#and then in more fucky terms. i like to imagine he was fucking them both and preventing them from doing the same with one another :)

[storytellering]

Torn apart. Inspired by Romeo and Juliet by Sergio Cupido

[wetbloodworm]

haven't thought much about darion and seraphim in years but thinking about them a little now after that last post.

that whole 'verse was Generic Fantasy Universe, where magic was tied closely to emotions; magic responds to the emotions of the caster or whoever's using an item/potion, acts differently depending on the Vibes, etc. and those two were... i think i just called them constructs? i don't think that's a great term for what they are but i'll figure out something else later. used to be normal people who got caught in some kind of extreme magical backfire, essentially get turned into powerful magical conduits. casting magic comes almost effortlessly to them, but also just kinda. happens. like, constructs can't ever turn off the flow of magic, so it's always picking up on their emotions and can go off if the individual feels too strongly and can't control the effects. magic also reacts to other magic so stuff starts getting wacky around magic items or people trying to cast magic or use potions etc. constructs aren't super common because usually if magic backfires to that degree it'll just fucking kill the person/persons in the area, but it's happened enough that people with any kind of magical training or know-how know about them. they're more generously considered bad luck or a nuisance/obstacle to getting shit done, less generously considered walking time bombs.

being tied so intrinsically to magic in general, constructs can sense the emotions in others, ranging from just kinda feeling the Vibes around them passively based on how their magic responds to actually actively reading them. related: the magic in constructs sort of craves the emotion the individual felt strongest in the moment of their... creation? rebirth? when Things Went Awry. it's soothed by that emotion, becomes easier for the construct to control. if the individual feels that emotion personally it can help, but it also helps if they can feel it in others. if a construct DOESN'T feed the magic in them, it grows wilder, more reactive, and if that goes on for too long it will absoLUTELY end in a blast-radius kind of disaster.

darion's emotion is fear while seraphim's emotion is despair. things like anxiety/nervousness and general sadness respectively can help a bit but the Big Feelings feed their magic the most. i never worked out the specifics of their creations/rebirths, but i'd imagine that darion's happened when he was in danger and seraphim's happened when she lost her husband. since neither of those emotions are particularly enjoyable, both of them seek out situations where they'll be able to feel them in others. seraphim works at a funeral home, darion... i don't know what he does, actually. i know he's an adventurer, and he latches onto this other adventurer named markel who's had traumatic experiences with magic and developed a fear of it. both darion and seraphim have to deal with the emotional toll of needing these heavy negative feelings, and of feeling them by proxy, and of sometimes having to inspire those feelings in others so that they can stay in control. darion puts on a front of being totally chill with it when he's not, seraphim feels plenty of despair herself just existing this way.

one other thing i had going on with constructs is that their personal memories are wiped during creation/rebirth. i don't have an in-universe reason for why that happens, i just liked the idea of these people having no clue who they are or what happened to them but finding out quickly that something fucky is going on with them magically. i never figured out anything about darion's past, but i know that seraphim had a kid before her creation/rebirth that she couldn't remember after. she just woke up in the aftermath of a magical disaster confused and distressed and found a baby nearby and was just like ???? is this... is this mine??? do i take him??? what if he's not mine?????? thankfully he was but y'know, hard having to deal with what the fuck was going on with her on top of being a mom.

i may draw these two if i can.... fucking remember what they look like lmao or find a reference. they could both stand to have redesigns, i'm sure, i vaguely remember darion's hair being stupid lmao but we'll get there.

[princesscyr-fn]

Brothers x Autistic! MC Tidbits/Headcanons

I figured I’d do one as I’m autistic and I wanna be included in things. At the same time however, autism is a spectrum and each of us experience different behaviors and such. As such, each MC for each brother is different so everyone feels included! These are meant to be platonic but you can interpret this however you want. I’m asexual so writing actual romantic stuff makes me very uncomfortable lol.

|Masterlist is here|

MC is gender neutral, yall

Available on Ao3, Wattpad

Lucifer

♡ Clashing with one another from the get go. ♡ Lucifer tends to criticize you, and its mostly unintentional. He’s just looking out for you, though his pride prevents him from admitting that he cares about you. ♡ One day though, the usual comment that falls from his lips about you ends up making you snap. As a result, you are calling him every name under the blocked sun in the Devildom. (Satan LOVES this.) This is when Lucifer realizes he made a fucky wucky. (Thanks @error-code-606 lmao) ♡ Lucifer gets a super harsh reality check from Satan, reminding him that you are autistic and that constant put-downs is bad for a persons self-esteem/image issues. For once, pride feels guilt bubbling in his gut. ♡ From then on, Lucifer is more mindful of how he words his issues with you. (Still staying blunt, which you appreciate.) All the while he praises you from time to time for all the good stuff you’ve done thus far. ♡ Lucifer would keep mental notes of all your stims and triggers. ♡ Entertains stim toys and isn’t bothered by such as he tries to work. ♡ Lucifer would play soothing music for you, mostly classical or easy listening. Something to tingle your sensory. ♡ He stops your meltdowns before you could fully lose control of yourself. ♡ Soft hands are your weakness and Lucifer’s hands don’t disappoint. He’ll let you hold his hands anytime you desire. ♡ Lucifer's office is the best spot for you to have quiet time. ♡ You can talk his ear off and he would love every second of it, deep down.

Mammon

♡ He was quick to pick up on your behaviors before you could push him away. ♡ He is able to joke with you, both of you laughing like hyenas all the way. ♡ Mammon would never make fun of your stutter or mispronunciation of words. He’s patient and tries his best to help you. He absolutely hates when the other demons (not his brothers) make fun of you for something you have no control over. ♡ Both of you would find comfort in each other. ♡ You would absolutely adore his hair. Being a fan of bright colors and his hair being as white as angel wings. Bless his heart, he will allow you to play with it while denying how much he likes it. ♡ He knows the sound of coins is one of your favorite sounds sensory wise. He always makes sure to have some coins on him. ♡ Mammon would remember all of your fixations and then try to shower you in gifts relevant to your current likes. ♡ He loves music and will sing with you no matter how goofy you both sound. ♡ Late night Hell’s Kitchen runs are mandatory. ♡ You are the only person he would try so hard not to steal from. (He’d fail miserably and just keep your stuff instead of selling it.) ♡ Class would be hilarious with him, he’s a class clown. ♡ While he may be a class clown, I think he would somewhat try a bit harder on his work because you encourage him to do his best every single day.

Leviathan

♡ Things between the two of you are tense at first as both of you are socially awkward and standoffish. ♡ Though once you’re both comfortable, you will talk each others ears off about anime, video games, and everything under the blocked sun of the Devildom. ♡ You two will develop a secret language that the other brothers won’t understand. Imagine all that shit talk. ♡ You’re both stimmers! While Levi has physical and vocal stims, yours are mostly vocal with the occasional twitch and thigh slap. ♡ You both are major plushie enthusiasts. Prove me wrong. (You can’t.) ♡ Eye contact is difficult to maintain between the two of you, with both of you either yelping, blushing, and looking away while sputtering nonsense. ♡ Mention your love or interest in aquatic life or the sea and watch him fall in love with you, (he’s a sea monster, duh) though he will deny it smh. ♡ You both share a love for slime and will buy a lo of it on your trips to the human world. (When you two feel like doing things like that.) ♡ Levi will most certainly dress as a cat maid so long as you do it too. ♡ Stim games are 100% your favorite games to play with him. (Minecraft, Terraria, Fortnite, No Mans Sky...) ♡ Levi figures out that the sound of the ocean soothes you, and will imitate the sounds in his fish tanks to help you relax. ♡ You two make the best cosplay duo. No question about it.

Satan

♡ He is more understanding than you were led to believe. (Shame on you, Lucifer.) You avoided him at first until you found yourself in a heated debate with him regarding human world fauna kingdom. This conversation, though heated, gave you the chance to actually talk to him. It was then the realization hit that Lucifer intentionally kept you two apart. ♡ You two end up becoming close friends. ♡ You hate reading alone as its not engaging and gets boring quickly. So you tell Satan that you would like for him to read to you, which he’d accept without a second thought. ♡ He would remember your likes and dislikes. He would always encourage you to talk about your latest obsession. He’s always interested in hearing about what you have to say. ♡ Jingle cat ears. No explanation needed. (Might dress up as a cat maid with you and Levi, tho.) ♡ He would learn all your stims and triggers so he can help you when you need it. ♡ If you’re the artsy type, you bet he will learn all the crafts for you. ♡ The sound of turning pages satisfies your sound sensory. ♡ Nature walks, lots of them. Quiet moments together means the world to the two of you. ♡ Occasionally you fall asleep next to him as he reads to you. His voice is soothing enough to lull you to sleep. ♡ You two are so close in fact, he rubs it in Lucifer's face. ♡ Satan always finds himself holding your hand whenever you two go out to crowded public places.

Asmodeus

♡ Physical contact wasn’t your thing until you met the avatar of lust. ♡ He took it personally at first when you would stand awkwardly whenever he hugged you or how you would pull your hand away when he would try to hold it. ♡ Once you explain that you are autistic and physical contact was a weird subject for you, he is quick to understand. After all, he is all about consent and wanted to make sure you were comfortable. ♡ Friendship blossoms between the two of you quickly and smoothly. ♡ Asmo would help you with being more extroverted by inviting you to parties. ♡ He would make note of your stims and to satisfy your sensory, he would buy lotions and perfumes. ♡ Getting your nails done is fun and Asmo is perfect for that task. ♡ You have a best friend who will listen to you intently and give you good advice. ♡ Going shopping is less nerve wracking with him. Plus he would give you fashion tips so you can look and feel your best. ♡ The first time you gave him a hug on your own, he wept tears of joy. ♡ Spa days are mandatory. ♡ There is a love between the two of you that does not require a relationship to be valid.

Beelzebub

♡ Beel warmed up to you quickly, especially when he witnesses your appetite at dinner. ♡ He is always curious and asking you questions to better understand you. ♡ You are quick to share your food with him and vice versa. ♡ Eating competitions, though you would lose to him always, unless if he was going easy on you. (Good luck, chief) ♡ Playful and friendly flirting/banter. ♡ Beel would be interested in whatever you obsess with that week. ♡ He is patient with you and doesn’t judge you for things you have no control over. ♡ Includes you in all family activities because hes all about family first. ♡ You two will gush to each other about any and everything. ♡ Hell’s Kitchen dates? Fuck yeah. Those are mandatory. ♡ Though you are picky in terms of texture, Beel would gladly eat whatever food you won’t. ♡ You aren’t a very active person, but that will change with Beel. Eat first, then run it off, human.

Belphegor:

♡ Warmed up to you quickly despite killing you, mainly because you forgave him and still treated him with kindness despite the fact. (Simp *cough* *cough*) ♡ He is very understanding in regards to your sensory, stims, and meltdowns. ♡ Loves laying in silence with you (and vice versa) ♡ Belphie would show you constellations with his magic to help you sleep. ♡ Slime? You bet Belphie would be as entertained as you are on that subject. Cloud slime would be one of his favorites. ♡ You two communicate with each other better in silence. ♡ He would share his cow pillow with you. ♡ Your sensory craves anything that is soft. Belphie would be surprised at first when you mindlessly play with his hair as you lay together. ♡ Your troubling dreams became a little more peaceful with Belphie at your side. ♡ Both of you are big plushie enthusiasts and have a plushie club hangout spot with Levi. ♡ Belphies voice does satisfy your sensory. ♡ Tea time is a fun activity between the two of you. It leads to good naps as well.

[relaxxattack]

hello jack manifold anon here and I'm not gonna talk about morality fuck that, only the funneys today (obvious spoilers for wilbur's and tommy's stream)

first of all? the fact that c!wilbur is straight up a dream apologist? fucking funny as SHIT to me, like, aside from the obvious heartbreak and fuckiness of the situation, it's SO funny that's basically like pros: you get your brother back, cons: considers dream the hero of the server 😔😔 (ik it's more complicated than that but MAN does dream apologist c!wilbur make me laugh my ass off)

second off I can't just NOT mention the jack scene, because Man 🌊🐴 does finally hearing an apology, from literally anyone, is going to impact c!jack so much and I'm VERY excited, also BIG props to cc!jack for that amazing voice acting because you could HEAR him softening and like, the almost wonder at finally someone apologising to him

another thing is how quickly phil just accepted wilbur (man imagine your parents accepting your lying that easily oof /lh), like, of course he's gonna welcome and accept him immediately, but man kinda wanted,,, , , Something More I guess? but it's very nice to finally see them at least interact in canon :3

one sad thing for me is that, in the entire wilbur stream, no mention of fundy, literally none, and while I know they weren't on super good terms at the moment of his death,,, it hurt, I know that maybe it's because fundy wasn't on but,,,, only like a Passing Mention would suffice,,,,, (maybe bc fundy (and especially c!fundy) is like, A Fave™ for me so jdjcbdjd)

what gives me hope is the fact that fundy seems to be connected to quackity's lore somehow and wilbur is going to Also Be Involved with project nevadas in a way . Maybe we'll finally get a reunion, I hope it would at least be,,,, idk,,,, I don't even know what I want but if wilbur calls fundy his little champion I would be both very sad and very happy and cry probably

also tommy being just the BIGGEST ranboo apologist+enjoyer AND expressing it, TO ranboo,,,, is just such a good demonstration of his character development. allium duo got blessed today. PLUS wilbur Disliking ranboo like a lot of theories said he would is VERY funny, extremely funny, in fact, he doesn't love the beloved of the server . if dream smp was twitter wilbur would get ratioed immediately /hj

also very curious how his stuff with q gonna go since q hates dream's guts and wilbur considers him a hero

YEAH!!!!!!!! 

big agree with the fundy stuff because. man that’s your son... please don’t forget abt him :(

[simptasia]

hc questions 5, 6, 7, 26, 44 & 47 for any or all of the science team members if you want? :)

oh bless!! thank you!! i’ll go with My Beloved Three, as usual, the sci trio

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

my hcs on this have wobbled over time but overall i imagine dan, char and miles are all like, fairly, neat. tho they all have a tendency to leave papers around

and miles doesn’t make the bed as much. cuz imagining miles napping in rumpled quilts is a very cute mental image. hair disheveled

i think a good term for whats going on with dan and char is Organized Chaos. they’re both scientists (and a musician) for heck’s sake. it doesn’t look like they know what they’re doing but they do. but ur not gonna walk into their house(s) and be like “ugh gross what the fuck”. it’s nice. dan tends to make the bed

and i imagine dan keeps The Rat Room (yes, you heard me) immaculate because you reeeeeeally want that area to be well cared for

as for personal, lets get this out of the way, none of them are yucky. but dan is showering the least, just due to absent mindedness and hyperfixation. like ya really get into a project and then suddenly oh fuck i need a shower. but thats relative. he’s not a stinky gross boy. i imagine miles washes the most because like, he has body piercings and those GOTTA be cleaned every day, especially the downstairs one. miles values his dick, he don’t want an infection

also its amazing how much more you shower/bathe when you have a partner. or in this case, two partners. in general and for sexy purposes. hell yeah

well thats enough of me picturing these three showering, moving on

Eating habits and sample daily menu

its odd how often i’ve pictured these people eating together

dan: eats the least (and for once that isn’t a skinny joke, he could eat cake every day and he’d still be like that) because for the most part he doesn’t have much of an appetite. he eats what he needs, with random bursts of being really hungry (it’s a neurodivergent thing). i imagine he has a extra fondness for pasta and can put a surprising amount of it away when he wants to. tho typically for ease, he’ll stick to noodles. he takes his coffee mild and decaf. i hc him as a vegetarian due to not being able to process meat. his body also cannot handle alcohol and the one time he tried it he needed to be hospitalized. his ice cream preference is vanilla with chocolate sprinkles. or honeycomb. favourite vegetable is capsicum (which he’d call a bell pepper because he’s american), favourite fruit is pineapple. on that note he likes pineapple pizza. overall he eats simple but isn’t against trying new things. he has a very neutral disposition towards food

char: of the trio, i define charlotte as the Loud Passionate One so obviously being a big eater goes with that, likes a big breakfast (eggs, sausages, sometimes french toast!), sometimes skips lunch when she’s working at the museum due to focus, has a ravenous sweet tooth (i haven’t been subtle that i’ve made her ADORE chocolate but in general i see her liking sweet things), she can handle eating less tho because she’s gone on plenty of expeditions and such. so i think she eats a lot under normal circumstances because, like, she can. i don’t think i need to tell you what her ice cream or starbucks preferences are, do i? takes her coffee with three sugars, two coffees and creamy. likes mochas and hot chocolates too. with marshmallows. naturally, her fave kind of chocolate is galaxy because she is an English Woman. another fave of hers is cadbury’s creme eggs. but lest you think Good Lord Sapphire This Woman’s Entire Body Is A Sugar Molecule, don’t worry she does eat well. like veggies, fruits, meats, she’s fine. of meats, she has a fondness for fish (i have no further information, im terrible with fish. but she’s a pom, so...). favourite fruit is pear, favourite vegetable is peas. likes a bacardi, or rum and coke

miles: he eats a “normal” amount but he’s a grazer. which means, not so much Set Meal eating than eating/snacking thru out the day. he takes his coffee black, no surprise, but with sugar! see, its a metaphor. for him. likes fried eggs and hash browns. his fave food is very cheap mac and cheese. i think in general he really likes cheese. he doesn’t have complicated tastes, like, he grew up poor. he likes seafood (in particular fish tacos) but not lobster as he discovered when he got cashed up. he likes salty food but likes sweets too, in particular i can imagine him snacking on m&ms, skittles, gummi bears. little things. doesn’t have a fave vegetable because he doesn’t care enough, to him veggies are things to eat so you won’t die. doesn’t hate him but isn’t excited to eat ‘em. fave ice cream is mint choc. he’ll drink whatever (except for vodka) but is used to beer. thinks pineapple on pizza is an abomination, espech since he really likes pizza otherwise. i consider him a food opportunist, like, oh theres food here? yoink. or like, oh hey, if everybody else is eating, i’ll have whatever’s going on

....i feel like whenever i write hcs about these guys my brain takes on their tone. like, that was a lot of short, eh whatever, sentences for miles there

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

dan:

- reading (really depends on how you define Wasting Time). also he composes music and when he was alive, that was considered wasting time (ugh)

- sometimes even just doing hobbies or work or whatever, even then, he tends to have this feeling of never doing enough due to his Perfectly Healthy And Supportive Upbringing [seethes] so uhhhh basically, anxiety? like this was a dude raised to think anything other than his work was a waste of time. it didn’t exactly work but a decent amount of that Pressure has to still sit with him

char:

- watching tv, espech star trek

- not a waste of time if you’re enjoying yourself

miles:

- card and board games (weren’t expecting that, were ya? i’m not saying that's his Fave Thing To Do, but he considers that a good chill out thing to do. something to do when ur bored but you don’t feel like watching tv or having sex)

- “it’s something to do”

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

dan:

for original lifetime dan, it was Do Science, Make Mom Proud (tiny voice: and maybe spend the rest of my life with charlotte. if i’m lucky. maybe. please? love?) cuz i imagine dan, although very focussed on the future, actually doesn’t think/care about HIS future. i just don’t think he cares about himself enough

limbo dan is like Make Music, Love Charlotte. which is fair. and then Love Miles on top of that. so yeah, just wants to be a good musician and husband. and one day, father. with char actually in his life in this world, thats def on his mind. he won’t bring it up tho, he’ll wait for her to mention it :3

(dan’s canon contingency plan for things not working out is hydrogen bomb)

char:

alive char, like, ADVENTURE! ISLAND! SOLVE MYSTERIES! that makes it sound like she’s a fucking scooby doo character. i mean, her Goal was to find the island and find out what the fucky duck is going on. she did that. and overall his goals seem like adventure/career orientated. i hc that this version of char never intended on getting married or having kids. she wasn’t Against the ideas and she’s certainly had romances but she was more thinking of other things. (that and i think deep down char thought nobody would ever wanna marry her)

in limboverse There Is No Mystery but she still has her great job(s), that is she works at a museum and i think she goes on expeditions sometimes. so theres that, she’s got the great career. really, her Plan for the future in this world is live the live she couldn’t before. she (and dan!) died young so they’re gonna like, actively adore each other and get married and have kids. and also miles is there. ha, that sounded so rude. she loves miles too. (besties/fuck buddies turned Hey You Wanna Join Me And Dan’s Relationship and miles like... yeah sure)

miles:

step one: get money to fill gaping hole of sadness in chest

step two: ????

step three: die

and even my limbo miles whomst i’ve put with dan and char doesn’t have any plans for the future, besides like, do his job and maybe become a dad again (context: i hc that miles had two kids with richard when he was alive). so he’s still chilling but without the depressing ache of loneliness and bitterness

so basically long story short for all of them (in limboverse): Love & Family

Superstitions or views on the occult?

ohooo i like this one

dan: didn’t grow up believing in magic and such (which is super ironic because his mother is a fucking other) but he has a very open mind. i think he’ll believe it if he’s thrust into the situation. it’s interesting really, dan is known as the science guy and that's great but he’s super fucking accepting of not science shit. tho of course, he’s not seeing the island time travel as magic but science. but more importantly, he regards miles’ powers with zero doubt or questioning. he doesn’t even seem confused, he is absolutely on board with miles being able to talk to dead people. this all implies miles told him off screen and dan believes him

so basically he’ll accept whatever is presented to him as true

which honestly, is what a good scientist is like. the trope of the scientist character who is ultra non believing of the supernatural, even when they’re seeing it before their eyes, is annoying. like, you know the ones? the ones who get angry about it. the overly skeptical scientist. hate that. dan is not that

and his character arc includes embracing free will over destiny so there's that

char: she’s not superstitious and doesn’t believe in magic or the supernatural at all. tho thrown into bizarre situations she’s like ???? but has to accept it. and she KNOWS something is up with the island. she knows its different. i just mean, under normal circumstances she’d regard magic stuff as funny nonsense. i hc that char, in living life, doesn’t believe miles can speak to the dead. really fucking weird this isn’t addressed in the show but hahaaaa they wasted char! anyways and like, if presented with the concept that dan’s brain damage is being healed by the island, she’d look confused, say thats impossible but she’d think on it

what i’m saying is she’ll rule out magic concepts at first, on reflex. but would grow to accept them, especially with stuff she knows/has repressed

she doesn’t believe in ghosts, psychics, visions, magic healing and all those exist in her world, so it’s all a matter of experience

miles: WELL WHADDYA THINK

actually it’s funny. miles has magic powers but he’s 0% superstitious and i imagine outside of his own powers, he really doesn’t believe in the occult. i hc that until he personally proved otherwise, he grew up thinking he was mentally ill. and once he realised it was true, thought he was some kind of freak

and he’s incredulous when he finds out hurley has powers too. tho miles, being miles, does roll with the punches a lot in the show, he’s skeptical when it comes to hurley's power. and i find that interesting. also i fucking love how when hurley describes his power, miles says “thats not how it works”, like ???? babe???

but overall his attitude on the island is like “well. this is happening”

i do think thru his life, despite his power, he doesn’t believe in All Magic or occult or whatever. i also hc that he attracted those kind of people who are REALLY into astrology and auras and stuff like that and he found them exasperating. (i think he’d be a lot more okay with it if it was claire who was talking about astrology and palm reading with him. he’d be endeared when its her)

and i think he thinks other psychics he’s met or seen on tv are straight up bullshit. he can believe he has it but he’s skeptical of other people. just assumes they’re scammers. hell, he was a scammer. who just happened to have the power. he was like “well i have this, i may as well get some use outta it”

oh and in limboverse, they all kinda have to accept their situation. and they take it with ease due to appreciating getting happier lives

How do they express love?

a dan who loves you will pet your face and look at you like ur his entire reason to live. a char who loves you will squeak at your jokes and will never once let you feel bad about yourself. a miles who loves you is sorry he isn’t better at this stuff but he really is trying... sure we can cuddle if you wanna, that’s cool v///v

the dan and char we saw in the show was them holding back and i find that very amusing because they were HEART EYES AS FUCK for each other and so affectionate and so soft hearted, like oh my gosh. canon show dan/char is them when they’re pining... when they’re not even a couple (yet, damn it)

imagine them at full power

i figured it out, dan/char couldn’t be an Official Couple because then jeremy davies and rebecca mader would have destroyed us all, especially me

anyways. they’re both very protective of each other. they... they touch each other a lot. like a lot for people who aren’t dating and whomst don’t think the other one loves them. like char is surprised when dan says he loves her. that fucking astonishes me. HE’S NOT SUBTLE. char are you okay???

dan is more open about the love than char, seeing as he said it. and double downed on it. char i feel was holding back for different reasons than dan. dan was holding back (fucking barely) because of eloise’s Love Will Only Bring Pain upbringing, which’d give somebody a serious complex. so he was adverse to actually pursuing a relationship AND i figure he thought “she wouldn’t wanna be with me anyways”. but char i imagine, a deep seated insecurity and need to be defensive, but also! dan was like REALLY mentally unwell before the island. and that's the dan that char knows (and loves) but she’d feel guilty if she pursued anything with him. like she’s taking advantage of a brain damaged person

ah fuck i went on a big thing about why they didn’t become a couple instead of like.... the question. how do they express love? like they did in the show. smiles, touches, longing gazes, protectiveness. they would die for each other

as for miles, how does he express love? Not Well. at first

whoever is the first person he fell in love with (i imagine richard), he was not good at... being open about that. i don’t think miles is good with love. lived his life pretty detached/bitter about the concept, which i imagine is due to having cynicism about life and death. everybody you love is gonna die, so why bother? (his mom dying hit him pretty hard) so uhhh its gonna be... baby steps

slowly becoming more open about liking somebody, becoming more affectionate, more... uh, couple-y (and later throuple-y). it’d take time and he will always be miles, but hey, he gets there. he’ll still always have his snark but he won’t be a Genuine Asshole to people he loves. heck, i imagine he’ll be downright soft in the right situation. and he can be gentle and kind. he’s a salty boy not a cunt

but i digress. basically he’s a little “yeah, yeah, i love you too, shut up” about it but he does have that soft gooey center. basically those who know him, and love him, know his true heart. it’s just a part of being miles “defensive walls” straume

feels love (and even that takes him a while to realise, cuz he hasn’t been a romantic relationship kinda guy, most of his life his relationships have been a Just Sex thing), not Great at like... Doing Love, you know what i mean? but like once he’s used to it, he can be quite a tender little pudding cup, actually

[ckcker]

Spit-Take’s Last Squirt

I look down at the parking lot of the apartment complex, I briefly think the back of a woman’s head walking away from me is the front of a hot guy walking towards me.  I hear a deadbolt unlock and turn and am invited inside.  Crossing the threshold of Rob’s apartment door sinks a throttled prick through my body akin to stumbling into a rusty and bubble-wrapped metal spike apparently for sale in an antique store.  Even as the top door hinge passes by my temple as a snubbed showbiz air kiss there is a flash in my mind of something, unrelated to the physical apartment and also a thing I will never be able to remove, that asks to keep my focus in two places at once.  Between these two places, the feet and the head spitroast me with their perverse negotiations.  My initial trauma is at this point overused as a topic and let’s agree boring to think about; my mind starts to suggest trauma spinoffs instead.  I am given a glass of water by Rob but then ask for a beer as, without asking, my memory gifts me excruciating yet kinkily edited content of my attempts to recover.  One of the best ways to come back from a nervous breakdown, I decided in the aftermath of that notable moment, is to do it very very quickly, ‘few solutions are as correct as speed-processing a massive landmark shift in the perception of reality,’ I had soothed myself in the aftermath.  I was hoping for something shittier than an IPA, I drink the IPA and turn, I notice the back of what I believe is an old woman’s head and body resting on the couch.  

After my  ˹survivable event˼  it was typical for all of the dying to retire inward. I believed I could bring back my life in the same way that people made jokes about being dead inside to prepare for the end of the world.  Alright, the remodeling of total defeat into pragmatic quarantine.  Enough disaster movies had passed, everyone notices catastrophes have entertainment value, I would walk past and look in the glass reflection of a recently opened Thai street food spot run by white ex-skaters, I evaluated my drilled in face and greyed out options, my de-emphasized terror: maybe even I could be entertaining. My original twist on the concept of recovering was to imagine my strength and ability as limitless. To decide I could pre-understand the well-flung implications of my situation, of a mind unable to cope with learning all of the things that are possible.  I wanted to turbo-ravel a lights out unraveling; the poet who wanted to be a cop.  I turn to Rob and say nothing about the apparently older woman, he also says nothing about her, asks, “what kind of music do you like?” before playing an Ace of Base song and I don’t have to answer.  The woman seems to be activated.  Her limbs slide against her torso and she turns to look around the room, then briefly at us but again at the room, then one certain spot on the wall to the right of where we are standing where she settles and says “hi” in a warble expelled as a foehn.    

I return the hi and am introduced to Gail.  I thought of all my failed solutions.  For instance, attending several satellite Occupy Wall Street protests, where discussions of income inequality and widespread mobilization were annotated with shouts, why is there fluoride in our water and end the fed.  One important takeaway involved a large man yelling along to the song being played on the sound system, “fuck you I won’t do what you tell me,” for two repetitions of the lyric before realizing no one else would join him and vanishing into embarrassed aerosol.  A successful protest fixates on a way for everyone to feel more or less the same emotion at a coordinated moment.  A successful protest is very sharply art directed and does not relish the display of rehearsed outrage.  The foot I thought I’d taken out of my ass and put through the door had somehow ended up in some other ass.  Feel it for the first time again.  Though people will regularly re-watch movies only waiting for their favorite lines to be said, it seems they rarely stop to consider protest tactics they have seen before.  I thought I had the patience, the dedication for such things, I tapped out naturally and in gas form. “She needed a place to stay for a bit,” Rob tells me, Gail says nothing but smiles lightly, looking at us in some awesome combo of salivating for a response and indifferent to the fact of being trapped behind twenty successive panes of stained glass.  Tchah, the experience of watching an ancient demon fail an eight week long beginner’s course on improv. “I see,” I conclude, Gail’s expression remains the same.  “Wow…’Beautiful Life’ is such a good song,” Rob says. The song moves to the front. I say, “Yes, I do love ‘Beautiful Life.’”

I had tried walks and not just sometimes but many walks.  Down the city cul-de-sac at a certain time.  Listening to wordless music, this one some sort of ambient dramatization of Eurydice’s botched escape from the underworld, a repetitive melancholy chunnel.  Then a rotation: it becomes Britney from an era when pop turned us around an axis both blingy and higgedly-piggedly-nigh-fucky-wucky, gently increasing the healing concept with each exacting flail, that there may be a consolation for all problems leading up to and including the end of the world.  The consolation was dancing all night.  Of course the time of my walks was twilight.  Fried mindsets gave the music much power as a narrative soundtrack; as I looked at a single branch of a very tall tree overhead and caught in sunset and streetlight, jiggled evocatively by wind, and heard a sort of coincidental despair-organized belch from the buckled gut of the mp3, I attempted to speed things up by trying to lose my mind all of the way.  This did not work, I had to stay somewhere in between.  

I went on more walks alone but never too far from my amazing bed.  It was crucial to be within 30 walking minutes of somewhere unsurveilled where I could lay down and catalogue mysterious headaches, as mysterious headaches had rightfully been selected as the center of my world.  The speed of losing a mind is incredibly hard to measure.  Gail also listens to ‘Beautiful Life’ and clearly does not know what it is, I don’t feel familiar enough with Rob to confront the question of how they know each other, I try:

“Are you two related?”

“No no no, haha,” Rob’s voice enters an excited tone. Gail emerges a glacial grin that, even as it forms one of the most approachable configurations able to be realized on a face, still seems misdirected from the hook of a comforting social cue, “no, I met Gail at a bar last night.  At Tina’s.  She just needs a place to stay for a little.  She just moved back here.”  “I spent many years in Lawrence, with my family,” Gail says.  

“I see.”  

Context clues point to homeless, I ache to know much more, Rob twirls around with unbridled pizazz.  He puts his two arms straight out towards me, “what would — ohhh!!”  He retracts his arms. “I was going to ask if you wanted something to drink.” Gail rests, “but you already have a beer,” and here he must have felt the panic to entertain away a social gaffe by immediately giving a clear-cut logical explanation, “my mind has been wiped away this week.  So much molly…           Well…   good.”  

“Yes.”  

“Yes INDEED hunny. This past weekend just about mummified me, I’ve been in a sarcophagus all WEEK, did you do anything fun?”

“Umm.”

I remembered then I was trying to stop using umm. I was coaching myself to be quite fearless and brave when entering sentences.  The CEO of a major newspaper-then-media company once said, before filming a segment for an in-house spot on the company’s approach to advertising its newly launched free weekly targeting 23-35 y/o young professionals, ‘I’m not an umm guy.’  This dialogue, delivered to the video director who was reminding the CEO to look straight in the camera and avoid using expressions like “umm” and “uhh” since they communicated unpreparedness, nerves or insecurity, revealed in its choppy severity a set of verbal and body language constraints that likely this man thought of all the time in order to conjure his short and long term goals.  Likely he thought of them almost as much as I thought about mysterious headaches.  I had been hired to help craft services for the shoot and spent much of the time sitting against a wall print of a famous basketball player, staring at the glass-walled office and elevators meant to enhance, via the perspective of ‘more space’ given by such architecture, a tech-oriented workplace for the media-damaged graduates.  See-thru offices offer more natural light, the young people of the era seem to enjoy a certain kind of light.  Another two-day job to float me, and an opportunity to rebuild a stomach for being outside of my incredible room.  “I stayed in on Saturday,” then I pause before continuing, “I watched a movie.  A documentary,” which I had watched for 17 minutes before moving to my window to observe the parking lot for 45 minutes, followed by bed.  

Rob seems uncomfortable with this idea, “you should come out with us this weekend. There’s some stuff going on.  Maybe you can come to this super fun party, it’s a queer party.  In fact it’s a conspiracy theory-themed queer party.”  Gail moves her left forefinger a splanch.  “It’s really funny! And good music, people dress up, it’s called……….Femmetrails” there is a pause of expectation which I do not know how to meet and which is ignored “it’s really funny and lots of dancing. My friend Blake hosts it. But in drag.  And, guess what his drag name is” I try to remember: was it a parking lot I observed, or a man in his early 40s masturbating within a fingerprint-shrouded computer screen “Georgia SORROWS.  Gail’s going to come!”  Gail has stopped grinning and seems to be unreachable for the length of a square breath before a small shift in her sitting style punctures the proto-gargoyle droop. “Yes I am going to come” she confirms.  “Yes and you should too,” it appears Rob is attached to the idea.  I clean out my lower mouth with my tongue, with mouth closed.  “That would be, maybe” this seems to be enough of an answer for everyone.  

Rob sits on the ground, I begin to prepare my body to also sit on the ground.  It had been a meat lover’s pizza approach to self-healing.  Kava tea from the pharmacy chain, sugar abstinence, performative meditation, I slipped into nonsensical jogging regimens, coffee abstinence, I walked gently in frozen empty parking lots, I didn’t touch anyone for a full year, “my balls are lost halls,” short term CBT and do-it-yourself biofeedback, waiting for hyperventilation so I could write about it, and all this supported by typical means: substantial daily hard alcohol acceptances and fearless ibuprofen stuffings.  And to heal oneself completely, one must never enlighten others to the full extent of the problem and the drenched map of half-solutions being applied, regularly, in secret.  Yes, I had as much spiritual discipline as a teen in an Intro to Photo class taking b&w photos of homeless people on the street.  I sit down at least four feet away from Rob and twelve from Gail, who in the meantime it has been discovered does not know the story of Amanda Bynes’ breakdown.  She also does not know who Amanda Bynes is.  Neither Rob nor I have any interest in making that clear.  The super gonorrheic minutiae that line and then bedazzle the mental process of a terrified person do not enter conversations as smoothly as quotes from 23 year old cult TV shows canceled after two seasons.  Not a shock, only a condition that makes the thoughts turn ever more crunched, ever more specific and internally bound, glowing with unpopular culture.

[adzandiel-blog]

An Unfortunate Headbutt With a Guillotine  (Zan Thought it Sounded Exotic)

Well, who wouldn’t? I mean, back in the 18th century, tons of things were popping up in the streets1. Steam engines, locomotives, dynamite, the telegraph, the idea of eating cake when there’s a lack of bread, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, mercury thermometers… Really, it was all very thrilling back then. The ‘guillotine’ sounded like a new French dish, or perhaps a new type of massage.

But really Aden, with your proposed title, you make it sound like the conversation went somewhere along the lines of me asking them for an exotic way to spend our time. As in…

US, knowing exactly one phrase of French and it is “We don’t speak French”: Good day, sirs. Prithee, point us in the right direction of the newest, most exciting way to return our mortal bodies to the Heavenly and Damned Home Depot?

EXECUTIONERS, speaking French, knowing exactly one phrase of English and it is “Chop chop, motherfuckers”2**: The fuck? Take them away.

US, realizing:

And… you could guess what happens next.3

But no. That’s not what happened, despite what Aden’s recollection might be.

What really happened was that Aden and I‌ were both coincidentally in Paris—on individual assignments given to us by our respective superiors, I’m sure you understand. Aden was supposed to go strengthen faith in a few local faltering churches, and I‌ was supposed to do… well, the opposite.

We sensed each other in the vicinity and met up a while after that. And ten minutes after that, we promptly agreed to take the time to relax and enjoy the European weather, instead of running around undercover for a week or so, working our damnedest—and holiest—to do our jobs, but instead undermining each other’s efforts. Smart of us.

So then, we did what any pair of friends—or, in our case, sworn Adversaries who never really got the whole ‘enemy’ memo—would do on vacation. We went sightseeing.

There wasn’t a lot of… sights to see, though. Not exactly a charming vibe, with a butchering block every few blocks and the rotting scent of death in the air. For a bit, Aden and I‌ had to resort to dulling our senses whenever we ventured into the city. It was that bad.

Then, of course, Aden insisted on us still carrying out a few benevolences (and misdeeds), despite all the shit going on. I, of course, wasn’t able to say no, because not saying no to Aden ranks high on my list of My Fucky Morals.

We were out of place—that’s what I‌ reckon landed us in shit.‌ We stood out of the crowd like horses in a hospital. Aden in a fine white tunic decorated with little sewn details of blue thread, me in a similar fashion but with a black and gold scheme. Meanwhile, the masses of the streets were grubby and reeked like death—well, quite frankly, we would’ve reeked of death and despair as well if we hadn’t taken the liberties of making ourselves stench-proof—and the most important thing was that we did not speak French.

Putting Aden’s arsenal of available languages and mine together, I’d say it’s quite impressive.‌‌ English, Swahili, Latin, Hebrew, Mandarin, Japanese, a few dead dialects, Enochian, Portuguese… We tried our best to negotiate in Latin, but really, unless the Pope was out for a stroll, it wouldn’t have been of much use. In fact, I’m fairly sure speaking in these foreign languages was what got us condemned and marked as demons.456

Of course, we were never in any real danger. It would’ve only taken a small miracle and we’d have been out of there in a jiffy.7 But we had to maintain some semblance of being mortal—we couldn’t have had the word about two otherworldly beings having escaped from the Bastille from certain death—imagine the paperwork.8

So it was… what, ten days of sulking in the cell?91011 An angel and a demon stuck inside a small enclosed space. It’s a miracle we didn’t kill each other.12 Although, we weren’t entirely bored. It was rather fun to talk with the ghost of the Count de Lorges.‌ (Did I‌ ever mention I could do that?‌ Communicate with spirits? Damned soul and all, you know. Comes with the occupation.)

The day they came to get us, we had worked out a plan. But you know what they say—no plan survives first contact with implementation. I‌ agree! Because our plan failed. Miserably.

Our plan was the following, laid out as comprehensibly as I‌ could possibly put it in modern terms:

1) Roll to seduce.13

And… that was about it.

Yeah, I know. “What happened to the concept of a backup plan? Weren’t you friends with Alexander the Great, what happened to strategy and formation—“ Listen, Aden and‌ I share one brain cell, alright? When we’re apart, sure!‌ Everything’s fine. Everything’s normal. But when we’re within… oh, three miles of each other? One brain cell.14

Suffice to say it… We had to think of a Plan B really fast. And I mean very fast. Miraculously fast. Because we’re quite attached to our heads. Less so than most mortals, but still considerably attached nonetheless. We possessed no desire to lose them.

So what was our rapidly improvised Plan B?

Well, we remembered that while it would fail in logic and strategy to teleport away, we did still have powers. Quite a good deal of raw power, too. Good news, right?‌ Snap your fingers, stop time or whatever, and everything’s fine.

Oh, ho, no.

Because we forgot that each other has powers.

Here’s something that you should know about celestial beings who can do almost anything if they try hard enough:‌ Even in magic, they have their own distinct styles.

Mine, for example, involves golden sparks (when I’m feeling in the mood for it, of course), the occasional stopping-time gig15, and, most notably, fire.

Aden’s, bless him, is subtle, not flashy at all, but brutally efficient when he wills it to be.‌ Mainly, he goes for raw magic, something he can shape and bend to his will, whether it manifest in the form of water, earthly manipulations, air, or fire.16 Usually, though, he exhibits it by molding air—forming protective shields, cages and restraints when necessary, weapons out of solidified air, and the suchlike.

So what happened?

Fire. Air. Golden sparks. Whoosh.

We’d proceeded to accidentally bring down the entire stone corridor, causing quite a panic for the prisoners, guards, and sentries alike. And, apparently, a bit of my magic had backfired—rebounded off of Aden’s minor explosion of hard air and went ricocheting right out of the Bastille and straight into a barrel of gunpowder outside the building.17

Aden and I took the chance among the chaos to vanish.

We’d reappeared in a quaint countryside, miles away from good ol’ Paris. While recovering from the not-exactly traumatic but at least disturbing experience, we received the news that the Bastille had fallen, and we promptly agreed to never, ever, revisit Paris, at least not in that millennia.18

And that’s how we ended up holding a grudge against the entirety of France for at least two decades.

At least I got a promotion for destroying the Bastille and wreaking general chaos, yeah?

And in the sheets, too, but Aden’ll never admit that.‌‌ I will, though. Proudly. I‌ might have had something to do with it. ↩︎

Or something like that. ↩︎

‌ You might’ve guessed what happens next, but take a stab as to who definitely didn’t back then?‌ You’re quite right. It was our favorite demon. —‌ Aden ↩︎

‌ An accusation worthy of execution, of course. Although, the sentence wasn’t being burned at the stake—it was still beheading. Only witches got burnt at the stake. You should’ve seen Aden’s face when they sent in a translator to our cell in the Bastille accusing and sentencing us to death on behalf of us being, and I quote, “Dastardly individuals spawned straight from the depths of Hell”. ↩︎

‌ It wasn’t funny, Zan!‌ It was an insult. An affront. I was affronted. ↩︎

Whatever, angel. It was absolutely hilarious. I‌ don’t care what you say. ↩︎

Did you know a jiffy is scientifically defined as a hundreth of a second?‌ So really, no one can do anything in a jiffy. I‌ think it even took Aden at least three jiffies before he got all worked up over being called a demon. ↩︎

‌ Either we’d have to erase all the humans’ memories, which would take a while—memory magic is always the hardest, with so many mental threads poised to tangle—or we’d have to arrange for Upstairs/Downstairs to do so, which takes explaining, which is something we’d never planned on doing. Thus:‌ Caution. ↩︎

‌ Ten days of being stuck with our respective sworn Adversaries/immortal enemies/literally the ONLY‌ person on the planet who could bring up that one incident from the early 1300s and hit that sore spot. ↩︎

Aha!‌ Blackmail material. If you aren’t careful, Zan, the truth about Geneva might just slip out. ↩︎

Oh, you bastard.‌‌ We agreed to never talk about Geneva. What happened in Geneva, stays in Geneva. Anyway, no one reads our blog, so your threat doesn’t hold much merit here. ↩︎

And perhaps it was! — Aden ↩︎

Want clarification? Either Aden or I‌ would seduce the guards into letting us free. Simple as that. We fucked up and landed ourselves into this mess, so we would fuck our way out. ↩︎

When we’re drunk together, it actually becomes two brain cells, but we don’t really use them, we just rub them together like pennies to further emphasize, using a parody of the classic idiom, how little brain cells we really have. ↩︎

It’s not as easy as it sounds, though. It requires tremendous effort, and even then, it makes me want to pass out for weeks afterwards. I think I’m getting better at it—last time I did it, I only slept for five days after. ↩︎

I’ve asked him not to do fire too often. It really takes from my branding, you know?‌ And sure, I could wield multiple elements, but it’s just so much cooler to have a signature style. ↩︎

It was by sheer luck that it didn’t hit the main supply, or history would have gone very, very differently. The stray barrel did detonate, however, and that’s probably why the crowd started fighting—out of a perfect mix of confusion, fear from hearing the sound, anger at the confirmation of how much firepower there was stored in the Bastille, and enthusiasm. ↩︎

We lied. We did go back one more time to watch the day the Eiffel Tower finished its construction. ↩︎

[l4t3rzh4t3rz]

LONG INFO ABOUT LATULA UNDER THE CUT.

Partially written by Jelly, aka @canterintuitive​

Partially ommitted information for anything not pertinent and/or private info

Artistic Catgirl: Fucky was probably the first person who has ever seen her have an anxiety attack Artistic Catgirl: Feeling like she can't breathe with overwhelming thoughts Artistic Catgirl: Shaking and holding herself Artistic Catgirl: But she forgot she invited Mituna over Artistic Catgirl: And he just sees that Artistic Catgirl: And she doesn't even know he's there Jellyfish: but he reached out--brushed his hand over her cheek--chirping, purring, making all those Soothing Buggy Troll Sounds Jellyfish: but if she needs one, the first thing he does is scoop her up into a hug Artistic Catgirl: She slowly calmed down as he did that, still shaking Artistic Catgirl: Just saying Artistic Catgirl: "I-I'm not the cool girl you thought I was... It's all a lie I'm sorry" Artistic Catgirl: Just apologizing cause she's too frazzled to say much else Jellyfish: he's kinda quiet for a sec--got her head tucked into the crook of his neck, cheek smushed against the top of her head. Snug-ass Hug.

"... Um? Nope?? Still cool. The fuckin' coolest most tubular troll this side of the galaxy."

He's not much of a comforter, but he kinda copies what Kurloz does to calm him down--takes her hands in his--makes those little I promise I'm not gonna let anything hurt you chirping noises again--and helps her stand up when she can

"You're the coolest person I know, LT. Like ... really, really rad."

And he felt in that moment, my friends, the red-quadrant heart-flutterin' sort of amorousness that trolls refer to as 'pity'. Artistic Catgirl: She calms down as he says that, her eyes widening when she realizes he really means it. She realizes that he sees her at her worst and still thinks she's amazing

And in that moment she knows that no matter what, she wants to stay by his side and just holds onto him tightly. his She doesn't want to let go, even if he sees her as weak.

"... Tuna, I can't believe you think that... I..."

Artistic Catgirl: But after they've been in (SGrub) for so long, and start to feel like they'll never escape, they just have a long conversation Artistic Catgirl: Talking about back home and stuff Artistic Catgirl: And one of them asks what their fav thing about being in the game was Artistic Catgirl: And Latula is just like 'okay gurl you can do this' Artistic Catgirl: "It's you." Jellyfish: mituna's soul leaves his goddamn body

"Oh."

Fuck, what's he do. He's not smooth--like, he and kurloz talk about how suave and badass and nook-magnety they are, but holy crap what's he do

"I think you're really fuckin' tubular!'

Nailed it. Artistic Catgirl: She laughs and just slowly moves to put her hand over his. She makes her movements obvious so he knows what she's doing. She knows he doesn't like to be touched out of no where. She's blushing a bit.

"Do you think... Maybe the quadable kind of tubular?" Jellyfish: Without hesitation, he slips his hands into hers and holds it.

"Yeah!"

Never has the golden-boy looked so yellow in the face--nor grinned so wide.

The apocalypse is a lot less shitty with her in it. Artistic Catgirl: She closes her eyes and just leans forward. Her lips are slightly puckered. She only leans forward oh so much, waiting for him to meet her so that it doesn't seem like she just sprung a kiss on him Jellyfish: He was about to do that yawn-and-reacharound-hold trick, but holy moly, this is way better.

He lifts off his wraparound shades, and leans in to kiss her.

ZAP.

"OHFUCsorry, shit--"

He sparked. Literal fireworks when she kissed him. Artistic Catgirl: She quickly pulls away when she gets zapped, but then just laughs.

"I ghost guess sparks really do fly when two people kiss! Pretty fucking rad right?" She gives his hand a gentle squeeze. "I pity you so damn much Tuna, ever since that day you saw me at my worst and didn't walk away." Jellyfish: He can't help it--though it's still kinda repressed, he does a lil flap--hands curled into happy, tense claws as he rocked in place--scooted up to smooch her temple again--it make her hair float like she'd just touched a plasma ball.

"Ditto, LT. Ditto."

He's not good with words--he's more an actions guy.

Jellyfish: also, an idea Artistic Catgirl: I love ideas Jellyfish: post-accident Jellyfish: fucky couldn't pronounce her name Jellyfish: 'L4N7L4'

'L4N7U0L'

'L3N71L57H'

'7LUL0L4' Jellyfish: and finally Jellyfish: '7UL1P' Artistic Catgirl: "Ok4y b4b3 th4t's good."

Jellyfish: latula probably saw the explosion Artistic Catgirl: She's laying in a pool of her own blood after dying by the hands of her denizen Artistic Catgirl: Probably Artistic Catgirl: She cried so damn hard and held onto his body tightly Artistic Catgirl: Refusing to let go until she was pulled off of it Artistic Catgirl: She didn't care what anyone though anymore. Her tunafish was dead Artistic Catgirl: Refusing to believe it

Jellyfish: imagine they meet in the dreambubbles Artistic Catgirl: Another reason why she ended up fighting her denizen Jellyfish: its the ultimate videogame Jellyfish: maybe she promises herself she has to win it for her player two Artistic Catgirl: Exactly Artistic Catgirl: For her tunafish Jellyfish: imagine when they meet in the dreambubbles again Jellyfish: he's probably been there a while--doesn't even know hes dead Artistic Catgirl: She would still be in a pool of her own blood Artistic Catgirl: Not yet waking up Artistic Catgirl: Kind of in that in between stage where she's transitioning from Skaia to the bubbles Artistic Catgirl: And Mituna wanders to where she is and the bubble changes to her land Artistic Catgirl: And he keeps getting closer and closer to where she is. Artistic Catgirl: Until he sees her covered in her own blood Jellyfish: Mituna, of course, can't process it.

He panics--fumbles to find her--shakes her, tries to lift her--screams for help.

All that comes out is garbled babbling. Artistic Catgirl: Her eyes slowly open, still yellow and having that slightly teal tint, on the cusp of adulthood. Artistic Catgirl: "Tuna... Is that you...? How?" Jellyfish: Mituna's hair falls out of his eyes.

One empty black socket, burnt to a crisp, and one ghostly white. A spiderwebbing of scars trail down both cheeks as he cups her face--but his hands are clumsy, and rough, and his voice is strangled when he speaks.

"Lanhtnula!" Artistic Catgirl: He can see the amount of heartbreak in her eyes as she gently cups his cheek in return. She gets a little bit of her blood on his cheek.

"Tuna, your eyes... You're so hurt..." Then it hits her. "... I thought you were dead." She teared up heavily. "I thought I was never gonna see you again!" The tears freely flow. Jellyfish: He fumbles, and smoothes back her hair--tears dribbling down on the side of his intact eye.

"Non--nohnhnhnhnononoyerhhurt, yerhurdt--"

He's calling for help again--lifting her up to his chest, and immediately falling over in a flurry of cursewords. He can't balance both of their weights. Artistic Catgirl: "Tuna I'm fine..." Her eyes widen when she realizes she doesn't actually feel any pain. "Tuna I... I'm not in any pain... But I should be. What happened?" She's so confused and scared. She hasn't had time to come to terms with her own death yet. Jellyfish: He freezes where he is, hair flopped down in front of his eyes--they're not sparking anymore. Hi horns don't fizzle when he panics--everything is flat, and the shock when he touches her is gone. Light static, at most--but barely tangible.

"Y... yaore bleendihn." Artistic Catgirl: "Tuna... Where are we? I don't know what's going on..." She tightly clutches his shirt. Her breath gets shallow as an attack comes on. She starts to stutter. "D-Did did did I-I-I-I-" Jellyfish: He doesn't know either. He doesn't understand what's happening, or where he is, or where his friends are--but Latula is here, and the only thing his brain can think to do as it basically bluescreens is ...

To curl up over her. Drape over her like a shield, tucking her close.

I mean, there's no danger--kind of a silly move--but he held her nonetheless. Artistic Catgirl: She holds onto him tightly, finally getting it out as she started to shake. "A-a-are we d-d-dead?" She starts hyperventilating, her eyes slowly turning white as she began to understand how he was there with her. And she doesn't get how. There's nothing after death. Jellyfish: "Idunno, I danno, Idndnao, I dudnontknwoIdontoknondhgasgggjkfkjglskfdkjfkjghgjfj!"

He finally managed to pull her upright--burying his face in her hair, scratching the bases of her horns--calm, calm, do the calm things.

Except he can't. Every time he tries to purr and trill for her, all that comes out is an awful kazoo-cricket shriek.

He doesn't know what's happening. Artistic Catgirl: She holds onto him tightly as she waits for the attack to pass. After a few minutes she finally calmed down, pulling away. "Tuna, I... I thought when O faced her that that would be it... That I would die but here you are... The saddest most tubular guy in the universe..." She buries her face in his shoulder. "I missed you. I pity you so damn much... I don't wanna loose you again..."