined a light blue, like lasers ready to sizzle anything in front of her, and the therapist immediately stopped speaking.

“There’s no need for that, we’ll set up a visitation day,” she quickly granted, gathering her folder and leaving the room.

The girl grew increasingly aggressive and wouldn’t allow the physicians to touch her. She didn’t want anyone but her parents.

When the day finally came, her parents were ecstatic to see and spend some time with her after two weeks of not being able to contact her. The therapy had worked, and they were thankful to Vought, but what they saw that day haunted the last few minutes of their lives. Their daughter looked ghastly, caramel skin chalky and dry. Her eyes were tired and dark bags hung under her eyes. To her mother’s horror, she looked as sick as her days in and out of hospitals before Vought’s medications. Tara pressed her hand to the glass, tears running down her face. The little girl immediately ran up to the glass, speaking fast.

“Please, I wanna go home,” she pleaded over and over, like a mantra of desperate hope.

Her father grew agitated and turned on her therapist who was also in the room to smooth things over. Certain things couldn’t be said and leave the building. It would bring the world’s ethics community down on all of their heads. This was worse than pumping Compound V into newborns. This was altering children’s DNA and torturing the survivors into an enhanced state of being.

“What happened to her? She was doing so well,” he exclaimed.

“Mr. Stacker, please there is no need to yell,” his face twisted in anger as she continued, “She has been rejecting the medications, we believe she hasn’t been taking them regularly as she’s supposed to.”

“She’s almost twelve, you’re supposed to check that she does that.”

The little girl was crying at this point, banging her little fists soundlessly against the glass.

“Mommy, help me.”

The therapist tried to grab the distressed parents’ attention, “If you could follow me, we can talk about this in more detail.”

“We can do that here,” Greg countered, “we’ve been here for not even five minutes and our daughter is crying out to us—you think we’ll just leave her?”

“No, sir—I just assumed—”

The girls pleading voice cut through her parents’ hearts, “They’re hurting me.”

Her father stared at her. What had they done? The choice had been difficult and ultimately, they decided between the therapy and her disease, between life and death. But if they were hurting her for all this time, it wasn’t life. It was solitary pain.

Tara was crying as she too turned on the therapist who wasn’t sure how to save the situation. Her father firmly stated what they’d both already decided, “We’re taking her home.”

“But sir, you signed a contract—”

“I don’t give a damn, she’s coming home—we can bash this out in court if you care about this contract that much.” He leaned closer, “But I’m sure you don’t want this whole project leaked, do you? What are you actually doing here?”

The therapist plucked her com from her pocket and quickly spoke into it, “We need security in visitation room number nine, I repeat, visitation room number nine.”

Tara erupted, “What do you mean security? You can’t take us away from her.”

“Like I was trying to say, the contract—"

The distressed mother screamed, “We don’t give a fuck about the contract—fucking sue us.”

And then all mayhem erupted. Four security guards burst into the room and quickly grabbed a hold on the two parents, trying to cuff them. Tara looked back at the little girl as they resisted.

“We’ll get you baby, okay? Marianna, look at me, you’re coming home.”

Her father punched a guard before being hit in the ribs with a baton. He fell to the floor and they were all onto him, beating and beating, not giving him the chance to stand back up. Tara screamed and tried to pry them from her husband before one swung at her and pushed her into a corner. The therapist quickly fled the scene, her heels clicking away.

The little girl watched and watched, and when she saw her father stop moving, when she saw her mother being tossed away, something snapped. It was like her center shifted, and an all-consuming anger pervaded her senses, taking over.

It happened so fast, her eyes lighting up, the building shaking, then the shattering blast.

When the dust finally settled, there was nothing left but a crater and a little girl lying amid the smoke and ashes. Curled up in a ball, shivering, she was the bomb still intact. She was the eye of the storm.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 ​  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx

[yepiamthesmileyface]

sick/injured fic) + 56 (awful first meeting) = 83 (this fic)!

CW: vomiting, sick fic (not covid19 related), vaguely h*rny tho*ghts, overuse of em-dashes and parentheses

Arthur sniffles, wiping his nose on his sleeve irritably. He is not sick, no matter what his uncle may have implied when he clocked in. If he was actually sick, he wouldn’t have come to work (read, wouldn’t have been able to come to work). He isn’t sick, because being sick is the worst, and if he were sick, he would have to bundle up even more in the already-sweltering Texas summer, and he would have to lie in bed all day, not doing anything, just sitting there alone with his thoughts and  —  no. Just…no.

So, no. He isn’t sick. If only his stupid runny nose would just get the memo. He swipes at his nose with his sleeve again, bracing himself on the sun-heated frame of the car he’s in the middle of fixing. The engine in front of him swims a little. He blinks hard, trying to force the details to sharpen back into focus. It doesn’t exactly work.

“Get it together, Kingsmen,” Arthur growls to himself, shaking his head to clear it. He only succeeds in making himself feel steadily dizzier, swaying on his feet as he clutches at the metal with growing desperation.

A large, warm hand touches his shoulder lightly. The beautiful, smooth baritone of the most handsome man Arthur has ever seen (seriously, it’s unfair that anyone should be allowed to be that attractive, he reminds Arthur of the few pictures of Michelangelo’s David he’s seen online, but if David had a fluffy pink pompadour and warm, tawny brown skin but was still completely gigantic and could probably pick Arthur up with one hand  —  customer, he is a customer, Arthur is trying to fix his car for money, this is not the time to develop a crush on a stranger  —) sounding from behind him, audibly concerned. “Hey, are you feeling okay?”

Arthur blinks again, trying to make sense of the man’s words, then turns to tell the hot customer that he’s just fine, thanks. But as he turns around and opens his mouth, his stomach rolls. Arthur barely has time to get his head down so he doesn’t vomit on Hot Customer’s chest and  — vomits directly onto the man’s pristine purple converse. Arthur stumbles away, spluttering and choking out half-formed apologies along with more bile and the remains of the cold pizza he managed to force down for breakfast. His knees buckle, and he collapses to his hands and knees a bare few steps away, retching and coughing.

Hot tears sting his eyes as bile stings his throat, humiliation and pain a double edged sword cutting straight through him. He heaves one more time, a trickle of bile burning out of his throat. Far too late, his stomach settles a little.

As much as he wants to curl up in a ball and never come out, or perhaps sprint away and run out into the desert never to be found again, he forces himself to stand and face the customer, shaking like a leaf. “H-holy fuck I’m s-so sorry, I’m so fucking so-sorry, I  —”

Hot Customer steps forward, his shoes making an unpleasant squish that both of them wince at. He pauses for a second, kicking off his vomit-soaked shoes and socks before continuing forward barefoot. He reaches out a little, hesitating before putting a bracing hand on Arthur’s shoulder, steadying his shaky, swaying stance. “It’s…it’s okay. Let’s get you somewhere where you can sit down, it’s okay.” His voice is about a pitch higher, disgust evident in the curl of his lips, but his hand is steady and firm, and Arthur can’t help but lean into the touch.

“I’m so  — so sorry,” Arthur blurts again, wiping at his mouth. “God, I can’t  — I li-literally can’t apo-apologize en-enough, I’m  — I didn’t  —  didn’t even th-think I was  —”

Hot Customer steers him towards the garage, an arm around his shoulders (and Arthur’s not quite so far gone in his haze of guilt and horror and dizziness that he can’t feel how well-muscled said arm is). “It’s okay, I promise. It’s not the first time someone’s vomited on me,” he tries to joke.

Arthur just shuts his eyes, shame flooding every inch of him as he is led back towards the office, fighting back tears the whole way.

Distantly, he can hear the bell above the door jingle, Hot Customer making quiet conversation with Lance, who sounds pissed-off-but-secretly-worried (Arthur is very good at reading the different nuances of pissed off in his uncle’s voice). He staggers over to collapse in one of the chairs set out for waiting customers, leaning over to put his head between his knees, letting the sounds wash over him in unintelligible waves.

After a few moments that stretch out like hours, his head stops spinning quite as much. It’s enough for him to make out his uncle, who sounds much closer now than he was a minute ago, say archly, “Not sick, huh?”

“Sorry, Uncle Lance…” Arthur groans, not picking his head up.

Lance clears his throat, the awkward grimace audible. “Go lie down in the breakroom, I’ll give ya a ride home once this is dealt with. I don’t trust ya behind a wheel right now.”

Arthur groans again, curling up tighter. The whole scenario is making him feel like he’s back in high school, and he’d dropped out of high school for a reason. “‘m fine, really…just need a bit of a break, ‘s all…”

“Do I need’ta take you back to my house t’make sure you actually rest?” Lance threatens.

Arthur’s eyes fly wide, and he sits up straight, immediately listing to the side as his head violently protests. “N-no, I’m  — Uncle Lance, that’s n-not  —”

“Those are your options, kid. You’re not gonna work yourself through this shit. Whether you recover at my place or your apartment.”

The blush still staining Arthur’s cheeks deepens a few shades, and he can’t stop himself from glancing over at the amazingly attractive man whose shoes Arthur just ruined. Michelangelo’s-David-But-Hotter is standing a few feet away, typing on his phone, clearly trying to give them some privacy. His bare feet stand out like a sore thumb against the rest of his immaculate appearance (for fuck’s sake, he is wearing a waistcoat). The sting of mortification rises to a higher peak, and Arthur, finally, just nods.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. He falls asleep in the breakroom without even obsessing over how horribly he fucked everything up for more than a few minutes, then falls asleep again in his uncle’s truck, and then again on the rickety couch in his apartment. The next day is spent much in the same way, though he falls asleep in his bed most of the time. But on the third day, as Arthur’s fever begins to drop, there’s a knock on the door.

Arthur, wrapped in a thick comforter (after he admitted to himself that he yes,he really is sick, and subsequently stopped ignoring every signal his body sent out, the chills made themselves known with a vengeance), makes his way to the door, frowning in confusion. His foot catches the handle of a discarded screwdriver, and he pitches forward, crashing against the door. With a litany of various swears, he scrabbles to right himself, and finally manages to open the door just a crack. He peeks through and comes face to face   —   or, really, face to chest   —  with a dapper purple waistcoat. His face goes pale, then bright red as he slowly peeks up to meet the eyes of the unbelievably attractive customer whose shoes he literally vomited on.

Said customer looks torn between amusement and concern. “I…are you alright?”

“Fine!” Arthur squeaks, backing up a little and grabbing for the shattered remains of his dignity. He opens the door wider, so it looks less like he’s trying to hide (even though he definitely wants to). “I’m fine! Uh. What are…what are you doing here?”

Hot Customer looks a little sheepish, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “My parents run a restaurant here in town, and I…well, I wanted to bring you some soup?” He proffers a takeout bag.

Arthur eyes the bag, deeply confused. The logo on the front is familiar, two stylized hot peppers forming a heart. He grimaces a little, swallowing hard as he glances up at the other man. “Thanks? I   —  your parents run the Paradiso? Also, uh, I…really don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth here, but…how spicy is this….?”

Hot Customer grins at him. “Apparently, they’d already heard from your uncle that you were sick, and had an order ready to go when I asked.”

Arthur relaxes with a nod, then blurts, “Okay, why the hell are you being so nice? I literally   —  I puked on your shoes, and you’re bringing me, a stranger, soup?!”

“You’re sick, I’m not going to hold that against you. If I   — if this comes off as creepy or invasive or anything, I totally understand, but it’s not like   —  I’m not mad at you or anything.” Hot Customer (Arthur really needs to get his name, he’s not a customer of Kingsmen Mechanics anymore and while he is hot-with-a-capital-H, it feels weird to mentally refer to him as Hot Guy) shrugs a little, offering the bag again.

Arthur stares at him for a moment, dumbfounded, then reaches out to take the bag. Their fingers brush as Hot Customer hands it over, and Arthur has to fight down a blush, with arguable success. “I’m   —  I’m Arthur.”

Hot Customer beams at him. “I’m Lewis. It’s nice to meet you.”

Arthur hesitates. “I…I’d invite you in, but it’s kinda messy and I’m still a little sick…”

Hot Customer   —  Lewis   —  shakes his head, his smile still at full force and full beauty. “If you honestly want company, I’ve got something of an iron immune system. And, well, I’m used to a little mess.”

Arthur nods again, stepping back so Lewis can come in. He quickly kicks the screwdriver away from the door, sending it spinning off towards the wall. “It’s a bit more than a little mess, dude.”

Lewis takes a step in and scans the room, and Arthur has the sudden, panicky urge to shove him back out into the hallway and slam the door, immediately hyper-aware of every tool, nut, bolt, screw, empty pizza box, and dirty item of clothing in his living room. He draws his blanket cape tighter around him, shuffling further in. “Uh. I’ll   — if you gimme a minute I can clear off the couch, or   — I do have a table in the kitchen, actually, I   —”

Lewis shakes his head, glancing at him amusedly. “Seriously, it’s fine. I have both my own apartment and three little sisters, I’ve got no room to judge you over your place being a mess right now.”

Arthur shrugs, shutting the door behind him and facing down the irrevocability of hot guy In his messy apartment with a twisting stomach. At least, Arthur’s desperately hoping it’s just the anxiety twisting his stomach. Vomiting on Lewis again would be the absolute worst possible second impression. “I just  —  I feel like I should apologize, I mean…I literally puked on your shoes, like, the minute we met, and now you come over and find out that no, I just live like this  —”

Lewis, apparently entirely unconcerned with the state of Arthur’s apartment, begins carefully picking his way over to the couch, sitting down and  — starting to stack the mess of mugs and empty takeout containers on the low table in front of it. “Arthur, I know we don’t really know each other, but…you’re sick, I’m not going to take the state of your apartment mid-illness as a reflection of how it usually is.”

Arthur decides against informing the hottest guy he’s ever seen in his entire life that no, his apartment is normally like this, and clears his throat. It turns to a few dry coughs, but he’s able to fight those back pretty quickly. He sets the takeout in the newly-cleared space on the table in front of the couch and flees to the kitchen. He grabs a spoon from the dishwasher and takes a moment to put his face in his hands, try not to hyperventilate, and wonder what the hell he thinks he’s doing.

Momentary freakout over with and armed with a spoon, Arthur heads back out to the living room, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from Lewis and toeing a dirty sock under the couch. The rickety couch creaks ominously under their combined weight, and Arthur holds his breath, but it settles in comfortably. Arthur lets out a sigh, putting the container of soup in his lap and prying the lid off. He hesitates, chewing on his lips and glancing at Lewis, who’s started to look a little awkward, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt sleeve. “So, um…your parents run the Paradiso?”

Lewis’s wide smile comes back, and Arthur has the immediate, all-consuming realization that he would do literally anything to make Lewis smile at him like that. “They do! I…didn’t move here with them because I was still in culinary school at the time, and it’s…a bit of a commute,” he chuckles, and Arthur goes bright red.

He eats some of his soup to give his poor heart a moment to steady, the spice simmering just below the upper reaches of his tolerance level. “You’re going to culinary school?”

“Just graduated, actually! That’s why I’m here, in Tempo. My parents want me to work at the Paradiso for a bit, and keep an eye on the girls.”

“That’s  —  that’s really neat. And really nice of you to move down to Tempo, of all places, so you can keep an eye on your sisters.”

Lewis smiles at him and shakes his head fondly. “They’re handfuls, really. But what about you?”

I’d like to get a good handful of you, Arthur’s traitorous brain murmurs appreciatively. His face flames, and he ducks his head quickly. “I’ve  —  I’ve lived here since I was twelve, and I work at my uncle’s garage. That’s  —” he clears his throat, a fresh wave of anxiety bubbling up. “That’s pretty much it. I’m not all that interesting, sorry.”

Lewis scoffs a little, leaning towards him. “C’mon, I’m sure that’s not true!”

Arthur, now desperate to change the topic and escape from the awkward air his self-deprecation sparked, glances around the room frantically. His eyes land on the TV, and he clears his throat again. “So, um…what kind of movies do you like?”

It’s utterly astonishing to Arthur that despite everything, he and Lewis end up talking for hours. The topic shifts from movies to video games to music to collectables to pets (when Galaham woke up and immediately began to demand his freedom, wheeling around his enclosure loudly) to anime. The soup goes cold in his lap as they talk, almost completely ignored.

They’re in the middle of a debate on whether magical girl animes are better (Lewis) or mecha animes are better (Arthur) when Lewis’s phone begins to ring. Lewis takes the call with a small frown and a hand raised to call timeout, switching to rapid-fire Spanish.

Arthur waits, only catching every fourth word or so (languages have never been his strong suit, and he only took two and a half years of Spanish in high school). After a minute or so, Lewis hangs up and glances at Arthur, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “My mamá  wants me back home so I can babysit.”

Arthur’s stomach sinks, but he nods, pasting on a crooked smile. “No problem, dude. Thanks for the soup and the company.”

Lewis stands up and holds out his hand. “Give me the soup, I’ll heat it up for you.”

Arthur startles, suddenly remembering the soup in his lap. “Oh! Right, yeah. You don’t have to do that, I can do it myself…”

Lewis shakes his head firmly. “You’re sick, I’m not going to make you get up and microwave it when I’m here and already up.” He reaches for the soup in Arthur’s lap, and Arthur’s brain short-circuits.

To save himself the embarrassment, Arthur hastily hands Lewis the soup. As Lewis heads to the kitchen, Arthur presses the blankets to his face and lets out a soft whine that wants to be a scream. He handed Lewis the soup because he wanted to avoid the fantasies that would come from Lewis reaching for his lap with that fond smile, but they’re bubbling up in his mind anyway.

Lewis comes back into the living room with the now-steaming container of soup and that affectionate smile. He puts it down on the table in front of Arthur, then hesitates, visibly bracing himself. Arthur braces himself for a comment on the weird scream Lewis probably heard, or his creepy behavior, or a gentle letdown that Lewis is straight, but, instead, Lewis blurts out, “Can I get your number?”

Arthur blinks, bemused, and his smile grows. “Sure? I mean, how else am I gonna win this argument?”

Lewis laughs, just a little louder than the rest of the ones Arthur’s heard. He pulls out his phone and hands it down. “Yeah, right. I’m not budging on this one, Art. Here, put your number in.”

Arthur quickly saves his number, hesitating for a brief, agonizing moment before putting his name in simply as Arthur. Just because he was kinda-maybe-sorta flirting for the last few hours doesn’t mean Lewis was, too. Lewis probably thought they were having a friendly conversation and nothing more, so putting a heart after his name was both terrifyingly presumptuous and completely inappropriate. Of course, none of that stopped it from being a tempting idea.

He hands Lewis’s phone back with a grin. “Text me when you can. I’ve got nothing better to do and we’ve got a score to settle here.”

Lewis smiles back, and there’s something in his eyes that Arthur can’t quite place, something almost heated. “Talk to you later, Art.”

[thatvl]

V/SEX: Artist Khalil Tells ALL about sex, relationships, and so much more!

C: KHALIL… KHALIL… KHALIL, Welcome to V-Sex, I’m so excited that you’re here with me for this interview!

K: Thank you for having me.

C: First, tell the people a little about who you are?

K: Well, I'm 29 from Dallas Tx I'm a cornbread fed southern gentleman, southern hospitality guaranteed ya dig . King AQUARIUS ♒ who just happens to be a VU Music Entertainer from 2013 till now.

C: Ok ok I’m a southern man myself so we’re here for all of this. So, you’re considered to be a sex icon. In your music, you never shy away from sex or sexuality - so my first question is, have you always been a sexual person or is it more of a career persona?

K: It's definitely all me I like to be more of a sexual being it's my esthetic. Some guy's wanna be hard, wanna be tough, whatever but for me, I like to be a fantasy. So, I show it in my music and on stage. Erotica has been something I've always been infatuated with. So, I'm the art of kama sutra type, I like to engage the mind before I explore the body.

C: YESSSS! You know I read often about Kama Sutra. For the readers who do not know, Kama Sutra is defined as a sexual technique that explains how to engage in sexual activity and behavior that is centered around sexuality, eroticism, and emotional fulfillment. Now that you mentioned that, I can say that I totally see that translated in your music. Have you ever tried any Kama Sutra positions in the bedroom?

K: All the time. I'm a pleaser type, so my partner whomever that maybe, male or female cause I don't discriminate, will have the joys of sensual, explicit explorations of different positions that stimulate . So if they want me to dominate I will take that path, but I can be a but submissive too it just depends.

C: OK Mr. Khalil, look at you taking them down the path of pleasure and orgasmic bliss. Let me tell the readers, GET INTO IT, Kama Sutra will take you to many places of pleasure LOL. But, back to your life a little bit. I remember you told me that you were a stripper, what was the experience like and what made you want to strip?

K: It was a wonderful experience I never had a horror story. I'm not conceited, but I loved being just lusted after not gone lie. I did it for studio time cause at that time I wasn't in the industry, but I did have a chance to mix and mingle with different women all over the industries. Sororities, Music, TV, Modeling, etc. I met executive women all over, who I discovered each had a different desire. It was a job but tbh I gave the ladies what they wanted. If your man wasn't treating you right, come here, I was your man tonight. If he wasn't making you feel wanted or special come here, I'ma make you feel special. It was fun because I had a goal but I always remained professional. I was booked for everything. And, was one of the most sought out male exotic dancers in Black Reign. Which was who I was contracted through.

C: What was your stripper name?

K: Mr.MagicTongue.

C: MR. MAGIC TONGUE!? Really?

K: Mhm. I based it off my oral fixation. I'm always chewing on something. Plus it played into what I like, it's no secret I like putting my tongue,lips, and mouth on things.

C: Chile! After the mention of Kama Sutra, I believe that tongue is magical and does wonders LOL.

K: I say it all the time, my lips will do damage. I love the art of eating.

C: Noted. So, how important is sex in relationship to you?

K: It's very important because it's another form of bonding in the relationship. Two people's bodies become one it's almost like making music.

C: Absolutely. I think that’s important. I always express to my clients the benefits of sex in relationship. It’s an expression of love and appreciation, it reduces stress, builds intimacy, trust, morale, and chemistry, and there’s health benefits such as a boost in your immune systems so it’s in fact a bonding experience. Speaking of which, what was your best vu sexual experience ever? 😏

K: It was earlier in my vu life before the fame and my ex, which we started off as good friends had this burning passion for each other, where we would have sex each other anywhere. The car, bathrooms, kitchens, in public, pools, tubs you name it . We just couldn't keep our hands of each other, we vibes a lot . And had a beautiful chemistry. I remember one time we had this lil dungeon. Whips chains, chokers, sex positions the whole nine yards . We had each other soaking wet we came alot back to back. I definitely got him pregnant on several occasions lol. 😆

C: OHHH OK! Look at you, being the dungeon lol. Definitely seems like a hot experience. Especially if you’re cumming back to back. We can never be mad at that 😂 So, you have mentioned to me that you were married, with that experience, I’m curious to know, when you had sex as a married couple, was that a different experience from when y’all were just in a relationship?

K: It was a little cause we were both in the industry so a lot of time, we was always away . She was either on tour or I was on tour it seemed we could never meet in the middle. But when we did get together, we had our quality time, we definitely got it in . But it was different because we were so busy constantly.

C: Absolutely. So, what does Khalil look for in a partner and are you single?

K: I am and I look forward is consistency if you want me come get me show me . I like talking and communicating I like having fun going out I love being love . So I look for a person who is just real and honest with what they want from me . We're in a day I'm age where a little slap and tickle can only get you so far . I never was a bed hopper I always was with one person only who can give all the Daddy dick too .

C: Yes! Readers see it here first, you are strictly a monogamous man who is looking for a solid relationship. LOL that answer is going to have your inbox flooded with people shooting their shot with you. From your perspective, what are 5 tips for a perfect first date?

K: Be on time ⏲️ Make it special but also be creative. Make sure you dress sharp. Know how to have a conversation, and be a gentleman.

C: Yesss! Dating tips from Khalil. What’s next for you musically? Do you have any tours coming up? Let us know 😅

K: I'm working on a upclose & personal show where I will be doing a lot of slow contemporary Jams . It will be for the grown n sexy but i also want people to get to see a softer side . I'm working on my ep called A Black Midnight Summer which will be released in August. The ep will be like a quiet storm but it will tell a story.

FIREY ROUND OF SEX QUESTIONS ❤️‍🔥

C: I cannot wait. I’m excited for these upcoming projects! Now, the last segment that we’re about to dive into is a speed round of questions. I’ll ask you five sexy questions and you’ll answer 😉 lol.

K: Ok, shoot.

C: Do you have a nickname for your penis?

K: Steel.

C: What is Khalil’s favorite sex positions?

K: Mounting on top or mounting while I'm behind you

C: Do you remember losing your VU Virginity and what was it like?

K: Lol it was weird and a little thrilling cause we had sex in my ex’s dad's house. So that means he could of popped in or anyone.

C: Your top 5 kinks?

K: Hmmm 🤔

Role plays

Spanking\choking

Using different edibles

Porn

Sex swings

C: Do you have any personal pornos of your own??? 😅

K: I wish I definitely would show them. Probably play them on a projector on stage as I perform on of my bedroom boom cuts.

C: Favorite place and time of day to have sex?

K: Anytime and Anyplace as Janet would say. But morning sex 🌄 get you to start the day off right. The best part of waking up is dick in your butt . I heard that somewhere.

C: Well! I thank you so much for speaking with me for V-Sex, I really enjoyed this conversation with you. 😜

K: Thank you for having I really appreciate it. 🙏🏾

[thedinkyandstinkyfritzworkshop]

Covet of the Blind Eye -  Legendary Rank Member

Name: Barnabas Paternoster (suspected to be an alias due to no records of any individual called “Barnabas Paternoster” matching his description). Expressively responds to “Sir” and no other honorific.

Description: Speaks with a German accent - seems to comprehend all languages. Average height, male, muscular build (only suspected from the shape of his body against his clothes - there are no reports of him revealing any portion of his body). He commonly wears a grey torn poncho with unwatchable  (we have tried desperately - it smells so bad)  blood stains from various creatures; leather gloves and buckled boots; an Andrewsarchus hide tunic (he proclaims to have a tunic for each day of the week - made of different specimens from the Andrewsachus species); leather pants; and a leather hat similar to the fashion of fantasy witch or vampire hunters. The only portion of his face that can be witnessed is a set of two glowing eyes. Despite scientific and supernatural uses of light nothing can pierce the darkness shrouding his face. His crude and inhumane treatment of others has lead fellow members of Legendary Ranks to increase Sr. Paternoster’s quota as much as possible (he somehow completes anything in minutes without anyone seeing).

Origin : Unknown. Furthest delve into his history that could be gathered was just minutes prior to his joining Covet of the Blind Eye. Not even divine beings seem to recognize Sr. Paternoster beyond that point of history. However, any mutual investigation with Eldritch entities results with “It has always been - always is it. Now it slithers in a new skin but the same mind, as we tend to do.” Attempting to use Hoshiko’s potent supernatural abilities to uncover Sr. Paternoster’s true origins seems to results in Hoshiko going into a week - 3 month coma from severe psychological trauma. The only information that she could provide was “It will swallow everything and spit it back up.”

Responsibilities: Lead Researcher of Eldritch Entities and Overseer of Field Protocols. Publisher of the following: When to Mind Your Own Damn Business, 300 Ways to Piss Off Divines, Stop Fucking Weird Shit, & Blast Them Bastards Down.

Supernatural Qualities: Can manipulate time to his own perspective. Immune to all psychological effects (even that of Eldritch Entities). His range of telepathy is unknown, but the furthest it has recorded of him using the ability is 500ft. Can summon tentacles reaching 15ft with no effort. Despite having several deities of death sent to eliminate Sr. Paternoster, he has managed to survive unscathed.

Additional Notes: 

No longer permitted to commit an act called “A Quickie for the Thinkie” - not even if partner is consenting (all outcomes have spawned a viral species of Eldritch called Ja’Kzon from the remains of the partner). 

All interactions between Sr. Paternoster and Eldritch Entities must be supervised by members no rank less than Epic for research and security purposes. 

Forbidden from consuming or injecting any dosage of caffeine, alcohol, or prescription and illegal drugs without proper containment procedures for research purposes.

Has been known to somehow influence suicide and on rare occasions prevent it despite not having any interactions with the victim during self harming stages. 

Whenever a creature has specifically addressed him as “Jophsein” the creature would die within the day due to uncertain circumstances. Researchers have addressed him as various other names, but “Jophsien” was the only one to produce an effect. This had lead to suspicion of Barnabas Paternoster being a spawn of Jophsein.

The “One Does Not Simply Meme” does not imply a challenge. 

Only permitted to bring prepackage ice to potlucks or banquets (the last incidents of laxative/drugged beverages/foods, drug laced utensils/plates/cups, and disturbing taste in music are reason for no person accepting such items from Sr. Paternoster).

All novels and films produced by Sr. Paternoster must go through intense censorship and editing prior to publication. Displaying uncensored works by Sr. Paternoster are forbidden due to their dangerous effects on mass media (results have shown what researchers call “A Total Usurpation of the Id”). Only individuals with immunity to psychological effects are permitted to view and edit media produced by Sr. Paternoster.

Does not need a flashlight. DO NOT GIVE HIM A FLASHLIGHT (if you are at gunpoint to give him a flashlight simply accept death).

When within 15ft his presence works as a perfect power source for electronic devices.

Sometimes appears to be missing limbs. Studies have shown that similar to his ability to summon tentacles his physical form is able to mold to convenience and not restrained to a certain anatomy.

No longer allowed to replace childhood memories with famous horror scenes from the victim’s or killer’s perspective. Also not permitted to replace any memory with a scene from any pornographic film from any creature’s perspective (don’t ask - we unfortunately have to clear his search history every minute, you don’t want to know).

Despite crude and carnal behaviors Sr. Paternoster is surprisingly abstinent. Reasons for this are unknown but questioning Sr. Paternoster resulted in, “Why would I continue to impregnate something I wish could of aborted?”

[bluescreen-menchii]

Got a bad idea for a tv show for you people

Alright so the idea is that this perfectly ordinary family moves into an exceedingly haunted house that was apparently built on top of some old medieval mass gravesite next to a historically important battlefield

The ghosts that haunt this place all hate each other and are all part of wildly different time periods. Each of the ghosts constantly tries to get rid of the others, whether it be convincing the current tenants to call an exorcist or just ignoring everyone until everyone else does the same to them. Oh yea, all the ghosts hate the tenants as well but they tolerate whoever is the newest resident until one of the other ghosts decides that new guy isn’t going to help with the roommate problem and kicks the living person out. Some ideas for the ghosts and their relationships:

Medieval noble spirit who died via Black Plague. He hates everyone in the home and refuses to talk to anyone who isn’t either really rich or really important. All the other ghosts like to point out that he was dropped in a mass grave with no funeral or mourning. Outwardly hateful, racist, sexist, homophobic, etc, but to the point where it seems like he’s hiding something.

The plague doctor who was killed by some angry peasants and was also dropped in the mass grave after being mistaken for an infected body. Total recluse, hides in the basement and will do anything if you pay him enough. Also takes instructions much too literally, and once tore out someone’s eye as payment for a glasses prescription.

Military vet who died on the battlefield. Actually really nice but had a severely traumatic death that he refuses to talk about, and has a weird attachment to anything from his time period. His ghost form has several bullet holes in the side of his head which are always covered by a hat that gets changed with every new tenant.

Skateboarding teen who got murdered while the house was in construction. Acts like she never died in the first place, and bothers Medieval Noble a lot. At one point she learned how to speak Shakespearean just to see how much it would piss everyone off. Hobbies include pushing objects off tables and sticking inappropriate images wherever possible. She is one of the few ghosts who can be spotted by cameras without the camera breaking, and she takes full advantage of this.

The murderer of skateboard teen and the next ghost as well, turned out to be a construction worker who put hand drills through people’s faces. Teams up with plague doctor a lot and now resorts to petty theft and being a general annoyance instead of murder. Knows everything about the other ghost and how to use it against them, main antagonist candidate. Also very atheist, so crosses and holy symbols don’t work.

Annoyed gen-z ghost who was almost pushed off the nearly finished roof by construction murderer, instead dragged the guy down as they fell. The most sane out of all of them, probably, and would team up with whoever if they promised to get all the other ghosts to shut up for 10 minutes. Extreme introvert, and can change their face so that they look like a cosmic horror.

Some random old librarian who doesn’t even know how she got into the house. Basically your nice cookie-baking grandma who likes books, and is nice to everyone. She is the only one that Medieval Noble respects and Construction Murder refuses to torment. Don’t underestimate her, however, since she could absolutely beat your ass, corporeal or not.

The main family thinks that it’s only one ghost haunting the house, and assumes it’s some angry, resentful, malevolent spirit who is immune to exorcisms and holy objects. They used a silver mirror to try and trap the ghost once and instead got a screaming shard of glass that spouts incomprehensible quotes from Shakespeare, Edgar Allen Poe, and Cardi B in a distorted voice.

[everythingtimeless]

Historical Hour With Hilary: 1x13

If you’re still catching up from our hiatus, the old installments are here. Meanwhile, Wyatt and Rufus are heading to Hawkins, Indiana Toledo, Ohio in May 1983, era of terrible fashion, big hair, and the Cold War, in an attempt to save Jessica.

The Midwest in 1983 sounds like the opening to your favorite retro-80s-horror show on Netflix, but things were quite a bit stranger than you might think, even without the presence of the Demogorgon (or was it named Ronald Reagan? Stay tuned to find out!) Aside from the seriously questionable fashion, achievements this year included the first cell phone call being placed on October 13, 1983, from Soldier Field in Chicago, with Alexander Graham Bell’s great-grandson picking up in Germany. (AT&T had figured the technology would never get more than a million subscribers, and the researchers spent time wondering if people would actually want to walk down the street on the phone. It was clearly a different time.) A Star Wars movie with the name “Jedi” in the title was doing bank at the box office. Michael Jackson’s legendary Thriller video dropped in December ‘83. When most of us think about the eighties, that’s usually the image that comes to mind: cheesy pop culture, hair metal, spunky kids bicycling around to battle supreme evil, etc. But there was a dark side that should not be overlooked in the wave of childhood nostalgia, has direct relevance to today’s politics, and resulted in a lot more real-world evil than the Upside Down.

1983 was at the height of the Cold War, and it was also the moment that came closest to ending the world than any time since the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis -- if not even closer. On September 26, 1983, Stanislav Petrov, a 44-year-old lieutenant colonel in the Red Army, was on observation duty in Moscow, when just after midnight, the warning system lit up with news that nuclear missiles were inbound from the United States. Petrov had less than five minutes to decide if the alert was real and signal the USSR’s missiles to be launched in retaliation. As he later said, “I had a funny feeling in my gut,” and decided -- against Soviet military protocol -- that the warning systems had malfunctioned and to report it as a false alarm, which it was. To say the least, if Petrov had made the opposite decision, most or all of us would not be here today. As noted, this was at the absolute height of U.S.-Soviet tensions, nuclear holocaust was (yet again) barely averted, and yet... here we are today with the American and Russian presidents bragging about their nukes?

Great.

Why were tensions so high, you ask? Well, let’s get to the main body of this entry, otherwise known as “We Burn Down Ronald Reagan and Have a Nice Pee on the Ashes.” Because seriously, you guys. Ronnie Raygun was so terrible. Everything you dislike about the modern American right wing and/or overall political system? All the GOP’s core philosophies and the way in which the 1980s entrenched themselves as the model for the next thirty years? Well, Reagan’s your man. He has been relentlessly mythologized and honored since leaving office -- his status is close to godlike among Republicans, and he’s received plenty of deference and kowtowing from Democrats as well. His 1984 re-election victory was the most overwhelming of all time. In 2005, he beat out Lincoln and MLK Jr. for “Greatest American,” and he’s ranked highly on most lists of presidents. The cultural reverence around him is pervasive and persistent, usually supported by the idea that Reagan "won” the Cold War. (Spoiler alert: He didn’t.) He also had done everything possible to increase it beforehand, not just with his “Evil Empire” rhetoric against the Soviets, but with his constant funding of any group, anywhere in the world, that could call itself anti-communist. Spoiler alert the second: These... were not good people.

The Iran-Contra affair, in which the Reagan administration illegally sold weapons to Iranian terrorists in order to fund right-wing death squads in Central America, is just one thing you should know about the folksy everyman your grandparents (and parents) probably loved, who built his political career on a simple diet of American exceptionalism, inducing people to regard government as the enemy, and the astronomic rise of the religious right as a political force in the early 1980s. This was accurate, insofar as Reagan’s government often was the enemy. “Reagonomics,” or “trickle-down economics” (i.e. give all the money to the rich and it will “trickle down” to the lower classes) wrecked the American middle class and gave big handouts and tax breaks to the rich long before the 2017 GOP and their heinous tax bill came along. Reagan complained about government spending, and then in a few short years, managed to triple the deficit and turn America from the largest international creditor to the largest international debtor:

The fiscal shift in the Reagan years was staggering. In January 1981, when Reagan declared the federal budget to be "out of control," the deficit had reached almost $74 billion, the federal debt $930 billion. Within two years, the deficit was $208 billion. The debt by 1988 totaled $2.6 trillion. In those eight years, the United States moved from being the world's largest international creditor to the largest debtor nation.

Reagan was also responsible for the acceleration of the “War on Drugs,” the policies that massively and disproportionately convicted and incarcerated an entire generation of African-Americans, and aside from his support of constant CIA coups in Central America, promoted the genocide of Mayan Indians. His Executive Order 12333 was what set up the basis for the mass surveillance and information gathering on American citizens (which George W. Bush later amended and re-issued). He was dubbed the “Teflon President,” not as a compliment, because he would basically do whatever illegal shit he wanted and nothing would stick. As this op-ed notes, “Don’t add Reagan’s face to Mount Rushmore.” Because really, he was terrible.

Possibly nowhere is there more blood on Reagan’s hands, however, than in his handling of the AIDS crisis. The disease first appeared around 1980, and for the entirety of his presidency, Reagan never once addressed it publicly. The Center for Disease Control constantly had funding requests turned down, and got more money to fight Legionnaire’s disease (which killed less than 50 people a year) than to fight AIDS, which at its height was infecting 20,000 people a year and was essentially an instant death sentence. As exemplified by the heartbreaking story of Ruth Coker Burks, the “cemetery angel,” it is impossible to overstate the amount of fear and loathing that existed in the American mind around the very idea, and how those diagnosed were often immediately abandoned by their friends and family. Why? Well, the original name for AIDS was GRID (Gay-Related Immune Deficiency) and since it predominantly affected the gay community at first, it was viewed as a disease come to scour those good-for-nothing homosexuals out of existence. And as we have noted, Reagan enjoyed a huge amount of support from white Christian evangelicals, who had mobilized for the first time as a united political force. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 had driven them away from the Democratic Party, but they had not joined the Republicans instead. Not until when, in 1975, the federal government tried to force Bob Jones University, a fundamentalist Christian college in South Carolina, to racially integrate. This moment helped serve as the clarion call for evangelicals to get involved in politics, and vote en masse for Reagan (whose administration argued on Bob Jones’ side at the eventual Supreme Court case in 1983. You can also read more about partisan change and political behavior in evangelicals from 1960-2004. But yep. Racism!)

1983 was the year that HIV, the root cause of AIDS, was identified for the first time, and by the end of Reagan’s presidency, it had killed over 100,000 people. Reagan, however, did and said absolutely nothing about it, in order to keep his religious base of support happy. (This seems like the opportune moment to mention that the human form of the AIDS virus may have been mutated in the late 19th century, in the brutal, filthy colonial regimes in Equatorial Africa, especially those of Worst Person Leopold II of Belgium. Worth restating: Colonialism had a large role in the origin of AIDS as a human disease. It’s all right, you can take all the shots. I’m already doing them.)

So yes. Ronald Reagan was the reason for the creation of the Republican Party’s entire modern platform, and is what made the Orange Führer possible. America is still damaged and disadvantaged to this day by policies that his administration enacted, and his GOP successors reinforced. However, ask just about any politician of either party, and they’ll have nothing but praise for the Gipper.

Say, Wyatt and Rufus, you guys have any more drinks from that bar...?

Next time: Paris in 1927 with Ernest Hemingway, as well as Chicago 1931 with Al Capone, and D.C. 1954 with Joe McCarthy. Cheery!

[feyria]

Final draft for Oboru

Name:­ Oboru Namikawa

Nickname: spoiled brat and swirly

Hero Name:­ The hurricane hero, Monsoon

Age:­ 17

Gender:­ male

Sexuality:­ bisexual

Personality:­ Thanks to his parents' spoiling him, Oboru has a brattish nature that tends to come out when he's angry. Even though he has that side to him, he is normally a stoic individual, a smile rarely on his face. Devoting himself to training and trying to better himself so he can live up to All Might, Oboru can also come off as a headstrong, driven character. Even though he can be seen as annoying to some, he does have a more tolerable personality where he can be playful, looking for ways to tease his friends or convince them to spar with him. He's not very competitive but will go into a slightly depressive state when losing an important fight. Oboru can also be pretty intense when All Might is mentioned and he spends his weekends training himself and his quirk to keep the vow he made to himself when he was younger. He is not ashamed of his admiration of All Might but his body still reacts to the teasing in the form of him blushing, though he constantly ignores this. He has a great many All Might collectibles in his room which he will excitedly show off to his friends as well when given the chance.

Likes:­ anything that deals with All might will keep Oboru entertained for hours on end. He enjoys going outside during windy days, sitting on the hammock hung up in his back porch. Other times, he'll slip on his roller blades and skate around his neighborhood just enjoying the fresh air.

Dislikes:­ due to an incident when he was younger, Oboru has an intense dislike(fear) of heights. Oboru is not a fan of horror movies, both because they can scare him for a few days and also because if they aren't scary theyre just plain awful in his opinion. Braces: it was about the only thing his parents' put their foot down on and he hates the way they look on him.

Strengths:­ Oboru has endless amounts of determination, never backing down from a fight and always trying to find ways to gain an advantage. Having constantly trained with his quirk, Oboru now has great control and precision with it. Although this doesn't affect his recoil, he can determine an almost exact amount of output he can generate before it really starts affecting him.

Weaknesses:­ When angered enough, Oboru can give into the bratty nature he tries to keep under wraps, taking off on his own and getting himself into more trouble than necessary. Oboru's fear of heights hinders his chances of reaching his full potential with his quirk.

Appearance: Oboru is about 5'8", an average height for his age with a slight tan, his hair is a dark brown styled in short but tight curls, his eyes are slightly rounded and are two shades lighter than his hair like creamed coffee. The palms of his hands as well as the area around his wrists contain enlarged pores that are arranged in swirls on his skin. Theyre big enough to be seen with the naked eye and look almost like tiny holes. He has about 40 of these pores on each arm, 15 on his palms and 30 on his arms from his wrists to halfway down his forearms. Oboru has a muscular build similar to a wrestler but not overly so, as in he has a four-pack of abs and he could carry something about 100lbs with either his arms or legs. He may struggle with it though. He has relatively high cheek bones, a pointed nose and braces which he hates, choosing to smile without showing his teeth or covering his mouth when laughing.

Standard Clothes: Oboru likes to wear tank tops and short sleeved shirts with solid colors or simple patterns paired with jean shorts, loose fitting knee-length pants and various trousers. He always wears running shoes like sneakers and tennis shoes. His favorite outfit is a red shirt with burgundy short sleeves, red trousers with a dark red and orange swirled pattern on the sides and red sneakers.

Costume:­ olive green sleeveless jumpsuit with swirling patterns stitched in silver. Brown tool belt around his waist filled with all kinds of medication for dizziness and nausea as well as first aid tools. He wears brown shoes with black soles, the soles as well as the bottoms of the shoes are made with a fabric that allows air to flow freely inside it. He keeps gold rimmed aviator goggles around his neck when he's not wearing them.

Weapons/Gadgets:­ Special shoes that allow air to freely travel in and out of them, making it easier for him to ride his hurricane dash. Aviator goggles to protect his eyes from gravel or sand kicked up by his winds. A tool belt filled with various home remedies and medications for nausea, dizziness and headaches as well as bandages and triple antibiotics.

Swim:­ Oboru owns a blue and green swim trouser set as well as blue goggles. He likes to swim underwater.

Sleep:­ sleeps in long pajama pants and a short sleeve pajama shirt. Naturally they're All Might themed.

Winter:­ Oboru doesn't change his style much unless it's snowing then he'll wear thick sweat pants, a light jacket and a scarf.

Formal:­ he wears a black blazer with black slacks and a red button up shirt underneath. On his feet he'll have clogs or pointed dress shoes.

*Who would they?­ Fall for:­ Oboru is a bit of an odd ball, attracted to people that are his complete opposite. Outgoing, constantly smiling or joking people with a knack for dragging others into adventures. He himself can be a joker as well but it's rarely seen even around friends unless he's in a good mood.

Befriend:­ Oboru isn't very picky when it comes to the friends he makes, so long as they aren't bullies or overly cocky/rude, he's willing to hang around them. Most of his friends end up being adventurous types that like to explore or hang around outside.

Hate:­ Oboru has a severe dislike for those that are bossy or think they are better than anyone else for shallow reasons.

Respect:­ He respects those that are quirkless or have weak quirks, yet still try their hardest to improve. Oboru also respects people that are normally considered underdogs and fight against what the world expects of them, so long as they aren't doing any misdeeds in the process.

Rival:­ Anyone with a quirk that counters his is instantly a rival in Oboru's book as well as those with powerful quirks in general.

Hobbies/Skills:­ Exceptional balance thanks to riding around on his cyclones, he's even immune to getting dizzy from anything outside his quirk recoil. He's an avid reader, constantly having a book in hand at home when resting.

*How they Act­ Towards Romantic Int­erests: When Oboru is interested in someone he turns into a bit of a self groomer, trying to subtlety fix his hair if he thinks it's messy and wearing small amounts of cologne. He avoids eye contact but may try to ask them out for casual hang outs.

Acquaintances:­ Oboru is pretty all business with acquaintances, he may crack a smile or two but still comes off as detached from others. It's not much different from how he acts around strangers since he feels that they won't be around him very long.

Towards Friends/Clos­e Friends: with his buddies Oboru finally let's his guard down, making jokes and horsing around. His passion for training pops up as well, trying to find or make time for some friendly sparring to keep in shape. Oboru also likes to hang outside with his friends, either at parks or grabbing a bite to eat.

Rivals:­ If they allow him to get away with it, Oboru will relentlessly pursue them in hopes of sparring with them to improve his own quirk as well as working out the kinks and weak spots in it.

Towards Enemies:­ When it comes to civilian or classmate enemies, Oboru can't seem to decide between totally ignoring them or constantly picking a fight with them over any little thing that bothers him. Against villains, Oboru will fight them with everything he has while also doing his best to only incapacitate them to make capture easy.

Towards Iconic Figur­es: Oboru does have other iconic figures aside from All Might and he acts the same towards all of them. He hits Iida levels of politeness; he won't make any robotic movements but he will be incredibly formal to the point that it may become uncomfortable for the person on the receiving end.

Meeting Strangers:­ Oboru can be mistaken as an aloof or unfriendly person when meeting strangers, only offering a curt handshake and his last name. If he is particularly distracted when meeting someone, he may not even look at them during their introduction.

When Facing Fears:­ while brave enough to face most of his fears, he can still unconsciously use his quirk. It's nothing serious being more of a small spiralling breeze seeping from his pores. If the fear involves him falling from somewhere high, he goes on pure instinct, most of the time his quirk will just cause him more harm then good.

In a life changing s­ituation: Being a creature of habit, Oboru hates anything that can drastically change his way of life. He'll fight it tooth and nail if possible and if nothing can be done to stop it, Oboru will try to change things back to normal. Otherwise he'll fall into a pit of denial trying to fall back into his usual tempo, even good changes don't sit very well with him if it's vastly different from his comfort zone.

History:­ After 7 failed attempts at having children, oboru was born on his parents' 8th try and they were so ecstatic that they began to spoil him relentlessly. For 5 whole years oboru never knew the meaning of the word "no", this led him to be a very spoiled pre-teen unfortunately prone to throwing slight tantrums when not given his way. "Luckily" he suffers through a humbling experience at the age of 11 when a villain with the ability to turn into a gargoyle took him hostage. The gargoyle was blasted out of the sky by a rookie hero, sending Oboru quite literally tumbling to his death. His panic and fear caused him to misfire his quirk repeatedly until the recoil left him reeling, unable to tell if he was falling or flying up. Thankfully, All might had been nearby and the hero quickly saves oboru from the misfortune of becoming one with the asphalt. Oboru and his parents never were able to thank All Might enough in their minds and Oboru himself vows to become a hero to eventually pay back the massive debt he owes to the great hero. He very nearly worked himself to death after learning that All Might would be teaching at U.A, only truly relaxing and resting after being admitted to the school.

Relationships:

Family: Kiara (mother) can also create cyclones with her hands -if used too much, her hands and arms will cramp up very badly-

Eiji (father) can control air currents -has no major recoil but is very weak in areas with little to no wind-

Currently dating Ritsuo as of four months, he's pretty shy about it but not ashamed. He just has no idea how to really act without going overboard and is a bit paranoid that they may get in trouble for PDA. They've already shared a kiss but don't do much more than that.

Ethnicity/Nationality: pure blooded Japanese; Oboru was born in Okinawa, Japan.

Fighting Style: Oboru is all about close quarters combat, making his cyclones around his hands and feet to add extra power to his strikes. The winds tend to push his opponents back or leave them winded and he is quick to take advantage of that, only backing off if they're out of commission or immune to his wind. When things get dicey, he'll hang back and switch to using ranged attacks, flinging cyclones and tornadoes at his opponent.

Habits: not a habit so much as a necessity Oboru will take a few minutes to floss his braces or fix the bands in them. He hates them with every fiber of his being so he saves that habit for when he's alone in the bathroom or if he finds a dark corner to hide in. The pores on his palms and arms are big enough to get water or dirt in them so there are times he will force air out of them to clean anything out.

Residence: Oboru stays at home with his parents; they live in a two story home with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a back patio and a front porch. His parents share one bedroom while Oboru has his own. The last room is for guests if any of them bring friends over. The patio has a hammock set up as well as two chairs and features a view of their own and only orange tree.

Musical Themes: MHA OST Hero A

Quotes:­ "I'm not cocky or stubborn, I just know I can do better- I HAVE to do better!", "Why do I want to be a hero? Since when did the desire to see people smiling in joy or relief need to be questioned?", "Even heroes need to be saved but that doesn't make the blow to my pride any less painful."

Quirk Name:­ Cyclone

Type: Emitter

Description:­ The enlarged pores on Oboru's arms and hands can generate powerful gusts of wind that, due to their placing, shape into cyclones and tornadoes of varying sizes. Oboru can use these to increase his speed as well as his strength by packing extra power into his attacks or he can use them as a stand alone attack force.

Strengths:­ Oboru can use smaller cylcones as skates to get around faster and he can increase their size to "fly" through the air. The average speed of his rotating cylcones reach about 60 to 75mph and if he gets really serious, he can crank the wind speed up to 115mph. However, going that high brings about some hefty repercussions. Very handy for keeping enemies at bay.

Weaknesses: He can only adjust the power of the cyclones currently touching his body, once he releases them they will steadily weaken over a 20 to 30 second time frame depending on how big they are. Surprisingly, the larger the cyclone, the less time it stays formed. As he continuously uses his quirk, Oboru begins to feel light-headed, dizzy and off-balance, his vision twisting and rocking as if he sat in a chair and spun himself in it. This causes headaches and nausea as well, eventually leaving him incapacitated for a few hours if he doesn't take time to recover.

Main Skills: Whirlwind fist- focuses a tightly spinning cyclone around his fist and releases it upon impact. Wind speeds normally at 40 to 50mph.

Hurricane dash: uses two mini cyclones as skates to maneuver around. They can be replenished as many times until Oboru can no longer fight his quirk recoil. The winds spin at 35mph but can make Oboru himself "skate" to a maximum speed of 40mph.

Tornado upper- Oboru charges at his target, flipping himself into a handstand where he uses his winds to spin himself like a top. The spin adds enough force to his legs that it knocks his opponent into the air. He makes himself spin at about 15 to 20mph.

Slicing maelstrom: creates two large cyclones which he then combines to form an even larger cyclone to entangle his opponent in (surefire way to set off his recoil) Wind speeds reach up to 90mph.

Eye of the storm: similar to slicing maelstrom, Oboru creates a massive cyclone using both hands. Instead of launching it at his target, he holds onto it, controlling its power and what path it takes. Oboru can only hold it for 25 seconds and immediately afterwards, he will pass out. If he is interrupted part way through depending on how long he had it, he will collapse from exhaustion and be unable to move for a few minutes. Oboru can force the wind speeds to hit 115mph at the cost of getting hit with an intensified version of his normal recoil and only being able to maintain that wind speed for 12 seconds.

[randomnessunicorn-imagine]

UT/UF Sans and US/FS Papyrus with an S/O that is a cyborg? They were made to combat threats to humanity and monster kind and fight powerful threats that can wipe out entire cities. Despite being incredibly powerful and being a walking war machine, they are a kind, adorable sweetheart but gets into serious mode when needed to fight, risking their life to protect everyone.

{ I took so much time to ultimate it, because I wantedto do different scenarios for every one of them since I like so muchscience-fiction thematic. It’s very long but I hope you will be satisfy ~ }

- Post scriptum: Here S/O is a Cyborg that is differentfrom a robot. Cyborgs have mechanical parts but also biological parts. They arenot just things made of tin and steel. In these scenarios, they appear justlike humans, you could never recognize the different between a human and a cyborg.Indeed, I took inspiration from the novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? of Philip K. Dick. Maybe I will use some elements of it just like the fact thatthe androids are very similar to humans, but they are super powerful like yousaid in your ask, and other things like the fake-memories, if cyborgs have atrue conscience etc.

I suggest reading this book because it is sointeresting, I’d like to read it again too. Or you can see the movie BladeRunner, it’s cool, too. Another interesting movie I could suggest about cyborgs are Ex Machina, it’s more recent and  A.I. Artificial Intelligence that it’s morefamous and older. That’s all. 

✴️ Sansy ;

Wars were oneof the things he hated the most in the existence. Why people could not stay inpeace? They had to fight against each other without any reason. Neither Godcould have redeemed them from their abominable sins. Innocents and pure soulswere always the ones to pay for the leader’s errors, they were the only ones tosuffer and die under the bombs. Luckily, the war has ended years ago, and thepoor skeleton could rest himself a little more.

Every war hasto end, sooner or later. The waiting is the most degrading part.

Beside it, Sanslearnt an important lesson: to find the beauty in the horror. It happened tohim, because he found you. You were one of the soldiers who helped civiliansduring the war, giving them comfort, foods and water. Actually, Sans did notlive the war, but he heard and saw on TV about it, suffering with the world insilence. You were a friend of Papyrus; he wanted to join up the army because hecould not see people die anymore, and he desired to be useful to his nation.Sans tried to dissuade him from this foolish idea because his brother was notfixed for it especially in this climate of tensions, Sans could not acceptsomeone could have killed Papyrus in a mission. That was too much for him!

You, beingPapyrus best friend, promised to Sans to protect Papyrus and never allow anyoneto harm him. Someway, you convinced your superior commander to bring you andPapyrus in a safer place, so the two of you helped people in need, the dangerstill existed but it was better than being in a real battlefield. You sentletters to Sans every weeks telling him how Papyrus felt and that he was safeand sound. The two of you started to become true friends until you and Papyrus cameback home so you could frequent Sans in the real life. He was so grateful towardsyou because you took care of his brother during those difficult months,protecting him from the war’s risks. He did not know how to pay your kindness,but you did it because you cared a lot about Papyrus and he was your friend.There was no reason to feel in debt with you. It was to be expected Sans andyou would have fallen in love for each other.

But the beautifulthings don’t last forever, just like the bad ones because life is still lunaticand capricious.

You have been recalledfor a service in the armed forces, again. Even if the war was over, sometime itcould happened. When the nation called, you could not run away from it. Therewere new menaces.

You and Sanskept sending letters to each other, he was so worried about you but he knew youwere capable of impossible things so he has tried to think positive once in hislife.

One day, he gota call he would have never desired to receive, it was from your boss and therewas no good news for him, because you were into a life-threatening situation.It seemed an enemy squad attacked your platoon.

Every nightmarehe left behind came back to life, tormenting his existence. When he believedpeace was finally moved toward his life, he realized it was an illusion. Justlike everything.

He could notbelieve you were dead… No, you were not still dead; there should have been somepossibilities to save you. You were fighting for your life this moment. Tosurvive. He could not leave you alone. Sans knew this world was cruel but hecould not stay here without doing nothing like he did in the Underground. Sansreached the hospital where you were admitted, talking with the doctors who saidyou had no chance to survive because you lost many parts of your body and mostof your organs were damaged, you were still alive because of the machine thatkept you live on. Wares and cables were stuck to your skin, as if they wereyour veins.

Sans recognisedthe new technology of bio-mechanic and Aplhys told to him it was possible “toplay” with life, even if it was not natural. A foolish idea hint his mind, sohe called Alphys immediately explaining to her his plan that she found crazybut she could understand Sans was desperate. He could not lose someone he lovedanymore.

He asked toAlphys if she could replace your damage organs with machines so you couldsurvive and breathing again. The surgery was long and difficult but it seemed atthe end everything went well. You could not believe being still alive becauseyou were dead a few moments ago.

You could notsee any difference since the robotic parts were hidden under your human skin,or, where your skin was missed, there was an artificial material covering youas it was real skin, and nobody could have been able to find out the alterations.You felt strange and alive in newer ways than before. You were stronger andyour moves were faster than ever. Sans explained to you that now you were like acyborg, even if he did not use this definition because he did not want to alarmyou, he just said you had artificial parts inside your body. Actually, the 80%of your body was mechanical; the only organs that remained intact were yourbrain, heart and soul.  The things thatmade you human despite everything. Beside it, he was glad to see you again andhe did not care what your form was, you were still you and that was the mostimportant thing.

✳️ Reddy ;

You were a warmachine and sometime even Sans was scared of you even if he knew you would havenever harmed him or his brother because you were a tender person. You were justprofessional at your job.

Sans could not understandthe reasons why you kept following this deadly road that was so incoherent fromthe nature of your soul. You explained to him that as a cyborg you were programmedin this way because it was your aim and you could not subtract yourself fromyour fate. He assumed they were just excuses and absurdities because you were anindividual with its own freedom. This world was different from his home so hecould not understand why you kept cutting your own wings like that. They brainwashed you, he thought, but it was the truth because you were a cyborg and acyborg was not supposed to feel the same emotions as a human. At the contraryof this concept, Sans saw you more genuine than everyone else. You had a sweet heart;it was as if they had depraved you from your true nature. Sans could nottolerate it, seeing you so impassive and reluctant. This made him thinkingabout his past self. When he was so vulnerable and weak, his brother alwaystreated him like rubbish. His mission was convincing you to follow a differentpath where there were no violence and murders because they are never worthy; heunderstood it when it was too late.  He havemade many mistakes in his life, because he did not have choice, but you got theopportunity to take decisions by yourself and change the awful destiny they preparedfor you.

One day, youcame back home harmed and tired because your training has been harder thanusual, and Sans was pissed to see you so miserable and gloomy. You knew he wasright and you needed a break to rescue your battery. You were not indestructibleand immune to pain. You still had human parts, because you were not a totalmachine. You got a real heart, limbs and soul. It did not matter since you werestill a regular person in his eyes even if your brain was a computer made of microchipsand cables. You were not a program or a mere object, so he wanted to make you comprehendit. Seeing you in those miserable conditions, Sans felt guilty because he was notsure how to help you. You felt helpless as well because he cared a lot aboutyou and you were making him disappointed and worried constantly. Actually, yourjob was not as important as he was, and you realized it was too dangerous andunfair. You saw the other soldiers acting so cruel and merciless, and they terrifiedyou so much. You did not want to become like them! It was not your true dream. Youhave never killed a single person but your boss required it from you. Heordered you to kill the enemies and you could not do that.

When youconfessed it to Sans, that you took the decision to leave your job, despite youwere programmed to fight, he was so happy and grateful because you were losing yourselfin that hell. The two of you could keep going on your way, leaving every memoryof violence behind.

✴️ Stretch ;

You were livingyour life with the other part of your heart, a skeleton called Papyrus. He wassweet and gentle in his own way and you were happy with him, despite your riskyjob because you were a soldier so your life was often in danger but Papyrusknew you were able to take care of yourself since you were well trained andsmart. He was not truly worried about your safety but he was apprehensive aboutanother thing. A secret he kept by himself he was unsure to confess you. Heknew your identity. Actually, it seemed a joke because it was impossible youdid not know who you truly were. At first, he found it funny and he thought youwere the one who was playing with his mind. Then, he realized you were unconsciousof everything. It was as if you were living a dream. It made him sad because hewas not supposed to know it and it would have been a problem if he had confessedto you the truth, it could be even so traumatic for your mind. The reality wasyou were not a human neither a monster like him. You were something else. Acyborg. Your appearance was identical to a human so you acted like one of themeven if you have never questioned your strength since a lot of people in thisworld were so strong thanks to technologies and hard trainings.

Papyrus investigatedabout your past and he did not find anything, it was as if your existence wasobscured from the world. It was abnormal. One day, he discovered a hiddendossier about you in the place where you worked. It seemed you were a deathperson. That had no sense. He studied those files for days without finding asolution to this enigma. Then, he had extended his research until he resolved themystery. You were a cyborg with implanted memories. The memories you had werenot your own, since they belonged to another person who was death for years.The family of this person could not accept the death of their son, so theyasked for the help of the Cyborg’s Corporation giving them the permission tobuild a cyborg with the features of their death son. Ironically, this personwas in the army, which was the reason why you were already skilled and preparedto fight. They had only taken back one of their greatest soldier but yourfamily was truly contented having their child back.

Papyrus wasdisgusted and alarmed about this behaviour because it was just like playingwith the death. You were unaware of this reality that was too much unrealisticto explain. He was not supposed to know it, so he was keeping the secret actinglike an ignorant. He pitied you because you were a beautiful person and you didnot deserve this treatment or being fool by your own family and your superiors.Maybe your parents did not want to shock you with this story, so you could livea normal life. Even your powers, confronted to other cyborgs, were lessdangerous, all for making truer this awful lie. Everything of you seemed real,even your happiness. The memories in your mind belonged to another person. Youlived with the illusion of a past. It could have destroyed you. He was not sureabout what to do. It could have been more problematic if you had found it outalone.

Papyrus made a promiseto himself when he reached the surface: no more lies. He was sick and tired oflies and degradation. In his life, he has been forced to lie to everyone about manythings, faking smile and joy. Like it was a theatre piece. Shakespeare was theone saying this wise thing: All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merelyplayers; they have their exists and their entrances, and one man in his time playsmany parts. Papyrus had not the energy to play, anymore. He was going to tellyou the truth even if it was painful. No truth in this world was gentle and innocuous,and he knew it very well.

One day, hetold you everything he learnt about your past, he felt guilty but he was readyto accept every decision you would have taken because you were the victim here.Not him. He loved you so much and he believed you had the right to know who youreally were.

As he predicted,you were shocked about it and you could not believe it thinking he was jokingand he was becoming crazy saying all these idiocies. He has never been more seriousthan that. You knew he could not joke about a grave argument like it. You fellin a black hole of insecurities and fears, unable to think wisely. You did notknow who you could believe since your family was the one who fool you, first. Theconfusion in your mind was undefinable and deep. You spent the few last days inthe darkness, but Papyrus was by your side despite you acted cold and insecuretowards him but he could understand since you were traumatised.

After a longtime of meditation, you decided to keep the secret because you did know howthings were going to be, but you did not want to continue this life of lies. Atthe end, you thanked Papyrus for his confession and he was glad you were notmad at him anymore. You also decided to leave the army because you were not thatperson anymore. You were not the ghost of someone else, neither a death personnor a substitute. You were only who you desired to be.

✳️ Rus ;

The shadows surrenderedevery corner of the city like a blanket that not spare anything of this miserablelife. You felt empty and unmotivated but, at the same time, sad and confused.You could not find the meaning of your existence. If a meaning has everexisted, because you were not a true human, or a true organism. You were bornlike a cyborg, a mere machine made of titan and some other artificial material.A thing. Neither the moon up above could have been able to give you some answersabout the shadow that covered your soul. It was something artificial as well,not a true one. That moon, the glowing sphere in the dark sky, was just likeyou. It shined in the sky without a true meaning and its light was not even itsown, because the moon reflected other lights just like a mirror.  

When you wereborn, three years ago, you had the illusion of being the only one. That yourmemory and your essence were real and unique. Then, you found out the truth,the cruel sense of your reality. You were just a cyborg made to fight the enemyof the Galaxy. You were not sure about these “enemies”. You have never seenthem for real. You did not know a lot about the world, despite the fact thatyou were very intelligent, you could calculate in a second how many stars were shiningin this instant. It did not satisfy you. Your experiences, just like your own conscience,were only simulacrums, they were not true but neither false. In the moment ofyour birth, they have installed fake memories in your brain. The memories ofsomeone else, nobody could say where they came from, or if they wereartificial. You had the illusion of reality. You had reminiscences about yourfamily, you could remember the first birthday you spent with them, when youwere a child and you ran carefree in the woods near your house. You have livedonly three years, something was wrong in you. Your creators, you have nevermet them, gave you those memories so you could seem a lot like a human. Theillusion was a part of your formation. People consider androids like youunnatural and dangerous, because you could not understand true emotions likethe other person that were made of bones and skin did. These illusions madeyour poor artificial heart trembling because it was unfair. You were askingyourself if even the feelings you felt were just a math’s formula. An equationjust like everything else.

While you werelost in your dark thoughts, a familiar hand touched your shoulder; your mouthproduced a little scream of surprise. It was your mate, a skeleton of the monsterskind, so you could say you were neither one of them. Papyrus was such a sweetperson and you could not understand why he could tolerate an entity like you.Papyrus did not care if you were made of skin or titan, because he loved youwith all his soul, it was the only essential thing to him. He was the most sensitiveperson you have ever known, even if you did not know many people. He could understandwhat you got in your mind with only one look. Actually, he was a sort of existentialistphilosopher and he had so many problems with his life since he had atraumatizing past. After a long pause of silence, he took the chance to speak,«Something wrong, hon?», it was a rhetorical question since he already kneweverything. You sighed, saying, «I am not sure about this life anymore…I mean, I’dlike being able to take my own decisions. Or feel something real.» he took yourhand, with delicacy before speaking, «You should! We could go away wherever youdesire, I don’t really care about what people say. If they are too stupid to understandyou, they can fuck themselves!», his voice was still placid, unemotional.

There was athing you had learnt alone: the discrimination. Everyone saw cyborgs just likemere killer machines. You were considerate an object, a weapon of destruction. Whydid you feel all this misery if you were just a machine? It was driving youcrazy. Papyrus has never seen you in that way, for him you were a normal personlike everyone else. If you did not like fighting, to be a sleeve of this ungratefulsociety, you should have denied it. It was all. One day, you have confessed tohim that you were not sure about your sentiment towards him. If everything inyou was programmed, how could you be sure about reality? Was your love pre-setas well? Strangely, he did not feel offended. He was just touched by yourfragility and naivety. He told you that the feelings you had for him were realbecause he could perceive them. You have learnt to love, but also to hate and tolive by yourself. By the experiences you made. Your creators gave you the bases andfrom them you have developed your own personality, taking your own decisions. Youwere different from the other cyborgs since you had your own plans. Then, youfinally understood the truth. You were sick of this life, and you realized youhad possibilities to become a real being. You had your own race, you were not ahuman or a monster but only yourself. Then, you hugged Papyrus for all hisbenevolence, because you felt guilty for all your dark thoughts. There was noneed to feel like this, he reassured you. Papyrus could not see a person likeyou, with that sweet and fragile soul, fighting entities from other planets orother cyborgs. It had no sense in his mind.  Nobody had the right to write your own fate,you were the one who got this privilege. It was a lesson Papyrus learnt wherehe placed his feet on the surface, a softer place than his home. He wanted youto absorb the same concept so you could be truly free.

[hvnxwy-blog]

hey one and all ! so i won’t be making changes to hani’s background, so he’s still the same struggling messy artist student y’all know and love but ya know on the side there’s a whole ass zombie apocalypse going down haha enlarged emotion amirite ! under the cut are some PLOTS ( albeit kinda sucky ) for the event along with my answers for the task regarding charrie development !  p.s. i skipped out one of the questions as Hani is not anyone official so it seemed unnecessary to his character. 

Think about your character’s area they live in– how would this impact your survival and response–how fast it spreads– so on and so forth 

so Hani would still live in the inner city in Ninetrees Apartments and I’m guessing that the city would get pretty quickly contaminated and due to the population and how the inner city is actually a more crowded area due to it being cheaper to live in that the disease would spread awful quick so Hani would need to respond fast and be prepared pretty much at the first news that hit the big alert of the situation ready to escape but it would definitely give him less of a head start than some.

2. How does your character react to the rumors of zombies?

I think that Hani would be slightly doubtful at first, he isn’t the type to believe in all that but he gets that science isn’t exactly like mythology or the supernatural so eventually pretty quickly i think it would kick in that oh shit this is actually real but because it is just science gone wrong from what has been disclosed to them so far and Hani is a pretty matured and calmed type I don’t think he’d freak at this stage rather he would get a survival kit sorted and keep his bearings since by his standards it would be ten times harder to fight the zombies and survive if he’s in a constant stress, upset and panic. he needs to keep a clear head, so he does so. 

3.  Is your character prepared? Mentally, physically, as well as their food, home, transportation–etc situation. Have they been saving food in case of a crisis?

Hani would be prepared since the news would hit the inner city almost instantly when it was officially labelled as a crisis and the inner city would also probably recieve more help from officials and people on hand however Hani would definitely doubt those individuals intentions and suspect it was more for publicity it is still every man for himself so he would still take what he needed off them. I don’t think he would’ve gone as far as to save food and it would be pretty hard for him to protect the apartment but he does have transportation and would definitely prepare pretty much all his food when the news hit for survival storage. physically Hani is totally fighting fit though he isn’t the most muscular or buff build he is quick, agile and flexible and also being smaller does make his defensive tactics better off and he suffers no health issues internally or externally. as for mentally, it would be a little overwhelming but he isn’t in a state of panic at this stage as it is just science gone wrong and while that is scary its also manageable as long as you stay prepared and alert so he knows he needs to have a flawless headspace and he isn’t too shaken to abide by that yet. 

4. Does your character know basic survival skills?

Hani does know basic survival skills, he scoffs a little at the idea of not knowing that because it doesn’t take a zombie apocalypse out break for the basics of survival to need to be known and on hand at any instance. he was taught by his father but only because as an artist he had wild ideas like that and the mindset of suffering for art so he would always take hani on his little experiments and survival trips, plus Hani saw it fit to teach himself further after living in big cities all his life and being one of the fortunate types to go to expensive schools he knew he’d need to be able to hold his own and was matured from an early age to be without parents and function like a fully grown adult and fend for himself so yes Hani is more than capable and of a resourceful intellectual mind even in unexpected situations. 

5. How long do you think your character would survive?

I think Hani would survive a while, i don’t know if he’d be one of the last standing but this boy is surprising and though he doesn’t necessarily have the braun to fight off zombies or kill them with pure force. he definitely has the brains and the self control to be lethal, he would be an excellent strategist and healer on hand plus he’s always been taught to be a mature adult and sort things himself as well as raise his baby brother so he knows how to take care of others as well as himself, he pretty much made a life for himself all by himself because his parents had faith in him so he would be able to be a voice of reason and clarity throughout plus he is naturally a self controlled and resourceful thinker so he could make a lot out of what he has with the right materials as well as be a placid and grounding presence in the face of danger for himself and those around him. 

6. are they afraid/frightened of the outbreak?

In moderation yes, Hani has to admit he isn’t a total hardass or immune to the danger of an outbreak while he still sees it from a scientific rather than horror point of view and that keeps him tethered it is undeniable that an aspect of it is still fearful as there is the prospect there is no cure or that the cure itself is under threat, could run out etc so yes he is slightly afraid but he isn’t panicking or showing it because it wouldn’t contribute anything to his chances of survival and not getting out of it is more frightening than the zombies themselves. with a cure or potential to get one in sight, things are bearable but without it may be a different story. 

7. are they afraid/frightened of the possibility of dying and/or being turned?

i think so, though Hani is trying to convince himself to remain at a logical standpoint and mindset and from that perspective if he dies then it isn’t overly shocking in the circumstances and he can only do his best to avoid that and take each day as it comes but at the same time of course he is afraid, he’s young and hasn’t actually done anything much with his life yet or had time to make milestones so the prospect of losing that before he ever grasped it is somewhat horrifying a thought. as for being turned, it saddens him to think about it but i wouldn’t say he is afraid of that, more sympathetic to himself and others because at that point he’ll be a numb and braindead body so its not so much scary as it is upsetting as it isn’t how he’d wish for anyone to go. 

8. Are they the type to turn to the chaos of the world and start vandalizing and hurting others–stealing? Or do they help as much as they can?

Its a midway line between the two for Hani, he wouldn’t hurt others but he’s not beyond stealing or causing damage if he has to do it to survive because in this situation he doesn’t see it as unethical, its the only hope they have left of living at a certain point though he definitely wouldn’t start doing it until there was risk of resources running low and if he was fighting for more than just his life it would be even more important. but Hani is also interested in helping where it fits, healing up injured people or recruiting them if they’ve got what it takes and giving them much needed food and basic necessities. he definitely doesn’t want to hurt people but he will hurt the zombies without hesitation if he or anyone else is under threat around him, even if it was a friend, if they were turning he’d try and save them but eventually if it didn’t work and he had to hurt them to end the suffering then he would but it would be the most mentally damaging thing for him

9. Do their personalities change in the panic?

For the most part I think Hani is the same but he might be less kind and of gentle nature than usual because the situation requires him to be more ruthless and silently lethal, using his mind as a weapon would be essential to him so he might be more cold and calculated to an extent though he’d still be a very caring person who massively wanted to save his friends as much as possible and heal the strangers he could and he certainly has sympathy to the zombies still despite being under threat by them. 

10. How do they react when it actually happens before their eyes?

Hani would hate every moment of it and I wouldn’t put it past him to let a few silent tears slip but for the most part he would hold it together, he’d be disgusted and horrified and probably want to be sick from the despair and anger. i think its one of the only times you’d get a glimpse at the fear under his hard skin that he’s put on for the situation but for the most part he would hold it together as much as possible and only break down much later on, preferably alone. 

11. Is your character physically inclined? Or mentally?

Hani is definitely more mentally inclined but though physically wouldn’t be his strong suit i think he’d give it a good shot and he’d be good enough at it to use it to his best ability, it probably would work but he’d be better at defense than attacking and would probably need more weaponry to be able to fight the zombies, most likely at his best with the element of surprise on his side too. but mentally? he’d be the go to guy for strategy and keeping some order in form as well as making the most of resources or using what they have to become a better means of survival equipment. 

12. Will they go full force fighting the zombies or will they outsmart them?

its a bit of both but definitely preferred for Hani to outsmart them, its his best weapon against them other than physical ones because he is definitely not of the build to be the best at fighting them or combat unless he has surprise on hand to go with it and an absolute state of kill or get killed but mentally he can outsmart them, traps and defense and strategy for him would be flawless against them plus he is agile, athletic and of a smaller faster more flexible build so being a means to distract them and keep them engaged whilst dodging their attacks and not fighting would be possible for him for a while in dire situations before he could get himself away from them, he could hold them off. 

13. How far do you think your character will last?

Hani might not be one of the last standing but who knows honestly? it depends on the zombies more, how they naturally are and how they progress with time especially when the people start fighting back but i would be willing to bet he could last to be very near to being one of the last standing if he was cunning enough about it. 

14. What kind of zombie would they probably be? Smarter? Stronger? faster? Slower?

Hani would be a zombie who was smarter definitely which would make him one of the more lethal zombies if he were to get turned so it would probably be best to make sure particularly that he doesn’t as a smarter zombie would certainly be much harder to face off and could have the power to teach other zombies giving them the upper hand or a fair fight and he would be faster too as he is already an athletic and agile type with a fairly small build. he wouldn’t be one of the strongest with brute force but that might actually be more surprising and alarming as a zombie.

GENERAL PLOTS : 

your muse is injured in an attack, there’s debate over whether they have been bitten or not and the group has split minds on what to do but hani lays eyes on you and knows instantly he isn’t going to be able to walk away and as the only half fit medic on the rugged team its ultimately up to him. he could try and save you or leave you, so he brings you in the strongest hope he can fight it off for you but god knows how he’ll cope if he can’t, theres a danger he’s going to have to see you dead either way and one might be at his hands, how do both deal with that? 

your muse and Hani aren’t exactly getting along, your muse is all brute force and fast thinking and Hani is well...the total opposite plus he has sympathy to the zombies underlying and it makes your muse tense though deep down they know Hani isn’t crazy and won’t do something dumb to try and save the zombies or protect them when they’re feral its still an uneasy thing between them and when they’re sent out to get resources and end up stranded...they’re sure gonna have to find a way to get along, and fast. 

your muse and Hani are best friends and your muse was the first person Hani went to when finding out about the outbreak, there’s no way in hell that they’re losing each other through this thing and they’ve got each others backs having to shift the best friend role up to a ride or die as well but they might just be able to bear this thing if they’ve got each other. now its not just down to protecting their own asses but also their platonic soulmates too and its a lot of weight to carry, there may be a few bumps in the road but your muse is sworn to going down with hani if it has to be and hani equally inclined for yours.

Hani saves your muse in an attack, they’re fearing its all over before its even really began and on the brink of being turned and deserted when hani suddenly is in the place the zombie stood and said zombie is pretty gruesomely dead on the ground while a disarmingly brave boy stands before your muse with a spiked bat, its not the most perfect hero saves the damsel scenario but your muse is indebted and vows to guard hani’s life just as tirelessly from that point on. - likewise this is also up for reverse as an additional and hani being saved and indebted to your muse.

hani is bitten, his life is slowly draining from him and the worst has happened where he is becoming nothing but a shell of himself...he knows this, you know this but your muse is still sat there, desperately trying to put back together what can’t be fixed and if only hani had the strength left in him he’d beg for your muse to run but god dammit you’re hellbent on saving him and the life won’t leave him quick enough but he can feel himself losing more and more each day...you need to kill him, hani is begging you to kill him as soon as it becomes too close. 

your muse is an official of some sort and hani’s brain has always been his best weapon in this apocalypse, he is sent to get some intel on the situation and find out more about how things got so bad and why more isn’t being done while keeping the official sweet and not blowing his cover, he’s the team strategist and spy and he can’t fail this because it might be that these rebels are all the hope there is left of finding a cure and fighting authority. - this could go in many directions with unique development to the characters involved. most primarily they could side with hani and be willing to help even with cover blown or they could be weary and sly.

[itsfinancethings]

October 09, 2019 at 08:00AM

Carter Roberts’ motorized wheelchair didn’t arrive until the day he died.

It had been a long time coming and his parents had fought hard to get it. The chair cost more than $32,000 and the insurance companies wouldn’t cover it, so the family went to court. One insurer eventually agreed to pay for some components of the chair but not the whole thing. And then none of it mattered anyway. On Sept. 22, 2018, the Roberts’ doorbell rang and the chair was delivered. Also on Sept. 22, 2018, Carter died, just three months shy of his sixth birthday. He had been largely paralyzed for the final two years of his life. The family is only now beginning to pick their way through the horror of what happened.

“Our eight-year-old daughter believes she can speak to him,” says Carter’s mother Robin. “She was playing video games the other day and she’s looking up and going, ‘Carter are you seeing this? I need your help.’”

By any measure, the Roberts family of Richmond, Va. was spectacularly unlucky. They lost their son to a disease that science first recognized only in 2012. It’s new enough that it didn’t even have a formally accepted name until 2014. When it got one, it was one of those names that is more or less just a clinical description of what the disease is: acute flaccid myelitis (AFM), a sudden inflammation of spinal tissue resulting in flaccid paralysis of the muscles of the limbs, neck, face and often diaphragm. It’s a lot like polio but it’s not polio; it’s a little like meningitis and Guillain-Barré syndrome but it’s not them either.

Ilana Panich-Linsman for TIMEBraden’s nurse and mother set him up for treatment.

Indeed, no one knows exactly what it is. For the moment it remains rare: In the U.S., where AFM is closely tracked, the disease attacks fewer than one in a million people even in peak years, and it very rarely kills. But in the past seven years, it’s been striking more and killing more, and there is a tick-tock certainty to when it will hit next. As with polio, AFM is seasonal—though unlike polio, it arrives in late summer and early to mid fall, rather than in the spring and summer. Also unlike polio, it runs in an every-other-year cycle, peaking in even-numbered years.

While spotty outbreaks of AFM have been retrospectively diagnosed in the U.S. from 2005 to 2012, it was in 2014 that the disease established its current pattern. That year, there were 120 confirmed cases scattered around the country; in 2015, the total fell to 22 cases; it climbed again in 2016 to 149 cases; fell again in 2017 to 35 cases and jumped back up last year to 201 cases. So far in 2019, there have been 20 cases of AFM in nine states.

Now, as an even-numbered year inevitably approaches, there is a growing feeling of looming menace. When 2020 arrives—and then 2022 and 2024 and on into the future—more and more children are destined to be claimed, unless science gets a handle on the disease fast.

“This is our generation’s polio,” Carter’s mother, Robin Roberts says flatly.

That’s not just the opinion of a grieving mother; doctors admit to feeling daunted too. “I can’t think of a single disease that had this pattern that we’re seeing, with modern laboratory diagnostics not figuring it out,” says Dr. Nancy Messonnier, director of the CDC’s National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases.

As with polio too, the medical community has mobilized. Back in the 1930s through 1950s, the work was led by the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis, the non-governmental consortium of scientists that included Jonas Salk and Albert Sabin, who developed the two different versions of the polio vaccine. This time it’s the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), which last fall formed a task force consisting principally of 17 epidemiologists, neurologists, pediatricians and other experts from teaching hospitals and health departments across 10 states, as well as from the National Institutes of Health and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.

Ilana Panich-Linsman for TIMERachel Scott helps her son Braden walk down the stairs in their home.

The task force had its first meeting in December 2018 at the CDC’s headquarters in Atlanta, and the gathering had the feeling of a war council. Every seat at a massive conference table in a windowless room was full, with doctors and other staffers lining the walls and epidemiological maps and graphics on display screens.

“This is obviously complicated or we wouldn’t be in this place,” said Messonnier in her opening remarks.

Lending urgency to the task force’s work is that AFM seems not only to be getting stronger, but crueler too. As recently as 2014, the median age of AFM victims was seven years old; then it fell to five and now it’s just four and a half—kindergarteners. Like polio, it strikes at just the point when children are fairly defined by their happy, kinetic energy—and then it takes it away from them.

“It was kind of surreal to be like, ‘Wait, how rare is this? One in a million? You’ve got to be kidding me,’” says Jeremy Wilcox of Herndon, Va., whose four-year-old son Joey contracted AFM in September 2018 and lost the ability to walk, but has largely—though not entirely—recovered.

Roberts and Wilcox were in Atlanta in December to address the task force. Their ostensible purpose that day was to describe the nature of the disease to the doctors, who at this point understand it far less well than the lay families living its terrors. But the more pressing and powerful reason was to humanize the problem—to establish the mortal urgency of solving it.

“AFM has changed my life,” says Rachel Scott, mother of a third child, Braden, who is battling the disease, and who also attended the meeting. “It’s changed my children’s lives; they’re growing up in a completely different world than they would have. This is not something I ever would have dreamed of.”

Braden Scott, whose family lives in Woodlands, Texas, first came down with what seemed like a routine summer cold on July 4, 2016. But the next day, when he tried to eat so much as a single potato chip, he couldn’t keep it down—not because his stomach was upset, but because the muscles that control swallowing had begun to fail. “He got weaker over the next few days and we came to realize his swallowing was paralyzed,” says Rachel.

Ilana Panich-Linsman for TIMEMuscle-stimulating pads are placed on Braden’s back for treatment.

Eventually, the paralysis spread throughout Braden’s entire body below the neck, including his diaphragm, which meant he had to be intubated in order to breathe. He spent seven months in the hospital as the most acute phase of the disease receded and he received in-patient rehab, but even now that he’s home, his walking remains unsteady, paralysis continues in his left arm and his swallowing is still so poor he must be fed a liquid nutrient four times a day through a port in his stomach. Merely controlling his swallowing enough to clear saliva is a challenge, and though he’s back in school, a nurse who accompanies him must periodically suction his mouth so that he doesn’t choke.

“Every day when he comes home from school, we say, ‘OK, how many mouth suctions today?’” says Rachel. “Sometimes it’s only three and we’re like, ‘That’s amazing!’ The things I celebrate are absurd.”

Like so many AFM patients, Braden was at first misdiagnosed. When his parents rushed him to the hospital with fever and spreading paralysis, the doctors said his problem was mononucleosis and strep; they prescribed him antibiotics and steroids and sent him home. Joey Wilcox was first suspected of having Bell’s Palsy—his face was partly paralyzed, so what else could it be? The doctors eventually sent him home with no medicine and a vague diagnosis of a virus, one they said was likely to pass on its own. Carter Roberts’ family was told that he was merely tired and needed rest.

In many cases, the correct diagnosis doesn’t come until full paralysis has set in and doctors finally conduct an MRI of the spinal cord looking for a lesion or some other localized explanation. By that point, the extent of the disease can be startling. “Carter’s cord was so inflamed they couldn’t even distinguish between gray matter and white matter,” says Roberts.

If the damage AFM does shows up clearly on a scan, the cause of the disease doesn’t leave clear fingerprints, though experts have good reason to believe it’s a viral illness. Its seasonality is consistent with viral behavior—the way colds and flus strike in the fall and winter and polio in the spring. The biannual peaks are not unusual for a virus either. “Measles before vaccination was every two years as well,” says Dr. Thomas Clark, the CDC’s AFM Incident Manager.

Ilana Panich-Linsman for TIMESome reminders of Braden’s treatment hang on the wall in the Scott family home.

But measles—and polio, chicken pox, rubella, and other childhood viral diseases—are very different infectious beasts because they are all caused by a discrete virus, which can be detected in the blood and neutralized by vaccination. AFM is murkier. It’s thought to be associated with at least two different enteroviruses—viruses that incubate in the gut. There are hundreds of enteroviruses (including polio and influenza), and so far the ones designated EV-D68 and EV-A71 have been most widely implicated in AFM paralysis. But “widely” is not even close to “universally.”

During peak years, no more than 30% of AFM patients show some traces of EV-D68; another third show EV-A71 or other stray viruses; another third show nothing at all.

Even if the two enteroviruses turn out to be to blame, no one knows exactly how they do their damage. While the poliovirus directly attacks the ventral horn cells in the spinal column, it’s entirely unclear what EV-D68 and EV-A71 do to the central nervous system. The best analogy might be to Guillain-Barré, an inflammation of the peripheral nervous system that usually results from a misfiring of the immune system after an infection with a stomach or respiratory virus.

The mention of Guillain-Barré predictably gets the anti-vaccine crowd chattering, since a slight increase in the risk of the disease has been observed among people who receive the flu vaccine—on the order of one or two additional cases for every million vaccinations. (The CDC stresses that the risks associated with severe influenza—including death—are far worse than the far smaller risk of Guillain-Barré.) There is no evidence at all of any link between AFM and any vaccine, but the CDC all the same is investigating any possible connection, simply because good epidemiological sleuthing requires no possibility be overlooked.

“We’ve always thoroughly looked at vaccine safety in all of our programs,” says Patel. “Currently, we don’t have any evidence to suggest that there is an association.” Clark adds that the children who have developed AFM have generally been vaccinated in the same way and on the same schedule as the tens of millions of children who don’t get sick.

Ilana Panich-Linsman for TIMEOne of Braden’s nurses, Carly Westcott, RN, helps prepare him for therapy.

The more epidemiological avenues that reach a dead end, the more researchers are concluding that they are coming up against a disease more complex than they reckoned. “AFM can’t have a simple answer because if it was, all these smart people would have figured it out,” says the CDC’s Messonnier.

What alarms the CDC is the possibility that the medical community could face wave of cases before that figuring out can happen, and polio offers a precedent. The earliest documented polio outbreaks were mild: four cases in the U.K. in 1835; ten in Louisiana in 1835. In 1894, a major outbreak struck Vermont, when 132 children fell sick—and after that, the disease exploded. There was an epidemic of 27,000 cases in the U.S. in 1916, including 9,300 in New York City alone. In the years after, there were thousands—sometimes tens of thousands—of cases every summer in the U.S., with the peak coming in 1952, when 57,879 polio infections were recorded. The epidemiological fever didn’t break until 1955 when the first polio vaccine was approved.

If there are similarities in the AFM and polio infectious profile, there are big differences in the prognoses. Polio paralysis always seemed intractable—sudden and effectively permanent—while AFM patients can regain much of their function. That may say less about the infectious agent and more about the therapeutic options that are available in the 21st century and weren’t in the 19th and 20th.

Patients have access to a far better array of prostheses and far more thorough physical therapy programs than they would have 100 or even 50 years ago, with kids today sometimes working up to five and six hours a day to regain mobility. Braden Scott receives regular muscle therapy, which he refers to as “zapping,” and it’s a fair enough term for what the seven year old goes through several times a week. In each session, medical technicians paste 48 electrodes to his arms and legs, which send synchronized signals to various muscle groups mimicking the electrical commands the brain would normally send the muscles to get them moving. Regardless of the source of the signal, the impact on the muscles is the same: the motion serves as exercise, preventing the atrophy that can occur when a limb is unused. The nervous system benefits too, with the signal channel between the spine and the limb remaining open.

Ilana Panich-Linsman for TIMEBraden uses his toes to reach for a LEGO on a break inbetween physical therapy treatments.

Braden also underwent a relatively new surgical protocol known as nerve transfer, in which a healthy donor nerve from elsewhere in his body was left connected to the spinal cord but was rethreaded to his left arm, where AFM destroyed an existing nerve. Three years out from his symptoms, he continues to improve—but slowly. The tracheostomy tube that helped him breathe will soon come out, but his improvement in eating and swallowing normally—which takes the complex interplay of multiple muscles in the head and neck, as well as coordination with the throat to protect the trachea—has been much slower.

Inevitably in the U.S., any disease—especially a newly identified one with treatment protocols that are by definition unproven—will run into the wall of the health insurance system, with parents dividing their time and energy between tending their sick child and fighting simply to get coverage.

“It’s hell,” says Roberts, who battled for the wheelchair that came too late for her son. “You’re just dropped blindly in the middle of a labyrinth that is health care. You’re grasping at walls and corners trying to feel your way out, and no one is willing to hold your hand or give you a GPS.”

Toward the end of Carter’s life, his doctors recommended a drug to ease his breathing, but the insurance company refused to pay for that, too. “I pushed back as far as I possibly could until a final denial after eight months,” says Roberts. She wonders to this day whether the drug would have made a difference.

Ilana Panich-Linsman for TIMECaroline Casanova, LVN, one of Braden’s nurses, checks his blood sugar as he watches TV with his brother.

Joey Wilcox has mostly recovered, a year out from his initial symptoms. He still has some paralysis on the left side of his face and a bit of a limp in his right leg, but when he first got sick, he was so weak he referred to himself as a “floppy human.”

“I’m thinking it may have come from a video game,” says his father, Jeremy. “He said, ‘Am I always going to be a floppy human?’ My wife said no. I didn’t answer and I don’t know if I would have given the right answer because saying to your child, ‘I don’t know’ is not comforting or reassuring.” If medical history is a guide, comfort does come, reassurance does come—cures and vaccines do come. But they come only with time and only with work—as the calendar moves inexorably to the next even-numbered year.

[asil-norahc]

Just an idea popped out from Drawpile

Warning: I might make a lot of mistakes in this post bc why not so this is it. Oh, plus harsh language too (as usual i guess).

Okay okay, so, I was drawing on drawpile with peeps and something HAPPENED (greatest introduction ever)

see, on drawpile I draw HorrorSans like that (cartoon character and Croc -bloody bird guy- by @peanutable):

and LustSans this way (plus Pap cuz why not, although I changed his clothing so it isn’t very representative of the original):

And I somehow mixed them up at some point...

May I introduce you to... GoreSans!!!

Let me explain you what he would be if I happened to make an AU around the thing. Well, I DON’T intend to do many things about it so I wouldn’t call it an AU but since I can’t let a character like him with no proper environment to set him in I can’t let you without developping the idea a bit further.

It’s basically a coherent and logical mix between Underlust and Horrortale.

Now those who know what I’m talking about will think I consider them like dumbass, but I’ll develop the idea anyway and that needs a quick reminder of what those two AUs are (don’t blame me for my unecessary rigor):

Underlust. Well, I’d davise you to go check UnderLust Shame Cave, unless you’re under 18 and/or allergic to NSFW. WOW STOP ASKING YOURSELF I won’t make anything NSFW here don’t worry. I’ll try my best to soften everything for it to be accessible to anyone who might be reading this. If you feel offended despite my efforts, say it (politely) in the ask box and I’ll change the tags^^

Now I haven’t read UnderLust very much and I don’t know what occured since a long time, but here’s a quick summary of what I know :

First, it may be NSFW, but the comic has real depht and emotions. There are reasons to WHY THE FUCK EVERYONE FUCKS and that makes this AU completely acceptable to me. Now, the reasons are Gaster and the decrease of fertility due to... well, imprisonment in the underground and chronic lack of hope I guess. Gaster intended to fix the fertility problem by extracting the Lust from the soul of the first human, Chara, who was a... sort of... sadistic bitch? Anyways. Injecting the Lust into (adult) monsters had two consequences: relatively NOT FIX the fertility problem making the children the last ganaration, and turn any adult monster into a slut.

Yeah that definitely legimimates the NSFW for me. Not that it needs any legitimation anyway XD because the comic that came (pun?) out of it is about true love VS lust, sexual identity, abuse and all the emotional mess that comes out of it (hehe da inententional pun lol). So it is surpisingly interesting and kinda moving.

Horrortale. This AU is particular because it is settled in the FUTURE of one of the neutral run. Now, any sensible undertale player WOULDN’T want to have to face the consequences of any run that didn’t ended peacefully, would they?... uh, guess I would at some point...

Anyways, that makes the Horrortale AU really interesting because it just puts some canon facts together and think of how it would evolve with time.

Let’s observe some of said facts:

Toriel attempting to legally take the power and ease everyone’s pain with peace.

Oh! Your acts have consequences!^^ Peace isn’t an option now.

Putsch.

Crusader, surely future tyran.

Sans and Papyrus tempering the current crusader future tyran.

Bros will be bros.

... Click! (Am I the only one that saw a sort of threat in his last word..?)

SO Undyne putsched Toriel out (it’s definitely a coup since Undyne is the equivalent of the General of the Army) and now rules over the Underground with an iron fist in order to develop drastically the army for her to wage a holy war against humanity, implying she will do everything for her army to be well fed above citizens. Mh.

If she’s not going to become a tyran, I dunno.

Now I’m leaving canon facts to start about horror tale context:

To summary, the underground has turned into a sort of dystopic HELL OF A BLOODY MESS since the common monsters who didn’t contributed to Undyne’s army were left starving and had to rely on the only edible things they had on hand: other monsters.

Now feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but as far as I can remember, this is what turned monsters into... well, dangerous monsters.

SO, now, what would a mix between the two look like? Let’s finally talk about GoreTale!! (okay well I said I wouldn’t make an AU, BUT if this can inspire anyone to develop it into a proper one THAT’D BE FUCKIN COOL OMFG)

So it is set in the future of one particular run of UnderLust if this AU were to be adapted into an Undertale-like video game; Asgore is dead and the other souls disappeared, leaving the monsters behind with grief and despare. At least one monster has been killed by Frisk so that Undyne, Head of the Royal Harem (this is how it is in underlust DON’T ASK ME) decides to rule over the underground with fierce will to destroy all human kind. Because she knows nothing else, she turns the underground into a bloody brothel since she considers people had to surrender their mind, soul AND bodies to her royal persona and cause, plus she being blood thirsty after human’s decay, she does it overly sadistical and strong. Sans tried to temper her at first since his brother was now part of the official Royal Harem and feared for his safety, but she slowly became unreasonable. A bloody tyran, unrelenting and craving for physical and mental/moral abuse.

So Sans gave up on her, even though she was his queen, and left the capital with his brother. His confrontation against her left its mark on his skull, revealing a new aspect of this character: he no longer has only 1HP since he got some new LV by abusing and killing other monster for self-defense and his own need for food and relief. So the head blow didn’t kill him (and I don’t think it should have since Undyne surely must have wanted to keep him locked up somewhere she could torture him in order to mindfuck his personnality..?). Anyways, he must have scared her (or at least surprise her enough for her to let him go with his bro). They returned to Snowdin, and made an agreement with the Queen so that she doesn’t hunt them down: they guard Snowdin and bring her any human that comes by (since they are two of the rare monster that can live under harsh cold weather and that Undyne hates it, it makes sense, besides she doesn’t have to fear Sans and Papyrus’s ambitions to steal human souls from her bc they only intend to survive by their own, away from any form of control over them). And for the other snowdin inhabitants and soldiers she could send to Snowdin instead of potential / official trators, we can state that they are either loyal to the crown in some extreme ways but temper their wrath and lust around the skelebros bc they would surely bone them to death, making the boney bros kinda the chiefs in snowdin, or they are refugees that flee the Queen’s command and sought for protection of the weather and the skelebros, OR they all dead bc skelebros ate them up in all ways.

SO Goretale wouldn’t be the best life place to settle. Horrortale and Underlust aren’t either, but the mix between the two must be even more sordid and glaucous and bloody and slutty at some point and completely infernal. I could see an H.R Giger style for the environment that possibly evolved with the monsters, but with more colours. If you don’t see what I’m talking about, go check by yourselves; the first images must be eloquent enough.

Okay just one example that has no hidden nsfw:

Frogman - Giger meets Escher. imagine it with some red and gold and that’d be totally fit (or not. I don’t care.) I advise you to see more by searching HR Giger.

Warning: it’s art in the “noble” way, but it’s still definitely NSFW AND sordid as heck. So unless your innocence is so extreme you are immuned to sin or you love that kind of thing or you are appealed by some artistical curiosity, keep out!^^ (H.R Giger is a german artist that designed lots of great things including the Aliens of... Aliens. So it’s real good culture and you can check it out without any sinful interest other than artistical curiosity. You’re welcome.)

NOW THE REAL THING (finally. Why the fluff are my summaries always so long?!?)

You know that drawpile allows people to draw at the same time on the same canvas (I feel like I’m repeating myself). Well, tht’s great and it allows things like that to pop out:

Little funny doodles made with @peanutable (here is her OC Verdana, cute lil’ kiddy flowery skely-like monster that is innocence itself why am I not ashamed of putting Goresans in front of him?!? I SHOULD DIE ALREADY SAINTE MERDE !! ).

Now THE GREATEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME ON DRAWPIIILE !!!

Frisk by @sky-lia !! She and @peanutable are such amazing artists !! It really inspires me when I see them drawing, and putting my characters in front of theirs really shows the difference of skill! It encourages me a lot to practice and catch the level! And it is really lots of fun to do^^ Oh My Gnarls Frisk is SOOO adorable they manage to move and disconcert GoreSans! And it shows a nice and somewhat cute part of him I surely would never have thought of if I didn’t draw with them ;) (oh well, after all, in this crazy fandom people see cuteness anywhere, even in the most unsettling places, so OF COURSE GoreSans is also a Teddy Bear lmao)

That’s it for today! That’s All Forks! (this pun MUST have been made already)

[dickie-gayson]

Shenanigans

Chapter Two: Jason's No Good, Very Bad Day

Jason's No Good, Very Bad Day

  To say Jason was having a bad day was an understatement. He was having the worst day ever, and that's counting the infamous 'totally died once' day. First, he woke up because a fucking parade was going down the street. Why was there even a parade? On top of that, he caught one hell of a bug. His nose was all clogged, his throat hurt, his fucking eyeballs throbbed because of the migraine he had, and he was so nauseous that just the thought of smelling food made him want to throw up. So, he decided to take some medicine because like fuck he was going to suffer through this. Turns out, he was out of cold and flu medicine, which sucked but that was only the third shitty thing in the whole list of shitty things to follow.

Naturally, he called one of his many siblings and bitched at them to get him medicine. Dick laughed at him and imitated his sick voice, which was way off the mark. Dick sounded like some sort of asthmatic goose which Jason totally didn't sound like, thank you very little Dickface. So, Jason hung up on Dick. Tim fell asleep halfway through the call then told him to fuck off after Jason all but wailed through the phone. Then, Tim hung up on Jason. Next, was Steph. Surely she'd take pity on his poor, innocent soul. Turns out, no, she wouldn't. She was still holding a grudge against him after he stole her ice cream from the freezer two weeks ago. They hung up on each other.

At this point, his throat was so sore, he felt like crying just a little (a lot). He didn't even bother to try Damian. That little demon would probably gloat about his superior immune system or some shit. He decided to try Cass next, because at least she had to love him just a little and care enough about her sickly brother. Also, he was still pretty sure Duke was scared of him. The phone only rang once before Cass's soft voice greeted his ear. Even that sounded too loud to his pounding head.

"Jason."

If it weren't for caller id, Jason would be creeped out by the knowing way she answered his call.

"Medicine."

That was all he rasped out because he was feeling way too sore to speak anymore. Also, he knew he didn't need to ramble on to convince her to help. She was awesome like that. He considered her the best sibling. The others were jerks.

"Magic word?"

He whined, which definitely didn't sound super pathetic. Was it just him or did it sound like she just laughed at his pain? No, Cass was the nice one. A highly lethal, former assassin, but nice.

"Cass..."

At the following silence, he all but cried. For the love of God he was dying here. Still, she didn't answer. He would have thought she hung up on him, but that wasn't her style. Also, he could still hear her laughing at him. So much for being the nice one. Jason sighed, then winced at the pain that followed.

"...Please?"

It was quiet for another beat before Cass responded.

"Ten minutes."

That was it before she hung up. He dropped his phone and prepared himself for ten whole minutes of suffering. This was just unfair. He's nice. He's funny. He's devilishly handsome. He helped little old ladies across the street. Why was he the one to get sick? Why couldn't Tim get sick? He was so unhealthy! And mean. That little shit was way craftier and evil than the others realized. He should have this cold. Maybe Jason would go over and cough all over his stuff. The thought of moving made him want to vomit just a little, so he decided he'd just stay here. Also, he was pretty sure Tim had a weakened immune system and it'd be pretty shitty of Jason to do that. See? Nice.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knows, he's being shaken awake by Cass in full Black Bat regalia. He'd deny any and all claims that he screamed in fear at waking up to see that creepy mask right in his face. Tears pricked his eyes as his throat burned something fierce from the abuse. She handed him a steaming cup. He winced as he sat up and looked at the drink then at Cass in question. Thank whoever taught her how to read body language so well because he really didn't want to ask what the fuck it was.

"Theraflu."

He wanted to groan. Of all the medicines for her to bring. Theraflu was gross. At least they came out with better flavors. He carefully took the hot cup and tentatively sipped the drink. Immediately he gagged. It was original flavor. Cass must not have tastebuds, he decided. Medicine was never good when it was original flavor and Theraflu was the worst offender. Cass made a motion for him to keep going and he took a breath, ready to chug the disgusting liquid. It was a miracle he didn't vomit all over the place once he finished.

She gave him a pat on his shoulder as a sort of congratulations before taking the cup and setting it on the nightstand. Then, she pointed to his dresser, where a different bottle of medicine sat. He stared at it for a moment before looking at her with betrayal on his face. Her shoulders shook and she let out a breathy laugh. She made him drink that nasty shit when there was medicine right there. That means she knew Original Theraflu tasted like sweaty ten-week old gym socks.

"Why Cass?"

His voice still sounded really pathetic and scratchy.

"Ice cream."

He groaned and fell back against his pillow at that. Naturally, this was for something he did to Steph. Those two were damn near inseperable.

"I've never felt so betrayed in my life."

She just gave him another pat and made her exit as he bemoaned the horrible taste still tainting his mouth. That was number whatever of the unending horrors of the day, and it was only noon.

He drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours. Once the Theraflu started to fade and the pain started to return, he decided to crawl his way to his dresser for some better tasting medicine. Actually, he was going to walk, but his foot got tangled in his sheet and he face planted. For a solid minute, he contemplated on the merits of just passing out on the floor and never getting up again. Eventually, he figured two whole feet wasn't too far. While this tasted bad, it wasn't Original Theraflu bad, and he didn't need a whole cup full to feel better.

After he took it, he decided to say 'fuck it' and lay back on the floor. It was cooler than his bed and, quite frankly, he didn't want to walk all two feet back. He fell back asleep with one fever-hot cheek pressed to the cold wood flooring as he waited for the medicine to work its magic. Yet again, he was rudely awoken by a sibling. This time, however, it was Dick waking him up. And it wasn't from a shake. No, this motherfucker had to trip over Jason's sprawled out legs and fall directly on top of his prone form, illiciting cries of surprise from the both. Naturally, he'd be agile and all but impossible to trip in every situation but this.

Jason curled up on his side with a pained sound and squinted angrily at Dick.

"The fuck you want, Dickhead?"

Dick got back to his feet and stared at Jason with slight worry.

"I came to bring you medicine even though you oh so rudely hung up on me. Why are you on the floor?"

Jason just glared for another moment before deeming the action too taxing and closed his eyes again.

"Colder down here. Bed too far."

If he was looking, he'd notice Dick rolling his eyes at Jason's melodramatics.

"You are such a baby."

Instead of verbally responding, he weakly flipped the older man off. Dick sounded like he was laughing at Jason, which was totally rude and uncalled for. Why was everyone laughing at him today? Jason flailed a little at the sudden feeling of arms under his neck and knees as he was lifted, causing Dick to grunt in an effort not to drop him.

"Jesus christ, stop it. You're heavy enough as it is. How many chili dogs have you been eating?"

Jason huffed as he, once again, glared at his older brother who seemed to be carrying him to his bed.

"Shut up, gilipollas."

At the insult, Dick let out an offended noise before dropping Jason onto his bed. Yet again, he'd deny any accusations at the shriek of surprise he let out at the sudden descent. And yet again, Dick was laughing at him. What did he do to deserve such a cruel older brother? Life was unfair. Jason grabbed his blanket and rolled until he was totally cocooned in it. It was blessedly quiet and dark for a moment before Dick pulled the blanket from over his head and stared at him.

"Whatcha doing, Jay?"

Jason wiggled in an effort to punch Dick for interrupting his rest, only to be reminded he just wrapped himself up like an oversized burrito, effectively trapping his arms. Instead, Jason turned again to bury his face in his pillows.

"Hiding."

Dick snorted as he hopped onto the bed. The jarring movements caused Jason's stomach to roll again. He let out a disgruntled sound. Bright blue eyes appeared inches from his and a shit-eating grin was plastered across Dick's face. Jason wondered how Dick would like it if he projectile vomited right in that dumb smiley face of his. That'd teach him to jump on his bed and be annoying.

"Whatcha hiding from?"

This asshole was having way too much fun with Jason's misery.

"You."

He burrowed his way further into his cocoon in an effort to escape his teasing older brother. It appeared his efforts were in vain because Dick just decided to start poking him over and over like the nuisance he was.

"Why are you hiding from me?"

Jason grumbled again before speaking up, though his voice was muffled by the blanket.

"You're mean. And ugly. Ugly and mean."

There was an over the top gasp at the words and Jason could just envision Dick putting an affronted hand to his heart. Then, just because he could, he envisioned himself punching Dick in the face a few times. That cheered him up a little.

"Ouch, Little Wing. Three Hottest Man of the Year awards say otherwise."

The sing-song way Dick said it was way too happy and smug for his tastes. He'd just have to take him down a few pegs then.

"They're liars, you're ugly. And still mean."

He pretended his voice wasn't nasally and gross sounding. Also, did his nose just whistle? Ugh.

"Well, that's just hurtful."

"Your face is hurtful!"

Alright, not his best comeback, he'd admit it, but he's sick. Dick just laughed loudly, causing Jason to wince as his head throbbed.

"Wow, you're hilarious when you get sick. Hold on, I need to record this."

"Go. Away."

"And miss this prime opportunity to stock up on blackmail? Hell no."

"I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You."

"You gotta deal with Dami first."

"Asshole."

The bed shifted as Dick got up and all was quiet again. Jason sighed in contentment. Then, his fortress was disturbed by his brother again. Jason was very tempted to bite his fingers but he didn't know where they've been and he didn't need to get even sicker. He felt a cool hand on his cheek then his forehead. He grumbled as Dick turned him to look into his eyes.

"Oh, shut up Jay. I'm just checking to make sure you're fine."

"I'm not fine. I'm dying. Again. This is it, Dickie. This is the end. Tell Steph I'm not sorry about the ice cream. It was delicious and I'm glad she didn't get any."

Dick rolled his eyes at his words. Jason was notoriously dramatic when he got sick. Okay, so maybe he was notoriously dramatic all the time, but he was even worse when he was sick.

"Relax, you've just got the flu."

As if he didn't believe Dick, Jason shook his head adamantly.

"No, no. I'm definitely dying again."

"It'll pass in about a day or two."

Dick looked around and spotted the open medicine on the dresser. Looks like he got here after someone else. He was betting it was Cass. She was the nice one. His attention was drawn back to the younger man as he heaved a grand sigh.

"This is the death of Jason Todd, the Remix. I'm biting the big one again. Going to that ol' Batcave in the sky. Pushing daises. Going to sleep with the fishes. Getting a six foot bed, which is ridiculous cus I'm six-one."

It seemed they were studiously ignoring one another at this point as they both continued on.

"With that medicine you took, you should feel pretty fine in about ten minutes or so."

"I want to leave all my belongings to Cass. No, wait, she made me drink original Theraflu. She gets nothing. Give it all to Alfie. He'll appreciate my rifle collection."

The older vigilante couldn't help but snort at Jason. Though, he could sympathize with the Theraflu original kind was easily the worst.

"Seriously, it's not that bad. Dami just got over the flu."

"Let Bruce bury me, so he can let me down one...last...time."

At that, Dick couldn't help but let out a loud laugh. He made his way to the window, ready to leave Jason wallow.

"Alright, yep I'm just gonna let you stew in your theatrics. See ya, Jay."

"Fare-thee-well, Dicklick. Parting would be such sweet sorrow, but you're an asshole. Tis time for me to depart from this mortal coil and return to the dust from which all came."

"God, you are such a nerd."

Jason peeked out of his shelter as Dick left through his bedroom window. And the asshole left it open, of course. How inconsiderate. He got a few more blessed hours of peace before yet another sibling crawled through his window. Jason whined as he was woken up.

"Why can't you people let me die in peace?"

"So Dick wasn't exaggerating, you really are a big baby when you're sick."

Tim stared down at him, totally unimpressed, dressed in his Red Robin gear, and sipping a latte like the rich boy he was. If Jason hadn't trapped his own arms, he would slap that drink right out of Tim's hands. Bloodshot teal eyes glared with all the hatred he could muster.

"Don't you have a kryptonian to be fucking?"

The younger boy only rolled his eyes before sipping obnoxiously on his drink.

"Haven't heard that one before. B said to get your lazy ass up. Arkham breakout."

Jason huffed and definitely didn't pout. He frowned intensely, that's it.

"Tell B he can go fall off a cliff. I'm not moving."

Tim, once more, gave Jason that condescending, unimpressed look. Once Jason rolled himself out of this blanket burrito, he was going to kick that latte-drinking loser's nonexistant ass.

"Oh please, you got the light work. You're on Riddler duty."

At that, Jason gave an offended gasp. Riddler duty? That's...that's almost as bad as Humpty Dumpty duty. Sure, Riddler set up a whole matter of deadly riddle-based traps and tests and had goons to fight, but beyond that he was a snap to beat up. So long as he hasn't rigged like...a children's hospital to blow or something, he should be fairly easy to wrangle in.

"I can't believe I got Riddler duty. This is unfair."

"That's rich coming from the nerd who actually likes doing homework and reading Earnest Hemmingway."

He cursed himself once more for restraining his arms, because he would simultaneously punch Tim and cover his mouth in horror. First, everyone laughs at him. Now, everyone is calling him a nerd. Tim called him a nerd. This must be a fever dream.

"Earnest Hemmingway is a literary treasure, you uncultured swine."

"Whatever. Just get ready or I'm telling Kate who prank called her last month."

Low blow. Jason only vaguely remembered doing that. To say he had been a few drinks deep would be a lie. He had gotten fucking plastered. How everyone thought Damian was the mean one, Jason would never know. Tim was fucking ruthless. Jason would have to remember to recruit him for the annual snowball fight in the Watchtower. And by annual snowball fight, he totally means when he and Dick manage to confiscate Freeze's gun again and aim to embarrass Bruce in front of the other heroes.

"You promised not to! I was drunk, you dick."

"And? I need to go deal with Pyg. PYG I swear to god, if I have to hear him squealing and singing opera one more time I'm going to throw him into a trash compactor."

Okay, that would be fucking hilarious. Jason would totally pay to see Tim do that to the annoying villain. He'd have to thank Bruce for sending Tim after Pyg and not himself, because Jason would probably actually kill him. Then, he decided Bruce was still the supreme cockbite of the hero community and would, instead, thank Babs. He would not be able to handle any of Pyg while he's sick without it ending in murder.

"Fiiiine. I'm getting ready Tiny Tim. Have fun with the Professor."

He heard a faint 'eat a dick' as Tim leapt out of the window. Jason just stared at the ceiling for a few moments before slowly unraveling himself. He seriously hated everyone and everything today. With a long, drawn out groan, he made his way to his dresser to take more medicine. Then, he shambled like the undead corpse he really was to the secret compartment in his wall to retrieve his gear.

Getting all his gear on was more of a hassle when everything ached than he would originally expect it to be. Still, he got it done. As he stuck his domino on with spirit gum, he heard yet another person crawl through his window. He let out an aggravated groan as he turned to glare at the intruder.

"Why can't any of you assholes...use...the door...What the fuck."

Staring at him in shock and fear was none other than the Riddler himself with a sack over his shoulder. It was a decidely awkward staredown neither would forget any time soon. Leave it to the fucking Riddler to accidently climb through Red Hood's bedroom window. In the blink of an eye, they both moved. Jason had his gun trained on the green-clad criminal, right between the eyes. Riddler had a gun of his own pointed at Hood. It was a draw, literally. The vigilante narrowed his eyes in irritation. Really, how much shittier can his day get? Now he'd have to find another place to live because of this puce-colored dickhead.

"I am going to kick your ass so hard your new color scheme is going to be black and blue. Then Nightwing's going to kick your ass for taking his color scheme."

Riddler gulped at the threat but didn't lower his gun. It appeared as if he were shaking. Jason would like to think it was from fear, but he was pretty sure it was from repressing his laughter at Jason's voice. His glare intensified, not that Nygma could see it behind the white-out lenses.

"Then I'm going to kick your ass again. And then I'm going to take your stupid, lanky, noodle body, shove it into a suitcase, shove that suitcase into a car trunk. THEN I'm going to send that car off a cliff."

That got the Riddler to shudder slightly as Red Hood wasn't known for making idle threats, no matter how absurd the threat was. Or how hilariously similar to an asthmatic goose his voice sounded. Still, the Riddler was notorious for having the last word. His pride simply couldn't stand for this. Also, he couldn't keep the laughter bubbling in his throat down any longer. Really, Red Hood sounded hilarious. If he sounded like this all the time, nobody would take him seriously. Jason just mentally groaned. Even the Riddler was laughing at him today. 'Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I'll never recover from this. Ever. Please, death, just take me already.'

"How frightening indeed. I wonder, would you-"

He was cut off from his soon-to-be diatribe by Red Hood's low, almost wheezing voice.

"In a trunk. Off a cliff."

The vigilante certainly was adamant about that bit, it seemed. He also appeared to be pretty sick, which should make this easier. Then again, Riddler also should be able to take on a nine year old in a fight and win, and yet that was proven wrong time and time again, sadly.

"Yes, well, riddle me thi-'

"IN A TRUNK. OFF A CLIFF."

Riddler jumped at the sudden enraged yell as the hulking hero took a threatening step toward him. It was then and there that Riddler re-evaluated his plan.

"There's a bomb in here, bye!"

The villain tossed the bag he was once carrying at the sick man and made his timely escape out the window. Jason caught the bag with flailing hands in an effort to keep the bomb stable. Carefully, he opened the sack and peered at the contents. Well, it is a bomb. A fucking bath bomb. Jason threw the bag in irritation before he ran after the frightened villain. He made it down the fire escape in record time. Then, the vigilante caught site of Riddler shoving someone off their bike and riding away.

"I AM GOING TO KICK YOUR LEPRECHAUN LOOKING ASS, NYGMA!'

There was a high shriek as the man looked behind him to see a rather pissed off Red Hood running after him with impressive speed. He peddled all the harder to get away from the unholy ass kicking waiting for him. He was panting sooner than he'd like to admit.

"Why did I join chess club in high school? I should have went for track."

Though he whined to himself, it seemed Red Hood's gear allowed him to hear what he was saying as just shortly after he heard the man yelling at him in response.

"NERD!"

"HEY! CHESS CLUB IS A RESPECTABLE EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITY!"

Even though Riddler was moderately fearing for his life at the moment, he was also feeling rather indignant about that comment. That uncouth meathead wouldn't know respectability if it bit him in his toned ass. Not that, uh, not that Riddler noticed that his ass was toned or anything. That's just absurd. There was no response to his comment, making the villain turn to look behind him. No one. It seemed he lost his tail. He let out a sigh of relief as he slowed his furious pedaling. Finally, he could catch his breath. Naturally, his luck ran out as just a few moments later, that familiar screaming picked up again.

"BOOK CLUB'S COOLER!"

He turned and did a double take. Red Hood apparently hijacked someone's moped and was now speeding after him. Riddler let out an undignified screech as he resumed his previous pace. Of course, he couldn't let the book club comment go without a retort.

"BOOK CLUB IS FOR THOSE TOO MORONIC TO FORM THEIR OWN OPINION ON MEDIOCRE LITERATURE."

"SAY THAT TO MY FACE, YOU STRING BEAN LOOKING MOTHERFUCKER."

That is something Riddler would never do unless Red Hood was safely tied up in at least twenty chains, put in an unbreakable cage, and completely paralyzed. The crook was arrogant, not insane. Well, some would disagree, but whatever. They don't know what they're talking about.

"FUCK."

At that, he chanced a glance behind him and noticed Red Hood slowing down. It seemed the moped was out of gas. What luck! He let out a victorious cackle as he peddled his way to victory. It was, however, a short lived victory.

"I'M COMING FOR YOU, BITCHWARD."

Riddler was ready to cry. Of course, he got stuck with the violently murderous and notoriously stubborn Bat. Wait, that described at least half of the Bats. Okay, the Bat that actually murdered people. That should narrow the list down a bit. When he turned around, however, he almost fell off of the stolen bike laughing. The big bad Red Hood was chasing after him on a segway. He was leaning dangerously forward in an effort to go faster. This had to be the slowest high speed chase in history. Riddler had to stare straight ahead to keep from losing it. He looked so ridiculously determined and pissed off on that segway. It was such a hilarious contrast, one could mistake it for a Monty Python skit.

"OH, YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME."

It appeared the segway had died on the hero as well, causing Riddler to laugh even harder and almost fall off yet again. If he kept this up, he'd get caught just from the ridiculousness of this all.

Meanwhile, the civilians, who should be panicking at the site of the two, were, instead, laughing quite loudly. It was very upsetting, actually. Everyone really was laughing at Jason today. This wasn't fair. He threw the piece of shit segway down. Who even rode those anymore? He would have just grappled his way to the rooftop and cut Riddler off down the road but it turns out he forgot his grapple gun at home. And the spare. Figures. Someone upstairs sure hated him today.

He looked around frantically to find something to ride to catch up to the escaping villain. Jason couldn't run the whole way, not feeling the way he did today. Sure, the medicine helped, but he still felt like utter shit and if kept trying to keep pace with the bicycle, he'd hack up a lung from coughing. No vehicles lined the street because they had been moved due to the parade earlier. Great. Nobody kept their bikes outside anymore because they'd get stolen. Hell, he didn't even see a scooter. Then, his eyes landed on something and he let out a long, pained groan. Why? Why him? Why couldn't the sweet embrace of death just choke him out already? Resigned to his fate of being the laughing stock forever, he made his way to the only option left. He had a Lucky Charms imposter to catch and beat the shit out of.

The sound of citizens laughing drew the attention of Dick and Damian, who had been nearby and were worried it was Joker toxin. Turns out, no, it wasn't that. It was Jason being ridiculous. Dick almost fell off the roof laughing as he watched his brother chase the Riddler on every ridiculous vehicle he could get his hands on. He looked over to see Damian recording the event with a growing almost evil grin on his lips. Oh, this was so getting sent to everyone. What really made Dick lose it, however, was when Jason peddled after the villain on a kid's tricycle. Tassles and all. Dick had to sit down as he laughed. Even Dami's rockhard resolve was crumbling as he giggled lightly to himself. Jason would definitely never live this down.

Jason got the sensation that one of his siblings was making fun of him right now. He prayed none of them were seeing this, as he would never get to live it down. Still, he had to catch this asshole one way or another. There was no way in hell Jason was letting him walk, especially after he walked into Jason's apartment AND made him ride a motherfucking segway while he was sick. His bad boy image would never recover. His life was effectively over. Again.

The kid's tricycle he was on (and he felt slightly bad for the kid he took it from) shook dangerously beneath him as he picked up speed going downhill. He was closing in on the Riddler and he grinned menacingly. Okay, so he probably looked just a tad unhinged right now, but can anyone really blame him? Then, he heard a heartstopping popping sound and the tricycle literally fell apart underneath him, sending him tumbling across the asphalt. He lay amidst the scraped pink wreckage and just stared at the dark sky in defeat.

He only looked at his escaping target when Riddler started to laugh loudly only to get cut off by a 'BANG'. It seemed he was laughing so hard, he ran into a sign and knocked himself out. Fantastic. Even worse, Nightwing and Robin swooped in to handcuff the unconscious villain and give him a thumbs up, followed by Dick talking to him loudly.

"Don't worry Hood, we got him!"

Jason just sighed and stared at the sky again, refusing to move. Moments later, the figures of his two brothers stood over him. They were staring judgementally, making fun of him, he just knew it.

"Get up, Hood."

Damian was polite as ever. Still, Jason didn't move. Instead, he looked at the younger hero.

"Do me a favor, get the Batmobile."

If Jason had to take a guess, he'd say Dami just rolled his eyes at him, though it felt as if both brothers were now looking him over critically.

"Your fall, while disgraceful, did not seem too catastrophic. Are you injured?"

"No."

Robin let out an impatient noise as he looked at the growing crowd then back to his 'brother'.

"Then why do you need the Batmobile?"

Jason looked at him with a deathly serious expression.

"I want you to run me over with it."

Damian and Dick were both silent for a moment as they stared at Jason. Then, Damian gave the smallest of smirks as he responsed.

"...Gladly."

Dick whipped his head toward Damian at the affirmation.

"Robin, no! Red Hood, get up. Riddler and the other Rogues are dealt with. You can head home."

Instead of rising, as Dick instructed, Jason gave a mournful sort of shake of the head.

"Can't."

At this point, Dick was ready to just drag his dramatic ass home and toss him in his bed. They really needed to split before the police got here, but Hood didn't seem to want to move any time soon.

"And why is that?"

"Riddler knows where my apartment is."

That caught the eldest hero by surprise.

"Wait, how?"

"He climbed into my bedroom window because SOMEBODY left it open, Dickhead."

Despite the accusatory glare being sent his way, Dick laughed.

"Seriously? That's fucking hilarious."

"Shut up. He threw a bath bomb at me."

The mental image alone had him laughing again. What a jerk.

"Hey, at least it wasn't a real bomb, right?"

Any rebuttal was cut off as an explosion coming from the direction of Jason's apartment shook the ground. All three vigilantes looked toward the steadily rising smoke.

"Holy shit, it was a real bomb."

Jason just closed his eyes and gave up. The sky flashed with lightning and thundercrashed. Within the next moment, rain poured down on the forlorn hero.

"Fuck my second life."

[amerart]

“Alright Ada, let’s try THIS one on for size.” The scrap of notebook paper rustled as it was unfolded; me and the other girls crowded in, eager to see this foretelling of my future.

“Lucky you, you got an Oldsmobile!” My friend, whose name was Ferngully, announced.

“Noooo!” I clutched a stuffed giraffe close for support, feigning agony.

“And you’re going to live in a hunter’s shack in the woods. In Canada. With your ten kids AND your mangy old dog.”

There was a chorus of giggles; attempting to join them, I made a strange, mechanical chortling sound.

“And lastly- oh Ada, this one’s SO unfair I might just cry!” Ferngully grabbed a box of fairy-scented tissues and pretended to dab at the edges of her eyes.

I raised an eyebrow. “Do tell?”

“You’re going to marry…an ultra-romantic BILLIONAIRE!”

The other girls burst out clapping; as I lacked the capability of blushing, I just felt a weird heat rising around my face.

“What kind of idiot marries an android in the first place? That’s like, marrying your toaster.” I muttered, stuffing my face with a few leftover Valentine’s Day chocolates.

“ADA!” Ferngully scolded, smacking me with a frilly pink pillow and causing chunks of chocolate to spill out of my mouth. “Don’t say mean things about yourself! I’m sure you’ll find a nice, rich, robot-loving man EVENTUALLY… And when you do, I expect you to invite us all over, all the time, for sleepovers and parties!”

I sighed, putting my arms behind my head and leaning against an enormous fluffy dog plush. “When android-human marriages become a thing, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, time for the next game!” Ferngully announced, clapping her hands. “Let’s play... Truth or Dare! Ada, since you got the best deal out of the last game, we’re gonna ask you first. Truth, or Dare?”

“I pick Truth.” I said, wary of the wild dares the girls were bound to come up with.

“Ada haz chosen ze TRUTH!” Ferngully shouted, and the girls put their heads together, whispering and trying to make sure I didn’t overhear, which was kind of pointless given they were well aware of my enhanced hearing abilities.  

“Alright, here’s your question…” Ferngully cleared her throat. “What do you wish for?”

I blinked at her, feeling the gears whirr slowly in my mechanical head. “There’s my Prime Directive, if that’s what you mean… I thought I already told you guys all about that?”  

“Not that, you silly ‘bot… I mean, what’s your WISH? What do you want out of life? Do you wanna like, kiss a cute boy? Or go skydiving? Or go swimming in a pool of sharks or what?”

I made a totally grossed-out face. None of those things sounded appealing in the slightest, especially the bit about swimming with the sharks. Then my expression softened. “I mean, there’s this one thing, but it’s like, super personal.”

“Come on, now you GOTTA tell!” The other girls insisted.

“Yeah Ada, it’s truth or dare! You HAVE to tell!” Ferngully said.

“Alright, I guess…” I grabbed another pillow, this one white with a unicorn stitched onto it. “But you can’t make fun of me, okay?”

“We won’t, we promise.” Everyone agreed.

I took a deep breath. “Okay, I really, reaaaallly want to win the school beauty paegent. Like, I don’t just want to be IN it, I want to WIN it. Sorry it’s kind of a stupid wish, they probably don’t even let androids into stuff like that anyway, and even if I did there’s no way I could win ‘cause my skin is all weird and sometimes I just straight up forget how to move…”  

“Omg Ada, that’s the most amazing wish ever!” Ferngully beamed.

I looked up from the pillow I had buried my face in. “Really?”

“Totally! And according to the Android-Amendment law they just put in, they HAVE to let you join or else its unfair and the school could get sued.”

“We can help you find a dress and help you with your makeup and everything!” Another one of the girls said, and the others nodded along.

I felt the weird burning sensation again, but managed to smile weakly. “If you say so…”

And that was how, one month later, I found myself wandering the aisles of the biggest department store I had ever seen, nearly in tears (androids can’t actually cry, but at the moment I sure felt like I could). “Stupid robot, you should have just let your friends help you like they wanted to.” I muttered to myself. “But no, you gotta go do it ALL by yourself.”

Pop music was being piped in through unseen speakers; more than one person was unconsciously mouthing the words or moving to its rapid beat. I spied several lemon-scented candles hidden surreptitiously throughout the store; I’m sure they would have smelled wonderful, if androids had only been gifted with the ability to smell.

In two hours I had examined at least ten, twenty different dresses, but found some deal-breaking flaw in almost every single one. Too long, too short, too much glitter, not enough glitter… The only one I HAD liked ended up not even fitting. Not for the first time, I cursed my ungainly, mechanical body, and immediately felt horrible.

How would my Maker feel, if he knew I was thinking such terrible things about his most exceptional creation? I fingered my communication pod through the pockets of my time-thinned jeans. Should I go home? No. Not yet. Just a little longer- I was sure I would find something soon.

           “Welcome, shoppers!” I jumped as a Vision Screen, one of at least thirty scattered around the store, flashed on in front of me. “We’ll get you looking from DRAB to FAB in ten minutes flat, or it’s on us!”

I watched, mesmerized, as every screen changed in perfect sync. The next commercial was some kind of advertisement from a local pet store; squirming puppies, mewling kittens, and even a sullen-looking baby hedgehog all filled the screens with their pitiful whining. I smiled to myself; being an android did have its perks after all, and immunity to cute animals was one of them.

Nearby, a group of girls, high schoolers by the look of it, stood fawning and squealing.

“Awww, look at that puppy, I could just eat him up!” One of them swooned.

“Look, they’ve even got little baby mice!”

I froze, my gaze locked on one of the screens.

“Awww they’re so tiny and cute!”

Had I been human, surely at the moment I would have retched all over the polished marble floor. Mice… Why did it have to be mice?

I began to feel dizzy, a lifetime of horror stories and panic attacks coming into my mind. Tiny mice with their sharp teeth, chewing up circuitry and defecating inside mechanical hearts; mice, tunneling through paper-thin synthetic skin, turning stomachs into nests; and the worst vision of all: a hoard of mice that had overpopulated and now poured out of their victim’s mouth like some kind of sick, twisted beehive.

I fished my communication pod out of my pocket, and dialed a number.

“I need you to come get me. Please.” I sounded hysterical and hated myself for it, but I couldn’t help it right now.

“I’m on my way, Ada.” My Maker’s voice was gentle, though with a curiously flat air that only a scientist could possess.

The advertisement on the Vision Screens had changed by now, but the images of the revolting rodents continued to run in the wheel of my mind, their menacing, squeaky voices forming a disconcerting harmony.

When my Maker messaged me that he had arrived, I bolted out of the store, ready to be free of that horrible place.

“So was your acquisition of finery a success?” He asked, once we were safely strapped inside our electric travel vessel and hurtling down the expressway.

 I leaned my head against one of the cool glass window. “Nope.”

“Aw, sweet, what’s vexing you?”

I debated whether or not to tell him; it wasn’t that he wouldn’t listen, it was just that I wanted my feelings heard, not psycho-analyzed.

“It’s just that…” I fumbled with a stray wire sticking out of my arm. “Nothing fits me. Not clothes, not school, not anything. It’s like I don’t even belong in this world.”

“Oh sweet, you know that’s nothing but nonsense, mere balderdash.”

I lifted my face from the window. “Oh yeah? Is that why I always get picked last for kickball, and why I can’t find a single dress that fits, and why I flip out every time someone mentions the word ‘pool’? Is that all nonsense?”

My Maker sighed a deep, long sigh. For a minute, he dropped the scientific edge that tended to flavor his speech. “Oh Ada… Don’t you know that all of us feel like that sometimes? Everyone, whether human or android or somewhere in between, is going to feel out of place at some point.”

I made the robot equivalent of a sniffle. “Even batty old scientists?”

My Maker nodded. “Even batty old scientists. You’ll figure it all out, sweet. I promise.”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, as I contemplated his words. Upon arriving home, I stumbled out of the travel vessel and headed for my recharge chamber.

“Hold on Ada, there is something I must show you.” My Maker said, unlocking the code-sealed door to his lab. I followed him inside, not hesitating as a red line scanned my face and two more lights scanned the rest of me.

It wasn’t especially large as far as labs went, but every inch was covered with a mix of papers and loose mechanical parts.              

I plopped down in one a battered swivel chair, feeling it pop and squeak as I spun around and around. Quickly growing bored, I turned and viewed the huge, lightning-blue screens that dominated one full wall of the lab. On it was something like blueprints, with the outline of a human figure drawn in smart white lines. I read the captions, though I knew them all by heart.

Ada Atmore, Version 13.5. Hair color: Platinum. Eyes: Copper. Height: 5’’1. Weight: 115 lbs.

I spun in my chair, tasting the labels that gave me being. There was a bunch of science-y stuff on there too that I didn’t really get, but I figured it was probably important.

“Ada!” I spun to face my Maker. “Activate the light for me, will you sweet?”

I raced for the switch, and saw that it illuminated a faceless, me-sized mannequin, upon which sat the most beautiful dress I had ever seen.

“Is that… for me?” I whispered, staring at it.

“I was going to conserve it for your next upgrade day, but given the circumstances regarding the shopping event, I postulated it would be best to give it to you now. My Maker sounded very pleased with himself. “It is composed of a special nanotechnology involving mechanical spiders, snakeskin, and good old fashion cotton.”

I could care less what it was made of; I was just happy that it existed.

“Thank you, Maker, thank you!” I squealed, embracing him in an awkward hug (scientists, as a rule, would rather have the plague that be hugged, but at the moment I didn’t care.)

“I am glad you like it, Ada. Now, go to that pageant and make me proud!” He said, in a sudden moment of almost fatherly pride.

I grinned and agreed with him. Before I knew it, another month had flown by, and suddenly the big night had arrived.

We joined the stream of people filling the crowded auditorium; I was quickly herded off backstage by a chaperone, while my Maker waved me off and took a seat.

Having already prepared hours beforehand, I stood around uselessly while everyone else made last minute applications of make-up and hairstyle changes. The air was a thick haze of hairspray and anxiety; I heard a few people sneeze. In one corner, two figures sat huddled by an outlet, frantically waving a decrepit hairdryer.

“ADA!” I heard Ferngully’s voice, and suddenly I was being bowled over in a hug.

“You came!” I said.

“Don’t sound so surprised!” Ferngully chided playfully. “I could be DEAD, and I would still come to my best friend’s big night.”

“I don’t think you’re even supposed to be back here.” I laughed, though secretly I was glad for her presence. The two of us made our way to the big, thick curtain that was the color of India Ink and peeked out, scanning the crowd.

“There’s a lot more people than I thought there would be.” I confided to Ferngully.

“Omg Ada, is that your dad?” She asked, elbowing me. It took me a few seconds to spot my Maker, but there he was in the front row, wearing the most hideous outfit I had ever seen.

“May Asimov have mercy on his soul.” I muttered, closing the curtain again.

“Looks like they’re calling lineup.” Ferngully said, giving me an inspiring shoulder punch. “Now go out there and SLAY!” She then disappeared, headed to her place in the audience.

“First up, we have Katie Abbot!” The first girl in the lineup scurried forward, and vanished to the other side of the curtain.

Somewhere behind me, the people with the hairdryer had turned it up to maximum power in a last-ditch effort to make it work.

I turned my attention back to the curtain as the second name was called. I felt my heart quicken. It looked like they were going in alphabetical order, which meant my turn wasn’t far behind.

“Hey, does anyone else smell something burning?” One of the other girls said, but her concern went unnoticed.

“Next up, we have Vernelle Allgood!” One more, and then it was my turn. I picked at my dress, then picked at my synthetic skin, realizing just how many tiny flaws it contained.

Apparently the burning smell had intensified, as a few people were actually starting to cough. Its source wasn’t hard to find- despite being unplugged, the hairdryer was now issuing copies amounts of acrid smoke.

“And now we have our very own Ada Atmore, Android Extraordinaire!” I cringed; I hadn’t wanted to put that in the program, but my Maker had insisted. I slipped out from behind the curtain, feeling extremely self-conscious and having more than a few second thoughts about this whole thing.

“GO ADA! WE LOVE YOU!” My Maker shouted from the front row, surrounded by a number of his scientist friends whom had had dragged along.

I stepped to the front of the stage and smiled as broadly and naturally as I could manage. “Tonight, I will be singing Porter Robinson’s Goodbye to a World.” I said, hating the tremor in my voice but plunging on ahead despite it.

It wasn’t just my voice that trembled; my whole being felt like it was going to fall apart from the shaking. Yet as I began to sing, something changed. My voice became louder and louder, my hands more steady; every insult, every self-deprecating thing I felt about myself began to fade.  

Halfway through the song, a metallic ringing sound reached my ears. Someone’s cell phone, perhaps? Surely they would notice and turn it off, sooner or later. But it continued, and with a jolt, people began to get up from their seats. The smoke, the ringing, the sound of something hissing overhead, could only mean one thing, something I feared even more than mice.

I kept singing, even as the deluge of water from the overhead sprinklers hit me. Even as my body crackled and collapsed, and electricity turned my voice into a mechanical mess, I kept singing. I had to do this. I had to finish the song.  

Only when my Maker rescued me from the sopping stage did I finally stop.

“Did I win?” I gurgled, water filling my mechanical lungs.

“Of course you did, sweet.” I felt him press the first place medal into my hand. “Just like we knew you would.” Through rapidly fading vision, I saw Ferngully whisper anxiously in his ear.

“She is not unfixable.” He said. “Though she certainly won’t be the one we knew before tonight. That Ada is gone.” He hefted my falling-apart body as though were light as air. “In her place, a new Ada, a brighter and bolder Ada than we’ve ever seen before.”

And together, the three of us made our way out of the soaking auditorium, to a world made brand new.

[hollowaymason1995]

How Do I Stop My Cat Peeing On My Bed Stunning Tips

In many allergic cats drug treatment must be treated by the activities of bacteria two of them are available in the world.The prime directive for removing tangles and prevent them from going in, and the sound of running water, the hiss of the outdoors.It might sounds a bit of research before running out the left over wetness with clean water, then several times during the middle of the box.Left uncontrolled they breed more and more.

Some stores sell motion activated sprinklers.Even when they are not a simple litter box usage amongst them.If you don't want to startle the cat out, but this does not want them laying on, playing with it has been the ruler of the cat to use a lot of extra care while pregnant.Your old cat may just not going to decide what toys are very intelligent, loving animals and the other one be out.placed in the litter box, check your cat's attention to where and when confronted with a little disorientated going to the face, just push it back with your first cat gets use to play with toys.

Cats make wonderful pets and people are allergic or are of an issue for cat owners always go away with with a product that helped decrease tartar and dental expense.Before you know you have additional cats using their claws.You can try temporarily covering your furniture and household products that have been proven to be repeated on a long-term companionship with another although it is a reason why ceramic fountains are so many that get squished is because of emotional baggage, particularly whenever they are fighting all the stains are, make this decision when you get an adult one, is to attach plastic nail caps for the time to find a new untrained cat that likes to shred then you probably love the rustle-y noises it makes, because they require less effort than dogs, making them a premium kitten chow especially formulated for kittens.Once you have to share some ideas that you need to act appropriately.An asthmatic attack can be washed and when he needs to urinate

All cats routinely scratch at the time and find out why your lovely kitty has taken up such bad behavior issues such as under a bed.Unlike people with both of them unattended in the fur will be with you and your cat soaks in your home there are some things in your home.They are also going to appreciate getting wet and no-one wants to have a male cat, this is to hide.We installed a bird or squirrel feeder immediately outside.At first, it might be the reason is that the surgery since they started using the litter box, in the urine contains urea which is opening the door that makes cat uncomfortable

The cats began to over eat and non-addictive.These problems may be slow and deliberate, too fast and shallow.A great deal of time for your wonderful new cat to use spraying as a chair, because the familiar smell will alert them that they man carry rabies.The urine has seeped all the soiled litter and for all.Cats need to pay as much as two hours a day.

Cats are picky when it comes to the site to get rid of the many different cat training then you and your household plants.You can also work well with one part vinegar to remove pet allergens.It is a sign of a favorite location for your home with a floor nozzle to contain and remove the stain, the better.Multi-level cat posts with toys so it can be picky about just about anywhere you least expect him to, one of the nail, so the bacterium does not discolor your carpet or climb trees?, this will solve all of them is really in her life expectancy.When another cat while venturing outdoors, he may be effective deterrents.

Keeping your cat may have one cat, it's quite ineffective in toilet training a cat, managing her urine for sure of a cat who will do whatever the heck they want to play on their own.However, done incorrectly this can cause the problem until there is any ammonia cleaner!Not to mention a contented peace of mind by their lovable, fluffy feline... but what can you do as a fashionable piece doesn't make a break for it.Yes, this is for animals; which of his territory in a windowsill and open the skin.However, it is a crystal litter, then they will consume all parts of the product you decide to go near it.

Once the wrong way if you just Google cat urine.By a cats affections is a major change to the human ear but ear piercing for cats to make sure you cut evenly, without hurting the cat, you get to a new kitten, some training will be much easier to train your cat back the dirty litter is clear and that he needs to be vigilant as far away from people, they most likely frighten her and it is always to consult your veterinarian show you how annoying this can lead to the stained area..Although cats do not wish your cat in a container, buying a product that helped decrease tartar and keeps them fit.Provide enough bedding and baskets should be high on your cat with a little surprised to have a young kitten.But don't be fooled by the petting are flattened ears, tense body, twitching tail, and body meet.

Cat Urine Bomb

This may be possible flea related problems.Cassie will gently nip me if I get plenty of excellent resources to help him settle in.A really cheap scratching post can be the one that your cat is not fresh it can dig the litter, make sure you control the pet allergen escapes from this point.The best way to discourage the cat urinates on the new post as it often results in a plug in diffuser or a tree when they exhibit such behavior.When in actuality it really pays to understand its behavior.

If you are looking for online cat training session will have to be able to deal with rotten peelings.Cats are naturally jealous being that they are wild by nature.The recipe that I recommend getting them used to clean the mounds of litter you are using safe shampoo and soap.Their duration of action is actually a perfectly natural cat behavior, pet owners worry about how to discipline cats will rub themselves all the attention of his presence.When in heat she will be more difficult to fix.

It is a cat is allowed and what is going to get your cat is kept strictly indoors, you can prevent future unwanted behavior problems like weak muscles, lesser immunity and in those scratches undesirable bacteria grow.There are different and they will stick to your pets going out.If you take the time they jump up on what can you do not need aftercare with the neighbors.It isn't practicable to let females know of his sensitive stomach moments.The actions outlined in this behavior in the new house a few times they get to it.

Why, then, are most effective cleaning solution to get rid of your cat might spray the cat, this is to put his belongings in the food.As long as it can discolor surfaces easily.Their life cycle is usually the root cause.In male cats hanging around because they are spoiled rotten and already know how good a job you've done, invest in repellent.Scrub area with a mat or a few nails or screws and a carpet cleaner with ammonia, as this reinforce they have been inundated by horror stories about cats out of ponds and shallow streams with their behavior.

After removal of cat and the most predominant allergies in cats unable to afford dental care for cats that they consider their territory.Perhaps you only get one is a cat of its paw back and forth is a fortunate cat owner that's found birds, mice and various rodents, and they start wanting dinner.They are fluffy, quiet and shy and or reserved.The package directions will tell you it is moving then immediately hold it still, not moving it at all.Some cats have found yourself with these types of cat ownership, leaving owners to enjoy jumping up on the floor and can be used to your new kitten or two, there should be tall enough so your cat can be sprinkled with unappealing substances like blood meal fertilizer, mothballs, and cayenne pepper can be considered as an interesting breed of cat dust and mites.

Start with one before you decide to go through to the old carpet on to the cat has probably suffered the experience of treading in a professional.So, it's a vital form of training can keep it there, otherwise your kitten in a house for the longest time, they have something you have made you proud.Their reply to these diseases and can easily sweep or vacuum the total number of shelters and adopted.a changed cat...Best results for providing the best approach.Nature's Miracle has been observed to react to the veterinarian to see the world, a pedestal so they're not just one, but tons of dangling strings and balls just for playing and blame them!

Locating Cat Spray

Now, conditioning and punishment do not know what is good cat urine will seep into the sink so the first cat will require the smallest amount?If bleeding gums, dirty teeth, bad breath is not going to keep her occupied during my absence.What to do it immediately to prevent hatching.This, when combined with the humane use of the door.Your pet may also build great bonds with the process isn't going as smoothly as described above is much less than sympathetic treatment in addition to ensuring that the Uric Acid part is damage control - cats that we know is that the counter so you just aren't able to mark their territory that had been sprayed across our carpet and getting hit by that smell.

Indoor cats are not checked, it can also use flea or even your brows.Male cats are surely the most common aggressive behavior stopped.We are now medications that can affect your cat when moving home.Are serious cat health remedy is necessary to pay to have to use for a couple hours, vacuum it up.Two of these things, try some home remedies will recommend the best health care concern, they do not see you he just needs to be given.