#maybe results are still inconclusive on that end

[crankalakin]

Me doing a bunch of aww of tism tests trying to prove my friend who said I was autism wrong:I am not of the tism I am not of the tism I am not of the tism I am not

[solaneceae]

consume

a team bolas oneshot (read on ao3) tw: cannibalism, fuga impossivel references

“Hey, Slime. Can I eat your leg?”

The hybrid makes a huh of confusion, still adjusting his trusty gas mask over his face as he loots his own dead body, codified arm still glitching from fresh respawn. Cellbit can hear Jaiden and Étoiles conversing nearby, Bagi and Tina not too far from them, and the entire area reeks of blood and death.

Red Spawn had, strangely enough, become some kind of safe haven for now — people from all teams that were begging for a break, for a chat, for any modicum of normalcy had started to flock there as the end Day Four drew near: separated lovers falling into each other’s arms, Étoiles coaching everyone on PvP techniques regardless of affiliation (because the guy just thrived on being kind and helping people become the best version of themselves, it seemed. Cellbit appreciated that), his very presence a deterrent to anyone who would dare to come and break the temporary peace (BadBoyHalo).

And now that they didn’t have to look over their shoulder every second, the cat hybrid had started to think. A risky endeavour in a place such as Purgatory, but after exchanging a heated kiss with his husband and getting the sudden urge to bite his mouth off, he had started to wonder.

There were so many bodies around their spawn. He had seen many for the past few days, most of them belonging to his own team, but the urge to chow down on fresh meat had been nowhere as strong as right then with Roier, not even close. (First day had been the odd one out, as everyone in red team had lost their minds to the fog and joined in on that fucked up banquet.)

A hypothesis is blooming in his mind. He needs to test something. “Can I eat your leg?” he repeats to a befuddled Charlie, who looks at him, then at his body, then back at him. “I mean. Sure? Knock yourself out.”

Cellbit does — and it’s disappointing. It starts off nice, his heart hammering inside his ribcage as he severs muscle and bone and tendon to rip Slime’s leg off his still cooling body, saliva pooling in his mouth as his pupils dilate to eat up all the blue, and he can feel it, the thrill, the desire, the manic joy; but then he bites into it and the leg loses solidity, turning into green goop that tastes like grass and it’s so sour, like an unripe lemon. He spits it all out, grimacing — his palate and tongue almost feel burned. He forgot slimes were corrosive. “Tastes like shit,” he huffs, and Charlie lets out a disappointed aw.

Results: inconclusive. Cause: negative bias, because Charlie is a fucking slime and hence an outlier. 

He asks Jaiden next, and she shrugs and tells him to go for it. (Maybe they should be worried about how flippant they’ve all become about cannibalism, but that’s a problem for post-Purgatory them to deal with.) And this time, it’s good. Her flesh is tender and moist, just the right balance of muscle and fat, and he gets a sick sense of satisfaction as she watches him tear into her thigh with morbid fascination. “How do I taste like?” she asks him. He tells her ‘delicious’ between two mouthfuls of prime cut, and she smiles. “Nice! I’m glad.”

Contrary to what some might believe, he hadn't eaten anything off the Federation workers he had killed. Hadn't reached that point at the time. But now there he is, seeking an enemy body among the dozens of Jaidens lying around. When he finally does, he stares down at it for a long moment, and finds that he has no desire to sink his teeth into it at all. Mmh. He looks up to find Roier, still silent to mind his recovering lungs and plopping down signs that make Étoiles crack up, and he’s so funny and cute and strong and Cellbit wants to crawl into his chest cavity and— “Ah,” he realises, something old and crooked at the back of his mind finally clicking into place.

He thinks of Pac. He thinks of Alcatraz, of that desire that had torn its way into his brain as soon as he had seen that youthful, terrified face for the first time. He thinks of those nights tossing and turning, tongue flicking out in a nervous tick as he obsessively rotated the new guy into his mind from every angle, trying to imagine what his screams would be like, how his flesh would taste, how it would feel going down his throat. He thinks of the pure, unadulterated pleasure of finally making that fantasy a reality, details blurring into red-mist bliss and the song of Pac screaming and crying. He finds that if he had to do it all again, right now, he would, but not like this. This time, dream-Pac would offer himself willingly, repeating I trust you, I trust you as dream-Cellbit reverently slices through his flesh.

He thinks of that thing humans have, when they experience the urge to squish or bite when they see something cute. He thinks of the result of his observations, that he only enjoys eating people if he cares for them.

(Maybe he had loved Pac once, in a fucked up version of a crush distorted by his mania and lifetime worth of trauma. Maybe that was why he had done what he’d done. Now the engineer was more akin to a brother to him, close and important, but that obsessive attraction wasn’t there anymore.)

Maybe it’s just in his nature, to consume the very things he loves. “Something on your mind?” Jaiden asks him later, sleepily, her head resting against his side as the rest of the family dozes off within the Nest in a tangle of limbs and soft blankets. Cellbit shakes his head. “Just. Processing stuff.”

Jaiden hums, and Phil drapes one of his large black wings over them both. The conure chirps, flock, home, and the crow replies with a quiet yesyes.

[lixenn]

Today I woke up and was instantly dazzled by @einsatzzz' birthday art for Kana.

It immediately activated all the brainworms so....

More birthday art!!

I'm unfortunately really bad at keeping track of any birthday so I needed to apply speedrun strats too lmaooo

More ramblings under the cut

So I continue to hate my lineart when I draw digital so this was once again an experiment, where I try more messy lineart with a different brush. Results are... inconclusive, I don't completely hate it but I don't love it either. Also colouring messy line are is such a fucking pain so I wasn't really a fan. The probelm is when I try clean lineart I end up hating a lot about it cause it feels flat, especially the hair just kinda sucks for me so yeah. Trying no line art also is ugh... so yeah Lix is struggling but what else is new.

On a different note: The crown originally was supposed to be a silly party hat. But then I had brainrot about Kurumi wearing a tiara on her birthday cause it's her special day and she just gave me the vibes. So naturally I wanted Kana to match that and she's Emperor coded to me so she needed a crown and not a tiara. But honestly I was too lazy to draw a proper crown and I still wanted that party head vibe so tiny crown it is. <- just me explaining away how this is birthday art except for the part where i write happy birthday on top.

Other things that I wanted to add but didn't have the spoons to figure out for this piece: chocolate cake crumbs on her mouth from eating birthday cake. Ngl I just forgot about that idea in the end, so yeah. At least I remembered the earrings this time OTL

Also, I'm sorry Kurumi but I don't think I will manage a full art for you 😭😭😭 I know I'm very biased but Kana gave me the strength to overcome my current reluctance to draw digitally because she's my favourite but maybe I will doodle Kurumi later again.

[tobiasdrake]

Any thoughts on Goku and Yamcha's dynamic

Pretty much the same as Goku and Krillin's but with much less dedicated screentime and opportunity for the two of them to bond.

Goku and Yamcha didn't exactly get off on the best foot. Remember that time Goku hit Yamcha so hard he bounced him off the edge of the panel?

Good times.

Yamcha sometimes gets miscredited as having won this fight due to Goku being too hungry, but it's more accurate to call it an inconclusive result. Though Goku dominates the fight for its duration, he admits himself that he's too hungry to keep going on like this. However, they're interrupted before Yamcha has a chance to put that to the test.

Yamcha gives as good as he gets here, hitting Goku with his signature Rogafufuken or Wolf Fang Fist.

But Bulma's arrival interrupts the fight before either of them can strike a decisive blow. To be honest, there are better feathers to put in Yamcha's cap than "Maybe could have won a fight with a starving Goku if the presence of femininity didn't make him shriek in terror and flee."

Like, remember that time he defeated the Oozaru?

Granted, that was as much Puar's win as Goku's, but still.

Man, this moment is made way more impressive by the later context that this is a planet-killing abomination meant to exterminate all life on Earth and not just Goku reacting badly to lunar exposure.

Oolong may have saved the world from Pilaf but Yamcha and Puar saved the world from the fucking Saiyans.

Goku and Yamcha get along pretty well moving forward. Goku's a bit naive, but that also means he isn't the type to hold grudges.

By the time of the 21st Tenkaichi Budokai, he is positively stoked to see Yamcha again - Even if his presence comes at a bit of a bittersweet shock to Yamcha since it ruins his chances at the championship.

Still, it's nice to have a chance to rekindle the friendship. In fact, this is the beginning of Goku and Yamcha earnestly being friends, since he was trying to manipulate them and steal the Dragon Balls in the back end of the last arc. An effort that ended in him effectively being abducted by Bulma in a similar fashion to how she would one day abduct Vegeta.

Bulma's nothing if not consistent about bringing home dangerous wild men and claiming ownership of them. She doesn't have a type so much as a methodology.

This settles Yamcha into his role of being the martial arts lore guy, who knows everything about everyone competing in the space. These were credentials he'd previously introduced in private while spying on Goku and Bulma.

So having him become the Team Wikipedia for rival martial artists was a natural jump for his character. This was clearly something he was passionate about from the get-go.

At least, whenever it was applicable. Yamcha's knowledge was limited by how many newcomers ended up in the space.

And, unfortunately for Yamcha, this also marked the beginning of the. Um. Other trend for him in the Tenkaichi Budokai.

In the ring, Yamcha's pretty much a punching bag to establish how formidable the other characters are. Backstage, however, is another story. There, Yamcha, Krillin, and Goku all support each other and cheer each other on.

They just don't get a lot of panel time to show it. Yamcha tends to be excused from the more serious arcs. He's uninvolved with Red Ribbon until the Uranai Baba Tournament, his broken leg keeps him out of the Piccolo-Daimao arc almost entirely, Bulma disinvites him from the Raditz altercation and he dies first in the Saiyan brawl which keeps him out of the Namek arc....

Yamcha gets written out a lot. Consequently, he has a hard time finding opportunities to interact with Goku on-panel. All he really has is backstage at the Tenkaichi Budokai, which is panel space that's more often than not taken up by the fights themselves.

Due to his frequent eliminations, he's never fought Goku again since their two bouts in the desert.

Nonetheless, it's clear that their bond is meant to be pretty tight. As practitioners of Kame-senryu, Goku, Krillin, and Yamcha are a band of brothers.

Muten-Roshi: Yamcha, you're in. Goku: Oh, that's so cool! Now we can finally spend actual time together and bond as friends and-- Muten-Roshi: Goku, you're out. Goku: Dagnabbit.

The Uranai Baba Tournament offers Yamcha a chance to finally strut his stuff:

Before falling back on shitstomping him to hype up Goku's rivals.

But again, Goku and Yamcha are given little time to interact with one another because one of them is in the ring for 4/5 of the tournament.

Even the anime has a hard time expanding on their relationship due to Toriyama's tendency to write Goku into isolation during long stretches of time where filler episodes could be inserted. Goku and Yamcha can't exactly hang out while Goku's in heaven training with Popo, can they? By the time Goku started spending downtime with friends and family, Yamcha had long since fallen out of focus.

Nonetheless, it's clear that Goku cares about Yamcha. When Tenshinhan breaks his leg in the ring, Goku's the first person to run to his side.

And while the time they spend together backstage isn't much, it's not nothing either.

When they can find panel time for it, they're the kind of bros who change clothes and look at each other's butts together. :P Yamcha even got to be the one to explain what marriage is for Goku.

It's when you live in the same house. Thanks, Yamcha-pedia! Goku can do that much, easy!

Note: Goku cannot do that much.

But between the legendarily non-social Goku vanishing for years at a time without a word to his friends and Yamcha being constantly out-of-focus in just about every major non-tournament arc, there simply aren't many opportunities for them to have a scene together - At least, outside of group events that don't offer much in the way of personal dynamics.

"Hey, Goku! Me and the boys are here, doing some of that training you did!"

This is the first conversation they've had since the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai six years ago. And that is all they have to say to each other. Because Yamcha doesn't get to do things and Goku isn't social.

This is their entire conversation. The rest of the scene is just Yamcha listening in while Goku and Kaio chat about the plot.

And that's the most involved he gets to be during the entire Namek arc. The most time Yamcha and Goku spend together after the Tenkaichi Budokai ends is this.

Which Goku is barely even conscious for.

There just aren't many opportunities for them to interact directly. So Yamcha ends up having to settle for always being just. Like. One of the guys.

[skaldish]

re: science and spiritual/supernatural, you might want to look up author Corine Sombrun - she took part in some scientific collabs researching trance. I can't be sure yet how good these are, since I've been made aware of her recently (my friend worked on polish edition of one of her books, which I'm also yet to read), but it seems super interesting and I love that it's being looked into. I see on her website that most of her books aren't available in english so far, but some articles are, so there's a start!

Noted! I'll see if there's any weight to it. I think with recent advances of biopsychology there's now the potential to actually rule out probable causes. The issue is that not all of science is on the verge of all the latest advancements, and some scientists are still treating yesterday's developments as novel concepts.

If I may ramble for a second too, since you got me thinking about this topic: I think the main issue we've been facing with science and the supernatural, is that all our technology is designed to interface and measure the natural, and we can't use tools that measure the universe's hardware to read its software anymore than we can read a Wikipedia article by watching electricity move through the server it's hosted on. Crude analogy, but that's the basic concept.

Like...if we were to put me in an MRI, and I were to hold a conversation with Loki while my brain is getting scanned, what would inevitably happen is that my brain will light up in ways that probably correspond with my auditory and language processing, as well as some visual processing and wherever the hell "thinking" lives. And at the same time this is going on, we can have all those ghost-hunting gadgets set up in the room to try to pinpoint where Loki is.

And the inevitable outcome of all this is that the results will be inconclusive...because all of these things are trying to measure matter, rather than a function.

It seems when it comes to anything supernatural, science has a habit of clinging fast to a really outdated false predicate—that anything that's "real" must have a material existence. So of course we're only going to come up with *non-committal wiggly hand gesture* if we keep trying to measure it like this.

No one will say that a Wikipedia article isn't real, despite the fact it has a digital existence. It's not made of matter-based atoms, but energy-based 1's and 0's. Sure, the article may be hosted on something that's made of atoms, but that doesn't give the article itself a material existence—the material thing is just the container it exists in, the same way our universe is the container we exist in.

The only reason why we see Wikipedia articles as words on a screen is because our displays give them the appearance of documents. But this is just a facsimile for our sake only—it's not what the article actually "looks" like.

Like, idk. With how our own digital tech is shaping up, I figure it's only a matter of time before we go, "Maybe there's a thing here that's interfacing with our material world. I bet we can pinpoint what it is, and develop a technology on our end that can interface back."

[encrucijada]

been meaning to send u this ask for a while but if you want to could you please ramble about zaccai and ismene from your #guard dog relationship tag 🎤 👀 you posted a snippet of writing of them and i’ve had worms in my brain ever since i don’t even know what specifically i want to hear about but i just need to Know About Them (<- girl who is being normal about it)

*pulls up my powerpoint* i'm glad you asked

zaccai and ismene aka guard dog are the god/worshipper dynamic @teddywriting and i decided to create one day because i pointed out we didn't have any, quote, "guard dog dynamics". you know those posts where it's like the dynamic between the guard dog character and the object of their affection who is often incapable from stopping said guard dog from killing whatever they deem dangerous to the object of their affection. yeah those.

their story has been baptised as let sleepers lie. it's high fantasy. it's post-apocalyptic. it's the result of shadow of the colossus being my favourite game and also tears of the kingdom coming out, teddy and i just kinda went insane over botw/totk zelink. here's the summary i wrote for it!

Sword of the Gods, Zaccai, has only one purpose instilled in him: give his life for that of the godling the Old Ones left behind after ending the world. In the wake of a land trying to learn how to live again is Ismene, all that remains of divine blood, and what she is meant to do for the people is unclear. They are alone with all the gods left for them being a temple, a ruined land, and each other.

now what does that even mean.

in this world there used to be gigantic gods people call the "old ones" now, as their language has been lost and no one remembers what they were called. they are what happens if you put the nature gods from princess mononoke (like the wolf chief moro), the colossi of sotc, won shi tong from atla, heavenly warriors from nausicaä of the valley of the wind, and dormin again from sotc in a blender. the main feature of gods in this world is their golden coloured blood, their "old blood", which is burning to the touch—basically what if fire was a liquid. these old ones had their temples built around them and once built the temples were just big enough for them, meaning they could move about inside but could never leave. why exactly they ended the world is inconclusive, but ismene suspects it's because they’d gotten fed up of the situation they were in. godhood is just a gilded cage etc etc.

ground zero of the cataclysm is virtually a wasteland, covered in silver flora. this plant life includes the silver grass and silver trees, which existed before the end of the world and were kind of like a gift the gods gave to the humans as every single part of the flora could be utilised or eaten (ismene and zaccai subsist on the silver trees, basically). they live in the temple from the summary, which was built for ismene but has the dimensions of an old temple... meaning it's way too big for just two (2) people. the cataclysm basically rotted the land and so only the silver flora can grow without being affected. think... nausicaä of the valley of the wind's toxic jungle.

ismene was born from a human woman. what are the details of her conception? no idea. maybe it's a virgen maría situation. she's called "the godling", the olympian to the old one's titans. she looks like a human person, except for the fact she's got golden eyelashes, golden freckles, her eyes shine at certain angles, oh and her blood is also golden... and she's burning to the touch. touching ismene's bare skin is like sticking your hand in an open flame. her tears are also golden! but they're more sparkly. she's has severe agoraphobia and social anxiety from being raised in the temple. the feelings of the old ones sorta translated into her and they were used to being trapped, so she was basically born as a caged animal. she's also very good at sitting still for hours and is bad at human physiological tells, like hunger.

zaccai was originally a troublemaker boy named aleister living in a town like a week's travel away from where the temple is now. he lived with his aunt maeve who runs the inn at the town. he offered himself as a volunteer to be the sword of the gods and they proceeded to basically... make him anew. don't you love it when characters are weapons. all that's required of him is to be good with the sword and to love ismene so much he would die for her, just an average healthy relationship. he likes plants, he doesn't remember aleister's past concretely but he has positive associations to plants so he latched onto them... so he's a gardener. he does most of the things around the temple as ismene is basically a living statue, she's an object of worship and that's it. he cooks, when they travel he manages the camping site, etc.

they're autism4autism 🫶

tidbits about the made-up religion

ismene wears a veil. think a wedding veil but richly laced, ismene makes them herself as it is something for her to do with her long hours of free time. regular people aren't supposed to see her, this simulates how old ones were generally hard to look at as they were... uncanny. but also because members of the highest hierarchy in the old religion wore veils. generally only takes it off around zaccai. she likes wearing it around strangers because it gives her the illusion of privacy

springs and pools! prayer and other rituals are done in the water. there's a pool room in the temple ismene sits in for hours at a time praying. only high priestesses and prophets are allowed into the water without permission, and also zaccai. they can be manmade or natural, natural are preferred.

imagery of the gods is allowed, the springs usually have statues rising from the water to mark them as sacred. the temple has stained glass windows but those are of the "eyes of the old ones". these are inspired by the talismans from the last guardian. they're basically like what crosses are for christians or the triforce are for hylians, they're the Religion Symbol. faithful will have them in their homes, etc. not two are the same.

others besides ismene wear veils too like i said, high priestesses and prophets. though their veils are less... busy?? you can better see the person's face.

the old ones are genderless! but they can be worshiped in male and female capacities for specific means. they are also amoral! they don't work by our code of ethics, they have no code of eithics. they're gods.

after making ismene the old ones went to sleep. where? unclear. underneath the earth is how i've been thinking it, but they could have also jumped into the stars like the giants from hilda or retreated into the ocean. the point is they're asleep, kind of like lovecraft gods, and that's why the book is called let sleepers lie.

the proper way to address ismene is "your grace", zaccai uses "my grace". you call old ones "your majesty". it's fine to also call ismene "godling" or "the godling", older characters have also used "little goddess".

teddy and i had done a few rp threads but we've kinda rebooted and started from scratch, using the previous threads as a loose outline. here's what's happened so far:

ismene and zaccai have been living together for at least two years. ismene thought zaccai was a god like her, the minor god to her primary god. except oops, when they had sex he bled and his blood... was red. not a god. this is know as the Red Blood Incident.

this created a bit of a rift between them they are trying so, so hard to mend. they are all each other has. but they weren’t socialised enough as puppies.

they leave the temple for the first time in those 2(ish) years. they make it to the mountains where they find a commune of faithful who say they live with and worship an old one. among these faithful is a girl around ismene's age named amaryllis (she's important).

ismene and zaccai are brought to the old one... who happens to just be a regular woman. turns out that when you destroy the world and leave it to its own devices so you can raise your new god creates some religious anarchy and people are opportunistic.

ismene is horrified at the sight of this false goddess who has been lying to these people, taking their goods and love and time. ismene orders zaccai to cut off her tongue. so he does! the girl amaryllis helps him hold the false goddess down.

it starts to rain and so our duo is invited to stay at the commune. they find out telling people everything they believed in was a lie, thus shaking their way of life, makes things complicated. zaccai and ismene hang out with the faithful. meeting caspian, who'd been promised by the fraud he could one day have his dead children back. amaryllis tells them the fraud had promised her she'd be reunited with her lost sisters (and also that she'd be a prophet). they meet naida, who had found purpose with the fraud and is pissed now. silas, a painter who came here after his mother died. vesta, the cook who teaches zaccai food just doesn't have to be silver tree byproducts.

silas asks if he can paint ismene so they can have a reference to make a statue out of her. silas doesn't see a goddess. silas sees a hot girl he thinks he can charm but she's too autistic and demisexual to know what flirting is. (he tries to lift her veil to look at her face and zaccai almost kills him lol).

they visit the fraud who is being cared for by a man named rupert, who happens to be a doctor. ismene learns her name is rosa and she did this because, why not, if she could make a place for herself at the top of the food chain why not take it. she gave people purpse. zaccai meanwhile is getting his arm treated by rupert because ismene burned him to prove she was the real deal, rupert implies he knows zaccai. they don't discuss further.

they go back to the temple after telling the faithful they will be accepting pilgrims to come pray now. the least they could do after flipping their way of life on its head.

zaccai and ismene are planning to travel to another town as i write this

caspian and amaryllis visit the temple. ismene's social battery is running on fumes and she despairs upon realising... she cannot hear their prayers. when people pray she feels a burning on her ears and fingers, but other than mumbling she hears nothing. she really wanted to send them back with some miracles but it did not turn out that way and now she feels terrible. what do you do when you can't fulfil your one purpose

smaller details

"knowledge or faith" is the philosphy of the task ismene (and zaccai by proxy) have set upon themselves. they need to find the knowledge of the old religion the old ones did not explain. they need faith for the new goddess

"do you wish my skin was like hers?" not being able to touch is Killing them. ismene and zaccai share a bed because it's safest (and also because they were literally made and built codependent). meeting amaryllis did no good to ismene's self-esteem. that's a girl who can touch the man you love without hurting him

ismene just burned zaccai on his shoulder blade for stepping into the pool without her say-so. act of incredible viplence carried with the intimacy with a lover or whatever

"maybe i am not a god you pray to."

totally unrelated: the amount of times teddy and i have said "weird possessive sex would fix them" is unreal

THERE IS WAY MORE BUT I AM GONNA LEAVE IT THERE AHHHH THANK YOU CRÉME ILY 💖

[mcybree]

Could you tell the class about secret life Scott please. Because obviously limited life Scott is my muse and double life Scott is everything I seek to destroy in the world, but secret life Scott continues to illude me and you seem like the kind of guy who could understand his actions. Why did he break scar and Jimmy up? What was that about? Why is he such a little freak all the time? I simply must know

ok whatever this ask is too enticing.

Why did he break Scar and Jimmy up? Even though he initially makes stopping this team up about Scar and Jimmy both dying way too quickly to allow for it, he later elaborates on it as “I’m just making sure this doesn’t have lasting bonds, because last time I bumped into Jimmy in the wilderness, I ended up flower husbands, so..!” Which. He’s framing flower husbands as something that needs to be avoided, like being “flower husbands” is some inherently negative thing that he is advising Scar against. Which is a huge insight into his character because it makes total sense why he’d see flower husbands as something Bad when he got so fucked up over Jimmy dying that he placed the lowest he ever had that season… Scott is someone who takes a lot of pride in his emotional control otherwise so flower husbands was a huge blow to that feeling of security. It gets interesting though when you pair this with how Scott puts flower husbands on a pedestal and waves it about as if it were this perfect love that Jimmy’s still obsessed with. It’s something along the lines of: “I need to warn people against pairing with Jimmy because when I did that, Flower Husbands happened to me, BUT it was a good thing when it happened to me specifically, because we were in love. I just think it shouldn’t happen again.” It’s a contradiction between how he thinks about it versus how he feels about it.

As for the whole “this can’t be a pairing because you’ll both die” part of it: Scott sometimes feels like Jimmy is his responsibility to take care of, even beyond 3L (see: limlife FH), so he sees Jimmy about to make what he thinks is a bad decision and outright tells him he can’t do that. Because he thinks Jimmy is uniquely unreasonable and can’t make good judgements on his own.

Why is he such a little freak all the time? The lab is still trying to figure that one out. Results inconclusive but we think maybe exposure to an active volcano would help

[id-element0]

Random Legacy All-in-one Update #4

Teenage delinquency alert! Well, this is not much different from what Satori and Bodhi did in their teens but Bismarck won't just stop at egging the neighbours. He HAS ideas.

Casually running away from the scene.

The next day Bismarck notices Autumn at school. She's a feisty little flirty thing that entices Bismarck immediately. So, he wants to kiss her. But what about Alecia? Well, that spark has died quickly. After they became BFFs they had two dates that ended inconclusively. So...

And of course just one kiss is not enough. Why don't we anchor it in your mother's bed? This is how Bismarck not only has his first kiss but also his first woohoo in the span of 15 minutes. All initiated by Autumn. I definitely did not miss the first kiss moment, of course not! 🤫

While he's exploring new horizons, the plant baby, Midori, -whom nobody cares about 😭- just grows up on her own, becoming the second child growing up without a cake after Prada. Also Satori being too hungry, moves towards the fridge upon arriving, unaware of what's happening in her bedroom.

Midori returns home after her visit to the clothing store. I guess she's just too boring for this household. I don't know why I put her in that dress. 😅

Meanwhile, Bismarck is on a mission. After their first woohoo, he just can't leave Autumn alone and as a result, Satori's bed gets desecrated again, just minutes later.

Of course, she's too busy to realise since Quixote wants to learn driving.

The night ends like that, and the morning comes. I wasn't exaggerating when I implied Midori was basically a nobody. Even the cat, still named Short Tail Cat, doesn't like her. I've never seen this interaction before and I was like 😲 😧 🥺 the whole time. The interaction is 'tackle' by the way.

Poor Midori, look at her.

Are you proud of yourself, you little monster whose name is a lie?

She's so sad. 😞 Two more days and she'll start living with Bodhi, Deedee and Christi. Hopefully, a much more stable and healthy household.

In the meantime she can find some solace in our lovely boy Cash who asked to be brushed just before the crazy cat antics. Midori has to cross paths with her teenage cousin who's in the middle of a meltdown for some reason. While her other teenage cousin is busy doing 'his thing' right across the pool. But it's worth it because she's now BFF with Cash.

Maybe this is why Quixote is having a meltdown: He's a Hopeless Romantic and still couldn't find his first love while Bismarck is quick to jump from one girl to another. Autumn spent the night in a sleeping bag next to pool and she isn't complaining.

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[androgynousblackbox]

How To Lose A Lucifer In 10 Days. 2[Appleradio, Radioapple]

Step 2: Confuse him

Lucifer was still yawning when he walked down the hallway. Yesterday had been an absolute shitshow, there was no other way to describe it, and his own participation on how it came to be was weighening on him worse almost worse than it did when he went to sleep last night. The rest had only give him enough calm to reflect on what happened and positively cringe at what happened.

When he passed through the lobby, he was mildly relieved to see that it had been completely cleaned up already. It looked like normal again, as if nothing had happened and it was ready to recieve more sinners. His shame could leave on his head where it belonged. But thinking about how it probably wasn't Niffty the responsible for doing any of that made his stomach twirl again.

It didn't help matter when he reached the kitchen and the most probably responsible for making the lobby spotless again was casually humming to himself as he was preparing a cut of meat on the fire. Lucifer wanted to stir away and just see Charlie later to apologize properly, eat something on his room when suddenly another voice made him jump in place.

"Morning, Lucifer" greeted the winged cat that attended the bar, passing him by as he yawned.

Husk, remembered luckily, still blinking at him. Since when did he use his name? As Husk looked for something in the cupboard, the source of a big portion of his problems perked up, turning around to see him pathetically standing on the door. Swallowing, Lucifer made his way inside finally to start preparing his tea.

Alastor's eyes followed him.

"Morning to you too, dear" said casually, turning to keep going going with the food. Lucifer tried to replay what he said on his mind with all his sarcasm senses up, results coming out inconclusive. "I thought you would sleep until later since you have that meeting with Paimon. Do you want me to prepare you something?"

Lucifer had several questions at that and tried to parse through them, one by one. First was how did he know about his meeting with Paimon. Did he mentioned it to Charlie at some point and she talked to him? He might have slipped somewhere, he supposed, so that was the likely explanation. Satisfied there, the second one was why was he talking to him like that, like they haven't caused a monumental disaster just yesterday. But more than anything, he was annoyed at how the question lingered in the air as he was supposed to give an actual answer. It had to be the set up for some kind of joke he wasn't getting. In that case, he was glad to let the silence stretch out even more and more until the end of the universe.

"Are you okay?" asked Alastor, without turning.

Lucifer was about to tell him something when suddenly other senses than the ones for sarcasm picked up something else. The smell of meat, of the coffee freshly made, the water on his mug turning into tea. Under all of that, there was something else that scratched his brain and went straight to somewhere close to his chest. He stared at him like he saw him for the first time and took a couple of steps, just to make sure. There was no mistaken.

"Why do you smell like you came from Heaven?" asked instead.

The shoulders of Alastor jolted once with a snort and then agitated as he laughed, almost giggling against his hand.

"I believe the phrase is supposed to be: did it hurt when you fell from Heaven? But if you are in the mood for cheesy pick up lines, I have one better for you" Alastor set the fire down for his meat and turned. His claws reached for the chin of Lucifer, but didn't clawed him, instead lifting him up ever so gently to look at his eyes. Lucifer was too shocked to move. "Is your name Morningstar? Because you have a face that makes me want to rise each morning."

Lucifer looked him from the chin to the eyes, vaguely wondering if maybe he was high. Last night he could have grabbed some pills from Bel and the effect still lingered. He haven't known that the guy could have that kind of habit, but down there in hell who knew. Some kind of new drug that made his pupils dilate slightly when looking at him and soften up his usually sharp smile. It would make a lot more sense that whatever else was happening.

"It is a better one" recognized reluctantly. Alastor grinned wider before returning to his food. Lucifer rubbed the portion of skin he had touch as if he could clean it up from the lingering warmth. "Kinda loses it's impact if you use it for someone that isn't called Morningstar, though" couldn't help but to point out.

"Luckily for me, I only use it on one Morningstar" Alastor chuckled lightly and Lucifer eyes went wide, just purely amazed at the utter audacity of this man.

He knew that this sinner was twisted, but these kind of jokes were even lower than he would have expected from him. A mockery of affection? That was cruel.

"What the fuck is wrong with you" said under his breath, taking a step back.

Husk from the table lifted his gaze, frowning at him.

"Pardon?" Alastor's brow furrowed in his direction, but before he could speak again another voice came out.

"Morning, papa!"

"Charchar!" Lucifer took his mug on his hand, spilling his tea on his haste to open a portal. His voice adquired a high pitch tone that sounded horrible even to his own ear. "Would love to stay here and have a chat, but I have a meeting, see you later, bye!" said, jumping to the other side.

Charlie rubbed her mismatched eyes, coming over to Alastor to kiss his cheek.

"Is papa okay?"

"He just had to rush, little fawn" Alastor patted her head. "Why don't you sit down and I will make something for you?"

Lucifer slept wonderfully and wasn't really surprised when he woke up to an empty bed. He had put the alarm on his phone to go off later than usual because he needed every second of rest he could grab before going to his meeting with Paimon and other Goetias. The total darkness of his room surprised him, but it wasn't an unwelcome awakening as opposed to have the sun of hell beaming direclty into his eyes. He stand out from the bed and changed with a snap of fingers, yawning as he made his way to the elevator. As he inspected his own shadow, Lucifer assumed that Alastor still had to be in the hotel. There were no immediate traces of his magic around him.

When he came to the lobby, he stopped in his tracks. Had he slept through another bombing attack? It had to be that, because what else could have done such a massive hole on one of the wall that was still getting repaires. The same hole had been covered in wooden planks, but it was still noticeable there. Everything else didn't look so much better, with all the trash of the broken decorations gathering themselves on a side and all the tables turned. Marks of claws on both the walls and floor were scattered all through out, along with other more cracks that seemed to have gone deep into the tiles.

"Jeez" cringed. He was a lot more tired than he thought. Normally he would let Alastor's minions or shadows do their job, but that mostly applied to the exterior job where someone could watch. Surely nobody was looking the interior.

With a snap of fingers, the trash was disposed off, the tables back on their place and the floors were completely repaired. All the minions stopped what they were doing and stared at him.

"Just a little help doesn't hurt" commented with a wink. "Don't tell Al, okay?"

The minions, still surprised, looked at each other for a second before they all colectively decided that they didn't care any way, returning to their work. Lucifer saw the hole on the wall again, because there was no way to not pay attention to it, and winced. Whoever was the responsible for that trip had to been consumed by Alastor already. He hoped so at least, for getting to damage the hotel of his daughter.

When he stepped into the kitchen, he smiled to seeing Alastor putting up a fresh carcass of deer on the fridge.

"Good morning, babe!" greeted, going up to the cupboard and taking his mug.

A scratching noise was heard as Alastor slowly straighten up again. He looked around the kitchen, where there was no one else but them, and then at Lucifer.

"Are you talking to me?"

Oh, was he still pissy about the cake thing?

"No, I meant your shadow" Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Whatever, I don't have time. Can you tell Charlie I had a meeting with Paimon and the Goetia that I don't know how long it will last?"

The sound static sounded ever growing as Alastor turned around.

"Do you want me to rely a message to Charlie for you?"

Lucifer frowned. What was confusing about anything of what he said?

"Yes, please" said, taking some cookies from the cupboard and conjuring more just in case Charlie wanted them. He checked the hour on his phone again. "Fuck, I am really late now. Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

"Come again?" Alastor was now openly glaring at him.

Lucifer sighed with a slight groan.

"Alright, fine, that wasn't fair. It was my fault, I should have put the alarm earlier. Happy now?" he took a cookie on his mouth, grabbed his favorite mug that he would have to refill with magic and opened up a portal without waiting an answer. "Don't wait for me at lunch, babe. Love you!" said, dissapearing to go to work and missing the white noise that surrounded Alastor.

Once the king dissapeared, Alastor saw his own shadow making a question mark on the floor and he shooke his head. How the hell was he supposed to know what was that?

The meeting with Paimon and the Goetias was just as long and dreadful as he was expecting. Lucifer now lamented that he didn't stayed sleeping some more like he wanted to, because between reading papers quickly and having to listen to their endless complaining he didn't have it on him to pretend to be as invested as he could have otherwise. When they finally settled the issue and at last he was left alone on his office, he released the biggest sigh the relief ever and let his head rest on top of the fresh wood.

He could go home.

In fact, he kinda had to go home.

Stay there or in the palace until Charlie forgot all about the birthday that has been ruined just wasn't an option, he knew that much. It would make things so much worse if he kept delaying the moment to put his big boy pants and go to her to at least apologize for what happened, to recognize that maybe (most definitely) had a part of blame to be responsible of.

But going home also meant going back to that asshole tacky piece of shit and, frankly, if he could skip that part entirely he would have already gone now. Knowing Charlie, she was definitely going to insist that an apology also had to be exchanged between the two of them and that was a thought that revolted his stomach to his core.

The whole interaction of that morning still gave him the creeps. What was even that? How was supposed to react to something like that after last night? Maybe he thought that if he acted nice towards him, he would be the one to apologize first? That Charlie would believe he deserved that more and Lucifer would look even worse for not doing it first? Charlie wasn't even there for the start of it, so what was the point?

Not to mention that vaguely holy essence that he was exuding. People don't just sell those in perfume bottles in the streets. It didn't came from anything specific, but a feeling that resonated deep within his being and felt vaguely wrong, while also being familiar. It was the same essence that Vaggie had the first day he met her. Something that obviously did not make any sense because Alastor was a sinner through and through. One of the worst examples of what a sinner could be, if half of what he had heard from Vaggie was true.

He had no business carrying that corrupted holy smell around, and yet, he did. Lucifer was so sure about it as he was about his own falling. The first and more easy explanation was an actual fallen taking the form of Alastor to infiltrate the hotel and destroy it from within. A complicated plan, too complicated even, but maybe Heaven could get that desperate after what happened on the last extermination, if they thought they had no choice.

But if that was the case, why bothering with making Alastor nice? Alastor was not nice. Everyone knew that! Even his daughter, who wanted to see the very best on anyone, had no illusions about the kind of man that was. If they were hoping to infiltrate the hotel, wouldn't that be the very first thing they would try to research to get it right? Why go through all of that trouble only to fumble on the actual character and make it obvious that the supposed Alastor had something wrong with him? If they had killed or just taken the real Alastor somewhere else, though, at least that was a saving grace of their whole stupid plan.

Lucifer munched on the sandwich he had conjured up for himself as he mulled on those thoughts. Finally, when Charlie surely would have to be on bed by now, Lucifer stand up and sighed as he opened up a portal. At no moment did he noticed the little black spot that was on the corner, dissapearing into the shadows underneath some curtains.

On the hotel there was a perfect silence in the air. Everyone should have been sleeping at those hours. Lucifer made it to his tower, debating seriously directly going beyond the hallway to the other side of the building, knock on the radio tower and demand some answers. Kick out the imposter and tell them that they didn't need to bring the original anyway, but at least get out of his daughter's business, thank you very much. Maybe tell him a thing or two about how incredibly sloppy their job have been.

Who knew, maybe by now Charlie herself had noticed the weird changes and wasn't sure what to do about it. It would only all the more impressive on her eyes that her dear good old father had taken decisive action. He was thinking about all of that and more when he opened up the door to this room, only to find out the fake Alastor comfortably reading a book on his bed.

"What the…" Lucifer started, when he realized that his entire room was wrong.

Most of his circus decor was there, but now there was a green chimney flaming on the corner and a seemingly entire bayou on the other extreme from which the sounds of nature came in. He was sure that could be lovely to sleep to, but he haven't put that there. How did this helped the imposter to infiltrate the hotel?

As he stood dumbfounded, Alastor marked the page he was at, put the book on a side and smiled at him. How did putting some red pajamas was going to destroy the hotel? Lucifer could not imagine.

"You really took your time, darling. Are you feeling okay?"

Lucifer blinked at him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Alastor was clearly taken aback at that. The radio demon tilted his head to a side, regarding him.

"Where do you think I should be?" asked calmly.

"Not here, that much is clear" Lucifer went on to touch one of the chairs in front of the chimney. It was solid alright. The fire was giving a pleasant warmth. And he was sure that if he threw a duckie to the other side of the room it would splash against the body of water that was definitely there. "Alright" Lucifer took a deep breath and turned, his horns starting to grown. "I don't know what kind of fucked up plan is this one, but I suggest you take all of your stupid bullshit out of here and leave my daughter alone before I really lose my patience."

Alastor's frown deepened, his eyes layered with equal amounts concern and caution. Lucifer decided to read that as the guy slowly realizing that his master plan had utterly failed.

"Lucifer" started, standing up from the bed, but making no motion to come closer, probably realizing that Lucifer was only to react all the more worse for that. At least this one wasn't a complete idiot. "Who do you think I am?"

"I know you think you are pretending to be Alastor" replied Lucifer, whipping out his tail behind him as it moved from side to side. "But you are doing a terrible job at it, let me tell you. Nailing the horrible haircut and the eyes and everything, but the personality is way off. So come on" said, burying his claw on the chair and throwing it to a side until it broke against the wall. "Show me your real face before I tear it apart."

"Alright" The fake Alastor lifted up his sleeve, where a sigil was inscribed against his wrist, and pressed it with his other hand. The entire time his eyes didn't leave Lucifer while the illusion spell got deactivated, revealing… another Alastor, but off color. The black eyes with the green pupils regarded him calmly, or at least maskering very well what else could be going on inside his head. "This is my real face. The king of hell should be able to check me for any other magic as resident of hell."

Lucifer sneared.

"I know you are a fallen already, that is not news. What are you doing here? Are you working for Heaven? Did they promised you that they would let you get back if you just came here and fuck things up?"

The smile of the fake Alastor shook, like he had lashed a whip to his face with those words.

"Doesn't matter what I say you won't believe me, do you?" asked the intruder. "You have already decided to kill me."

"Oh, sure. For that suddenly you grew a brain, but not to actually do your homework and know who is the piece of shit you are replacing. I mean, seriously? How does turning my room into this was ever going to help you?"

"It was worse before" commented the fake Alastor, his eyes going to the door and slightly opening as if he saw something there. It was only a second that Lucifer took to check the door before he dissapeared completely, consumed by shadows.

"Oh, no, you won't" said Lucifer, letting his eyes glow red as he looked that surgency of energy.

He realized with a sudden sense of urgency that fake Alastor was a lot stronger than the real one ever was. His magic was almost even comparable to Charlie's, if not in the same level. That wasn't a fallen like Vaggie, absolutely no. When he detected the that specific energy stopped moving on the fifth floor, his blood ran cold on his veins. That was the floor where Charlie and Vaggie sleep in. Charlie was still so inexperienced when it come to fighting with her power and Vaggie would be squashed without much effort.

Without a second to lose, Lucifer portaled towards the place, just as the fake Alastor took solid form again, this time the illusion spell up again. Lucifer now was officially pissed at what was obviously a threat on his daughter.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?" growled, his wings extending full. He grabbed the front of the pajama shirt of the fallen and pulled up, making him lose contact with the floor. "You think I am going to let you hurt my daughter, you piece of shit?"

The fake Alastor hold onto his hand and his eyes moved to the side again. That time Lucifer didn't turned around as he lifted his claw. That time he should have.

"Papa, no!" screamed the inconfundible voice of Charlie, running up to him but Lucifer flew higher.

Now he got it. That sneaky bastard wasn't trying to attack Charlie directly, but use her so he would hesitate into doing what he had to

"This is not Alastor, sweetie" said before anything, knowing she had some weird sense of affection for him. "He is a fallen that came to destroy the hotel."

"What are you talking about?" Charlie went to the other side, where she could make eye contact with him. "Leave dad on the floor now! We can talk about this!"

"Dad?" That is when Lucifer looked to her for the first time.

Her red eye next to a yellow one, both equally scared and worried at what they were seeing, the tiny antlers on the top of her head, the green stitches at the corners of her mouth. The sudden realization that girl sounded like Charlie, spoke like Charlie and had an eerily similar hotel to Charlie, but wasn't Charlie, left him speechless.

"My daughter" said the fake Alastor, despite everything smiling with a note of pride. "She has my magic and the magic of Lucifer Morningstar on her. Should be easy to see for the real king of hell."

Lucifer did, leaving this Alastor to fall to the floor in the process and the other Charlie to run up to him. Inside of the silhuette that formed her there was a clear mixure of energies in constant movement. So well mixed together that it was impossible to separate them at all, but they were still discernible if one knew how to see. One of those was identical to the energy occupying the inside of the fallen. The other one already knew it. His own magic wanted to reach out to her so strongly as he felt for his actual Charlie.

"I… I don't get it" said, getting to the floor. He looked around to the hallways he was sure he had helped to build before he looked again at them. "What is happening? Why are you like that?"

Alastor looked over at the other Charlie as if to confirm something and she nodded. She had to feel that they were connected too. She couldn't deny he was Lucifer Morningstar any more that he could deny who she was. Maybe not his Charlie, but a Charlie nonetheless. That answer seemed to shock Alastor and he closed his eyes for a second, regaining his composure.

"Lucifer" called the other Alastor, standing in front of Charlie. Protecting her from him, as if he was the danger there. "You are obviously confused right now."

"No fucking shit I am!" Lucifer said, his heart beating faster that it ever needed to as he glared to the fallen. "My first question is still who the fuck are you! Why is your magic all over my daughter?"

Charlie moved under the arm of the fallen to go to him. Lucifer hated the way the fallen kept his hands on her shoulders, as if ready to push her out of the way if there was any need. That was infinitely more devastating than any nice Alastor could be. He could never hurt his daughter, no matter how different she was now.

It seemed as if this Charlie knew or was counting on it, that is why she decided to be the intermdiary.

"Papa, this is Alastor. This is my dad, just like you are my papa."

"My Charlie doesn't have other father" said Lucifer, grabbing his head. None of this was making any more sense. If any of them was lying, he couldn't imagine how. His eyes could never lied to him. If they were speaking the truth, the only odd one out was him in this picture. "My Charlie has a mother. The Alastor I know is just some jackass that works on her hotel. I have nothing to do with him or he has nothing to do with my Charlie."

"Papa, I… I don't know what to tell you, that is not true."

Lucifer stared at her. He already knew that she wasn't lying. It was written all over her face as easy to see as the red dots on her cheeks. Then he looked at the fallen, who sighed.

"Let us all calm down" said, elevating his volume as if to reach further. Lucifer looked back at Vaggie standing on the doorframe, holding her spear up. At the word of the fallen, she lowered her weapon. Lucifer was hurt again by that. This Vaggie was exactly the same as the one he knew and he always thought she was a sweet polite girl. Now she was treated him as a threath. "Lucifer" His attention returned to the fallen, who had taken another step towards him. He rubbed a gold ring he wore with the fingers of the same hand and looked hesitant about how to approach him. "How about you tell us what is the last thing you remember?"

Lucifer snapped his fingers. In an instant, the four of them were on the kitchen. Lucifer grabbed one of the chairs at the table and sat down, rubbing his temple.

"I guess you mean before this morning?" asked, getting a nod from the other Alastor as he sat down.

Charlie stayed at his side, leaving a hand on his shoulder now, Vaggie near her with arms crossed. Seeing his daughter so caring about someone that looked like that guy activated the same sense of annoyance that it did since the first time the radio demon had tried to brag about about being a better father than him. But this Alastor was only looking at him, without trying to be smug about their proximity.

"I don't know" said, scratching the nack of his neck. "I had a bad night. It was the birthday of Charlie and…" Lucifer threw a glance at Charlie and lowered his head. "We… I kinda ruined it. Me and Alastor got into a disagreement over how the birthday should be. Party decorations, the cake, the music, all of that. I know I shouldn't let it get to me, but he kept poking and poking and poking and I flicked him off across a wall? It sounds silly, but it wasn't. I didn't mean to hit him that hard, just shut him up whatever way I could. He came back even more angry and I was angry. He threw me a rockola to my head and I threw the cake at him and… welp, that was it, really? Even if I was hit in the head, that wouldn't make me see any of this" Lucifer suddenly wondered if this was a dream then. He pinched his own cheek until it certainly hurt and rubbed it soothingly, only more confused. Also, why would he dream about a multiple hours long meeting with the Goetia?

"Maybe some kind of spell?" suggested Charlie. "Something that implanted those memories into you and made you think they were real? Because my birthday party was yesterday and it was great! Thank to you and dad. Nobody got into any fight."

"That is good to know, sweetie" said Lucifer, honestly relieved that at least one Charlie didn't had to go throught that embarrassment. "I don't know, maybe if they got a extremely powerful one? I am usually imnume to that kind of thing."

He wasn't trying to brag per se, but be realistic about it. Besides, even if someone did want to implant all that on his head and forget about his previous life, what would be the point? It wasn't doing anything to take away his powers, his title was still very much his. The connection to this hell was just the same as always.

"No, it's worse than that" said Alastor, looking over at him. His eyes looked mournful as he examined his face. "I don't think you are our Lucifer either."

"We established that already" replied Lucifer, tired. "We are trying to figure the why. Try to keep up."

"No, I mean in the literal sense" Alastor reached forward, his eyes getting more intense as he stared at him. "Our Lucifer has a contract for the soul of someone in this hotel. Call them forth. Even if your mind has been messed with, you should be able to."

"I do?" Lucifer frowned, wondering if all the residents was the same and with whome he could make that kind of deal.

It had been ages since he had taken any soul at all. But this Alastor was right. A soul contract was inherently tied to the owner, like another organ that contributed to their power. He called upon the contract that he had, limited to the area of this hotel. A light twingle of energy ran through his forearm and finished on his palm with a little red poof, as if he had fired a blank.

Alastor sighed, holding his head. Charlie looked to a side, rubbing his back. In all of his years after falling, Lucifer had never seen someone so dissapointed for the devil not taking another life.

"Okay?" said, confused. "I don't have any contract with anyone here, so what? Are you saying that I am literally from another dimension where there should be another Lucifer?"

Alastor rubbed his brow and left his hand there for a second longer.

"Yes" said finally.

"With whome is the contract anyway?" asked, curious. "Maybe they just aren't here at this hour?"

"They are here. You just don't have any connection to them" Alastor sighed again, finally looking up. He looked so very tired that Lucifer almost felt bad for the guy. No, wait, if this wasn't really the same Alastor he knew maybe he could feel a little bad about him? Maybe this one was actually nicer? Although the idea of them being an entirely different place very similar to his own, with the only difference he could percieve being who was the other parent to his daughter, was still something his mind struggled to grasp.

He had heard about multiple dimensions existing, of course. One didn't live as long as he did without hearing some theories from the humans trying to make sense of the universe. But he himself had never seen proof of their existance. Until now, apparently.

"Oh" said, not knowing how to procede now. "Well. Fuck. I didn't do this" clarified, because somehow that felt important to make known. "My life wasn't perfect or anything, but I wouldn't chosen to completely change it like that."

Especially not to be closer to you, added mentally.

"I assumed that when you attacked me" pointed out the other Alastor, barely separating his teeth as he smiled. Or maybe he should just say Alastor, since there wasn't any other here. Alastor took a deep breath, reclining on his chair as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Assuming there is a high chance that our Lucifer end up where you come from, not some other place we know nothing about" As he said those words, Lucifer noticed the way his claws dig in into his forearms, "tell me then. How do you imagine he could be doing over there?"

"If he is still like me, same everything else? As long he keeps his distance from the Alastor I know, he should be fine. That guy does not want to be around me either if he can help it so that should work just fine" he shrugged. "I don't really think you have anything to worry about for him."

Yawning with a hand over his mouth, Lucifer made his way to the radio tower where he knew his husband was broadcasting. That alone was curious for him because usually at that hour Alastor would be preparing for bed, but Lucifer was surprised to hear his voice, loud and clear, from the radio on the lobby. While he was gone, the minions had finally managed to repair the hole and leave the place presentable again. The voice of the radio host was the only sound that occupied the silence of the place and recieved him when he appeared on the kitchen, looking for a quick dinner.

He heard it for a little bit while eating the fresh sandwich he made, wondering if Alastor had dinner already. If he had gotten so suck up by his radio show, he could probably conjure something for him. On top of that, he just wanted to see him, even if he couldn't speak to him or talk. With that reasoning in mind, Lucifer stopped in front of the door to the studio and waited until the sign above that indicated there was a recording going on turned off. At that point Alastor would turn off the mic as some music played and drink some coffee he didn't really need to stay awake, but wanted anyway.

Once he had that permission, he knocked on the door and waited for a calm "come in" before he went inside.

"Hey, babe" greeted, seeing him just as he expected, siping his mug as he was reclined on his chair. Some swing music could be hear muffled from some speakers above his head. "Tough night. Meeting sucked ass on my end."

Alastor's smiled faltered a little.

"Ah, it's you" said, not recognizing the rest of his words. Sounding so very bored alrady of their conversation. "What can I do for you, your Majesty?"

Lucifer straighten up at that. Alastor only called him by his title when he was upset with him, as if putting some kind of barrier between them that wasn't there when he used his name. Alastor being upset wasn't all that weird, but for every soul in hell he could not imagine why.

"Are you still angry about the cake thing?" asked, scratching his neck. This was a unusually large amount of time to give that any importance. They normally would have move on from that in the morning and only bring it up on a later date for some well earned smug points. "Because I am not about to say sorry, let me tell you."

"No, of course not" Alastor grinned, barely showing his teeth. "How could I ever expect a king to denigrate himself to apologize to a lowly subject?"

"Wow, okay" Lucifer blinked, taken aback. "First of all, don't ever say that about yourself again. Second, I… I thought it was for fun? I didn't know you were taken it so seriously."

"We clearly have different ideas for what is fun, your Majesty. I don't find being thrown across a room outside of a sparring match very entertaining."

Was that some kind of metaphor he wasn't picking on?

"I… I didn't mean to throw you across the room?" said, hoping he was using the phrase correctly. Sometimes he had no idea until it was too late what was he even saying. The lingo in hell changed so fast that it was hard to keep up and mistakes were bound to happen. From where Alastor would pick that one up, he had no idea either. "I thought you were intending to do that to me?" continued on.

At that, Alastor looked away, elevating his chin.

"Well, that is not the point" said simply. "A man of your stature should be above such acts. Even if that stature is as short as yours, your Highness" added, with a note of happy irony at the end.

"Oh, short jokes? So originl coming from you" Lucifer rolled his eyes, groaning. "Listen, if it's so important for you now, next time you can throw me across the room, okay?"

Alastor arched an eyebrow, mildly amused by that.

"For as fun for me as that would be, I don't think Charlie would appreciate that either."

"Well, whatever, she will still have two cakes anyway so she can't complain much" said, letting out another long yawn and missing the expression of total confusion that flashed through Alastor's face for one second before he returned to his default detacched one. "Are you coming to bed or what?"

There it was again, that scratching sound. It had been a while since he heard it.

"Excuse me?"

"Bed" insisted Lucifer. "To sleep. Close your eyes. No broadcasting. Rest. Ever heard of the that?"

"I don't think that is of any concern for you, your Majesty."

"Okay, you are mad" Lucifer rubbed his temple. "Babe, I am sorry, but I am so very much tired and I have no idea what did I do wrong. Can you just tell me already? Without weird new phrases in the middle if possible?"

"Mad? You completely misunderstood me, your Highness. Not a surprise there. No, you can relax your loyal head now and stop worrying because I feel about you exactly the same as I did yesterday with no difference."

"You have some way to show it" Lucifer dragged himself to the large couch in front of the control panel, the static sound increasing around him, and let himself fall into it. "Fine, finish your broadcast then. I will wait for you to stop being a pissy baby."

A moment of silence passed as Lucifer accomodated his suit jacket as a pillow.

"What do you think you are doing?" asked Alastor, his voice sounding without a filter as if sincerely lost.

"Me? I told you, I am tired. Just finish what you are doing and wake me up when you want to go to bed. You shouldn't be staying up so late either" pointed out in the middle of another yawn. "You need your beauty sleep more than me, after all" added with a lazy smile directed at him, before accomodating with his face towards the back support of the seat. "Love you, babe" added, letting his eyes close.

He didn't know how much time passed, but it couldn't be a lot when he felt a hand gently pushing his shoulder and a familiar voice calling to him.

"Dad?" called Charlie. As he was slowly waking up, Lucifer could only frown at the wrong name. "Dad, are you okay?"

"Why are you calling me dad now?" asked, turning on the couch to cover his eyes with his forearm. "Where is Alastor?"

"He was the one who told me to come pick you up" said Charlie, putting a hand over his forehead as if to see if he was feverish. "He said you were acting too weird."

"Weirder for our king's standards, at least" added Alastor from somewhere behind her. "Is he drunk? He sounded drunk."

"I can't get drunk that easily, babe, you know that" Lucifer slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. Was he acting weird? He didn't really think so, but maybe there was something he was missing?

He didn't caught the look of concern that Charlie threw to Alastor.

"Do you see now? He has been calling me that the entire day."

"I was outside almost all day, that doesn't count" protested Lucifer looking up at him before his eyes landed on Charlie. He gasped loudly, his back touching the couch. As he grabbed the arms of Charlie, any traces of sleepiness were replaced for pure panic. "What the hell happened to you?!"

"What?! Do I have something on my face?" asked Charlie, touching her own skin.

"Your eye! Where are your antlers? Do you even have your tail now?" Lucifer grabbed Charlie to see her back and saw with a sinking feeling that there was no adorable fluffy tail nowhere to be seen. "Oh, sweetie, what happened?" asked, hugging her tight as he looked over at Alastor with big eyes. "Did I do this somehow?! Is that why you are pissed at me? I didn't mean to! I would never do that to our baby!"

"Our baby?" repeated Charlie and Alastor at the same time, Alastor with the tone of someone about to cackle.

"D-dad" said Charlie and Lucifer frowned, separating from her to look her face again.

"Why do you insist in calling me that? Alastor is your dad, I am papa."

Alastor proceded to then cackle, so hard that he folded in two and had to grab to his control panel so he wouldn't end up in the floor.

"Is not funny, Alastor!" reprimanded Charlie, which only caused Alastor to howl with laugher, before looking at him with nothing but worry. She took one of his hand on hers. Lucifer could very much recognize that this was indeed his baby, but something was seriously wrong here and he didn't understand why nobody was freaking out more about it. "Dad, papa… did you took anything weird? Maybe you found some of the stashes of Angel?"

"I am not on drugs, sweetie!" Lucifer made a quick review of his day just to be sure, realizing that the only things he ate or drank where stuff he conjured himself. Unless someone made slices bread with coke, and if they did, that still wouldn't explain why everyone else was acting to weird. "I just… are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Something horrible must have happened to you! Let me see…" His eyes glowed red as he looked over and just as he feared, the magical essence of Alastor was completely absent from the body of Charlie. Except for one single point he recognized. "Why do you have a deal with Alastor?"

As soon he made that question, Alastor stopped laughing instantly, as if the sound was cut out of the room by the most precise bisturi in existence. He glared at Lucifer over his shoulder. Charlie shifted a little on the corner of the couch.

"I… I kinda had to. To know about how to kill angels before the extermination."

"Why would you need a deal for that…" Lucifer looked over at Alastor, who had an unreadable neutral smile on his face, waiting for his reaction. But he was just confused because that wasn't at all how Charlie came to know about that. "Also, no, I told you about it. When we came back from our date and you were back from meeting with Heaven. My memory might not be the best, but I know that much."

Charlie stared at him, as if watching a three legged puppy attempting and failing to swim out of the pool where he was about to drown.

"Papa, come with me" said gently, taking his arm to coax him to stand up. "I think I should call auntie Bel."

Lucifer looked over to Alastor, who had regained his same posture with hands at his back, as if just waiting for them to get out of his studio already. He had never felt so unwelcome on his presence, not even when they first met.

"O-okay" said, following her up. Something was wrong, very much wrong.

Half an hour later, the sin of Sloth put down her magnifying glass. She had used it to stare a Lucifer for the last 20 minutes without speaking or saying anything. Sometimes a tiny mmm came out of her, but that was about it. On the kitchen of the hotel, Vaggie had prepared tea for the sins and a cup of coffee for Charlie, who never stopped holding the hand of Lucifer. Alastor had materialized on the corner, his curiosity called upon. Lucifer had given the briefest of summaries about his life and quickly find out how it was different than the life Charlie claimed he had.

For one, Alastor wasn't his husband. He was actually just another member of the staff at the hotel.

For another, he didn't created Charlie with craft materials, but the traditional way.

Finally, this Charlie apparently had a mom that wasn't with them right now. Lucifer had no idea if that meant she was dead or something else entirely, but didn't pressed her about it. He could get the gist of it from how she looked so uncomfortable talking about it.

"This is not Luci" declared Bel, blinking only slightly faster than normal. This was interesting enough that to take away some of her eternal sleepiness away. "Our Luci at least. This one doesn't belong here."

"What does that mean?" asked Charlie, since Lucifer could only stare at her blankly as if she just spoke gibberish.

"Mmmm, how do I explain" Bel seriously pondered the question for a whole minute. Despite burning with the question at the tip of her tongue, Charlie hold it in until her auntie suddenly had and idea. She pulled out from her purse two bottles of pills, one purple and the other pink. "Think this one as your home, your family and your history" said, putting the bottle on the table. "And this is is your home, but not your family or your history. They are both pretty similar, both made with some ingredients in common, but not the same. This Luci end up on the bottle of pills that wasn't his. With similar things to his own bottle, but different. That is why his aura is all off, but still recognizes you. You are both fine" said, extending a hand slowly to pat the one Lucifer had on the table. "There is nothing wrong with either of you. You just got mixed up somehow."

"Cool" said Lucifer, tapping his feet on the floor. Charlie felt his hand get clammy and cold on her, but she didn't let go if Lucifer wasn't going to. "Coolcoolcoolcool. Great. So, how do I get back? Because I kinda have to get back. Like, right now if possible. The faster the better."

"I don't know" Bel shrugged. "My especialty is the body and mind, not the location of the body, Luci. I have never seen a pill so badly sorted. My quality control is better than that."

"Cool" Lucifer squeezed his jaw tight, his smile turning into a grimace. "Well. Fuck. Me. I need to get back."

"Mmmm" Bel thought about it for another long minute. Lucifer started scratching at the chair under him, leaving the print of his claws on the surfice. "You need help."

"You think!?" finally exploded Lucifer, his eyes flashing red and spitting fire.

"You are so stressed out too" said Bel, nodding in understanding. "Do you want some pills to help you sleep? Maybe that can help you out to think a solution in the morning. There is no problem that a good nap can't solve."

Lucifer exhaled a cloud of smoke through his nose.

"Except this one" he looked over at Alastor, slightly more amused by this situation, and he sighed deeply, covering his eyes with his hand.

"He-hey, she is right, papa" said Charlie, rubbing his back. "Right now there is no one awake anyway. Frankly, I am surprised that she even answered the call! I am sure we will think of something in the morning. Your… family will be fine for one night."

Bel nodded, bobbing her head as she rocked her body side to side.

"Here, take them if you need it. It will make time pass faster" said Bel, leaving another bottle of pills on the table. "Dreamless sleep. You will need it."

[sailorbowie]

Abel Gideon/ Bedelia I think could be an interesting pairing, especially with their banter with Hannigram I can imagine them together, also Francis Dolarhyde and Randall Tier would be such a chaos duo! (just random thoughts)

As for your prompt (it doesnt have to be those pairings) au where the FBI finds out about a serial killer dating app and makes Will Graham go undercover on it and all the serial killers try to match with him and are completely besotten. (one of wills pictures does include him with a fish)

Okay go off!!! I could see it kinda. On the other hand, Dolarhyde and Tier would have been a beautiful powder keg to see on fire. I think even if they saw each other the way they would want to be seen by the other, they would still be beasts ripping at each other's throats by the end of it. They would have fucked nasty tho I'd love to have seen it.

2. Based on your prompt~

Matching With Killers

Will Graham never expected to get involve in covert work, not even like this, for God's sake. He wasn't even supposed to be out in the field, that was what the actual agents were for. But Jack insisted his input was important.

One of the investigators had discovered a suspicious platform called 'Collectors 4 Love'. On the surface, it looked like a dating app for collectors, and people who liked collecting various kinds of items. Upon further investigation, it was found that some of these 'collectors' were people that fit various profiles of serial killers they were looking for. Their preferences of 'collecting' needed no elaboration.

It seemed the actual collectors were able to differentiate themselves from casual, unassuming users with different emoticons. They also took photos with few identifiers, and used pictures of people that were definitely not them.

This had to be a place where the Ripper was lurking, thought Jack Crawford. And so Will Graham was nudged, (or rather, forced) to make an account on C4L.

Will's profile was pretty simple. He avoided using his real name, going instead as 'Holden'. Like the other users, Will mostly avoided photos of his face, instead using pictures of the woodland scenery near Wolf Trap, the lake, one of his dogs. He included one where he held up one of his larger catches of the day, and included a very brief and concise bio: "I like fishing, collecting fishing flies, and my dogs. I reel in the big ones, and never let em' get away. Maybe the next one is you?" Will felt himself die inside as he put this all together. The aim was to have a semi-legitimate looking profile to look into the other users, but it worked a little too well.

A week later, and Will was gritting his teeth responding to what must have been the 20th user matching with him. He spoke with a myriad of profiles, ranging from genuine hobby collectors to the actual less than savory collectors of lives. It seemed the killers were all too pleased to find a common kindred soul in 'Holden', who thoughtfully listened and offered assurance to the killers. Will Graham was successfully able to build 12 criminal profiles from the 12 suspicious users he spoke to, not one being the Chesapeake Ripper. Not that he'd think someone like that would have the gall to use such a ridiculous app, but the chance was always there. The other remaining 8 people he'd spoken to were either inconclusive or were too legitimate to be considered suspicious. Everyone at the BAU was delighted to hear these results, and to hear about Will's results. Some were surprised Will could keep a conversation that long, let alone have the charisma to do so. And some weren't that surprised. Jack was satisfied with the results. "I never want to do that again. I never want to be asked to do something like that again. It was nice when they asked about the fish I caught, I'll admit. But it got very annoying when I was asked about how capable my 'rod' was outside of the lake," Will explained, during one of his weekly sessions with Hannibal. The doctor across from him tilted his head slightly. "You were approached with interest by many interested parties, a lot of whom were the very killers you chase every day. How does that make you feel, Will?"

This made the other man pause, and let out a very long sigh. "I'm....flattered? I think? I mean, it's really hard to know what to feel when someone who thinks of killing you might want to take you out to dinner first. Uhm, I still don't think I'd ever want to do that again. Even for casual means, no. I don't think I could ever do that again. Never again....." Will's eyes stared off into space again, his body shuddering at the thought of trying to talk to some stranger again on a virtual space.

To this response, Hannibal nodded softly. He took out his phone, and his lip twinged with regret as he tapped the 'delete application' button.

Maybe they'd get the Ripper next time.

[ridenwithbiden]

The track record of “citizen forecasting” of U.S. presidential election results is sort of startlingly good.

Are you still scouring the internet for new polls and routinely checking polling averages hoping for fresh reassurances but finding precious few?

Are you poring over daily turnout reports from the Secretary of State’s office – and scanning news on turnout in other battleground states too – hoping scattered gobbets of inconclusive information will alleviate your angst, even though it is just as likely to aggravate it?

Maybe you should stop doing those things.

Alas, if you’ve read this far, you might be one of those souls – the highly engaged voter – for whom polling and turnout data at this point in an election cycle are like an automobile accident or a burning building: looking away is hard.

Sorry.

But there is a thing which, while it can’t rid you of your anxiety and fear and Sturm und Drang, might at least add a different perspective to it.

Yes, of course it’s another poll.

Or more specifically a series of polls.

Sabato’s Crystal Ball, a long-time highly regarded political handicapper connected with the Center for Politics at the University of Virginia, on Wednesday summarized a series of polls conducted during this election cycle that asked respondents not who they will vote for in the presidential election, but who they think will win.

Why? Let’s let the Crystal Ball gazers explain:

“A growing body of evidence indicates that ‘citizen forecasting’ (CF)…makes for more accurate predictions of the winner. Indeed, studies of CF in the United States and the United Kingdom, as well as work on other democracies (such as Canada, France, or Germany) have demonstrated that voter expectations outperform voter intentions in terms of predictive accuracy.”

In other words, “wisdom of crowds” is a thing that’s a thing.

The Crystal Ball’s first survey asking respondents who they thought would win the 2024 presidential election was conducted way back in April, 2023, when Ron DeSantis still looked like a going concern, and when a lot of people hoped Biden wouldn’t run after all (he officially announced his reelection bid near the end of that month).

In the April 2023 polling, 52% of respondents said they thought the Republican candidate would win the presidential election, and 48% said the Democratic candidate would.

The second round of polling wasn’t taken until a year later, in April 2024. By that time, poor DeSantis had been vanquished, Nikki Haley had distinguished her resume by finishing second to “none of these candidates” in the Nevada Republican primary, and the main thing Democrats were saying to each other was “whoa, Biden’s super old but we are stuck with him and we are doomed,” or words to that effect.

Everybody, or almost everybody, assumed it would be a Trump-Biden rerun of 2020. Asked who they thought would win the presidential election, 50% said Trump, and only 38% said Biden, with a mysterious “someone else” or the Kennedy oddity picked by the rest.

The Crystal Ball’s project concluded with a wave of four polls in June, July, August, and September-October.

The June survey, conducted before the June 27 debate that crushed Democrats’ souls and would ultimately end Biden’s candidacy, indicated a close contest – 46% said Trump would win, 42% said Biden would.

The next survey was conducted July 20-22, a week after Trump’s ear got grazed in Pennsylvania, and coinciding, though only partially, with Biden’s announcement he would step aside (June 21). It was the only one of the polls in the series taken after the debate debacle and while Biden was still in the race, and not surprisingly 54% said Trump would win, while only 32% thought Biden would.

The project’s next polling was conducted between August 20-26, about two weeks after Harris had secured the nomination and otherwise astounded a lot of folks by turning out to be very much more of a boss than was widely thought. The script was flipped: Harris would win, said 56% of the August survey respondents, compared to 40% saying Trump would.

The fourth and last wave of polling, between Sept. 20-Oct. 2, had Harris at 55% to Trump’s 42%.

“This current citizen forecast points to a Harris victory in November,” concludes the Crystal Ball’s “Last Sounding” summary published Wednesday.

“Of course, close races are hard to call,” the summary adds, and citizen forecasting isn’t perfect. The Crystal Ball mentions the elections of 2000 and 2016 as examples.

In both those elections the person who won the presidency lost the popular vote. So this year’s surveys, in addition to asking voters who they thought would win, specifically asked them who they thought would win the electoral college, and the majority still expected a Harris victory.

And on the whole, the track record of citizen forecasting of U.S. presidential election results is sort of startlingly good.

The Sabato Crystal Ball and the American National Election Survey combined encompass a record of citizen forecast polling that stretches back to 1956. In every presidential election since then, “whenever the expectation percentage has exceeded 50%, as is the case with the Harris-Trump race, the forecast of the presidential winner has always been correct,” states the summary released Wednesday.

While the most recent polling in the series was conducted roughly a month before Election Day, that’s been the case throughout the history of the polling series, the report adds.

So Democrats can … take a breath?

Fat chance.

What might be considered a variant of citizen forecasting – betting markets – are also often viewed as being a more reliable predictor than traditional polls, and they indicate a much tighter race than the Crystal Ball citizen forecast, with Harris ahead in some, and Trump in others. (There are also segments of the presidential betting market indicating a generous advantage for Trump, though that may not reflect the wisdom of crowds as much as the machinations of crypto-bros.)

About the same time the last polling in the Crystal Ball series was being done, the Cook Political Report also asked voters in battleground states not who they were voting for, but who they thought would win. Harris was ahead in that poll too – 46% said she would win, compared to 39% for Trump. But that’s below the 50% benchmark history cited by the Crystal Ball.

And even given the aforementioned impressive historical track record of citizen forecast polling, if any modern presidential campaign cycle in the modern era has already proven to be wildly different from all the others, it would be this one.

In other words, let the Democratic hand-wringing continue.

Harris would probably approve. She seems like a leader with a zero tolerance policy for complacency.

[mlmshark]

For the soft asks (I picked a lot, answer whichever ones you like the most)

1, 8, 9, 12, 13, 18, 21, 23, 26, 28, 29

1 - what song makes you feel better?

I really like forwards back and rebound by Adrianne Lenker. It’s soft and something nice to listen to when I’m upset

8 - tag someone (or multiple people) who make you feel good. 

Well, there’s you, @achilleanauthor and some others I love seeing post are @ace-up-your-sleeve @rowans-blues @ilovespidermansomuch and @pigeonpawz

9 - what calms you down?

I’m autistic, at least I think (my results were inconclusive and the doctor told me I “don’t fit into one box” so I have no idea what that means) and i usually have a bead lizard I carry around to help keep my calm when I’m having sensory issues or overwhelmed. The beads are fun to play with to calm me down, but also keep me focused. His name is sleepyhead and I made him myself :)

12 - how are you?

I’m good. I had a hockey practice this morning so I feel very accomplished. I’m also uh very because I’m cooking my lunch now as I’m answering

13 - what’s your comfort food?

Either maruchan ramen or fried chicken, specifically the kind my mom makes

18 - do you still love stuffed animals?

I love stuffed animals sm. I have way too many and that’s not gonna stop me from getting more. The one I sleep with is a red panda squishmallow my brother got me in middle school, and my childhood stuffed animals which is a cat, or I guess I called him a cat when I was younger but looking closer he looks more like a husky, named Shasta and a pink turtle named Shelly (creative, I know)

21 - if you could tell your past self one thing, what would it be?

Kind of a downer, but I’d tell myself to avoid one person. In freshman year of Highschool I had a very bad friend that would get very physical with me, and I do anything to go back and never be friends with them. If we’re talking more advice, I’d tell myself that I should just be myself and be unapologetically cringe because at the end of the days there’s always gonna be someone that doesn’t like you

23 - favorite piece of clothing?

My favorite piece of clothing is a hoodie I got from camp. It’s super comfy and I wear it almost all the time. It’s also super comforting. I’ve wrong it to different medical emergencies to help me feel more comfortable, and since I got it from camp, it reminds me of one of my favorite places

26 -what movie would you want to live in?

I love fantasy so maybe the hobbit. I’d also love to live in a ghibli movie because everything looks so nice there, as long as it’s one of the safe ones like Kiki’s Delivery Service

28 - hugs or hand-holding?

Definitely hugs. I love hugs and I’ve been told I’m a really good hugger. For whatever reasons, sometimes hand holding can make my hand feel weird, so hugs all the way

29 - morning, afternoon or night?

Probably night, it’s when I’m most productive and get the most work done or just enjoy myself. I do think the morning can be nice too though, it just depends on how early it is and how well rested I am

[cheese-ducks]

TWRP ORIGINS

Chapter 4: Jack-isms

Main master list Previous Chapter Next chapter

Warnings: (mild swearing, descriptions of anxiety attacks)

"You boys need a hand out there?" Mr. Lecurno stood in the entryway to the garage, watching his kids and their friends struggle to carry an amp to the back doors of a big white van.

"No thanks, dad! We're fine!" Stan shouted, obviously not fine. 

The boys always struggled loading equipment into the van. It never seemed like that much going in to it, but they were always out of breath afterwards. 

He laughed softly and shook his head as he went inside. "Suit yourself kiddo, have fun at the show!"

"Jack!" The guitarist looked around. "Where are ya, bud?"

"Joe, do you even see him anywhere?" Stan looked around for his brother or even his equipment, but both were missing.

"I kinda feel bad that the shortest member of the band has to lug the most shit around." The bassist said. "But that's just part of being a drummer."

"Andy, my brother's not that short." Stan said defensively. "You know how he feels about that shit." 

"You know, I have been growing!"

Jack suddenly came around the corner of the house carrying the entirety of his drum set, each piece stacked precariously on top of the other. He effortlessly set the stack down and blew a tendril of hair out of his face. "At least my own brother sticks up for me." He murmured sarcastically.

"How the fuck did you do that?" Joe shouted, gesturing vaguely to the stack.

"I mean, it's just picking shit up." Jack replied as he packed his equipment. "It's not exactly rocket surgery." 

Andy let out a small laugh. "Ha, I get it." 

Jack's attitude was slightly off-putting, he was usually pretty quiet, but today he was practically emitting positive energy. It was infectious, palpable even. It was strange for a wallflower like him.

"You feeling better, kid?" Andy patted him on the back. 

"Why would I not be feeling better?" Jack laughed. 

"Remember last week, I think? Stan said you went home early from my post show house party. I just wanna know that you're good." 

Jack didn't respond, instead he blanky stared at the ground while making a low humming sound. He couldn't respond. His mind became flooded with memories of what happened that night, the night the shooting star fell. It replayed in his mind over and over again. He remembered living through more than what happened to him, like he'd lived another lifetime before that moment, a feeling he could've gotten used to at this point. The intense flasbacks ended as quickly as they began, and he suddenly couldn't remember what was troubling him at all. 

"No, I don't seem to have any memory of that whatsoever! Let's hit the road!" He practically flipped into the van as his band mates stared in confusion.

.........................................................................

"Did you guys see that new alien story?" Joe asked, breaking the awkward silence seeping through the van. 

"I don't follow tabloids, man." Andy replied from the back seat.

Joe rolled his eyes. "Even if it's all bullshit this is still some funny stuff." 

"What did it say?" Jack had been following the story too but not because he thought it was funny. He was absolutely positive there was a connection between the alien sightings and whatever was wrong with him, so he'd been following the story like a hawk. So far, the results were inconclusive at best. All he had was that the cone shaped helmet in all the reports felt familiar. 

"A witness said they saw a lion man, a robot, and a guy with a traffic cone on his head fighting in the parking lot of a guitar center. Fucking hysterical, right?" Joe's laughed quieted when he saw Jack's terrified face in the rear view mirror. Andy pushed his seat playfully. 

"Don't let him freak you out man, I'm sure aliens aren't coming for ya any time soon." 

Jack had a gut feeling that wasn't true, or maybe it was pre show nerves.

.........................................................................

Jack always got pre show nerves. It was just part of preforming for him. The usual symptoms happened every show; he couldn't eat, he'd bite his nails, and it was terrifying talking to anyone. One of the reasons he was content to stay in the back, behind everyone else. Stan was the biggest advocate for getting him out of his shell but he was nowhere close to having frontman levels of confidence. Which is why it made zero sense to him that he was sent to get the boys their pre show pizza.

"And what name is the order under?" The cashier asked, not looking up from her notepad. 

"Stone LaChismo." Jack said without hesitation. 

The cashier gave him a confused glance. "I'm sorry?"

"Stone LaChismo." He repeated, sure as ever.

She paused for a moment, flipping through the orders on her notepad. "I'll check if we have-." 

"Wait," Jack interrupted "I got it mixed up, it should be under Stan Lecurno, sorry about that." His breathy, nervous laughter made the situation even more awkward.

'How the fuck did I come up with Stone LaChismo? That's not even a name!' Jack thought to himself. 'That would be a pretty sick stage name though.'

.........................................................................

The pre show checklist would have gone off without a hitch if it weren't for the soundcheck. About halfway through the song the visions returned and they were far more intense than earlier. Jack felt like he was phasing in and out of reality. One moment he was drumming, the next playing a keytar. One second he was drowning in anxiety, the next he was elated. The feelings were constant and never the same thing twice. It was as if something was trying to break out of his mind and tear him in half. He suddenly dropped his drum sticks and heard himself hyperventilating. 

"Dude, are you ok?" Stan asked, both of his hands on Jack's shoulders. He slowed his breathing as the rest of the boys stared,  concerned and a bit freaked out. 

"Sorry, guys. I'm just feeling a little off, did I miss anything?" Their eyes bore into his soul, he could feel the shame burning inside his chest. He could deal with his brother thinking he was crazy, he already thought that, but knew he'd die if anyone else did. Stan took the drum sticks out of his hands.

"If you're feeling sick or something that's totally fine. It's up to you if you wanna stay." 

"I'm fine, I think I'm just gonna take a walk." 

"Cool," Stan patted him on the shoulder and handed the drumsticks to Joe. "Whenever you're ready, brah."

Jack took deep breaths as he walked away from the venue. 'Just around the block, whenever you're ready.' He thought to himself. Stan's words were already helping him calm down. He'd be ready to rock in no time. He turned the corner, and everything went black.

.........................................................................

The sound of a party woke him up. Jack heard his brother's voice from downstairs and nearly fell down the stairs running to it. He saw his brother and the rest of SeX-rays drinking and laughing in the living room. The sky was dark, the van was back in the driveway, he missed the entire show. 

Jack ran back to his room, shut the door and sunk his head into his pillow, fighting back tears. 

"What is wrong with me!" He shouted into his pillow. 

What would he even tell them? The actual explanation for his absence sounded completely insane, and any lie he could think of made him sound like a total dick. There was nothing left but to sit in the shame and regret. 

"I truly apologize for this." A voice said. The voice seemed to be coming from his own head, yet it was loud enough to actually hear.

"I never meant to hurt you. I didn't think you'd notice at all, but that was a miscalculation on my part, not a fault of yours." 

Jack jumped off his bed and looked around the dark room. He was still alone. He sat back down and put his head in his hands.

"Oh my god, I actually lost my mind!" He said in between panicked breaths. 

"Oh no no no, not at all!" The voice quickly replied. "After all I've l put you through, the least I could do is give you some answers."

A bright glow appeared in the middle of Jack's bedroom. He watched in awe as it slowly began to take a familiar humanoid form. The yellow bodysuit with black stripes down the sides, the bright orange conical helmet, Jack couldn't believe it. He was right. The figure stood translucent in front of him. He began to inspect himself, like he was checking if all of him was there.

"I apologize for my appearance, I'm normally more opaque than this, but this darn atmosphere! You know how it is." The figure spoke with the same disembodied voice. "I suppose we should properly meet at this point."

[animebw]

Short Reflection: Link Click Season 2

It's a bit strange, I know, to write a full review for a show's second season without having done the same for its first. Though I suppose I did the same with Jujutsu Kaisen as well, so maybe this just helps me process my thoughts better. Sometimes it takes until I've really spent a lot of time with a show to fully unpack how I feel about it. And while I enjoyed Link Click's first season a lot, it left a lot of questions in the air that left my feelings fairly inconclusive. Not just plot questions, but questions of theme, message, meaning, what it was trying to say with all its time-twisting stories. The ride itself was fun, but this felt like a case where I really needed to see the destination as well. Only then would I really be able to nail down my thoughts on Link Click as a whole.

Well, now I've reached that destination. Mostly; there's a third season on the way eventually, but enough of those big questions are answered by the end of season 2 that I'm able to sort out my thoughts a little better. And man, what a fascinating, frustrating, singular experience this turned out to be.

In case you need a recap, Link Click is the story of Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang, two young men with the power to travel into the past through photographs and help resolve their clients' lingering regrets. Maybe they need to find some long-forgotten secret, or pass on a final message the client never got the chance to. But whatever the case, the most important rule remains the same: do not change the past. No matter how tragic or unfair a person's life as been, meddling with the timeline to try and make things better will only result in further tragedy. At least that's how it seems until the end of season 1, when it's revealed that someone- or perhaps, a larger group- has been wreaking havoc with their own photo-based superpowers to ensure these tragic fates are brought to their inevitable conclusion. Thus, season 2 is all about tracking down the people responsible, unraveling one big conspiracy to stop the criminals before they cause any more damage.

So already that's a pretty big change from season 1. Instead of spending time with a bunch of episodic small-scale mysteries that freely bounce between various tones, Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang are now focused on this singular case in a season-long ongoing supernatural crime drama. Thankfully, there's enough excuses to jump into the past that we still get a decent chunk of that genre-mixing experience that I loved about season 1. We may not have as much variety as before- there's no love stories or sports anime subplots here- but the mechanics of time-leaping are still pretty essential to how the story unfolds and how the characters come to understand their place in it. What is missing, though- arguably one of season 1's most important qualities that pretty much vanishes in season 2- is the exploration of the morality of messing with time itself.

See, one of the first season's thorniest conflicts was whether or not is was right, or safe, for Cheng Xiaoshi to change the pasts of the people he jumped back into. So many of his and Lu Guang's clients had truly miserable lives, and there were many times he felt like he had a chance- no, a responsibility- to take action in their past that would send their present down a better path. But it was never as easy as that, and often times, his attempts to make things better would just end up making them worse. And I'm really unsure how to feel about Link Click's handling of this concept. Sure, I know the reason they can't just use time travel to fix everything: once you give your characters the power to rewrite any mistake, the stakes pretty much become nonexistent. For the sake of a good story, Cheng kind of has to be doomed to not be able to make a difference in the past. But there's a point at which the world starts to feel actively unfair with how it twists every single attempt he makes to force a tragic result regardless. Is changing the past bad because you can't predict how it will shape the future, or has the universe just cosmically ordained that certain people will suffer and die no matter what? Because only one of those answers is compelling to me, and I'm not convinced it's the answer Link Click has decided to go with.

And that was one of the answers I was most hoping to get in season 2. What, exactly, does this story have to say about messing with time? Is it actually engaging with that question honestly, or is it simply forcing the answer it prefers with cheap moralizing and forced plot turns? Unfortunately, that question remains basically unaddressed throughout season 2. In fact, most of those broader questions and philosophy and character journeys from season 1 take a backseat to the mechanics of the plot in season 2. Season 1's greatest strength was how well it balanced its sci-fi and thriller elements with the humanity at the core of its cast, using its time-leaping to explore not just Cheng's character but the countless ways people choose to move on from the past or remain stuck in it, or draw power from it. With season 2's narrowed focus, though, it really only does that for its central antagonists, and basically every other character is pure plot machinery. Compared to how lush and lived-in the countless snapshots of memory we visited in season 1 felt, the world of season 2 barely feels like it exists outside the confines of the plot.

My guess is, the intention here was to choose quality over quantity. Instead of getting lots of brief insights into the lives of various different people, we spend the whole season digging into just the central antagonists' past and fleshing it out in as much detail as possible. And to its credit, this seasons' villains, a pair of psychic siblings who parallel Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang's brotherly relationship. Their past is easily Link Click's darkest tale yet, a story of abuse, neglect, trauma and social toxicity that at times feels like a darkest-possible-timeline mirror to that question of using your powers to fix a bad situation only to make it a million times worse. And it's not subtle about connecting that darkness with the worst of China's familial culture, which I do not know enough about to discuss with any authority, but let's just say that basically any man in this season who tries to exercise his authority over a woman ends up paying the price for it. More than anything, it reminds me of the way Gen Urobuchi tackles misogyny in his work, exploring how attitudes of patriarchal domination twist people into monsters while everyone in close proximity suffers for it- even when you think you're doing it with noble intentions.

Sadly, as compelling as that central hook is, the rest of the season really suffers around it. The problem with Link Click introducing new superpowered characters is it kind of forces itself to get trapped in the mechanics of it all. Season 1 got away with using time jumps mostly just as the backbone for its various character studies, but now the show has to actually deal with how all these various powers work and interact, and considering how many of these powers involve messing with time, it doesn't take long for this shit to get real convoluted real fast. It's a headache trying to keep track of the rules behind the antagonists' powers, and it feels like no matter what the answer is, there's at least one scenario in the show that completely breaks those rules. And don't get me started on how many head-smacking contrivances this season pulls to force its plot into the shape it wants. You're telling me you've got this person imprisoned who you know has some unknown power you're unprepared to deal with, and you let her just waltz out of security camera sight without a ten-man gun squad keeping an eye on her at all times? Are you high???

Overall, Link Click season 2 is just messy. It's a big swing that takes big chances with the foundation season 1 established, but it doesn't hit every pitch and you really feel the disjoint where it strikes out. It's a good thing the art and animation are still as superb as they were in season 1; turns out, an expertly-choreographed hand-to-hand fight scene can help even the dumbest plot points go down easier. But the series overall feels on much shakier ground than it did at the end of season 1, and I hope season 3 will be able to right that ship. I'd hate for a series this promising to become just another disappointing failure to establish Chinese donghua as a true artistic powerhouse. Until then, though, season 2 gets a score of:

6/10

And on that note, I think I have another poll to make. See you in a few hours...

[aquariumgirls]

dear fucking lord. ANYWAYS.

TEENAGE MUTANT SIBLINGS: THE BEGINNING

Mikey is the oldest at age 17, and is a Scorpion mud turtle.

Donnie is the second oldest at age 15, and is a Black softshell turtle.

Raph is the second youngest at 14 (and ten hours!!), and is a Black knobbed map turtle.

Leo is the youngest at 14, and is a Blanding's turtle.

^ in age order

They all have human designs because of cloaking magic, and Splinter is still a human named Hamato Hiroshi.

Mikey is a trans man (he/him, 6'1)

Donnie is agender (they/them, 5'7)

Raph is a trans girl (she/her, 5'1)

and Leo doesn't care about gender (any pronouns, 5'5)

Mikey is bi, Donnie is a lesbian, Raph is bi with a preference for women and Leo is aroace.

The main villian is not shredder, nor Karai.

It is a very powerful yōkai who found out that the american government experimented on a human and four baby turtles, before the lab "mysteriously" blew up and the results were deemed inconclusive.

Hamato Karai is Hiroshi's older sister, and is the person he called after being experimented on by the american government in an attempt to make indestructible supersoldiers. He moves back to Japan and lives close to her in Osaka. She is the cool aunt. It is her.

Hiroshi is a single dad raising four mutant teenagers, and teaches them ninjustu in case anything bad happens in the future. (Which. It will.)

Mikey uses nunchaku as well as a kusari-fundo, Donnie uses a metal bō staff outfitted with hidden blades that's painted to look uncannily like wood, Raph uses tonfa as well as sai, and Leo uses dual katanas with hidden tantō in his belt.

Mikey's fashion sense is very bright and flowy, taking inspiration from harajuku streetwear. He loves anything bright and comfortable, with as much freedom to move in as possible. His fashion icons are Myspace Scene Kings/Queens, A Certain Kpop Idol (Jung Hoseok.), and Lil Nas X.

Donnie's fashion sense is basically just goth, techwear, and cybergoth in various shades of purple, black, and maybe sometimes indigo. Their fashion icons are Ye Olde Myspace Cybergoths, Vkei idols, and young Donatella Versace.

Raph's fashion sense is deceptively cutesy. Anything pink, fluffy, comfy and lolita-inspired. She wears bike shorts under every outfit, and is adept at fighting in any kind of outfit, though she's always sad if one gets ruined. And then she beats up the person who ruined it. Her biggest style icons are Princess Peach, Strawberry Shortcake and Kyary Pamyu Pamyu.

Leo's fashion sense is very androgynous, with inspirations from mode fashion, academia and classic 2000's aesthetics. Their fashion icons are David Bowie, Yohji Yamamoto, and (according to Raph) "Every librarian ever."

All of them are blasian, and ended up moving to New York with their father and aunt when Mikey was 15. They currently live in Brooklyn.

the turtles ^

karai (46, she/her)

hiroshi aka "splinter" (40, he/him)

[gh0st-0f-luke]

Cat OMGOMGOMGGGG I am pretty sure lxc in "whether i’m gonna flip you off or pull you into the closet, i haven’t decided yet" was either observing this all happen and shipping wangxian in his heart or he's trying to save his bro and wwx from lqr for a bit more because the summary made it seem like this is all the compiled EVIDENCE against wangxian's sordid affair LMAO!! Also the fact results were INCONCLUSIVE ahahaha omg i cant stop laughing! as if the fic itself wasnt a hilarious masterpiece there's this lil detail... istg if i die laughing its your fault (compliment). There's a reason youre my fave crackfic writer everrrr. Thank you for writing another fic in this format and giving me more content of wwx who emails like the blog follower wwx in your other fic omgg! these both fics are competing for the spot of BEST CRACKFIC in my heart and i cant choose omg!!😍🥺🔥

P.S. please tell me anything and everything you wish to tell me about this fic including things you wanted to write that didnt fit in the fic, any behind the scenes stuff...anything aaahhh i am obsessed 🥺

P.P.S. I repeat, they fucked in that closet and more than once and i think atp everyone in the company knows but either stfu out of second-hand embarrassment or because it was TMI and theyre still scarred for life after waking in on this...or they ship wangxian and are glad for this...

Thanks again omg i love your crackfics so much youre an absolute crack/chatfic god! Have a spectacular rest of the week for all the happiness you brought this lowly one on period day 1!

LOL yes this is all the emails and slack messages relevant to their relationship that could be collected as evidence (personal texts and stuff outside of work was not admissible) and since lwj is in charge of HR this was escalated to lan xichen as vice president but luckily for wangxian he is either just totally blind to what is happening or (more likely) he is rooting for them hahahahaha so it’s kind of a cover-up but also…plausible deniability yk?

thank you so much <3333 i’ve been on such an epistolary kick these last few months hahahaha i kinda have an idea for a tgcf epistolary fic next but i’ll have to wait and see if any more wangxian ideas spark my fancy

p.s. idk!!??‽! suddenly there are no thoughts in my head lolol but i feel like the juniors def have a secret text gc off slack where they gossip about wangxian and i was considering doing like a second chapter with transcripts of interviews of various coworkers on whether they think wangxian broke any hr policies so the juniors would def have smth to say LOL or maybe a chapter with some bonus texts that are not admissible as part of the case file so they were discounted! but i’m tired after writing this fic so it won’t happen tooooo soon hahahaha just if i get inspired! i’m not sure if i would write what happens after the end of the fic bc to me it’s kinda fun how open-ended it is given that it’s a case file but never say never i suppose

p.p.s. they were absolutely using the supply closet for unprofessional purposes i fear but we’ll hope they were at least discreet about it

i hope u have a wonderful day as well!!!! i hope u survive ur period </3 and thank you <33333