#in your brain there are a bunch of cells that look like trees

[website-com]

learnt that way fewer dendrites die in autistic brains than allistic ones from childhood to adulthood, which actually could not make more sense

[grandlinedreams]

I love your writing! Could your write something where Law has to work with Luffy and Kid again and he’s pouting to his s/o about it. I just really like how he interacts with the two. There are no brain cells there. Maybe Luffy and Kid meets his s/o and they’re like “how did emotionally stunned Law manage to land this?”

PLEASE I showed mom where they're bickering and said "there are no braincells. Whatsoever"

[Heads up!: nothing, just them being idiots, reader is amused]

"This is getting annoying."

Crouching, you study the cluster of plants growing at the base of a tree, reaching out to drag a finger against one of the waxy green leaves, watching as it promptly folds and recoils. Interesting.

"The least they could do is be on time, I don't know why I expected them to be considerate." Law turns on his heel, frowning as he spots you with your back to him, engrossed in your examination of the island's plant life. "You could stop me from ranting, you know."

You glance over. "Where's the fun in that? It's cute to see you so worked up."

Law huffs, reaching to pull at his hat as he looks away. "It's not cute. It's annoying."

You watch him with a small smile, then blink as there's a call of, "Heey, Traffy! Where are you?"

"Finally," Law grumbles, and you straighten to follow him in the direction that you'd come from, dirt giving way to sand and the smell of ocean. "About time you showed up."

"Watch it," grunts Kid from nearby, distaste for both Luffy and Law clear on his face. "You're lucky I even decided to entertain this little meeting of yours."

It's clear that Law wants to say something just as scathing back, but you decide to step in, knowing nothing will get accomplished if you leave those three to their own devices.

"We wouldn't have asked you to meet us here if it wasn't important," you say, "and the less time you spend arguing amongst yourselves, the better chance we have for actually getting something done."

There are three sets of eyes on you before Luffy points at you. "Hey Traffy, who's this?"

"You've met before, idiot," Law snaps. "This is [name]." When Luffy still looks confused, Law heaves a sigh. "They're my..." He searches for an appropriate word. "Partner."

Luffy looks content to leave it at that, but the sly narrow of Kid's eyes says that he knows what Law means by that ㅡ and your boyfriend glares back. "If you're going to run your mouth, I suggest you don't."

Kid bristles, and you sigh, shaking your head as you retreat a couple feet and settle into the sand, rummaging in your bag for your notes. If they're going to insist on arguing like a bunch of children, at least you can be productive.

ㅡ

"I think that went rather well."

Law scoffs. "I'm not so sure. I went over the plan three times and I'm still not convinced Strawhat understood any of it."

You stifle a laugh at the almost sulky expression on Law's face. "Maybe so, but he's always done his own thing, you know that. And it usually works out, doesn't it?"

"Not without more hassle than necessary." He glances over at you and the leather bound book still in your hands. "I thought you came with me to play mediator."

"I did, but I know lost battle when I see one." Your tone is amused. "Besides, I told you. You're cute when you're worked up."

What follows is a rare sight, blush dusting across his cheeks and tinging the tips of his ears as he scowls and looks away. "Whatever. I'm not cute."

You step to his side, fingers intertwining with his as you lean to kiss his jaw, then his cheek. "Whatever you say, Law. Whatever you say."

[emmawithtwoms]

Winter walk

@moonwater-microfic December 7th -705 words

Remus loved his friends, he really did. They were his family, and he would always be grateful for them. But sometimes they could be… too much. 

There were some days, specifically before the full moons, where he felt so on edge, that even the most careful of the Marauders could come up as excessive for Remus. That’s why he was currently walking alone in the snowy forest, taking in the cold and the bitter air, trying to calm himself down. 

He was deep in his thoughts, so, if it weren’t for his acute senses, he wouldn’t have noticed the dark, lean figure walking his same path, slightly hidden by a bunch of trees in front of him. 

Remus was curious to know who this mysterious figure was, he had his guesses, again thanks to his “Advanced werewolf senses” as Sirius called them, but he also felt a prickling down his spine. It felt… familiar, and he hoped that he was right. 

So he started following the figure, quickening his pace to reach the boy in front of him. 

He was just a couple of trees down now, he was ready to uncover the student, when he felt a pull from the back of his neck. He turned sharply, wand at hand, and came face to face with the stranger, both wands pointed at the other’s throat. 

“Lupin. Why were you following me?” 

“Hi Reg. I was just enjoying a winter walk in the forest.”  

“Just because me and my brother share the same blood, does not mean we share the same reduced amount of brain cells, Lupin.” 

Remus couldn’t help but chuckle, and he lowered his wand. 

“Come on, Regulus, put your wand down. I am not going to hurt you.” 

“Oh, I know, because I would kill you before you had the chance.” 

Regulus was stunning as always, even (or especially) when delivering death threats. His piercing grey eyes seemed to glow under the moonlight, the stern look on his face only made him more attractive. The contrast between his black hair and eyebrows and his pale skin made him look like a painting. The Ophelia would look like painted by a toddler if put beside the beauty that was Regulus Black. 

“Oh come on, I thought our study session had brought us somehow closer. I thought you had started to like me.” 

Remus was pushing his luck, he knew it. 

“Just because I find you tolerable while studying, and I don’t ignore the fact that your mind isn’t that of a horklump, does not mean that we suddenly became best friends.” 

But Regulus did lower his wand, so Remus considered that a victory. 

“Ok, that’s fine, not best pals. Look, I caught you, you caught me, whatever. You won’t tell me where you’re going, I won’t tell you where I’m going, but we both know we’re gonna follow the other because we’re both two curious observant wizards.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of following you. And I don’t have a problem minding my business.” 

“Ok, so I would follow you because I’m genuinely worried about your well-being, even if I know you’re perfectly capable of defending yourself etcetera etcetera. What I mean to say is: we might as well just go back to the castle together, it would be safer for both of us. What do you think?” 

Remus was either hallucinating, or the faintest blush was spreading over those beautiful cheekbones. 

“I have to admit it’s not a totally idiotic idea. Let’s go.” 

Moony could have jumped and punched the air with his joy, but he limited himself to a “Good, after you.”

They walked together towards the castle, falling in their usual comfortable silence, the one that always spread around them while studying together in the library. 

Sometimes their pinkies would brush against each other, and they would both turn their eyes away. But then, when they brushed again, Regulus locked his with Remus’, just holding it, and none of them said anything. They just let it be. A time would come to hold deep conversations and share  big feelings, but now it was just time to enjoy the silence and the calming presence of the other in the middle of the forest. 

[demonslayedher]

The Taisho Secret canon content regarding The Legend of Zenitsu has unfortunately made me have to give up beloved concepts in this future!Zennezu headcanon post. Most specifically, Old Man Zenitsu's with a mustache, because Word of Gotouge says he never grews facial hair. Zenitsu is probably far more disappointed than I am about this.

But also, it has all given me a much deeper headcanon about "The Legend of Zenitsu" being a bonding experience in their marriage, for Nezuko is a big fan, like so, what with Nezuko being a willing model for Zenitsu's praise-worthy paintings.

And is my brain spinning headcanons again? Yeah.

--

Zenitsu wished he could rub it in Tanjiro's face that he got a book deal. Not on everything, just on "The Demon Slaying Arc ~Fated Encounters~," "The Heavenly Maiden Arc ~I Am Willing To Die For You~," and "The Life of the Man Who Loved The Spirit of the Plum Tree Arc." No one else deserved to know "The Tastiness of Nezuko-chan's Cooking" anyway, for Zenitsu had described it too well and it would be like sharing his wife with a bunch of slimy readers. Bad enough that he still had to share with Inosuke all the time.

But Tanjiro didn't rub it in. He smiled and made as kind a sound as even, and congratulated him.

Maybe Tanjiro had grown too mild to say or feel anything more than that.

Because Zenitsu had a publisher and small fan base, he got paid a small advance to keep writing. Not even to stop going to an office job in town, if he wanted to to keep spoiling Nezuko with nice things. The stroke to eager made him write "The Beautiful Swordswoman Nezuko Arc" in one night, but "The Golden Dragon Wandering Alone Arc ~Go And Rescue Nezuko!~" was one he slogged through. It was getting to be a handful, going to work and raising a kid living up to expectations now that people had them of him. It felt good at first, but it made the writing less fun.

His heart was hardly in it when he wrote the "Botamochi from Zenitsu Arc." The sales tanked, and Zenitsu's publisher didn't bother him when he said aside his pen for a while. It was a long while, and there were other things going on anyway.

Not long after Tanjiro died, Nezuko caught a flu that was going around. It honestly made Zenitsu a little glad to have an excuse to leave his kid with Aoi for a while so that he could have Nezuko to himself while she was contagious. He didn't need anyone's help to take care of him, because every cell down to his soul cared only about how he might pamper and comfort her.

"Nezuko-chan, come on and drink a little. It'll make your throat feel better."

"I can't. I don't want to," she moaned. Tears escaped her hopeless eyes. She still must have felt so gutted, and Zenitsu knew he could do little to fill her for the time being. Some of that hopeless look must had been from thinking she'd never be free of the headache, but at least that much he might be able to soothe.

"Why don't you rest your head on my lap for a change? Here, I'll stroke your forehead for you."

"You should sleep."

"I can do it in my sleep," he smiled to her. "Actually, did you know that the legendary hero Agatsuma Zenitsu can be even more powerful when he sleeps?"

At this, she gave him a weak smile. The first he'd seen lately. "Yes."

"It's true! It's because he can hear the sound of his wife at his side. It powers him up like lightning coming right out of his empty eye-sockets! Actually, there was one time when he blinded his enemy before the roaring sound of his power knocked him over."

"Or the sound of his snoring."

"No, no, it's thunder like it shoots right out of him! You see, it all started one night in a terrible, creepy forest, when he saw a helpless man swooped backwards into the tree tops..."

When Nezuko recovered, Zenitsu picked up his pen again, and published "Rumble of the Knock-Out Secret Swordsmanship of Zenitsu Arc ~The Legendary Man’s Eyes Shine With Light~" not long afterward. It sold decently, and it was nice to hear that he had some fans who were excited about it.

Life fell back into a new busy normal, and Zenitsu's muse was fickle. "The Potato Feudal Lord Arc" was just a passing thing for fun, not something he'd ever tell his publisher about. It was more fun for a while to try out other things, like painting. As long as Nezuko was his model, Zenitsu found he had a knack for it. He ran into Yushiro one time though, who told him he was a hack, and they got into a big argument that ended with Zenitsu throwing all his brushes and unused canvases at him and daring him to do better. Those had all cost a lot of money, so Nezuko was not happy about that. Likewise, she wasn't happy when Zenitsu refused to sell a painting of her and tore his pants while throwing a fit.

By the looks of Nezuko's ledgers, it looked like Zenitsu was stuck at that desk job, selling electricity around the little mountain foothill town. He had been there so long that he got promoted for being good at sitting in the same chair for years, and that meant moving closer to a bigger town, closer to the growing metropolis, where Zenitsu felt right at home and Nezuko assured him she would adjust.

What would Tanjiro think, now that nobody bought charcoal anymore?

The world that once had demons seemed further and further away and the droll of adulthood stretched on, and powers he couldn't behead with a swift Thunderclap and Flash fought amongst themselves. More and more, there were expectations of Zenitsu, and people depending on him. He had to assure people they would still have light and heat even as Tokyo burned, and the sound of planes rattled his ears almost daily. He was a man of his community now, and the only one his family could depend on. At Nezuko's insistence, they collected nearly-blind Kanao and his nephews and niece, and he tried to insist to Inosuke to stay with them in town where there were bomb shelters, but Inosuke, just as responsible for his own family, felt he kept them safest going deeper and deeper in to the mountains.

Nezuko knew nothing but worries. Sometimes, he almost wished she could be back to a childlike state of mind, protected from all the pain and horrors she so unfairly had to endure. In the darkness of a bomb shelter, he hugged her close as she trembled. "Say, Nezuko-chan. Do you remember that time..."

"What?"

"...that time the great hero Agatsuma Zenitsu was a teeny-tiny, but very, very strong mouse?"

He could hear her worries lift, however slightly. Maybe that was all a mouse could do.

"Actually, it was when he was a little boy. You'd never guess it, but he was very cowardly. That was a terrible warlock with a fancy red mark around his eye painted him with a magic white makeup that turned him into a mouse!"

She stifled a snort against his chest. "Uzui-san..."

"Yeah, that was the warlock's name! Did I already tell you this story before?"

"A mouse?" his son clung tighter to him, sometime he hadn't done in years. Even when he was little he always clung to Nezuko instead anyway. Zenitsu could tell by the tone of his son's voice that he was already teary-eyed and sniffly.

"Yeah. A little mouse who thought he had no power at all. That the world was too big for him. But as it turns out..."

What really hurt was Nezuko's reaction. She sighed with disappointment, and lamented that this was why he spent so many long hours away from home.

That was a story Zenitsu recorded later, as a memory of those times. It stayed on his bookcase at home next to the Potato Lord story, now that the world was quiet again.

Business picked up really well. The world got brighter, and so did the indoor lighting. As a general sense of optimism filled the world again, the small but dedicated base of "Legend of Zenitsu" fans called for a new installment. He responded well to praise, and soon gave them "The Dragon Palace Arc ~Eternal Nezuko~," but being so busy as a highly promoted seat-warmer at the office meant he had things he had to do while sitting in that seat. He put on weight again, and spent a lot of sad, long evenings stuffing cookies in his face while streaming with tears that he couldn't be eating one of Nezuko's homecooked meals instead. "Sitting In A Happy Circle and Boiling Tea in Our Bellybuttons Arc" was something he secretly wrote at his desk as a form of silent protest. His publisher rejected that one after reading only one page.

Of course! He had to be at home to write his best work! He had to be in the same space as his muse, Nezuko! Another quickly written revenge work of his, "The Future Holds Zenitsu Arc," was considered one of his better ones.

After that, he was satisfied with writing for a while, and he muse pushed him to start playing (perfectly) the piano. Nezuko was not thrilled about the piano he bought.

If only he had taught it to Nezuko, then. Her joints all bothered her, but she kept sewing out of willpower.

This new hobby inspired another novel, and Nezuko inspired another novel after that of course, and the stress of their son getting married and wanting a lavish wedding inspired another novel and another novel after that was a desperate attempt to strike it big and get out of the debt that wedding cost them. After all, Zenitsu's daughter-in-law was a cutie and he wanted to spoil her. It made Zenitsu remember how cute Nezuko was when they were newlyweds, and before that too, of course, and now too, and before he knew it he had written yet another novel, despite his dwindling fan base. Nezuko sure liked that one, though, and that was all that mattered.

The years went by. Zenitsu felt he lost his mind over how his granddaughter got cuter every time he saw her, and he eventually reached some arbitrary age when his company could only promote him to retired. Aside from the aches in his legs, he felt as young as he always did, though. Kanao said it was probably the effects of Breath technique. It sustained them without reaching a threshold at which it would be dangerous to them.

Zenitsu still wrote sometimes. He stayed busier when his busy-body grandson read the old unpublished "The Birth of Zenitsu Arc" and insisted on learning Thunder Breath. That was like a new job Zenitsu never asked for, especially since he still only knew one of the original six forms, but Kiriya sent him a letter askeing him to give it a shot, for who knew what the future held. Certainly not demons, Zenitsu was assured of that much. If Yushiro gave his novels a bad review one more time, he'd make sure of there were no more demons left in the world.

He got back in touch with Inosuke. He thought it might never happen after he abandoned the old house and charcoal mill, but the whole time, Inosuke had been on the mountain next to it, where he had always been King of the Mountain. He still took care of the house, he said. But a King still had to be King. They weren't the only people on the mountain, though. Aoi paid house calls. Still, Zenitsu gave Inosuke a stern lecture about making Nezuko (as well as Kanao) worry, so Aoi made sure to drag Inosuke into the bigger and bigger city sometimes.

Zenitsu's newest hobby to drop money on was photography, but now that he was a pensioner, Nezuko did not mind so much. She even agreed to let him fulfill his dream of taking her to Paris. He was glad he had that camera, to prove how the city could not outshine her.

He was glad he took her when he did. Her joints made it harder and harder for her to get around, even though she always smiled and insisted Zenitsu's legs must hurt more. He didn't like it when she laughed and joked around about chopping her legs off to grow new ones.

"Grandpa," his youngest granddaughter looked to him with a tearful face, "Grandma was saying something about being a demon again. I wish she'd stop that."

"I know, right!? She's a princess, and the very spirit of a plum blossom tree! A shrine maiden too!"

"There's no way someone like Grandma would ever go to hell."

He paused, and his stomach sank.

Nezuko gave up her sewing. She spent more and more time in bed, but with no desk job to sit at and a grandson taught enough that he could be told to go off and practice on his own, Zenitsu spent his days writing again. He took a long time on that novel he wrote for her, putting in all the sorts of parts he knew she liked. Sometimes he couldn't help himself and reads parts aloud to her without telling her everything else that already happened in the story. She smiled and enjoyed each fragment anyway.

"I've finally got the title for this one!" he announced. "It's called, 'I Will Be In Love With You A Thousand Years Arc.' Perfect, huh? Well, maybe it's still missing something. A million years, maybe?"

"Zenitsu-san... tell me a story..."

"I am! I'm telling you the greatest story yet! It's about this immortal princess who..."

"Tell me a real story..."

He paused and listened to her heartbeat as she took a breath--a simple, unpracticed breath in tired human lungs. Nezuko still made the same warm sound that she always did. It had a different resonance when she was a demon, and when he carried another life inside her, but it was always uniquely her.

"I want to hear... about the time you spent with my brother."

"Tanjiro? Yeah, he... hasn't been in these for a long time. Maybe I'll bring him back."

"You cared so much about him," she smiled from her futon. "That was why you protected my box, before you even met me."

"He... yeah."

"I'm glad you were such good friends... I want to hear about all those good things that happened to you. About your Ojiisan, and your little bird..."

"Yeah," he grimaced to a smile, and the inside of his nose zapped like a storm was brewing. "I had a lot of good things happen to me. A lot of bad things too."

"It's up to you to decide if you're happy or not. I hope... you'll decide you were happy."

"Yeah," he said, the snot already flowing. "The happiest. I'll tell you all about it. I'll make it my best story ever."

"You promise...?"

He kissed her forehead. "I'd never be able to come up with anything better than the truth."

[david-goldrock]

You voted for, so let me translate the entire poem

Let us talk about god About blind faith, and cold logic, and a lacking purpose A pale alternative to a pointless and alienated existence About the mantle and the lady and all that is familiar And the bitter truth of the thorn in the rose And the dangers of sugar and the cold reality Let us talk about god dsgnruwhurjehgtsbvalk

That is what I managed to write before the cat jumped on my keyboard Glanced at the words, glanced at me, glanced at the words And turned to lick its own ass

"Well, what's your opinion?" I asked it, for it is known cats do not tend to spare criticism If you wanna hear "Wow what a beautiful song" go and ask the dog For the truth, turn to a cat

Left the ass, glanced at me Glanced at the words, glanced at me His entirety is a Nietzsche's mustache The eyes of the abyss that looks back at you Uberkatze that will soon herald that god is dead (supercat, a reference to Nietzsche's "uberman") Opens his moth to talk, and thus spoke Zarathustra: "For someone who claims that god doesn't exist, you write about him a bunch, do you feel threatened?"

What? Threatened? From what? A flying spaghetti monster? No I just think that faith and god is a cool concept

It scoffs and responds: What do you fuck about? You dig (talk an excessive amount about something) And are an infidel And forces to confront And freeze in your place From the horror of the truth Because Darwinist monkeys Tried to trick To pile stones That cannot be lifted And cells from a fetus And a fossilized snail And big bangs And facts that most, as all Dwarven (become small, as dwarfs) On the banks of the everyday Of 7 billion Yearning souls From the heart of each land To the shore of each sea Go and tell all these That god doesn't exist

And then it hit me: The religification has come to me in my home! Because of course, a cat that once in Ancient Egypt was a god Now that were back to writing in emoji hieroglyphs, and the cat-worshiping gets a rejuvenation on all the walls of the internet Of course the cat will stand up to the side of the messianics, the darkened, the preachers and return-in-answerers (to return in an answer is a jewish idea, which I am unqualified to explain, but in this context it means to become religious) Well - Not in my house I won't be silent and I won't accept Religious compulsion from the mouth of a creature that licks its own ass

And it tells me: From the perspective of a cat Things are a bit different There is no Damocles' sword of time that is ticking Death approaches The end of the movie And in the meantime, we eat, and fuck Without doubting The world, ourselves By Allah Ya Allah You digged With all that messing around with "purpose" We start, we decay There's no one above No stairway to heaven Hell has no elevator

Well, exactly, so why search for imagined meaning? Why not settle for what there is - We were born for a short existence, kitty Let us fulfill it instead of casting the responsibility on some kind of creator There are better things to live by

Like what exactly?

Yes The tree is but a tree And the sea is but a sea But has anyone ever Seen democracy? Touched an ideology (In order to get the feeling of its texture) Or grasped an idea? Just today I hunted justice And I held a vision I hadn't met a cat That had counted its steps By a measure of morality Or a written contract Ironically you with the brain You don't have smarts Just the mercy of words That will build you a dam To stop the nothingness And to act as a reminder But the nothingness is winning I am sorry to herald And yet there's no shame in filling that which is empty Even you -

Me? I am a nihilist anyway, I don't believe in anything

Even you Rise very morning to work For money, a feeling of recognition and honor Maybe money exists if people live for it? If people are held by it? If people are worth because of it? If people fight, vouch for each other, sacrifice for it? If there's money, then there is god, why not? Nations and peoples and states ignite Flames in tens of thousands of hearts As far as I am concerned if all of them exist than god does too

Let us ask the audience, we'll do a survey here Who's more real, god, or Brad Pitt? Sorry for shoveling messages down your throats But no one ever died for Brad, the poor guy Certainly hadn't lived for him What is true: You You examine in a magnifying glass A view that's seen by a telescope Fight for flags And scoff at a horoscope If faith is a perspective Then the world's a kaleidoscope If life is a raging sea Then god is a periscope One can see with him high up And all looks clear If you hadn't begun to sink by now For this pitcher is hollow Take the word of a cat Every time over You kill god To crown under him A different hollow pitcher

You wanna talk about god? Let us talk about love Where is this love that you talk about? That you sing it?, that you write it? That you live it, you experience it You die for it, you kill for it Where is the evidence to prove the existence of this love? This catalyst, this causer The motive, the engine of life The battery of the existence, the fuel of the soul Where is this love? If there is no god, what about your love? If there is no god, what about love? If there is no god, what about love? If there is no god, what about love?

Its mustache bristles, and his eyes are boiling fire He finished And returned to lick its ass

I should have asked the dog

[itspikamefan]

I lied... Eat your Tetro Pink Quotes (Potential Spoilers ahead)

(Also planning a short fic in the future so look forward to that) Kamimura: Keep a bunch of wrapped, empty boxed under your Christmas Tree. When a child misbehaves, throw one in the fireplace Okazaki: Ok... But what do I do when I run out of Children? Hayashi: The fuck is wrong with you? Kamimura: Off the top of my head, I'd say low self-esteem, a lack of paternal affection, and a genetic predisposition for anxiety and depression. Hama, to Harada: Bro, you better shut the fuck up before I look at you one day and feel warm and realize I've fallen in love with you bro. I'm serious, quit it dude. Tsuno: Wada... I'm worried about you. Wada, dunking his Oreos in Jack Daniel's: Why? Hiroaki: Wow, Ojima. You want to hold my hand? Before MARRIAGE? How awfully lewd of you. Ojima: We literally slept together yesterday. Hiroaki: That's nothing compared to the Lewdness of Holding Hands. Harada: ...Why shouldn't you put a toaster in a bathtub full of water? Chiba: Your toast will get soggy!

Tsuno: So Kamimura... Do you have a crush on anyone?~ Kamimura: The only crush I have is my crushing anxiety. Okazaki: Would you like something to drink? *She opens the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper- Harada: Spiders? Okazaki: Spiders it is then. Harada: That wasn't- *But she was already pouring him a brimming glass of spiders* Hama: Anyone else feel good when their brain releases a bunch of endorphins? Harada: Can't relate... Chiba: Why would my brain release a bunch of Dolphins? Yanagi: Last Night, I found out Sasaki is a sleeptalker. Hiroaki: Oh really? Yanagi: "Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell" Right. In. My. Ear. At 3AM.. Watari: I dare you to kiss the next person who walks in this room. Harada: What? I have a Girlfriend! I'm not kissing any of you! *Hama enters the room* Harada: Fine. Rules are rules, you know. Watari: Why would you think any of this is a good idea?! Okazaki: Probably because I’m a dangerous sociopath with a long line of violence. Watari: O-oh... Tamba: I'm surprised you keep forgetting that. Sasaki: Acid doesn't get you high, that's what happens when you put Paper in your mouth. Wada: I have eaten paper and other items like pencils, pens, markers and pebbles for my entire life. I can tell you with certainty that this is misinformation. If you EAT paper, you will not feel the effects of LSD and anyone who tells you otherwise is Sasaki. Watari: ...This motherfucker eating PENS! Hiroaki: If I say I love you... Will you say it back? Ojima: ...Yes. Hiroaki: I love you. Ojima: It back. *Later* Sasaki: Why is Hiroaki crying facedown on the floor? Kamimura: Is anyone going to tell me what the FUCK is going on here?! Watari: It's kinda complicated but Okazaki- Kamimura: Yup. Got it. Forget I asked. *Harada is casually searching his room* Chiba: Harada, what are you looking for? Harada: My will to live. *Sawa crawls out from under the bed* Harada: Oh there it is. Watari: Why are your tongues purple? Hama: We had slushies... I had a red one. Harada: I had a blue one. Watari: Oh... Watari: Watari: OHHH!!! Chiba: You guys drank each other's slushies? Kamimura: What should I get at IHOP? Chiba: Pancake Combo! Hiroaki: Sucked off. Yanagi: Killed. Kamimura: ... Thanks. Sasaki: I currently have 7 empty Notebooks and I have no idea what to put in them. Any suggestions? Chiba: Put spaghetti in it. Sasaki: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but Chiba. Hiroaki: Put Spaghetti in it. Sasaki: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but Chiba and Hiroaki. Okazaki: Put Spaghetti in it. Sasaki: ...I am no longer taking suggestions. Okazaki: For self defense reasons, I'm going to 'pretend' to be a burglar and you guys have to act wisely. Wada and Hiroaki: K. Kamimura: Why the fuck was that in quotes. Okazaki: Now then, if you don't want to die, give me all your money. Wada: Bold of you to assume I have money. Kamimura: Bold of you to assume I don't want to die. Hiroaki: Bold of you to assume I CAN Die. Watari: What's up with Harada? He's been laying on the floor for like... An hour now. Chiba: He's just a little overwhelmed. Watari: Why? Chiba: Hama smiled at him. Sasaki: Is stabbing someone immoral? Kamimura: Not if they consent to it. Okazaki: Depends on who you're stabbing. Tsuno: YES?!?! Tsuno:  I wish I had a super tight-knit group of friends that I fought crime with. Okazaki: I wish I had a super tight-knit group of friends that I committed crimes with. Hama:  I wish I had a super tight group of criminals that I knitted with. Ojima: I wish I had a group of friends. Wada: I wish I could knit...

(Added because apparently without this my post fucking breaks)

[styxnbones]

bound & break for harper on the not so nice ask game? ^3^

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

Up until this last year, only the once. But! being in an active chronicle is great for getting those incarceration numbers up lmao. First off, they got nabbed by the SI while trying to save a revenant from them. That one was several months of being staked and starved, since the hunters refused to give them flesh instead of just liquid blood. Though, they actually had miracle level rouse checks and remained conscious for a significant portion of it all. They ended up escaping with the help of the Red Alastor Sulla (yes, the historical roman dictator Sulla, you can thank @tzimizce for that galaxy brain idea) who sent a wraith to un-stake them and then submit to being completely consumed by them. Obviously, the surveillance on their cell noticed, but they were able to talk their way into being released as a mole for the SI and as such did come out with a physical scar- a small listening device embedded in the back of their throat that caused a permanent point of aggravated damage (until they got a mouthful of acid blood that melted it away but that's another story).

The second time was a two week stay in a padded oubliette with a feral skeleton for a roomie (@harbingerofskulls 's Mattia). This was because they couldn't keep a lid on their hatred for the Giovanni and threw Sulla's Gio boytoy (@cemeterygrotesque 's Nero) through a wall for provoking them. The third is related to the second, but by far the worst. During their fight with Nero they had threatened to kill his girlfriend, Renere, if they weren't allowed to kill him. So, when they got out, they stupidly decided to make good on the threat. They tricked her into coming down into their creepy ass basement and ate her alive, nearly to final death. However, her "parasite" (a slayer demon called Bergamot) stepped in and basically sent Harper to super hell. In reality it was only two weeks, but to Harper it felt *much* longer as they were paralyzed with the branches and trunk of a stone tree having grown through their body and a bunch of spirits there to personally torment them. The mental scars from this have yet to come up, but if they ever went to the shadowlands again I think they'd be constantly making checks against fear frenzy.

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

It's funny that you picked this one as well, bc nearly all of the times they've broken down it's been related to being imprisoned. The lowest they've gotten in the chronicle was in Bergamot's Toture Nexus for sure, so he and a bunch of wraiths saw them but mercifully no one else. They're remarkably resilient, but even they aren't immune to crying and begging- even just to thin air when they've been left to suffer.

[weaselle]

Aliens

i did it. i finally did it. i invented an alien that’s NOTHING like earth life.

Do you know how HARD that is!? Do you know moray eels have an inner jaw like the xenomorphs from the Aliens movies? Did you know several types of fish live in groups with a single large female and when she dies the next largest male undergoes a sex change and becomes the new lady in charge? And some fungi have hundreds, or even thousands of genders? Did you know the jeweled wasp stings a cockroach sooooo precisely in the brain that it controls what it’s behavior will be (which is to stop eating or drinking and instead guard the larva that are slowly eating it alive). Did you know there’s a plant that changes its leaves to be shaped like the leaves of plants it’s growing near, and it will even copy a plastic plant, and it does it without touching it, and we basically have no idea how the fuck it knows what shape the leaves are.. did you know that shit?

Do you understand how hard it is to imagine a form of life that isn’t composed of earth features? Like yeah, i can do the floaty tentacle thing but it’s basically an air octopus, or i could do like, “what if people were also alligators” or i can be like, great big eyes, scary ass mouth, six limbs and oh, wings too why not, and some striking colors and ah fuck i’ve just done a fat furry dragonfly haven’t i.

i mean yes its my own fault for insisting i design my aliens evolutionarily from the environment up. Like, does my alien navigate the incomprehensible storms and gravitational forces of a gas giant? Because having a human and one of those aliens in the same place at the same time is probably going to kill one of them. Putting them on earth would likely be like hauling a deep sea fish up to the surface where their cells all sort of turn inside out from the change in water pressure.

but if you evolve your aliens in an environment that any earth creatures can live in, they’re gonna like. They’re gonna have features that some earth creature has. Did you know that octopuses can edit their own genetic code during their lifetime? They can change who they are on a genetic level. 

Anyway, it’s super hard to get an alien that can share human environments but is so acutely alien in all ways that a human wouldn’t even comprehend what they were looking at. Right?

Not something you look at and go like, oh yeah, that’s just like if a crab lived in the trees and created strong electro magnetic fields to feel their way around (did you know bees do that? bees create like, an electro-static aura, and flowers also create them, and when a bee lands on a flower it temporarily flips it to reverse between negative and positive, so when a bee flies near a flower it feels a little magnetic pull toward a flower full of pollen, but feels a little push away from a flower that has recently been landed on by a bee and is mostly empty of pollen. Did you know that?)

i just, i want an alien that is SO alien, that you don’t understand what you are looking at when you see it. Like you don’t see common features, you don’t see a mouth, no eyes, it doesn’t appear to be breathing. It doesn’t have recognizable limbs but isn’t some kind of slug thing... is there a head? are none of those things heads? Are all of them?

and i can come up with THAT stuff all day long. But i can’t help myself, i always wind up being like, ok, but WHAT ARE they though, what are all those things that may or may not be heads, what are they being used for? I as the author feel i have to know, and that means i have to decide: what environmental pressures dictated evolution into that form?

anyway my standards are high for alien creation, but i think the results are going to be worth it.

i have a bunch of aliens i’ve come up with that are super cool aliens, and they meet many of my standards for perfect alien design

So far i have TWO. two alien species that meet every standard and still work. And are, I guarantee, NOTHING like any earth life form. They do, unfortunately, form a ven diagram of design between them, but nothing about them is of this earth. 

i can’t tell you yet, gotta figure out how to present them in story form

[askbensolo]

Ben, did you ever eat bugs when you were younger? Y'know like you were channeling your inner Anakin

Yes. Yes I did. As well as other things. Truly wonderful, the mind of a child is. I don’t know why I did that, but hey, the heart wants what it wants…

Oh my gosh. Dude. Wanna hear a college story? ‘Cause I ate a live bug in college. In fact, I ate five of them.

I’ll set the scene. Good ol’ UNaboo. Junior year. My first year, actually, since I transferred in. A fall semester party. The Osk Trill Osk frat house. Enter Ben Solo, twenty years old, tall but scrawny, still in his ugly sweater era, dragged into the tableau by a twenty-one-year-old Treeso Wonga, his new friend from NHS 101: Introduction to Nonhuman Studies.

“I don’t think my mom would want me here,” Ben says, fear in his eyes, a college junior with a freshman soul. “Is it like in the holofilms? Are people gonna be, like…doing stuff?”

“Relax, Solo,” says Treeso, pushing him forward with a solid hand to the back. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We’re here to have fun!”

Osk Trill Osk is a co-ed, mostly-Gungan fraternity. Ben, at this time, has mostly only ever interacted with humans and near-human species, and even those he has barely interacted with. We’re looking at a guy who was homeschooled from age five, practically lived in his bedroom till nineteen, and can count all the friends he’s ever had on one hand. And now he’s standing awkwardly in the middle of a loud and crowded room with a bunch of eighteen-to-twenty-two-year-olds, but he feels like he’s twelve.

The others are friendly enough. They offer him drinks and they offer him things that aren’t drinks and one girl who’s maybe already had a bit too much to drink thinks he’s cute and offers him something else. But the looming threat of Leia Organa-Solo hovers over the boy, along with his own anxious inhibitions and fairly cautious nature, and he declines them all.

“I’m, uh, not twenty-one yet,” he says, naively thinking the excuse is watertight, but a rousing chorus of “neither are we!” shatters the illusion at once.

“I mean, I like following rules,” he says instead, with eyes so big you could read the humiliation in them from a lightyear away—but no one else in the room is in a state to be that observant. Nor are they in a state to spend even one of the brain cells they’re all trying to kill off on thinking about what a loser Ben is. But Ben, however, now has many brain cells that have devoted themselves entirely to this purpose, and he spends the next hour stressed-out and sober, thinking about what a loser he is, and how he can prove he’s not.

Enter the blue slug-beetles, which someone suddenly brings in a crate of, much in the same way one would bring in a six-pack of beer. There is a series of cheers from the Gungans in the room.

The slug-beetle is a bright blue insect about the size of the palm of your hand, and has the curious distinction of being native to both Naboo and Tatooine, with the ability to thrive in both wetland and desert. On Naboo, they are found in the eastern swamps, crawling in the mud amidst the roots of the pelote trees. They are a Gungan delicacy, and Gungans, with their strong teeth and long tongues, are well-suited to cracking the beetles’ hard shells and slurping up the juices. Treeso and several other Gungans begin to do so immediately, while some of the non-Gungan guests look on, some with fascination, some with disgust.

Ben Solo is not a Gungan. He is, however, an absolute freaking idiot. Through some insane inspiration, he decides that he is going to prove how cool he is by being the first human to eat a blue slug-beetle. He puts his hand in the crate.

It’s alive, first of all. These slug-beetles have been prepped for consumption by the removal of their wings, the stubs of which are clipped off in straight lines and flitter nervously as the beetles struggle vainly to survive another day. But even without flight, Ben’s beetle squirms in his hands, its several legs tickling his palms as he tries to prevent its escape.

This moron, frantic not to embarrass himself by having to chase a slug-beetle around the room, finally gives up on figuring out how to eat it. He settles for slapping his palm against his mouth, throwing back the beetle like a handful of pills. The legs tickle his tongue instead of his hands. In a panic, he champs down on it to end its life, and swallows it, the hard fragments of shell scraping the insides of his throat on the way down.

And guess what? Nobody freaking saw.

Damn.

So then. Of course. What other conclusion is there? He has to do it again. Reluctantly, he reaches once more into the crate of crawling beetles.

Mind you, this buffoon is fully sober. He has nothing and no one to blame for his stupid decisions. He’s just…like that.

He picks up the second bug. Probably, he should have stopped and waved and said something like, “Hey, guys, watch me eat this bug!” (though in retrospect, I’m kind of glad he didn’t), but this dude had pretty bad social anxiety at the time, and such a prospect was unthinkable.

So…Ben Solo eats his second slug-beetle. And again. Nobody freaking sees him do it. Although it does go down a little smoother.

Well. Now he’s committed to the bit. Committed enough to grab a t-h-i-r-d slug-beetle, but for some reason not committed enough to say “hey guys watch me eat this bug” because that would involve calling attention to himself, which is exactly what he’s attempting to do, except no, he doesn’t want to make himself noticed, he just wants to be noticed.

Third slug-beetle goes down—similarly unseen. It’s looking like Ben prayed too hard at the beginning of the party for people not to look at him, because, yeah, that’s exactly what’s happening right now. Sure, he could just call it there and shrug it off and laugh at himself for eating three slug-beetles for nothing, but…you know? The sunk-cost fallacy is one hell of a drug.

He’s getting the hang of it. Down goes the fourth beetle. One of the Gungans looks at the crate and goes, hey, where’d all the beetles go? They went fast, huh? And Ben Solo’s like, oh, someone’s looking, now’s my chance. He grabs the fifth bug and puts it in his mouth and imagines the sweet, sweet taste of notoriety.

Well, he was getting the hang of it. But at this point, this stupid neophyte college boy is sweaty and dehydrated and has nothing in his stomach but hydrochloric acid and five blue slug-beetles and a bunch of social anxiety and his body decides, yeah, okay, show’s over, we’re done here. Pack it up, boys.

So, everyone’s watching when Ben Solo slaps his hands over his mouth and stumbles over to a conveniently-placed garbage can and keels over and…you know, un-eats all the bugs.

“Yooo, I thought you said you weren’t gonna drink!” says Treeso, pulling back my hair while I freaking die, and someone else says they can see why I don’t drink, since we’ve only been there an hour and I’m already losing my guts. And from that point on everyone thinks I’m just, like, the worst lightweight ever.

And? To this day? No one will kriffing believe me that I ate five bugs. Like…seriously?? If I was gonna lie about myself for clout, you really think that that’s what I’d be going with?? Ben Solo, the bug-eater???

Anyway…yeah. I present myself before you. Ben Solo, eater of bugs.

[algeroth]

While many other types of jellyfish can only detect light—sensing the direction it is coming from and following it—T. cystophora can also discern the contrast between dark and light, which means it can form images. “Two of their eye-structures are camera-type eyes which are basically built like yours and mine,” says senior author Anders Lydik Garm, associate professor of marine biology of the University of Copenhagen, Denmark. 

Garm and study co-author Jan Bielecki, who studies neurobiology at the Kiel University, Germany wanted to know whether the jellies’ behavior—swerving between dark and light—was hardwired, or whether the jellies could learn new behavior. In their natural habitat, the jellies use their visual sense of contrast to distinguish the dark tree roots from the brighter water to avoid bumping into the tangles of protruding roots. “They use the contrast, because contrast is the difference between how dark the root is and how bright the water is,” explains Garm. “That contrast is how they evaluate distance.” But could they learn to avoid obstacles that look different from the ones in their natural environment? 

Garm and Bielecki set up an experiment. They outfitted a fish tank with a bunch of gray and white plastic strips, which were meant to mimic the tree roots and light streaming through. The trick was that to the jellyfish, the light gray color looked like a root that was simply far away. “In reality it wasn’t far away. It just seemed far away because we painted it gray,” Garm explains. Initially, the jellies perceived the gray “roots” as being remote—and bumped into them. But after a few bumps, they would learn to avoid the gray strips. “They get the mechanical sensory input telling them, OK, this root was much closer than it originally appeared,” says Garm—and they start changing their behavior.

Less than 10 minutes into the experiment, the jellies quadrupled the number of successful pivots to avoid collision, scientists found. “They learned that in this condition, low contrast still means that the ‘root’ is close by and then within three to five errors of bumping into the root they learn to turn earlier and not bump into it,” Garm says. “We were surprised at how quickly they learned.” This form of learning is called associative learning: The jellies learn to associate sensory stimuli—such as images of the gray strips—with bumps, to remember this association and then adapt future behavior.

The findings suggest that even without a brain, jellyfish can learn from experience through visual and mechanical stimuli, researchers say. But if the jellyfish doesn’t have a brain, where are these memories stored? Garm says that this learning may happen within the cells of the distributed nervous system, particularly the neurons in the rhopalia. These neurons form a memory of sensory stimulation, which then becomes associated with a particular behavior: The image of the root, plus the bump, leads to avoidance.

[robbiefischer]

💍 🎶 🐶 🎄 🍔 for ezra and Patrick and Eliza and Orlando?

Thank you for the ask! I loved getting a chance to think about them, they're not as fleshed out as they could be so this really helped me solidify some stuff about these OCs.

💍 RING — does your oc have any piercings? do they want any (more) piercings?

Eliza has her ears pierced, she has two piercings in each earlobe. She doesn't have or want any other piercings. Ezra has one earlobe piercing in his left ear, but nothing besides that currently. He had his nose pierced when he was younger, but he let it close up after one of the kids in his classroom at the time (he taught preschool) nearly pulled it out. It just wasn't a good idea working closely with unpredictable small children. Patrick doesn't have any piercings, and neither does Orlando nor do they want any.

🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often?

Patrick doesn't listen to music all that often, but when he does he favors instrumental music because he finds lyrics distracting most of the time. He likes a lot of contemporary classical and minimalist music, especially sparse, atmospheric piano, some soft jazz, lots of instrumental film scores, that kind of thing. Ezra likes a wide variety of music - he'll listen to everything from folk rock to metal to EDM to pop hits and everything in between. He's pretty much always got something playing, even if it's only in his head, and he often listens with noise-canceling headphones on at home since a lot of his favorites stress Patrick out a bit when he's trying to relax after work.

Eliza likes a lot of indie folk and pop, as well as a bunch of singer-songwriters - she's really lyrically-focused. In general, she'd rather listen to softer, slower stuff than faster music but there are some exceptions. She also ends up listening to a lot of musical soundtracks and pop because her oldest daughter, Annaliese is really into both and Eliza is a great mom who supports what her children are into. Orlando listens to music pretty much all the time when he's working but not in a meeting or on a call, and he's not at all picky about what he listens to. He's probably more fond of rock than anything else, but he'll add pretty much anything and everything that's catchy and has a good beat to his Spotify playlist and usually just keeps his likes on shuffle. He actually loves musicals, and will be the first to start belting along with a song in the car while he's driving the kids to school.

🐶 DOG FACE — does your oc have any pets?

Ezra and Patrick have an orange boy kitty (with exactly one brain cell) named Charlie and a rabbit named Cocoa that their youngest daughter, Finley, loves more than life itself. He's a family pet because she's only six and way too young to take on full responsibility for any animal, but she'd been begging for a bunny for years.

Orlando and Eliza have two dogs - a husky named Fiona and a golden retriever puppy named Delilah.

🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your oc's favorite holiday?

Orlando is a total Christmas fanatic. He just loves the entire experience - the food, the music, snowy weather up at their estate, putting up lights, shopping for presents, making gingerbread houses with the kids, decorating trees, just... making it an amazing experience for the whole family. He has the best time playing "Santa" for all of the Calloway kids (but especially his own) and goes all out. Glitter everywhere (that he promises his wife he will be responsible for cleaning up because she hates the stuff), boot prints in the house, "reindeer" tracks out in the snow on the lawn, elaborately wrapped gifts, letters from Santa... the man has no chill about Christmas and everyone in the family loves him for it.

Eliza's a New Year's Eve kind of girl. She looks forward to it all year, but especially after the stress of the winter holiday season. It's always such a busy time at work, then there's just so many family events and so much to do to make everything special for all of the kids in the family. She loves all of the family stuff, but by the end of December she's starting to feel a little bit burned out and is desperately craving some quality time just for her and her husband. Orlando always goes all out for them for NYE - they spend the night in the city at a really fancy hotel, go out for dinner at Eliza's favorite restaurant, they both get all dressed up and just bask in each other's company.

Patrick really loves Thanksgiving. He didn't have great holiday experiences growing up as a kid (his parents are... difficult and have always been super image-oriented, everything was done for appearances rather than enjoyment) so he's still easing into them and building new, pleasant associations with Ezra and their kids. But he loves Thanksgiving food and all of the family time with less stress than Christmas so much.

Ezra's another Christmas lover and everything he loves about it revolves around his family. He loves creating traditions with his husband and kids (they have three - Evan, Alexandria and Finley) and getting to spend tons of quality time with them whether they're decorating the tree, baking and decorating Christmas cookies, going ice skating, picking out matching holiday PJs and curling up on the couch with hot cocoa and a sappy Christmas movie, going to New Islington's tree lighting ceremony or spending evenings out at the Christmas market. He just loves it all. It's also his favorite time of year at work because the preschool and daycare kids just get SO excited and are so cute about it. He spends a lot more time visiting classrooms during the holidays because he loves getting caught up in their excitement.

🍔 HAMBURGER — is your oc good at cooking? are they good at baking? which one do they prefer?

Orlando's a fantastic cook, but he almost never bakes. It's not one of his strengths, although he could handle following a basic cookie recipe or something with the kids if one of them wanted to spend the day baking with him. Although he and Eliza split that responsibility pretty evenly, he probably does a bit more of the cooking in their household (it's about 60% / 40% in his favor) and is always happy to take an extra turn if she's not feeling it. He just enjoys it a bit more than she does.

Eliza's a really good cook, but baking is her one true love and she's great at it. She's been baking bread since she was a teenager and was gifted some of her grandmother's sourdough starter, she does really fancy birthday cakes for everyone in the family and is constantly leveling up her skills learning new, complicated techniques and recipes. Most recently she perfected puff pastry. She'd much rather bake than cook, if you gave her the choice.

Patrick isn't really a huge fan of doing either, but he's become a very good cook (because Patrick becomes good at everything he does, he's persistent like that). He hasn't bothered with baking because he really doesn't enjoy it at all. Honestly though, if it were practical for his family, he'd hire a private chef to cook on all of his nights but he just doesn't hate doing it quite that much.

Ezra is a really good cook, and likes doing it. He really loves cooking with their kids and always tries to find ways to get them involved in an age-appropriate way. He's fine at baking if he sticks to the basics. It's not his favorite thing to do, but he's more than willing to whip up a batch of cookies or brownies with the kids if they want to bake or have requested them.

[oliviachows]

5 Foods That Look Like Organs and How Good They Are.

Organs are collections of tissues that each serve a specific purpose in the body. Models incorporate the heart, liver, and stomach.

According to the "you are what you eat" theory, some foods are similar to the organs they help. Training is frequently scorned, yet is in some cases upheld by science.

Walnut-Brain.

The wrinkled appearance of a walnut resembles the human brain in many ways. Additionally, it is high in omega-3 fatty acids, which are necessary for cognitive function and brain health.

The walnut extract was found to break down Alzheimer's disease-associated protein-based plaques in a study. This is due to the abundance of over three dozen neuron transmitters found in walnuts, which support brain function and protect against dementia.

Walnuts rank among the best when it comes to providing nourishment for the body, although there are numerous other tree nuts to choose from. They're accessible entire or slashed and arrive in different arrangements including crude, cooked, and prepared. They're an extraordinary wellspring of omega-3s and DHA, which are known to work on mental execution in babies and grown-ups the same.

Sweet Potato-Pancreas.

The pancreas and the sweet potato Sweet potatoes contain a lot of fiber, which can help control blood sugar and lower cholesterol. Manganese, vitamin C, and potassium are also in them.

Individuals with kidney illness ought to restrict their admission of these supplements since abundant sums can develop in their bodies and lead to kidney harm. Before eating them, people with compromised kidneys should talk to a doctor or a renal dietitian, according to the National Kidney Foundation.

Additionally, sweet potatoes are a good source of antioxidants and fiber, both of which can boost your immune system and gut health. Additionally, they are an excellent source of beta-carotene, which can reduce the oxidation process that leads to the formation of free radicals in the body, thereby preventing heart disease and cancer.

Avocado-Uterus.

Avocados with an oval shape are similar to a woman's uterus and are good for women's reproductive health. They contain folic acid, which reduces the likelihood of cervical dysplasia and prevents babies from developing disabilities at birth.

Additionally, they contain potassium, which helps to regulate excess estrogen, which can lead to problems in the uterus like endometriosis.

Additionally, they are an excellent source of monounsaturated fats, which are essential for the development and growth of fetuses.

They likewise contain solvent fiber, which helps assimilation and facilitates defecation. They help you feel fuller between meals and are an excellent addition to a healthy pregnancy diet.

Get fresh farm fruits and vegetables online at https://gomaplefarms.com/

Grapes-Lungs.

The human body's lung is one of its most important organs. With each breath, they remove carbon dioxide from the lungs and help oxygen reach the rest of your body.

Air fills thousands of tiny alveoli, or air sacs, at the ends of the bronchi as it moves through your lungs. They look like grape bunches, and when you inhale, a burst of air helps oxygen move through your lungs.

Blood vessels and cells that filter the air and discharge waste products into the lungs are also housed in these tiny sacs. Concentrates on showing that an eating regimen wealthy in leafy foods, particularly berries, can assist with reinforcing the alveoli, which makes it simpler to relax.

Carrots-Eyes.

Carrots contain a lot of vitamin A, which is necessary for healthy eyes. They likewise contain lutein and zeaxanthin, which are cell reinforcements that shield the eyes from waterfalls, dryness, and age-related macular degeneration.

The American Academy of Ophthalmology claims that nutrient-dense vegetables can improve your vision in low light. According to Natalie Allen, RD, it also helps keep your eye's photoreceptors healthy and lowers your risk of night blindness.

Good eye health habits like avoiding blue light and screen time, eating a healthy diet, exercising frequently, not smoking, and going to an optometrist or ophthalmologist for regular eye exams are essential. In the end, however, consuming a variety of fruits and vegetables is your best chance of avoiding glaucoma, macular degeneration, and cataracts.

[magicpumpkin3]

Fluff!TWST headcanons that you're probably unprepared for

Part 2

1 part ← here

Vil would do your makeup. Before applying makeup on your skin, he places butterfly kisses all over your face, mostly focusing on your cheeks and forehead. After, before doing your eyelids and eyelashes, he leaves a few small kisses on your closed eyes. Finally before applying lipstick on your lips, he gives you quick passion kiss, before getting back to work.

Rook would sent you a love letters. On his arrows. You are walking around school garden, when suddenly, theres an arrow flying past your face, hitting near by tree. Inspecting it, you find words of love being curved on it. There's a whole love letter on one arrow!...Well...till next one flys your direction. Rook loves you too much, to send just one letter.

Ruggie would feed you donuts. That he stole from somebody. Sometimes he just randomly appears with bunch of donuts that you eat together. He never tells you, where he gets them but it isn't hard to guess. Ruggie always hides from someone when he gets to your dorm. Usually his favourite hiding place is in your room. In your arms with that cheeky grin of his, to be more specific.

Sebek would be quiet with you. He knows he can get annoying from time to time. Especially if he yells. Even though, you told him a lot if times that you don't mind, Sebeck still trys to be a bit more quiet around you. You're too dear to him, He can't let you leave him only because of his yelling. For the sake of your ears, please let him do what he wants.

Jade would be your personal butler. He would help you with everything! Cary books, do homework, make food, keep your room clean and tidy, Watching out for the 1 brain cell trio-. But unfortunately, everything comes with cost. The more you ask Jade for help, the more he'll tease you later~.

Malleus would study gargles with you. You're probably the first member of his little gargle club (after him of course). He was so happy, when you asked if you could join his club! You have no idea how much joy you bring him, simply sitting with him in the classroom, listening to him rambling about gargles. He can't find the words, so he just gives you a friendship club bracelet, with a small gargle on it.

Riddle would have a tea partys with you. After a tiering day, you go to his privet garden, where you have your 'privet' tea with the dorm leader. Not much words are exchanged, just you and him, sitting near each other, enjoying moments of peace with one another. You may place your head on his shoulder or he on yours. It really depends on how tired you are. One time, you even fell asleep on one another! Oh, poor Riddle, he had to deal with teasing Cater.

Silver would let you guard him. When he randomly falls asleep, you're always near him. Before, Silver always had to be half awake, be prepared for anyone to strike but after you came along, the boy can finally rest a bit more. Yes, it isn't much but for Silver it's almost as if you confess your undying love to him every single time you stay by his side while he sleeps. He remembers one particular time, when he fell asleep in your room, on the floor, with you in his arms, both of you covered in blankets.

Jamil would babysit Kalim with you. Every time, you come to hang out with him, he's always busy looking over Kalim. Sometimes it's irresistible, sometimes there's a reason to be worried but most of the times it's just Jamil winding himself up. You feel like Jamil is a loner father with just his youngest son left from the whole family that was murdered by someone-. Usually, you have to play a roll of a 'calm' parent, so that Kalim could escape from Jamil's watch. Not for long though-

Deuce would study with you. He's such a hardworking person. You can't stop yourself from being jealous over homework of his. He studys it that much! You both want good and excellent marks though. So you study together. Sitting in the Library, with him near you and making quiet jokes to one another and try to study. As expected, you can't focus on work, because you want to study one another more.

Ace would be saved from troubles by you. This boy does everything to get into one. Intentionally or not. It always has one condition, you're also always involved too! You often have to go with him to Dire's office to defend him. You always say it's the last time, you help him but we all know the truth. No matter in how much trouble he gets, you'll always be there for him. Just like he'll always be there for you, Ace will always help you with your trouble...by getting you in different one.

Should I make one with staff & kids? (Kids one, will be only platonic. Staff will be romantic, only if reader is ≈ 20 or older).

[feralfaro]

OPINION ;; BODY HORROR & THE FATE OF TED FARO

@cosmologyofgaming already wrote a very nice take on Thebes that I didn't want to piggyback on [but still recommend reading, if anyobody takes reading recommendations from a blog named "ted faro apologist"], so here's my own two cents:

Most horror movies centered around creatures [not counting classic monster movies like Godzilla, Shark movies, mummy or werewolf movies where you already have a general idea of what it looks like] really stand and fall with the creature design.

You know it's THERE, you've seen a shape moving in the background, a silhouette or figure in the trees, and there is this sense of dread of what ungodly horror beyond our comprehension might lurk there — and if they don't manage to pull that off, the tension immediately just collapses into itself. [This unfortunatly also appplies to video games in a sense - Bioshock is my favourite game ever but upon finally meeting Fontaine the tension went from 10 to -4]

I always found that HZD wasn't as much of a game that confronted you directly with the horrors it presented, but a game that made you experience the horror that happened by-proxy, through voice recordings and messages of the final hours people lived through, through seeing the carcasses of the swarm frozen in battle with the rusty remains of tanks, though holograms and military sites long abandoned and devoid of life, seemingly frozen in time.

I feel Ted is the same. It's not a direct visual, but the implications that carry so much weight; 1000 years in complete isolation, nobody to talk to but your own, disjointed thoughts as you slide further and further into madness and, both physically and psychologically, lose all sense of self, all sense of humanity, becoming nothing but a bunch of cells driven to stay alive by animalistic instincts.

Seeing the mutation wouldn't have mattered in that sense as it wasn't Ted anymore, except on a biological, DNA related level. "Ted" died when his consciousness and sense of self did, and I feel like seeing and being able to set fire to the thing as the player would bring no satisfaction.

It would be, if anything, more a Cronenberg-eque excursion into body horror than a creature moment.

I would have loved to see the "process" of him becoming immortal having worked with maybe only very minor mutations, [which would have been incredibly impactful considering how vanity is an implied trait for Ted Faro] but his mind just incredibly fractured beyond repair due to guilt and, more importantly, isolation. Seeing Aloy, mistaking her for Lis but not even being able to articulate that as he lost the ability to talk due to a millenia of silence. A man that is still largely self-aware of who he is, of what he is, with animalistic and irrate behaviour, more pitiful than arrogant, a husk — that would have been true horror.

I would have loved to been able to be given a choice at this point in the game -

FIST - kill him. ANGEREY.

HEART - Mercy kill.

BRAIN - Leave him to his fate. It will inevitably sort itself out.

[ I know this would have led to a bit of a clash regarding the entire storyline surrounding the Quen, but while we are at it - I would not mind having had to strangle the CEO with my own bare hands as he was the most insufferable POS that I had the misfurtune to encounter hroughout the entire series. ]

TL:DR;

Being confronted with the mutation and killing it would have brought no satisfaction, neither to the player, nor to Aloy - it's not Ted. It's a bunch of cells. Having been confronted with a still mostly human Ted, who due to loss of speech after 1k years of isolation cannot even talk back or try to justify, a Ted who is utterly lost in his own mind but still largely human and aware of what is happening, aware of how judgement has, finally after a millenia, caught up with him - and the player having to decide if this mess in front of them is even worth killing, or if leaving him to his pitiful existence, knowing too well that he won't survive longer than an hour if he ever sets foot outside of his temple of vainglory, is maybe even a worse fate than death, would have been much more impactful.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Dumb Luck

Prompt: the usual "Everyone knows Merlin has Magic but Merlin doesn't know they know" but Arthur's being really fucking thick about it. Everything that could possibly be magic Arthur has brushed off as luck or something. At some point Merlin realizes that the knights know (or maybe he's known all along) and the knights tell Merlin that Arthur knows but he's being stupid, which leads to Merlin performing increasingly extravagant/impressive/silly magic in front of Arthur until the point Arthur just asks if Merlin would like him to acknowledge the fact that he doesn't care that Merlin has magic

no brain cells for these boys, leon stop hoarding them

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic who tf knows

Word Count: 2943

Alright. Merlin’s going to be honest. Is the absolute best at hiding his magic from people? No. Is he a damn sight near better than some other bastards would be if they had his magic? Yes, yes, he is, thank you very much. They would do quite well to remember that he is magic, and he’s had it since he was born, so he knows what he’s doing when it comes to knowing that he has it. Yes, thank you, he doesn’t go around doing every single thing he could with magic because well, then he’d never get to do much of anything ever again.

And that would be boring.

But yes, maybe he’s a little petty or lazy sometimes. Honestly, he’s just being efficient. Yes, he can justify pettiness as efficient. He’s just getting them back for something that he would otherwise have to expend so much effort doing. It’s very handy.

So the knights work out he has magic. Big surprise there, he knows. Lancelot is Lancelot, Gwaine is Gwaine. Percival stumbles in on him lifting too much a little too easily and cracks a joke about having Merlin pull his weight more on hunting trips and patrols. Elyan watches him fix armor and immediately clamors to bring Merlin to his and Gwen’s forge so he can actually show him how to fix armor.

Leon takes him aside quietly one day and thanks him. Merlin doesn’t start crying, he doesn’t end up breaking down into Leon’s arms, and Leon definitely doesn’t promise that although Merlin may not have been knighted, he thinks of him as his brother in arms.

Leon is very rude sometimes, as a matter of fact.

But Arthur doesn’t seem to notice.

Now, Arthur doesn’t notice a lot. Doesn’t notice Merlin shifting his chair a little bit so he crashes onto the floor, doesn’t notice Gwen spending just a hair too much time with Morgana in the evenings, doesn’t notice the guards that don’t even pay attention to the dungeons. Like, at all.

But there are some things he…should notice.

Like when a branch suddenly lifts itself up from a forest floor to trip a bandit.

“Bandits,” Merlin mutters under his breath, “why is it always bandits?”

He deflects a blow and sends one of them flying into a tree. Behind him, Elyan parries a blow and deftly clubs the man over the head. Arthur is battling another bandit a few paces away as one tries to run up behind him.

Merlin’s hand is out in a flash and the tree branch right in front of Arthur wheels up and smacks the man across the face.

Arthur whirls around and cuts the other man down, successfully putting an end to the fight. Around the clearing, the knights shake their heads and go about picking up the rest of their camp. Really, being far too calm for men who just killed a bunch of people.

Except for Merlin.

Merlin, while this is happening, is slowly coming to the conclusion that he would like to be swallowed up by the ground and never emerge again.

He just used magic, very obviously, in front of Arthur.

Is this the first time he’s done it? No, not by a long shot, but it is the first time he’s done it without any regard for whether Arthur can see.

Arthur turns and Merlin’s heart drops to his stomach.

Arthur wrenches his sword out of the ground and stalks over to him.

Arthur roughly grabs his shoulder. Shakes. Hard.

“Merlin! Merlin, answer me?”

“…Arthur?”

Arthur’s face is drawn. Grim. Almost his father’s. His grip hurts.

“Where are you hurt?”

Merlin blinks. What? Where is he what?

“Where is it, Merlin,” Arthur growls again, already looking him over, “where did they hurt you?”

“I’m—I’m not hurt.”

“You’re paler than a damn sheet, Merlin, you must be losing blood.” Arthur’s hand is…surprisingly gentle as it lifts his chin. “Tell me where. Come on. Now’s not the time for shame.”

“No, no,” Merlin mumbles, “I’m not—not hurt. Didn’t get hurt.”

Arthur slows, grim expression morphing to confusion. “Then why do you look so…”

If in doubt, poke fun at yourself.

“Just scared, I guess,” Merlin tries with a self-deprecating laugh, “wasn’t expecting bandits.”

Arthur huffs, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Leave it to you to be such a drama queen that I think you’re bleeding out.”

“’S nice of you to care.”

“Just glad I don’t have to drag your corpse back to Gaius.”

2.

So that was…bizarre. Not the most bizarre thing that’s ever happened to Merlin, not at all, but bizarre. Arthur may be a little unobservant at times but he’s not that oblivious.

But, in fairness to him—which is something Merlin tries not to do too often—he was in the middle of a fight and had just killed a man. Knights may not be known for the smarts but they are known for their overprotectiveness.

Yes, he can hear you lot protesting over there, it’s true and you know it.

And maybe…maybe Merlin’s been getting a little sick of Gaius screaming about how secret his magic must be kept in broad daylight with the door wide open. Listen, if you think he’s about to get scolded by your parental unit and not immediately find some way to rebel, you don’t know Merlin very well.

And yes, maybe there’s a sick little thrill he gets out of doing magic in front of Arthur.

Maybe.

So. The next time they’re on a hunting trip and he’s as sure as he can be that there aren’t any bandits around, he decides to push a little bit.

Arthur is lounging around because you can take the prince out of the castle but you can’t take the castle out of the prince and he thinks he’s still about to receive the finest of dishes that Camelot’s kitchens can prepare. Well, no, but he is about to not have to cook it himself.

“Light the fire, Merlin, it’s not that hard.”

“Have you ever lit a fire a day in your life?”

“Sure, when I was training.”

“Training? You needed training to learn how to light a fire?”

“It was survival training, with the elder knights. Had to survive a night on my own.”

“On your own?”

“Well, my own campsite. They stayed about a league away.”

Merlin just sighs and crouches down. He eyes Arthur, who is tending to his sword, and then very slowly but pointedly sets the flint and steel aside. Arthur isn’t paying much attention to him.

Slowly, Merlin leans forward and lights the fire with his magic.

Arthur looks up. Merlin looks back at him. Arthur swings the sword off his lap. He sets it on the log, his hand still wrapped around the pommel. The tip of the blade points straight at Merlin’s chest. It gleams in the firelight.

“See? I told you it wasn’t hard.”

Is…is he serious?

3.

As it turns out, yes. Arthur is completely serious.

And at this point, this is science, now, what Merlin’s doing. Experiments. He has to know the limits! He has a hypothesis, he has a method, he wants to reach a conclusion.

Hypothesis: Arthur is really, really oblivious to anything magical.

Method: do increasingly obvious magic in front of Arthur until he notices.

Conclusion: how oblivious is Arthur?

An important caveat: Merlin doesn’t know how Arthur will react to finding out he has magic, but he can burn that bridge when he gets there.

So when he wakes Arthur up the next morning, he draws the curtains with a flourish and when Arthur turns over and pulls the blanket up to his cheek in protest, he flicks his wrist and yanks the covers off the bed.

What does Arthur do?

Mumble and groan and stumble out of bed saying Merlin’s worse than his first governess.

“Wait, first?”

“Morgana and I snuck a toad into her bed. She quit after that.”

“You two did what?”

“Think there’s still frog spawn in that bed frame. Father had that chamber closed off for a while.”

“You—eat your breakfast, you prat.”

“You’re the one that pulled my blankets away!”

4.

…okay, so he needs to take it up a notch.

One of the ones that pisses Gaius off the most is when Merlin uses magic to polish multiple pieces of Arthur’s armor at the same time. So when Arthur is at his desk, Merlin lays his shield across his lap and grabs two polishing rags. He sets the can of polish next to him and starts working on the shield. When he’s sure Arthur is focusing, he uses his magic to lift the breastplate up next to him and start to beat out the dents.

“Merlin,” Arthur sighs, “can you keep it down any?”

Showtime. “Don’t know what you mean, sire.”

“That bloody racket! Can you at least be a little quieter?”

“What racket?”

Arthur shoves the paper away from him and glares at the ceiling. “That banging! It’s so loud I can barely hear myself think!”

“It’s no louder than you normally are, sire.”

“Oh, you—I ought to—“ Arthur just mutters to himself as he claps his hands over his ears.

But he never looks toward Merlin.

Huh.

5.

So maybe Arthur isn’t ignoring him because he’s oblivious. Maybe…maybe he knows already and is…is trying to protect Merlin.

Uther is still King of Camelot. Morgana is outspoken against his cruelty but he is still very much in charge. There’s only so much protection the knights can afford him. There’s only so much protection Arthur can afford him.

So…so maybe Arthur is pretending he doesn’t see because he knows he can’t save Merlin if he has to acknowledge it.

Merlin takes a few days to process that. The knights are concerned, they ask him what’s wrong, what does he need, how can they help? He waves them off, says he’s just thinking.

“Maybe,” Lancelot says kindly, “but with you, Merlin, you’re never just thinking.”

“Or at least it doesn’t stay that way for very long,” Gwaine agrees, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, “and I don’t know about you lot but I like a little bit of forewarning before I wake up to ale in my shoes.”

“You asked for another round, you didn’t say where.”

“Why the hell would I want them in my shoes?”

Gwaine does what Gwaine always does and steers the attention away from Merlin, leaving Leon and Lancelot to carefully prod him a little more privately. He waves them off too, even though he’s sure he isn’t keeping as much as he would like to be from Leon.

Merlin stops using his magic as much. He does his chores as much as he can using his two hands, lugs buckets of water without complaint, polishes armor until his nose burns and his eyes sting. He uses his magic for particularly stubborn stains in his room and keeps a sharper eye out for how to move this bandit’s sword a little to the right, or how to make this knight’s staff a little heavier.

He thinks Arthur is trying to hide for him, so he hides for Arthur.

Then he can’t hide.

A sorcerer is threatening to collapse the walls of Camelot in on themselves. The entire citadel shakes as Merlin and the knights rush out, dragging as many people as they can. The stone trembles and the wood groans and there are screams. More screams than Merlin could ever bear to hear join the chorus of more than he could ever know that plague him every time he closes his eyes.

He shuts them anyway and runs.

He runs away from the knights, magic pushing him faster, faster, faster with the need to protect the castle, protect the people, protect Arthur. The sorcerer is pulling him away from his people and for that…for that, he must pay.

By the time he gets to the field, it is rippling with magic. Merlin’s fingertips, his ears, even his nose tingles as he rushes deeper, deeper, deeper, trying to get to the eye of the storm.

There, in the middle of a patch of grass, stands a sorcerer. In robes deeper than night and hair whipped up in the wind of the spell.

Merlin grits his teeth and says no.

And when the Greatest Sorcerer to Ever Walk the Earth calls, Magic answers.

The sorcerer is dust before he manages to open his mouth. The field settles. Magic returns to the earth. And Merlin collapses to his knees as the knights run up behind him.

He isn’t a fool, despite what others may have led you to believe. He knows this was magic, could only be magic, and could only be stopped by magic.

So when the knights rush up to him and collapse to their knees around him, muttering that he’s alright, he did it, he’s safe, he did it, is he hurt, all he can think of is how he’s going to have to explain this to Arthur.

They tell him he doesn’t need to explain anything. That Arthur already knows, that he doesn’t care.

Merlin doesn’t believe them. Even if he saved Camelot, which he’s already done, he has magic. He used magic to do it.

They tell him again that it doesn’t matter, that Arthur doesn’t, won’t care.

But Merlin still has to tell him.

“Tell me what?”

+1.

Arthur rushes into the clearing. He can hear him behind them. He can’t find it in him to get up. The knights are still around him, he can hear Lancelot’s voice in his ear, feel Leon’s hands on his shoulders, but he can’t move. Can’t speak.

“Tell me what,” Arthur repeats, and oh, he sounds angry, “what is it?”

“Merlin,” someone—Gwaine—is muttering, “Merlin, it’s alright, he won’t care, he doesn’t care—“

“Of course I care,” comes the cold, cold voice and Gwaine falters, “now move.”

Merlin’s chest clenches. There’s the sharp sing of steel as Gwaine draws his sword.

“Put it down.”

“Nope, can’t do that.”

Then Leon stands up. “Arthur, please think carefully about this.”

“I don’t have to think carefully about anything. Merlin is hurt, let me tend to him. He’s mine.”

“You won’t hurt him.”

“No, I certainly don’t intend to, so move.”

Lancelot’s hands are the last to leave him. Merlin is cold. It’s so cold. His magic buries deep inside his chest and it feels hard to breathe.

Boots. Boots on the ground in front of him. They flatten the grass as a shadow blocks the light. Armor creaks as the figure kneels down. A gauntleted hand cups his chin.

“Merlin,” comes a voice that’s soft, too soft, “Merlin, I need you to look at me.”

And what is he supposed to do, disobey?

Arthur’s face is too warm when Merlin looks up at him. His mouth tugs up into a little smile as Merlin finally makes eye contact with him.

“There you are,” he says, still in that soft voice that doesn’t make sense, “now, are you hurt?”

Merlin can only blink.

“Merlin,” he says, and his voice is a little firmer as he cups Merlin’s chin properly, “are you hurt? What happened?”

His throat is too dry. “Not hurt.”

Arthur relaxes, only marginally. “Then why do you look so upset?”

The world could collapse and Merlin would be frozen here, trapped in the silence of Arthur’s gaze.

Unbidden, his eyes flash gold.

Arthur takes a sharp breath in. Merlin braces for a hit only for—

“Oh, you idiot,” Arthur whispers, “do I actually need to tell you I don’t care if you have magic?”

Pause.

Go back.

One more time.

What?

“I don’t care, you idiot,” he says in a tone that is too fond, “I don’t care that you have magic. You have it, you’re still Merlin, I don’t care.”

Rough metal gauntlets cup his face and oh—it’s cold—

“Merlin, look at me.”

“I—I am.”

“No, look.”

He blinks and has to focus on looking at Arthur.

“I’m not mad,” Arthur says firmly, “and I don’t care that you have magic.”

Merlin starts to laugh. Because of course, of course, Arthur doesn’t care. He’s been so stupid. Arthur doesn’t care. Arthur doesn’t care. He’s doubled over before he can stop himself. The laughs keep pouring out of him, his magic rushing back to his fingers, his nose, his chest. He laughs long and loud and hard and then Arthur is murmuring at him again because no, no, he isn’t laughing anymore, he’s crying.

“Come here, you big baby,” Arthur murmurs, tucking him into the gentlest embrace he’s ever had from someone wearing armor, “yes, there you go, that’s it.”

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

Arthur has known Merlin has magic and he doesn’t care.

…wait, does that make Merlin the oblivious one?

Nah, that couldn’t be it.

It’s not like Arthur is hiding anything else from Merlin.

[luvnami]

𝐫𝐢-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧! 🍒 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - @forgetou​

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - food

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 464

that day after class, you and atsumu had gone to the grocery store. he held the basket for you as you tiptoed to reach the highest shelves and dumped packets of chocolate and other ingredients  into it. afterwards, you went to mcdonald’s (after many giggles from you referencing the incident during literature class) and had burgers and even split a milkshake. 

the walk back home had been filled with oohs and aahs over the blossoming cherry trees. spring officially arrives in japan with the appearance of sakura flowers. atsumu had a good time watching you snap photos of them, excitedly fawning over the tiny flowers. you’re always cute in his eyes, after all. 

it’s been a week since then — and today’s finally valentine’s day. atsumu had been too excited to sleep the entire night, much to osamu’s displeasure (because he was on the upper bunk and the bed kept shaking).

“‘samu.” 

“what?” 

“did you get any chocolate yet?”

osamu squints at his twin brother. sometimes, he wonders if he should have left some brain cells for poor atsumu in the womb.

“tsumu. it’s 9 in the morning.”

“i don’t care! kita already got some!”

“that’s because people actually like him, unlike you.”

atsumu flops into his seat with his face on his table with a sulk. his eyes search the classroom for you. you’re at your table as you scribble away at something — probably some homework you had forgotten about the day before. atsumu sighs, and closes his eyes with a pout.

he can’t wait to get chocolate from you. even after returning from physical education class and finding his desk piled high with chocolate from secret admirers, atsumu finds no satisfaction when none of the boxes and letters bear your name. osamu filches a bar of milk chocolate from him when he isn’t looking. 

what’s even worse is that you avoid atsumu for the whole day. when told to gather into groups for a science project, you pulled on osamu’s sleeve and led him away to group with someone else. imagine that! poor atsumu had to watch his brother stick his tongue out at him while being grouped with a bunch of girls that seemed more interested in getting a date with him than finishing the project.

sadness, rather than jealousy and anger, fills his chest uncomfortably. the strange emotion leaves a dull ache where his heart should be as he watches you pass osamu a small, gift-wrapped box under the table.

“tsumu-kun, do you think we should use pink or purple highlighters for the poster?” a girl chirps.

he turns back, jumping at the mention of his name.

“whichever one you like better,” he mumbles without much thought.

the girls squeal behind their hands. atsumu sulks, picking at his cuticles.