#meanwhile we can end up in so much pain from it that we can't sit upright

[thethingything]

I hate that every so often we'll get excrutiating abdominal pain specifically on the right side, and it matches descriptions of appendicitis pain alarmingly well, and we'll start to panic, and then every single time it ends up being our IBS, but like every time we're like "what if this is the one time where it actually is serious" because I know how many times we've had something seriously wrong end up being left untreated for way too long because we couldn't tell how serious it was

[coyotelip]

starchaser microfic: nuts || @into-the-jeggyverse || wc: 638

“So how goes the honeymoon?” Sirius's voice on the phone is slightly interrupted by the poor connection, but unfortunately for Regulus, his words are understandable. 

“It would have been better if you hadn't reached me in the middle of the bloody ocean.” Regulus replies lazily, picking up another cashew nut from the platter next to his lounge chair. 

“Uh, what does Jamie do?” Regulus isn't surprised at all at how soon Sirius jumped to the topic of his beloved friend, it's even strange that it wasn't his first question.

“Why don't you ask him yourself?” 

“Well, he didn't answer my calls. I was starting to think that you are holding him prisoner for your sexual pleasures and want to break us up completely.” 

“Sounds like very accuratedescriptionof marriage, but, this is shocking to you, I didn't marry your best friend just for his huge d-” 

“Oh, stop it. Don't make me lie awake at night again with that horrible picture in my head. Better tell me how Italy is.” 

There's a splash of water and Regulus turns his head to see James climb out of the pool, ignore the towel and walk straight to Regulus, letting the water drip off him in heavy drops. 

“I don't know about Italy, but the ocean is... wet.” Regulus holds out his hand with the nut toward James, who has stopped at his feet. He bends down, a couple of cold drops falling on Reg's sun-warmed thighs, and the man wraps his lips around the nut and his fingers without breaking eye contact. 

“Oh, I wish I could be there, London is a pain in the ass right now with all this rain.” Sirius reminds Reg of himself on the phone. 

“Mmm.” 

Regulus's eyes are fixed on James's lips, and he doesn't let go of his fingers for a few seconds, but eventually the man releases them to ask, “Who's on the other side?” 

“Your ugly twin,” Regulus says with a smile, now running his free hand over the man's wet shoulders and hearing the unhappy exclamation on the other end of the phone.

“Oh, tell him I said hi,” the way James's smile has taken on a new bright glow at the mention of Sirius is a little annoying, but Regulus can't deny that he loves him to death even so. Regulus reaches for another nut so that he can touch James's lips again right now... not that he doesn't have every right to as his legal husband.

“James said hi,” he repeats into the phone, and meanwhile James sits on the edge of his lounge chair and strokes his bare legs with his wet hands, and his lips wrap around the nut and his fingers again.

“Ooooh, give him the phone, I miss him so much!” Sirius doesn't let him forget, but all Regulus' thoughts are now focused on the feel of wide palms on his lap and the seductive smile on James' lips.

“Argh, Sirius, I'm going to be honest. Right now I'm feeding your best friend nuts in a very homoerotic way and it's only a matter of time before we have gay sex right here on the lounger. If you're bored and miss him, I can keep you on the phone and do my best to keep his voice ringing in your ears, but I can't promise that it will be coherent words. The choice is yours.” Regulus is already in a sitting position and restrains himself from placing a deep, passionate kiss on James' lips. 

“Oh, bloody hell, you're going to drive me to my grave.” Sirius hangs up the phone without hesitation, knowing the rules of this game. Regulus always keeps his word. 

“All right,” Reg mutters under his breath, throwing the phone on the table and finally getting to the most important thing. 

[bunnakit]

last twilight e8 thoughts, feelings, and tears

ok i cried for like 10 minutes after the episode ended so forgive me if this isn't up to par of what i usually do. apparently i'm fragile today.

there was a lot i liked and didn't like about this scene. in the past we've seen Day cling to the idea that someday he'll see again, that this is all temporary. instead of reiterating that, instead of talking about the cornea transplant, he instead asks "what can i do?" it's such an insanely massive sign of his growth. i'm so fucking proud of him. it made me so fucking emotional because while he's still upset, he's still hurt, he's still angry, he realizes his reality and he's making steps to move forward with that.

what i didn't like about this scene was once again Day's mother acts like Day's life is ending. she's been the number one person to coddle Day and to reassure him of this surgery that may never happen. i know she means well but fuck. this has to stop.

i also fucking hated the doctor for this. Day isn't fucking dying, there's still so much he can do even once his sight is completely gone. sure, he'll have some limitations, i get that. i can't swim in the ocean or rivers anymore. that fucking sucked to learn right before going on my honeymoon to the beach. but you know what i could still do? walk across the beach to the little hidden tide pools, sit on the jagged rocks, and watch the crabs and fish and anemones and everything thrive in this tiny little ecosystem. it was still amazing and something i may not have done if not for my disease keeping me from going in the water.

we're limited by our disabilities but we aren't fucking dead - life goes on around us and we can either participate in it or wallow in our fate. i'll talk about this more later.

you can skip this next paragraph if you don't want to see me babble on another personal anecdote.

i will say i saw a lot of myself in this moment. something similar happened to me a few weeks ago. i learned my disability is no longer responding to the treatments and i'll have to have multiple surgeries next year to close some year old wounds and will probably need some skin grafts. my disease is no longer managed but once again getting worse. when the doctor told me i just nodded and discussed the game plan. meanwhile, my mom was heartbroken and kept asking if there was anything that could be done. (nothing that i'm not already doing.)

sometimes we just have to nod along and accept what's happening. we can cry about it and get pissed later if we have to.

ohhh there's so much i want to talk about here. Day's mom infuriates me, probably because she's the opposite of everything my mother ever was when faced with my disabilities. her constant refusal to address Day's blindness is so painful, as if it's somehow a reflection of him as a person or a stain. it's just a fact of life and her denial is doing so much more to hurt Day than to help him. as much as i hate it, though, it is realistic. it can be so hard for those close to us to acknowledge what's going on, especially when they can't experience it for themselves or they aren't around day to day.

which brings me to the part that frustrates me the most. i'm going to get REALLY personal here.

TW FOR SUICIDE AND MENTAL HEALTH ->

i'll put another message when this little anecdote is over so ya'll can skip to that.

i've been diagnosed with major depressive disorder since i was 15. when i was 16 i tried to kill myself. my mom didn't know until last year, but at the time she knew my depression was getting to a concerning level of bad. you know what she did? she quit her job. she made any sacrifice she could to stay home with me and make sure i was safe and felt heard and taken care of. granted, she wasn't a single mother at the time but we also weren't rolling in the money. my dad was a construction worker in the early 2000s when construction work was struggling HARD.

but that's what you do for your kids, that's what you do to take care of them and make them feel heard and loved and cared for unconditionally. my depression and desire to die wasn't a stain on who i was, it was my mind holding me hostage with no way out because they couldn't give me medication until i turned 18.

OKAY IT'S SAFE NOW ->

anyway, where i was going with that is that Day's mom, as a famous chef, clearly makes enough money to take time off work, to be there for her son, to stay home and make him feel loved and cared for. there's likely a lot going on on her end of being a single mother, of feeling like she needs to prove herself and show the world she can do this alone - but her son doesn't have to do it alone just because she wants to. he needs a support system and right now all he has is Mhok.

Day's anger is so real and so justified. he must feel abandoned by his mother, by the one person that should be there to comfort him and keep him safe. her love has become conditional on the state of his eyesight.

and then she tells him he can't go? he's not a fucking child. he's a full grown man and he was just told to do things while he still can see at least a little. i told my mom the exact part of the plot and her response was "well fuck her, he's gotta go." you're god damn right he does, mom.

everything Night does feels like repentance. i need know what the story is, i need to know what caused this massive fissure between them. i don't want to comment or speculate too much but at this point i can no longer condemn Night. he's trying, he's clearly trying so fucking hard, and he clearly has so much love for his brother.

and him giving Mhok money and letting him and Day escape because he knows Day will be happier? i really hope that is a step in the right direction of mending whatever was broken between them. there are only four episodes left and i hope bare minimum half of them deal with what is going on here.

The sea remains the sea. The sand remains the sand. The sky remains the sky. Though I can't see, everything remains the way it is.

and here we are. being diagnosed with a disability is a massive change in our lives, a huge hurdle we have to climb, but at the end of the day the world still turns, life still goes on, and we can either go with it or remain stagnant. this is the culmination of everything Mhok has shown Day. Mhok has constantly brought Day out to participate in life, to learn how to navigate the world that remains unchanged. while Day's world has changed it remains the same in so many ways. this is such a beautiful moment of acceptance and peace, of healing and moving past the hurt. once again, i am so proud of Day.

he's going to be okay.

i've seen others mention it but fuck this once again drove home how soft and caring Mhok is, something that's been so constant in this episode from his willingness to help Day, to the keychains, to the escape, and now this. this little act of asking for permission, of giving Day permission, of almost asking Day 'will you kiss me?' and then Day does. Day gives Mhok the first kiss initiated by him. until now it's always been Mhok but this time Day reaches out to Mhok in this gritty, sand filled kiss. (disgusting but still lovely)

and this really drove home how safe Day feels with Mhok. they're somewhere completely new and unpredictable but he suggests they drink and participate in the party - and i love that he doesn't ask for permission but rather says 'why not?' because Mhok has never made him feel like he needs to ask for things, not things he's fully capable of deciding for himself.

and they do! they act like the young adults they are and have an amazing night of just fun and laughter and love and i fucking love that for them. how many times have we seen Day get to act his age and be carefree? it's remarkably telling how free Day feels the further he gets from home, how free his love is when he isn't worried about his family. when he's away from home Day really becomes the sun.

(also i think i might make shirts like this with my husband as a fun activity because that's really cute.)

i'm fine, i'm fine, i'm fine. (i'm lying.) the amount of love they have from here on is almost palpable. the fact that Mhok takes the time to tell Day he looks good, that he's admiring him. fuck. it makes me think of just a bit before, where we see Day linger with his fingers against the mirror. Day hasn't seen his own reflection in over a year, he has no idea what he looks like anymore. he won't get to see the way age changes him, won't get to see the wrinkles and laugh lines form on his face.

but Mhok will be there to tell him, to say how handsome he is, and without fully seeing Mhok Day will know he is equally as handsome because he knows Mhok's voice, his character, and sure he knows what everyone has said about Mhok's appearance but who he is has always been more important.

and then for them to essentially say their own vows in the light of the setting sun? oh, my loves.

Day is starting a new chapter in the book of his life, a new chapter with Mhok and hope and confidence. he's taking back control and paving his own way and no matter what comes he'll face it head on.

i started crying here and didn't stop, P'Aof please i'm sending you bills not for my therapy but for all the water i have to buy to rehydrate myself from all my tears. once again, fucking hell i'm so proud of Day.

and he tells them to have a kid soon! so he can help raise it!! just like he'll probably help raise Porjai's kid. because he no longer sees himself as incapable, as someone unable to help. Mhok has shown him how capable he is, how much he can still do.

please allow me a moment to - AAAAAAAAA.

personally i cannot wait for all the gifsets we're going to see of this moment. they danced so perfectly together because they know each other. Mhok knows Day better than anyone else, they've gone through so much, and they move so intrinsically together. i'd say they know each other better than anyone else but there's still so much of Mhok left unexplored. there's so much Day still doesn't know, so much pain Mhok is still hiding.

i can't wait for them to truly know each other inside and out (not like that, but hey it looks like we're getting that next ep eeeyy)

i'm not really going to comment on the dad showing up at the end. i feel almost nothing about that, i'm just waiting to see how that turns out and reserving my opinions for now. (i had a shit dad, i'm a little bais.)

man, i'd hoped this would be brief with how raw i was feeling and how busy i am with work but GUESS NOT. thanks for reading as always tag loves: @nutcasewithaknife @benkaaoi @callipigio @infinitelyprecious

[try-set-me-on-fire]

AAAAAAHHHHHH okay I changed my mind the 'pretend they're not dating' idea please!!!

Hahahaha okay so I have like? Set pieces? That I plug into various aus sometimes? One of them is a specific burn injury of Eddie's (it's made an appearance in this soft prompt drabble which in itself is secretly part of proposal fic au). They're fighting a fire in a big building, the floor goes out from under him, he's knocked unconscious so can't move himself out of the flames and it takes a minute to get to him so he ends up with pretty severe burns on his arm and thigh, a little less bad on his side.

The concept for this fic is that he's laying in the burn unit really out of it and in excruciating pain and he begs for his mom and Buck, who is his emergency contact and power of attorney and who also has been his boyfriend for a while, is like fuck. Fuck. I have to call his parents. So Ramon and Helena, who Eddie is NOT out to and who have no idea how big a role Buck has in his and Christopher's life, come to town to help in his recovery. So Buck has to like sneak around his own life, like he's already living with Eddie at this point and his stuffs all over their house and Christopher treats him like a second parent because he is one and he sleeps in Eddie's bed and he has to find excuses for it all. I'm staying here because Eddie's hurt. I care for Christopher because me and Eddie are real good friends. Eddie can't move too well right now so I'm sleeping by him in case he needs help in the night, we all share a room in the bunks at work, ha ha.

So he's exhausted dealing with lying to Eddie's parents and also with Eddie's injuries and how much pain the love of his life is in (he usually changes the bandages but there will be a scene where Eddie asks Maddie to do it just to give Buck a break, which Buck later feels inadequate about) and of course he feels guilty that Eddie got hurt in the first place even if there's nothing he could have done, and like Eddie's parents aren't stupid it's pretty clear how much Buck loves their son and Helena confronts him about it and how she thinks he shouldn't be taking advantage of the situation to be close to Eddie like this and Buck doesn't know what to say because. Eddie never came out. He didn't tell his parents about them for a reason. So he doesn't even defend himself he just heads off to work and has a bit of a breakdown there. Meanwhile Helena is telling Eddie he shouldn't let his gay friend take so much liberty with him and Eddie damn near shouts the house down injuries or no, and is horrified that she might have said something like this to Buck, who he declares is his partner, who he loves so dearly, who he intends to marry some day.

And so Buck comes home to find Eddie's parents are at a hotel or Pepa's house or just somewhere not here for a little bit and they have some time to themselves and Eddie is getting better he's a little stronger now he's sitting on the couch and doing okay, they're going to be okay and he's sorry for whatever she said and he's sorry for what a mess this all is and Buck forgives him for all of it because it doesn't really matter as long as Eddie is alive and here with him.

But it does kind of matter, Eddie and Ramon have been really working on their relationship the last few years and Eddie is kind of shocked at how poorly Helena took this and he wants to like just talk to them. He'd love for them to be happy for him because this is the happiest he's ever been. He'd love for them to like Buck because he's here to stay for good. He was planning on telling them eventually and he expected better from them and he tells them that, and that they can still be a part of his life and he'd like that but they better be willing to accept all parts of his life. So they're still in town but they're at the house less and it's kind of weird and awkward and bad sometimes but Buck can stand up for himself a little more and Buck and Chris and Eddie can live their lives how they actually live them and Eddie's parents can see what a good life they've built here and eventually when they leave back to Texas it's not on the Best terms but it's not awful either. They'd like to come to the wedding, whenever that may be, if Buck and Eddie would have them there. Maybe they will. It's something they'll figure out together.

So yeah more emotional and physical meat grinder content from me your pal ahshshhs I just like drama! I like when people intentionally and unintentionally hurt each other! I like to stress poor Buck out!

[princesssarisa]

"A Christmas Carol" Adaptations: Top 5 Saddest Versions of Tiny Tim's Death (long)

@ariel-seagull-wings, @cliozaur, @warrioreowynofrohan

Since the Christmas season is almost officially over, and my annual hyperfixation on A Christmas Carol will need to be paused for another year, I decided to make this post while I still can.

These are my votes for the five saddest, most poignant filmed versions of the vision in Christmas Yet to Come of the Cratchits mourning Tiny Tim's death. A scene which fortunately never takes place in the real world thanks to Scrooge's redemption, but which is still heartbreaking as the Ghost shows Scrooge what might happen.

Honorable mentions include the silent graveside scene in Mickey's Christmas Carol (Mickey Mouse crying – enough said), the similar brief yet touching graveside scenes in Scrooge (1970), A Christmas Carol: The Musical (2004), and Scrooge: A Christmas Carol (2022), and the scenes in the 1938 MGM film (mainly for the quiet yet deep grief Gene Lockhart's Bob conveys under the brave face he wears) and the 1999 TV film (mainly for showing Tim's body as Bob sits by his bedside, the first version since 1935 to do so).

Scrooge (1935) (Donald Calthrop as Bob Cratchit, Barbara Everest as Mrs. Cratchit, Sir Seymour Hicks as Scrooge)

This is the most complete rendition of the scene from the book, and it's well done. From the opening as Mrs. Cratchit leaves Tim's bedroom in tears, through the subsequent slow pan through the house's main room, showing the gloomy children and Tim's empty stool and crutch amid gentle music, the poignant tone is established, and it increases after Bob comes home. This Bob avoids breaking down in front of his family, but as he slowly walks up the stairs toward the bedroom, alone, he's suddenly overwhelmed and sobs into his hands. Then he slowly enters the candlelit room, where – in a rare touch that no adaptation would repeat until 1999 – we see Tim's body laid out on the bed in full view. Ever slowly, Bob approaches, sits down, and murmurs "My little child," then kisses Tim's forehead. The whole sequence, underscored by soft choral music, has an air of delicate grief and reverence, similar to the famous scene of Disney's seven dwarfs mourning for Snow White that would premiere two years later. It might seem almost mawkish by modern filmmaking standards, but in an unabashedly old-fashioned and stagy 1930s film, it works. Meanwhile, the unseen Scrooge utters the narrator's words from the book: "Tiny Tim, thy childish essence was from God!" The scene ends with consolation, though, as Bob goes back downstairs and tells his family about Fred's sympathy, then gives his speech about how none of the family will forget Tiny Tim (holding Tim's crutch as he speaks it), and they all gather warmly around him. Dickens would have approved of a scene so faithful to his writing.

A Christmas Carol (2009) (Gary Oldman as Bob Cratchit, Lesley Manville as Mrs. Cratchit, Jim Carrey as Scrooge)

This CGI motion-capture film gives Tiny Tim the short shrift as a character, but it makes this scene effective through its portrayal of the family's raw grief and of Scrooge's horror at what his selfishness has caused. Whether to keep the scene fresh or due to changing social mores about grief, there's much less emphasis than usual on the family trying to be cheerful and hide their pain for each other's sake, and more open emotion. Most of the scene shows the Cratchits at a distance, without close-ups, but the pain can be heard in their voices: Mrs. Cratchit is crying, the daughters are crying, and even teenage son Peter is just barely restraining his tears. Then when Bob arrives, he makes only a brief, feeble attempt at cheerfulness before breaking down sobbing "My little child!" in anguish. Then comes the unforgettable moment, which takes full, rare advantage of the fact that the Cratchits can't see or hear Scrooge: Bob wanders to the stairs, where Scrooge is sitting, and unknowingly on Bob's part, the two men come face to face. Scrooge is horrified by the sight of Bob's exhausted, red-eyed, utterly broken face staring into his own. He longs to comfort him and apologize for failing to save Tim, and chokes out "Bob!" in an anguish-soaked voice – that single syllable may be Jim Carrey's best acting in the film. Yet Bob walks straight through him to go up to the bedroom, where we see just the shadow of Tim's body cast on the wall by the candlelight as Bob sits down and sobs at his bedside. Without losing Dickens' gentle touch, this is probably the most raw rendition of the scene.

A Christmas Carol (1984) (David Warner as Bob Cratchit, Susannah York as Mrs. Cratchit, George C. Scott as Scrooge)

This rendition of the scene is slightly more subdued than the above two, but its "tenderness and depth of feeling" (in the words of this version of Scrooge) stand out all the same, chiefly thanks to the acting of David Warner and Susannah York. As portrayed by York, Mrs. Cratchit is clearly the family's pillar of strength in this version, more so than in others; through her face is weary with grief, she restrains her tears – albeit not without a quiet struggle – and provides support and stability to her family. Meanwhile, Warner's Bob is warm and tender as always, and he tries to be cheerful, but his pain is closer to the surface than his wife's. As he speaks of visiting Tim's grave, he finally breaks down and weeps quietly into his youngest daughter's hair; then he tries to pull himself together and assures his family of how grateful he is to still have all of them, only to break down again while telling them about Fred's sympathy. But Mrs. Cratchit takes gentle command of the moment and encourages her husband: "Tim is part of all of us. For his sake, we must go on living. So long as we love one another, he will always be alive." Bob takes her words to heart, but he adds that surely none of the family will ever forget Tiny Tim, which the children all assure their parents that they never will. "I am a truly happy man" Bob concludes; despite the scene's sadness, we feel that he means it, with such a wonderful, tender family to support him through the loss and to always treasure Tim's memory. This scene stands out for the Cratchits' sheer warmth, tenderness, and quiet strength as they support each other.

Scrooge (1951) (Mervyn Johns as Bob Cratchit, Hermione Baddeley as Mrs. Cratchit, Alastair Sim as Scrooge)

This film is widely considered the greatest cinematic Christmas Carol, so naturally its version of this scene is especially poignant. It opens with a pan through the melancholy room as Peter reads a long passage from the Bible: not the Mark verse quoted in the book, but Psalm 91, which describes God providing strength and refuge. This change enhances young Peter's characterization, I think, showing his effort to support his mother and sisters through the tragedy. But he can only do so much, as we see Mrs Cratchit gaze mournfully at Tim's empty stool and crutch, and as their subsequent dialogue places Peter in closeup and makes his own grief for his little brother evident. When Bob arrives, the script departs from Dickens' dialogue as he tenderly describes his visit to the spot where Tim will be buried. He reveals that as he stood there, he seemed to feel Tim's hand slip into his own, and he felt comforted; he believes Tim's spirit was there, telling him that he's happy now and that the family must stop grieving and try to be happy too. But Mrs. Cratchit can only look at him with her eyes full of tears, and at the sight of her grief, Bob finally gives into his own. "Oh Tim! My Tiny Tim!" he sobs, burying his face in his hands. His wife kneels down and clasps him in her arms, and the scene ends as they hold each other in anguish. The musical score, with a gentle rendition of "Silent Night" underscoring Peter's Bible verse, and a slow version of Tiny Tim's theme – an innocent, music box-like tune – underscoring Bob's speech, adds greatly to the scene's moving effect.

And the #1 rendition of the scene:

The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992) (Kermit the Frog/Steve Whitmire as Bob Cratchit, Miss Piggy/Frank Oz as Mrs. Cratchit, Michael Caine as Scrooge)

Maybe it's sacrilegious to give my preference to a version of this scene where the Cratchits are frogs and pigs. But somehow, the Muppets and Michael Caine give it a poignancy like no other. The Cratchits go through the same motions they did in Christmas Present – Mrs. Cratchit and the children busy preparing dinner in the kitchen, the children all hugging Bob when he arrives, etc. But instead of happily bustling around, Mrs. Cratchit is crying; instead of comically tackle-hugging Bob, the children hug him tenderly and sadly; and rather than from church, Bob has come from the churchyard. He reveals that he chose a gravesite for Tim "where he can see..." but then stops, and explains that it has a view of the ducks on the river, which Tim loved to watch. Kermit's Bob has no "My little child!" breakdown – true to Kermit's character as a leader, he stays strong for his family – but his grief is still very clear. Each time he says "Tiny... Tim," he struggles as if he can hardly bear to say his son's name. Meanwhile, Scrooge is distraught. "Oh Spirit," he pleads, "must there be a Christmas that brings this awful scene? How can we endure it?" Finally, Bob consoles his children, saying "Life is made up of meetings and partings, that is the way of it," and that surely they'll never forget Tiny Tim. The tone of delicate yet deep sadness is only enhanced by the score, which gently reprises Tim's song "Bless Us All" throughout the scene. At the end, the camera slowly zeroes in on Tim's empty chair and crutch by the fireplace, as a horn plays the melody of "And in our prayers and dreams, we ask you bless us all." Making this scene even sadder is its subtext for the Muppets: the recent deaths of Jim Henson and puppeteer Richard Hunt. Kermit/Bob's "meetings and partings" speech is easily just as much about Henson and Hunt as about Tiny Tim. For that reason and others, this has my vote as the most poignant filmed version of Dickens' sad scene.

[silvanoir]

All Pain No Gain

So! Went back to the hospital to follow up on my wrists, the bracers and steroid injections only gave me back the flexibility of my fingers, didn't take away the pain, numbness and tingling.

In fact its been spreading through my whole body, there's now not an inch of me unaffected.

I waited a month for this appointment. They told me they were going to do a nerve study.

Oh no, it was just a sit-down to give me a yellow paper with some phone numbers to SCHEDULE a nerve study.... the soonest they can fit me in is NOVEMBER *screams* and this is just the study, then five days later a sit-down to DISCUSS the study, and WHEN anything will actually be DONE about my body feeling both like it is constantly being electrocuted AND constantly exhausted to the point I barely function ???? WHO KNOWS!

While I was doing that my boyfriend went to the ER because his back pain is so bad he can no longer work. They did X-rays and found he has SEVERE SPINAL DISEASE and I'm no doctor so I don't know what that means for him exactly other than it sounds REALLY BAD. The results go on to describe most of the vertebrae and discs in his back having anywhere from mild to severe deterioration.

He wanted them to actually DO something, but they won't until he sees his primary care doc, and he can't get an appointment with her until the end of the month.

Meanwhile.... he can't work. And might never be able to return to the warehouse we've both been working at. All they sent him home with is lidocaine patches and acetaminophen .... which we already have at home (he's on his second giant bottle of ibuprofen within 2 months).

Trying to find another job for him is tricky because he's got some neurological problems from a mountain biking accident years ago ... mostly affecting his time-management and ability to remember anything involving dates and time (wear a helmet, kids), ptsd (many people in his past treated him unbelievably badly, to the point I joke he was raised in a hell dimension), the mentioned back pain.... and no car.

Spent a lot of time both in the hospital and once we got home trying to hug away the misery.

I swear doctors just don't give a damn anymore.

Unless you're elderly and on medicare on top of private insurance, then they care a lot. About that sweet sweet money, that is.

My dad's doctor revealed my soon to be 88 yr old Dad has a spot of bladder cancer and AFIB, that's on top of the COPD, bloodclot in his heart, aneurysm in his stomach, and shattered spine from osteperosis ... some of which are the effects of him smoking a cigarette every ten minutes he's awake since the age of 13. He refuses treatment for all of it. He's done with life. His wife (my mother) is dead, older brothers are dead (a few younger brothers are still alive, but they are in rough shape too), favorite nephew is dead, and his friends are all dead. He can't do anything anymore except watch game shows, pretty much. He's housebound; he rolls around hunched over on a walker between 3 rooms. People keep buying him cigarettes against my wishes. Elder Protective Services and doctors keep yelling at me for being neglectful, but he's the one making the decisions not to have "care". He doesn't have dementia so he can still decide for himself.

The doctors aren't hopping up and down for the 2 middle aged people who want to live (and be able to work), but the old man who by all means shouldn't even be alive at this point and doesn't want to be, they call and beg HIM to make appointments instead of the other way around. ARRRRGGGGHHHHHH.

[savagebisand]

y'all are so funny to me over here panicking and stressing meanwhile my state of delusion runs so deep that I simply refuse to accept canon if it differs from my prediction and I predict an angry sandray makeout at the music club BABEY!! Sand ain't holding rays shirt that tight whilst ray grips tf outta him for no reason. Also these are the faces of men who are toRn between a carnal desire to claim the other and another desire to shove him away and scoff in his face. ITS DELICIOUS. like look at how desperate rays expression is, he's trying to come off fierce but it's so clear how much he needs sand to reaffirm he still wants ray. Its like his face is begging sand to hold him and dig his claws in right back and kiss him hard even as he knows sand will likely shove him off and tell him to get lost.

Sand looks like a man on the edge between desire and spite, theres this pained look like he's fighting a losing battle. It's evident part of him wants to push ray around a little and yell at how stupid and selfish he is but another part is seeing the ray he's grown to care for, seeing those hollow eyes searching over him for hope and part of sand wants to crumble and give ray what he needs. Even if ray doesn't know how bad he needs it. Sand always wants to give ray what he needs. It's something he's growing to despise in himself whilst still being unable to resist the pull of. Now personally, I could be sad and frustrated or I could sit back and enjoy the yummy angsty meal JoJo is serving me about the hold love has on us and the ugly ways it can make us act.

Look, love is often glamorised to us as this beautiful wholesome thing that always mends and completes you. And sure love is that. But narratives often neglect to present the other side of love too, it can be selfish, possessive, confusing, desperate, all consuming, jaded, frustrating. It's a breath of fresh air to finally see a show, particularly a BL at that, highlighting the complexities of catching feelings and being in love whilst still capturing the hope that lingers and the beautiful moments mixed in when you see the best in someone as well as the worst. It reminds me a lot of The Priests speech on Love from the series Fleabag:

It's in The way that by the point you see them showing an ugly side it doesn't matter because they're already beautiful to you. It makes you fight for them to show up for themselves and you, even in moments you'd rather walk away and wash your hands of it. I have no idea if they'll get their happy endings. But I know that part of the fascination of watching sandray for me is that I have been that person, unable to give up on a love against all odds because what if I never love the same way again.

Anyways strap in for today's ep everyone and good luck recovering from the emotional rollercoaster it'll take us on. Remember to drink a hot cocoa, curl under a blanket, maybe cry and scream a little but try to laugh too and remember that the point of entertainment like this is to take us on a journey. There has to be bad and fighting in the trenches before there can be light and good. The mess and damage won't be this severe on the characters till the end just for a part of the duration of their growth.

If you're feeling hopeless just keep in mind that characters like Ray and Boston can't grow emotionally and get to any place where a hopeful ending is possible unless they travel to a very low dark point first, they're going to become worst versions of themselves before they can be the best and that will hurt people around them. But I truly believe JoJo wouldn't take these characters to those points unless he was going to use it to form some self realisations and repentance. Everyone will recover eventually because that's just life, we all have to. It has been said that characters must go to uncomfortable places to start contending with truths about themselves that allow an anti hero or antagonist to become something more of a vigilante or at least a better morally good (mostly) version of themselves and as a writer I know that often is a very effective method of characterisation.

You will get through this, your favourite ship will get through this. Dissect and enjoy the journey but don't let it haunt your mind to the detriment of your own whimsy and wishful thinking. Shows are made to be excited for each week. When you start dreading if the ending you hope for can happen it's time to take a breather. Don't let it affect your experience of a character or pairing and make it a negative one! That's what fix it fic is for or shows where these actor duos do get a happy satisfactory end. JoJo may write this story a certain way but you get to choose where you think the end works for you. Love you all, stay safe out there. Happy watching!!

[scalamore]

Ch 111 - Touches

I love the body language used in these last two chapters.

In the novel, it was focused on the dialogue, so the impression is that Lari was in bed, Rupert's sitting in his chair, and they're having a heated talk from a respectable distance away lol. Meanwhile, in the manhwa, there's just so much movement and use of body language - it definitely takes advantage of the visual medium to tell it's story.

Starting off, RupeLali's eyebags - yes they're tired, exhausted. Rupert's wounded in bandages, yes he's injured. But to see him crawl onto the bed when she wakes up because he wants to get closer to her and speak to her face to face, grabbing her shoulders in panic, grabbing her hands to hold her close and not wanting to let go? Him seeing her cry so much that he wipes her tears a bit? Him looking down in despair when he lets go, hunched over, trying to compose himself?

How I see it she's the one who hugs him first, and lets go as if it's the last time, and can only watch as Rupert just knows how this is going to end and he's trying to cling on to her, but in the end both know it's the end, she can't stay by his side anymore. After that hug, she doesn't make any more attempt to get closer to him, while he's the one trying to maintain their [touch] for a bit longer.

On a slight spoilery note, we find out a bit later that he's under the impression that she hates him and his touch (because her hatred was so obvious in S1)- so that's why he doesn't touch her carelessly/excessively, so it's extra painful to know that this is a Rupert who knows he's going to lose her, so he is literally clinging on to her since this is his last chance to ;___;

This panel is particularly powerful to me. This is the first time he's grabbed her hands like this. Usually, he just yanks her to get closer or to stop her from leaving, but he can't when she's hurt, so he grabs on to her hand and is literally begging her to reconsider her decision to leave. Lari doesn't yank her hand away, but instead, Rupert is the one who lets go when he realizes he just can't say no to her wish. refer to:

They both know that Rupert's about to lose his source of light, his warmth, and it's absolutely terrible. Lari feels horrible she basically ruined Rupert's life like this, but she just can't continue with 'the lie that she cares for him'. (Again... Lari..... your feelings aren't a lie..... ;____;) Rupert feels horrible when he realizes that 'Lari did hate him this whole time' (she doesn't....) and he ruined her life by trying to keep her beside him when she doesn't belong in a political space like the palace, and how his feelings for her will make it worse, because he'll be making his fears come true - by killing her slowly with his possessiveness, just like what happened with the Crazy Emperor and Eva. So of course, he has to let Lari go :(

[awellboiledicicle]

First person to try drilling down on what Fido's deal is would be Gale, between adventuring and actually sleeping. He's limited to whatever books they can scrounge initially [as Fido is hoarding them to learn about the world they're now stuck in], but by the time they get to Baldur's Gate he's going to have some very specific queries outside of the whole Crown research thing.

First person to go "Maybe this is a warlock thing" is, naturally, Wyll. Because Fido is going to eldritch blast something in a panic and he's going to go "now hold on". Also because I imagine Mizora would think it was hilarious another warlock is making noise about his deal. They make some barbed comment to her, the magic flaring a bit, and she tuts at Wyll for consorting with 'that mean old octopus' behind her back like this. Leaves before explaining anything.

Astarion 100% believes they're lying about not knowing they're bound up with some apparently tentacled monster when it comes out. like. just thematically it feels like a thing one should know about. He's just saying that if HE had made a deal to get MAGIC INVULNERABILITY POWERS, then HE would have remembered that. They throw a handful of grass at him and he rolls his eyes.

Lae'zel still occasionally thwacks them with a random sword to see if their protection is still working. This is, she insists, a function of their friendship that she would bother doing a check at all. Deep down she just really appreciates their willingness to listen and learn from her, as well as their absolute unwillingness to take any shit from her. Thus the checking.

Shadowheart still thinks they're a little crazy, for different reasons. Initially it was because they insisted they had no idea elves were real, followed by being from 'earth', followed by their panic response being to yell insults at the enemy to make their brain explode. The warlock thing feels like they might have been lying about it--a skill they seem unnervingly good at in spite of their general honest streak--but honestly? Given how they keep tripping into being good to others, she wouldn't doubt them having been just given the ring by some sorcerer or something.

Halsin feels conflicted about Fido expressly because they have a very... dim view of nature being allowed to take its course. With people. They get along largely after Fido gets fed up and goes "you're ungodly old so you can handle sitting down and leveling with me here. I need you to understand that, where i come from, if someone looks at someone like me and says 'nature should take its course' that means 'i want you to not exist'. It means 'you are unnatural'. We're not having the same conversation when we talk about nature, here. I like the birds doing bird things and fish swimming and whatever. But sometimes nature is cruel and I am living proof that sometimes nature would destroy people and things that should exist." Basically they get along on principal but have initial complications bc Fido spent a lot of time as a chronically in pain child being told survival of the fittest wouldn't allow for them. As a queer kid being told they were unnatural. So on. So they don't actually have beef with him so much as a kneejerk reaction for a little plus the initial GODDAMNIT response when he can't help. His take on the warlock thing is largely being curious as to how that happens without ones knowledge.

Karlach meanwhile is just pissed that she can't hi-five them without it still hurting. Like their skin doesn't melt but they can still feel the sensation of heat and pressure, so it isn't pleasant. She also wants to know how one ends up in a warlock pact without knowing it because that feels like a pitfall to avoid.

Not pictured is the GOO checking in occasionally like it's reading the sunday paper like "oh they had a conversation about the nature of gods with Gale. Cute. Aww they're having cognitive dissonance about the nature of sentience after using speak with animals. Popped a man's head like a cherry. Shame, they could have interrogated that one."

[izzy-b-hands]

Still can't sleep (and I actually want to, but it just. Isn't happening yet) so I'm mulling over edizzy thoughts/fic ideas, but one in particular is sticking hard rn, like-

I sort of want to do a kind of. I don't know the right word for it right this minute, but essentially it breaks down just how close they were/are and how intertwined they are like

In a modern au it would be someone making them do what my old therapist said she sometimes had couples do when they came to her for couples therapy. Not necessarily the first thing, but sometimes among the first things, to help crack the shell open. Have them sit and list all the little things they know abt each other, and the things they find silly to remember abt the other or the endearing things/quirks/habits (that maybe have turned to fond or less fond irritation versus endearment even.) Just write it down, and take a minute or two to reflect on the trust and vulnerability required to learn some of those things abt another person, and remember why you let yourself be that trusting and vulnerable, and ask yourself if you still want/feel that sort of connection or not. One answer isn't better than the other, and it's couple dependent on which answer is the better one for them as unique individuals in a relationship unique to them.

In canon time period I'm not totally sure how I'd intro it, so that might wind up more of a 'izzy talking to jim and they wind up discussing these things he knows abt ed, meanwhile stede is doing the same thing with ed, later jim goes to stede like "dude holy shit those two HAVE to talk" and stede's just "yeah they do but i don't know what arts and crafts project to sit them down with so that they might open up enough to go over stuff. Please tell me you have craft ideas" and we end up with some eventual edizzy discussion/also maybe shared art project bc i do like the idea of that mirroring the s1 flag project' thing?

I just. Have so many little ideas for the things ed and izzy know abt each other.

Roach bemoans (in a fondly frustrated for Izzy way, not a because of Izzy way) giving Izzy massages to help him heal post gunshot wound and to just. relax for five fucking minutes. Ed's sat there in the galley snacking, thinking abt how he knows exactly which knots in Izzy's back are worst to work out, but he also knows exactly how to do that. But to tell Roach what to do for that would be an incredibly intimate and vulnerable thing both for him and Izzy and it feels warm and like home but it aches at the same time. When did he last do that for Izzy? He can't remember. He wishes he did.

Stede is fussing over trying to put together better lunches for Ed when he goes fishing with Fang (bc Roach is already making lunch for everyone else by then and has asked Stede to help out by making sure Ed's separate more easily transportable lunch is taken care of) and just. mildly losing his mind bc he can't keep sending jars of marmalade and little else (even if Ed ultimately doesn't mind that too much.) Izzy sits in the overstuffed chair in Ed and Stede's quarters and bites his tongue bc he has an entire fucking multi-course meals menu for Ed that he's memorised without even trying to over the years. But he'd feel like an ass just busting that out; Stede should have the chance to learn these things abt Ed as their relationship progresses. That was part of what made it special for Izzy and Ed, after all. They know each other's safe foods and favourite over expensive treats that they used to only have when they could steal them, and he can't shut off the flow of memories even when Stede asks him why he's tearing up during a discussion abt food.

There's so much. So many little niches. They know which parts of each other's bodies have the worst pains and aches and creaks, some from old poorly healed injuries, others from age and overuse and the way sailing and their work can be so incredibly physical some days. They know just as well how to make the other come undone underneath their hands and fingertips. Be mindful of Ed's knee and back, Izzy should take it slower when his neck and back ache (and now his leg and torso too.) If you kiss directly at the base of the back of Ed's neck while fucking him from behind, leaned over him with him on his hands and knees on the bed, he'll almost always wind up coming untouched. Holding Izzy's hands up over his head while riding him and gently teasing him to let go will at least 8 times out of 10 result in him being instantly undone and an adorably blushy mess abt it.

He could tell you exactly the sort of blankets and quilts Ed prefers between the warmer and colder months, down to designs and the sort of materials used to fill and cover them.

He knows exactly how Izzy likes his clothing to fit, even if he can't ever fucking convince Izzy to buy much of anything new, and he has fucking tried!!

On that note, they can recite each other's current measurements, blood type, allergies, phobias, and more without having to think abt it. it's as easy as breathing or being asked something abt themselves.

Only towards the end of the fic, both modern au and canon time period, do either of them pause and go

"...oh. what happened to us?" with fearful and confused tears in their eyes because it wasn't always like this. Maybe it could be more like it used to be, again. Maybe they can't entirely undo what was done to them or to each other, but they can love and care and look out for each other.

And this time, sitting sobbing and vulnerable they can let themselves admit they never stopped, the love was so interwoven in it all too that they stopped noticing it. They let it become background noise versus a pronounced and acknowledged sound special to them both (and to those who have or might share them, like Jack and Stede.) And that on its own isn't necessarily bad, being comfortable with each other and letting the love sit as it will isn't bad. But everything else going on, their own past unaddressed traumas, and the outside stresses of their lives and trying to survive turned it into something unhealthy and hurtful.

it hurts horribly to lay it all out like that. Feels like being flayed open while alive.

But the next few days after sees them able to talk again, really talk, like they used to. They can be close again and occupy that very particular space in each other's lives, while letting each other have more (ed has stede and in my mind for this fic izzy has at least three or more crew members that have been taking it slow but are absolutely down bad for him)

It's not exactly what they had before. It never will be, it can't be. And they both come to terms with that.

But it's better than what things had become, and they have time and space now to keep working on it.

[ailelie]

The Wolf now is Concerned. He isn't invested. He refuses to be invested in humans. Humans are food, not friends.

And yet. This utter sad sack needs help and Hairy McLumberjack is too busy fussing around with trees to do more than look in and tut occasionally.

And, it isn't like the Wolf can roam much. He had a serious surgery to get Steven out of his stomach. He needs recovery time.

It only makes sense that he recovers at Steve's. It's all Steve's fault anyway, if you think about it.

Steve is still mourning his relationship with Denise and dealing with his recent near-death experience. The latter would be easier if the cause of said-near-death experience hadn't decided to take over Steve's bed.

The Wolf is a demanding and infuriating roommate, but the more time they spend on bickering, the less time Steve has to feel sorry for himself. He ends up developing a new passion for cooking out of pure spite--he will prove to the Wolf that there are many better options for eating than 'raw human.'

"So raw my heart was literally still beating, Wolf."

"The better to warm my stomach, Steve."

It is when Little Red is visiting again, more than a week after the Wolf last felt a twinge of pain in his torso, that everything changes again.

"Mama said to invite you to dinner, Uncle Steve," Little Red says. "You can come, too, Uncle Wolf."

Steve and the Wolf meet each other's horrified gaze as they both realize the domestic comfort they've found and created in each other.

That night, long after Little Red has returned home, the Wolf says he's leaving and he goes.

For the first time in weeks, Steve doesn't have to share his bed.

(After the first few nights when the Wolf had claimed his bed, Steve decided he was not going to be forced to the couch again. They each dared the other to leave the bed if they were 'too uncomfortable' to share. Neither left. Neither ever admitted, in the weeks that followed, how nice it was to have someone else there.)

He can't sleep.

In the morning, he eats some berries for breakfast. Lunch is a leftover soup. Dinner is more of the same.

Cooking is less fun on his own, less fun when he doesn't have the Wolf stealing his ingredients and making sly comments from the side.

Meanwhile, the Wolf is in the forest and utterly refusing to admit that his rabbit is a bit gamey, that its flesh would be better shredded with a spicy sauce and served over whipped potatoes. He is a Wolf. He doesn't need cooked food. He doesn't want it.

The flesh and blood are warm in his mouth, but they do not heat his belly like one of Steve's stews. The forest is so unreasonably cold.

And lonely.

"He tried to eat me, Laura," Steve complains to his sister, Little Red's mother.

"From what I understand, he successfully ate you. That lumberjack cut you free, no?"

"The lumberjack! Now, he would make sense. He's handsome, right? Saved my life even. If I had to-- why couldn't I have--" the words won't come out. Steve's never been attracted to anyone male before.

Until the Wolf.

His face flushes bright red and his sister sighs. "You could do worse than that Wolf, Steve."

He buries his face in his hands.

The Wolf goes by the cabin when he knows Steve will be in town, attending the dinner Little Red had invited them to, the dinner that ruined everything.

The ice box has no ice and the plants inside are limp and shriveled. A stew pot, crusted with the dried remnants of broth, sits on the stove. Another pot is half-full with congealed oatmeal.

The Wolf refuses to feel guilty. He is a wild creature. He is not meant to live within four walls like some domesticated dog.

He washes the pots and tosses the ruined vegetables and herbs. It is during this last task that he runs into the lumberjack.

"Glad to see you're back" the Lumberjack says. "He's been missing you."

I'm not back, the Wolf wants to snarl, and, What business is it of yours? Instead, he says, "I don't belong here."

The lumberjack shrugs. "Well, I don't know about that. I think we belong wherever we love and are loved."

"So, what, you're having a love affair with a hundred trees? Do you chop them down after you break-up?" It isn't his best line, but the lumberjack laughs anyway.

"My love was turned into a tree and hidden in this wood. Someday I will find and free him from his curse. Until then, my job gives me more than enough time to search."

"So you're saying it could be worse," the Wolf says. "I could be in love with a tree."

The lumberjack's smile broadens and he nods. "Instead you're only in love with a man."

It is only then that the Wolf realizes what he'd said. The truth of it warms him inside out. "I'm going to go back inside."

He doesn't say he's going to stay. That's what he means anyways.

The next morning, carrying a basket of leftovers, Steve returns to his cabin. He is dreading being alone again, but he cannot live in his sister's house.

He wants the Wolf. He doesn't understand how or why the Wolf has become so important to him, but maybe that doesn't matter. He just wants that strange and frustrating beast back in his kitchen, his bedroom, his life.

He has decided to track down the Wolf just as he's opening his cabin door.

And the Wolf is there.

Glass shatters as the basket falls from his hand. The Wolf's coat is warm and musky under his hands and cheek. His snout presses cool against Steve's neck. His claws prick lightly along his back. Steve can barely think for the utter relief flooding through him.

"I'm back," the Wolf says, unnecessarily. He is holding Steve as tightly as Steve is holding him.

Neither can quite feel embarrassed by their reactions to one another given the other is reacting quite the same.

"Good," Steve says. "Stay."

"Wild creatures don't belong indoors," the Wolf warns. He wants to stay, but some fear lingers. He can only promise now, not forever.

Steve, though, is unconcerned. He steps back, looking his Wolf in the eye. He lifts a hand to his Wolf's maw and traces a thumb along the seam of his mouth, the same mouth and sharp teeth that had once devoured him. "Since when," he asks, "have you cared about arbitrary rules?"

The Wolf flicks his tongue against Steve's thumb. "Since when, indeed."

inspiration struck in a really, really weird way

[potatoes83]

Random...

Let's talk about regulatory compliance. And the bullshit that it brings. So because I have a high deductible insurance plan, we get a flex card. We can elect to put a certain amount of money pre-tax on said card, it comes out of every paycheck. And as a privilege of... letting us use our own money, the Infernal Revenue Service has set a whole bunch of rules that the flex card administrator has to follow. Like asking for documentation. And documentation. And more documentation, and even more documentation, and more documentation still.

Now I've talked about this before; they always flag the ones from the dentist. Like what the hell else am I going to buy at the dentist but dentistry? Meanwhile the ones from the Meijer pharmacy, Meijer being a major grocery store chain in my area, a place where I could easily be checking out at the pharmacy with my prescription, some garden knicknacks, some ice cream... crickets. Not a peep. They've never once asked for one.

So today I'm going through the pile of mail on my desk as I periodically do, and there's a nasty gram from American Fidelity demanding to see an invoice paid in October from Biotech Clinical Laboratories. Yeah. I wonder what the hell we paid for there? And for $8.60 no less, it must either be a nightclub, a bottle of 25 year old malt, or I'm redoing my bathroom.

Speaking of medical nasty grams, I got one from Blue Cross. Apparently I got two from Blue Cross, because this one is the second notice. It's a subrogation request. "We see there is a claim that could be related to an accident, someone else should be paying for this, if someone else should be paying for this, you have to tell us who should be paying for this."

Like okay, this entire thing is stemming from my wife having physical therapy. Either for her back or her knee, I can't remember, but God forbid, her general practitioner is electing to put her through a round of physical therapy to help with whatever pain she's having, rather than going straight to a double fistful of pills and then invasive surgery. I wish more doctors took that approach. But yeah, physical therapy, it has to be an accident, we want details dammit. And I'm sitting here up to my armpits in desk paperwork after getting out of work, and it's been about a week from Hell thank you very much, so my initial instinct response is "none of your fucking business."

It would be different if this was the first time, it's not. Probably the 4th or 5th. Same thing with Biotech, that's at least quarterly if not monthly for the last, oh I don't know, at least 6 years. You'd think these ass hats would maybe figure out that her doctor is treating her for a chronic back condition, or that having lab work done is in fact a medical expense.

If let's go Brandon's fucking taxes weren't so high right now, it honestly wouldn't be worth it. It wouldn't be worth the hassle. I would use my own money, and I would take the financial hit on the front end. Anything to keep from constantly having to scan and submit documents. Clearer copies of documents. Documents that show exactly this. But unfortunately that's not the case. 🥔

[nuntia]

Guide you into the night

Year Zero Earth Ghoul & Young Terzo

Preface: Rime was always a strict rule-abider. Ghouls could not be in the same space as humans unless required or in an emergency. However, he could not remain indifferent to a young Terzo who was looking for someone to stay by his side until he fell asleep.

warnings: mention of social phobia, angst in the 'final notes' (return rituals)

[SECRETS FROM THE CLERGY]

Although this is no longer the case, until the end of papacy of His Eminence Papa Emeritus II, the law prohibiting the occupation of common spaces in the Abbey by Ghouls was still in effect. It was not invigorating in essence, but Ghouls could be punished if it was deemed necessary.

In the 70s, however, it was a rigid, indisputable and unbreakable law. Anyone who dared to defy could face the worst of punishments.

Rime was not the first, much less the last, to break it. However, this Ghoul went down in the history of both the Abbey and the infernal servants: and not in a good way.

Today, I bring you the context: the draft of a letter written by the Earth Ghoul himself.

----

❝

I am hesitant to make this situation immortal into oblivion, to give proof that this really happened, and perhaps a painful return to the pit from which I emerged would be my punishment. But, Thy Reverence, thou ask it of me, and I will give it.

In two and a half months it will be five years since you challenged my whole being, exposing me to a fear of mine with no escape in sight.

I was in the practice room rearranging the scores of Agarat and Citrus for the next practice day. The halls were silent and nothing could be seen out the window but the woods occasionally lit by lightning that sometimes gave time to count to 10, sometimes barely gave time to blink before making the walls vibrate.

It was cold, too.

Curfew was approaching and – as ye well know my dedication to law-abidingness – I was preparing to leave the room as soon as I had put all the dossiers in their proper place on the bookshelf.

Then, as I was turning around the couch to reach said bookcase, two knocks on the door were heard.

I did not have time to answer before the door open and I feel an icy feeling rise in my chest as I saw neither claws, nor horns, nor a long tail appear. Instead, a very small being wrapped in a very long, thick nightclothes poked its head in.

You stare expectantly at the room dimly lit by the single yellowish-light standing lamp for several seconds, especially at the chair where Papa Nihil used to sit while we rehearsed chords. Meanwhile, I tried to camouflage myself in the environment, in the little shadow that the bookshelves were, containing my breath and any other movements besides my eyes (which I still tried to contain, without blinking much).

I saw your eyes wilt, though, at not finding whatever it was you were looking for. And then you looked at me, so surprised while I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

We were silent for what seemed like an eternity before thou said, still clutching the door handle, your voice low and embarrassed:

"My father, where is he?"

I did not have the words to answer you right away. Well, I even had words, but they sounded strange, meaningless. Any sound, in situations like this, seems to be the most absurd thing in the universe, and I remain silent.

You lower your head, eyes on your feet.

"You cannot talk to me, can you? I don't understand why, you seem to be fun when I see you all together near Primo's garden."

Your words broke some of the ice I was feeling. I do not remember how, but I know I walked up to you. I stopped two steps from you and slowly knelt down until I was your height, the dossier resting on my thighs like a means of defence.

My tongue tingled at the words I wanted to say, but my voice would not make itself heard. I craned my head and shrugged. You understood.

"I thought he was still here. I can't sleep. I wanted him to guide me into the night."

And this time, instead of breaking the ice, my heart was broken. Even without knowing exactly what it was like to have a father figure, I understood from what I saw but interactions of the Siblings of Sin's children that being an Emeritus also meant being alone, even when surrounded by people. Sisters and brothers, siblings, priests and bishops would spend the day with you and your siblings, always making sure you were content, comfortable and indoctrinated. But I know it was not enough.

I know it still is not enough, either.

"Sister E. is sick, and I had a hassle with Brother Grumpy this afternoon, so I don't want him around", you look at me with red, watery eyes. A part of me almost made me fall back on the defensive, but the other, the brave one, was stronger. "Can you help me sleep, please? I won't tell anyone. I promise!" And you held out your tiny little finger to me.

Seeing you like that, when your age did not fill the ten fingers on our hands, did not allow me to remain indifferent.

In the fastest time I could, I extended my little finger and crossed it with yours. You muttered "May this promise to break, may my heart stop" in a mixture of Italian and Latin. I do not judge you, it was late at night and cold.

I thought it was good to repeat your words. I use them until today, exactly as you said them.

I got up and put the dossier down on the leather armchair near the door, and went out into the hall with you at my side.

That is when I felt the weight of my decision. A Ghoul, seen in the presence of a human (a child!) with no requirement or emergency situation, without the supervision of a few dozen other pairs of eyes.

The hall's map seemed to triple in length, the threat at every corner. I tried to disguise the discomfort, but you always had a watchful eye around you.

"Ghouls are agressive to humans?"

I shook my head in a 'sort of'. We were not in the habit of hurting humans. We were not in the habit of hurting each other, unless it is a matter of survival, but we live well here. No need to attack. However, it did happen, especially to Ghouls who had been summoned long ago, or those who worked in certain trades, given their nature.

"You harm humans?"

I widened my eyes, the dark background of the hall suddenly being very interesting.

I denied it with my head frantically.

"Then why do you always stay away? When Sister Imperator isn't around, you could join us in the garden, or in the living common room. The other Ghouls do that sometimes. If you know you won't attack anyone, why are you afraid of yourself?"

I shrugged, a strange feeling on my throat.

You were right, Thy Reverence. I was afraid of what I could do. If laws exist, it is for a reason. Yet if so much had already happened around me and nothing was horrendous, why was I doubting myself? For a law?

I remained, once again, silent. And you accepted it.

We stopped in front of an adorned wooden door, a plaque with your cursed name in cursive font nailed to it.

You held out your hand to me.

You asked me to guide you.

And so I did. I took your small hand in mine, and led you across the decorated room to the large bed that occupied the centre of it. You jumped on the bed, and my muscles moved as they thought was right.

I snuggled you into the warm, thick blankets as you stared at me. I doubt you saw anything at all actually, given the dim light, but I stayed in your angle of vision the whole time.

The hesitation with which I pulled the remaining dark curls out of front of your eyes was quickly replaced by a steady, sure caress after I observed your contentment with the touch.

It was not long before you gave in to the fatigue of the day. You were breathing serenely, and it brought me calm.

I confess I stayed there for long minutes, not only to make sure of your comfort, but to reflect on my existence here, in the Ministry.

My throat tingled twice, until I finally got the courage to murmur to your sleeping figure:

"May the Lord Below guide thou into the night. And may thy mind take thee to a wonderful place in thy sleep."

I then stood up, bowed and checked that the blankets covered you in a whole. After making sure of your quiet once more, I walked to the door.

"Sweet dreams, Thy Reverence, Master Terzo." I said goodbye.

In the end, the one who guided me into the night was you. And I am immensely grateful to you for that, because if I manage to show up for snacks in the refectory today, it is thanks to you.

I am forever indebted.

To Eternity thy servant,

A Nameless Earth Ghoul

❞

– Draft letter from Rime to Terzo, written in November of 1975. (Adapted to modern English, as the Earth Ghoul used a 17th century English structure and grammar in the original version)

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

As the Ghoul feared, the original letter was used as evidence to send him back to hell, and then it was burned. I suppose he made some changes before sending it to third son Emeritus, being that he was always very careful with the words and in the manuscript are several notes of what to change, besides lines and words erased.

Among other things, this is what caused the beginning of the end of the first phase of the Ghost project, the rituals of return of several Ghouls and the revolt of those who remained, before appeasing or having the same end.

I will bring more information on this soon, if you so require.

Today, the Ghouls are given the freedom to move around the Abbey freely, share spaces with the Siblings of Sin and, if they so wish, even participate in the children's education. (Second Reform of the "Law of Servants", Article 4 carried out by Papa Emeritus IV, January 2020)

It is believed that the first reform of this law banning the occupation of common spaces by Ghouls by His Eminence Papa Emeritus III was due to this situation. There are reports that when the rituals were performed, the then teenager tried to interfere and even help Ghouls escape.

Unsuccessfully, of course.

Rime is taken as a reminder that human authority is often arbitrary and absent of empathy. Papa Emeritus IV recalls him at all the Hunter's Moon masses as a reflection and reinforcement of the Dark Lord's ideas and ideals.

With that I say goodbye.

May the Lord Below guides you into de night,

Nuntia

[elizabeths-writing-corner]

"An angel and the devil" Obey me! x Genshin Impact Simeon and Kaeya smut

☁ The things I would let them do to me... I thought about how great these to would be together; Simeon scolding Kaeya when he's too mean to you 🥰 If you happen to like it, I might think about more crossovers in the future :))

(Don't take this really as a ship. I know how sensitive some people are about these things in the Genshin fandom)

Simeon x fem!Reader x Kaeya

tw: pwp, pet names, praise kink, teasing, double penetration, fingering

+18, minors please don't interact with this post, thank you!

wc: 1120

──────────────────────────────

How did you end up in this inconceivable situation? It all feels like a fever dream; you're sandwiched between their sculpted frames, Simeon is playing with your strands of hair, sitting you on his lap, while Kaeya plays with your dripping pussy.

His slim, skillful fingers are going in and out of it at an even pace, making a sloppy, arousing sound. He's curling them when you least expect it, forcing a surprised squeak out of your slightly parted lips as he hits that special spot.

While Simeon's left hand is occupied, curling your silky hair around its index finger, the other takes care of your right arm. His fingertips brush lightly against your skin, giving you goosebumps. Not only that but his soft lips plant gentle kisses on the nape of your exposed neck.

A really contrasting experience compared to what's happening between your shaky thighs.

"Does it feel good, angel? Do you like having him play with your clit with his thumb? Or would you rather have me do it?" the one behind you says in a flirtatious voice but not sounding filthy at all, which you can't say about the other man.

"Look at them trembling," he joins. "That's right, girl. Cum for me, cum on my fingers."

Their dirty talking alone could make you cream but adding to that having your cunt fingered by Kaeya, makes you dig your nails into his bicep and into Simeon's thigh while spasming excessively around the first one's digits.

"What a truly marvelous sight. It would be even better if you do it on my cock, so why won't we get to that?" Kaeya says with a devilish smile. "But first..." he pauses, "I have to do something about your filthy juices that I have on my fingers. I bet Simeon would like a taste, am I right?"

He reaches his right hand to him and puts his two digits into his mouth, brushing against his tongue. The brunet leans forward, pressing his chest into your back, and grabs Kaeya's wrist for stability. His muscle is wrapping around his fingers, swirling and cleaning them off.

"That's more like it. Now we can move on to the more fun stuff so don't be shy and turn around for me."

You obediently do as Kaeya says. Simeon helps you out to sit atop of him, his smooth hands guiding your hips down to the pinkish tip of his cock. He stretches you out nicely, your slick arousal makes it easy to take him all in.

Meanwhile, Kaeya positions himself behind you. His right hand is placed on your back, pressing on it, making you fall on the brunet's sculpted chest, while his left hand pumps his cock a couple times before sliding it into your tight pussy.

You gasp when another dick enters your hole, snuggling next to the other one. Both men aren't on the small side which makes it slightly painful but pleasurable nonetheless as you accommodate to the feeling by every moment.

"Kaeya, be gentler. They're facing a difficult task as it is, no need for you to make it worse," Simeon says, visibly worried by your state. He takes loose strands of hair from the front of your face and tugs them behind your ear with a comforting smile.

"It has to be a little rough," he defends himself as he slides his cock almost completely out of you. "If it's not, what's the fun of it?" he pushes it back inside, making you feel weak in your arms that are placed on both sides of the other man's body.

Then Kaeya begins to set the pace and as much as Simeon likes to think that he's collected and not driven by primal desires, he can't help but get jealous over you. He doesn't like the fact that someone else makes you close your eyes shut and moan so cutely, so he begins to push his hips upwards in order to make you feel good like that.

The two cocks brush against each other in your insides, stimulating both of your partners, and while Kaeya seems to somewhat keep his cool, Simeon absolutely loses himself to the pleasure.

His nails dig into the flesh of your ass, toes curl and his head's pushed back. He keeps his moans down, probably to compete with the blue-haired man, who's only letting out quiet grunts and low chuckles.

The brunet's pounding doesn't stop. Not even when he places his hand on the back of your head and pushes it down, connecting your lips. He's kissing sloppily and with visible desire - not something you would expect from someone as gentle as him.

Kaeya this act of Simeon's possessiveness takes as a challenge.

His arm wraps around you and pulls you away from his rival, pushing your back close to his chest. The same hand grabs your cheeks and squeezes them together, then guides your lips to his. His tongue quickly finds its way into your mouth and wraps around your own like a vine, making you shriek.

"I'm so close, angel... Are you as well?" Simeon puffs, trying desperately to get back your attention but you're not even able to respond thanks to Kaeya, who gives him a winning look paired with a devious smirk.

"Be a good girl and cum for us. We're getting a little impatient."

These words with an entwined pet name and whispered close to your ear make the knot inside you finally snap. Your walls clench harshly around your partner's dicks and the hands you had placed on Simeon's chest are digging into his skin, diffusing the feeling.

Both of them take their lengths out of your cunt and cum, painting your thighs, as well as their thighs, white with their semen. Some of Kaeya's load sprays your ass and lower back, much to his delight. The room fills with lewd moans and heavy pants.

You get off Simeon and lay next to him on the bed, trying to stabilize your breath. He manages to get down from his high and turn around to face you. His hand travels to push your hair from your forehead and rewards you with a loving smile.

You feel the mattress sink behind you, making you turn your head in that direction only to meet Kaeya's piercing, deep-blue eyes, and while you stare at each other, his hand gently traces your curves.

"You did such a good job, Y/N," Simeon speaks softly. "You too, Kaeya," he adds, seemingly forgetting about their rivarly.

The blue-haired one chuckles.

"I have to give you some credit likewise. I think the three of us could have a lot of fun together."

[cipheramnesia]

Alice woke up alive first, in the most comfortable bed we could remember, on top of the bedclothes. The first thing she noticed was the smell of food, barely a morsel of memory enough to wake her senses to the plates of cold pancakes, fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, salad greens, fruits, sandwiches, and vegetables arrayed on a corner dresser. The smells were Alice's memories of food, entirely unlike the food scent we knew and recognized.

The only company in the room was a camera in the corner and bright sunlight through the window. Her stomach growled a convincing motivational speech to get moving, but we determed to take her slow. She looked down her arm at our hand, careful movement, remember and feel and let us all happen at the same time-

Alice clenched a fist, pounding her legs and shuddering and we all struggled to slow, to stop. She needed to do this, a need which we felt from the depths of her mind. Very little had fully connected inside of her mind, but Alice knew she had to get away from the place. We could feel it through all of us, strung along her bones and muscles. Escape.

A woman with her arm in a sling entered with a knock so perfunctory Alice heard it after she started speaking. "You're awake, that's wonderful." We tried to turn her head and jerked it around at the end of her neck. Frustration after frustration, this sacred body and the light of it all, strewn about with fine hair trigger nerves. Alice gritted her teeth in a moan as the small, freckled woman continued, "You should try to take things slow. Fine motor functions will return, I'm certain, but you can't push them." The woman was putting a small plate of food together. "Based on my data, you're probably still developing control of neurotransmitters." She sat next to Alice and smiled. "I know everything feels ready, but those nerves aren't quite used to being human yet!"

Alice managed to stop moving, and watched the other woman. "My name's Sylvia," she said. "You're probably very hungry. I can help you sit up and eat, if you hold still."

Alice pictured what it was like to speak and form words, tried to feel the sensation of her throat humming and lips moving as she said: "Hyungss."

The food was indescribable. We had never tasted anything like it, only as much as Alice could remember. A fair amount of breakfast went down her chest and all over the bed. Sylvia helped clean it, then we drank chilled orange juice which we think may have brought us close to the light of distant gods. Someone had put a simple white t-shirt and white shorts on us, they were ruined now. Alice slumped, still sat up, exhausted, sated, while her memories burned a thousand sparks of anger. We needed to bring forth the conflagration, but meanwhile just replied, "Nnng," when offered more food.

"We'll work on your physical therapy later," Sylvia said, rearranging pillows around Alice with her good hand. "You might not realize how important you are yet, but you will soon." This only made Alice's heart beat faster. The woman was pushing memories through us from a dozen directions. Doctor White, Alice's Father, reasuring words and pain, and strong hands helping her move her arms for striking and blocking.

Alice realized Sylvia had left, and wasn't sure how long it had been. The sun through the window was lower, different colored, glitter dusted over congealed food.

She could still feel hands on her, helping her. Father, helping her move her scrawny little arms to break a lock, pointing weak places to stab. Joey making sure she could throw a punch, a kick, a few more holds. We put those memories firmly in mind, and lifted an arm.

Alice stared at her hand, a miracle in plain sight, slow, stiff, but moving. "Thanks Dad," she thought, smiling. We let her memories be our guide. Slid off the bed. Stood up, slow stagger steps. Alice was walking, if only barely, one hand holding onto the wall, the other the air.

We did not have a lot of time, we helped her remember. Alice took in the room, bland, impersonal. From somewhere outside the little room she heard a door opening. Alice's thoughts flickered chaotic, one image and word after another sending out chemical notifications, danger, we felt stronger and limped past the food.

"You...! Uh, girl!" Sylvia was at the bedroom door, on the other side of the bed.

Memories and instinct and practice all guided Alice's steel hand, punching through the reinforced fourth floor apartment window.

"No, stop! Wait-"

No wasteful glimpse spared for Sylvia, Alice grabbed the broken glass edges, jumped, pulled, and broke through. Escape. Free. The relief was immediate as the sharp blade of the sun.

The ground, Alice considered, was there. Pavement mostly.

Somewhere behind her Sylvia was probably going to find people who would try to bring Alice back inside, lock her into a room, and make kind promises until she died.

But the pavement was a more immediate problem. It was remarkably fast, and her thoughts were so very slow. How to dodge, no, how to land, closer but still no, we had the memories but Sylvia was right. There was still more to finish and assemble.

Perhaps there was a way to mitigate the damage before we hit-

Part 3: The Death, Rebirth, and Afterlife of Parasite Alice

The Riverside Clinic for Wellness and Long-term Care weathered safely the storms of the burn just as all the worst memories navigate the mindscape unimpeded. The venerable history of the red brick and white trimmed building carried it through the poor and homeless left in squalor to the airy chill of lobotomy and electroshock therapy, two wings wide and three floors tall. Its height well serviced its intent, too short for escape even via a yearning leap from the roof to its concrete driveway.

The persistance of such single-minded enclosure of the divergent mind carried forward to the interior, with mutiply sectioned floors along each wing navigable only through a network of stairwells. A more modern elevator spired through the center of the building, lever operated and gated by iron on all sides. None of the layers of white tile or muted gray carpet or soothing art prints or geometic wall paintings over the years could fully excise the prison lovingly built into the architecture. Inside, it promised no escape. Outside its dignified facade offered warm reassurance that aging loved ones to difficult children and everyone in between would be safely forgotten.

Some part of Alice understood all this as the square black truck complained about stopping at the brick stairs with their awkwardly late addition of a wheel chair accessible ramp, leading to wide white doors set with large windows blocked by gauzy white curtains. The driver helped her out of the car and she said, "I can do it just fine!" before almost falling as her legs wobbled. She didn't like strangers touching her, but now everyone was a stranger and she leaned on a stranger just for the simple task of reaching the door of the building where she will die of cancer.

The doors swung inward to reveal an average man with a surfeit of dignity to his gray peppered mustache and deep, dark eyes beneath a noble high forehead and a gently swept back head of mostly gray hair. His thick belly preceded his wide shoulders into any room, and his hands were noticeably large with thick fingers, moving quickly and nimbly to pull a wheelchair onto the small porch. He wore checked trousers, a pale yellow golf shirt, and his arms were exceptionally hairy.

"So good to meet you," he let one hand overtake his stomach to greet Alice, which she disregarded. "My name is Dr Hopewell, and I'm the administrator here at Riverside. I've heard quite a bit about you, and I wanted to make you comfortable right away. You're quite the special guest!" He smiled away the dignity of his profile.

"I don't need a wheelchair," she said. The driver shrugged and let her go, forcing her to grab to armrests to keep standing. "I'm just tired." She gave daggers out of her eyes to both men before maneuvering herself into the seat. "Don't get used to this."

The driver passed a clipboard over her head. "You gotta sign for the delivery, also initial there... and there. Sign and date there too. Okay, nice knowing you."

Dr. Hopewell was already turning her and rolling her into the building before the driver started the truck. "Don't worry Alice, we'll make sure you have the best of care here. You're a celebrity after all, but there may be a few bumps ahead!" They wheeled past a heavy wood door and a much larger orderly took over, pushing her down the hall then bumping up a flight of stairs.

"We specialize these days in unique individuals like yourself. I understand you won't persue treatment?" She folded her arms and rolled her eyes. "Well, if you change your mind, we can be ready to start immediately." The chair and orderly bumped back down stairs into another long hallway. "But here is your room, and we've put you with someone you should get along with. She's very unique."

The room was small, two beds with a curtain divider, wall mounted TV sets, a closet bathroom, one tall window and a few small sets of sad artificial wood drawers.

Another woman sat in a rolling tube frame chair in the far corner of the room. She was big and soft and still in pajamas, her belly stuck out a bit from under the top, and her sloping shoulders seemed to be a permanent fixture of her slouch while the sweeping curve of her neck to her chin echoed in her faint jawline. Her nose was long and straight and Alice thought it was very fine with her dark black eyes looking a thousand miles away and her arrow straight glossy black hair hanging behind the chair. Alice wondered what it would be like to hold her hand. Would she squeeze hard or gently? Interlaced or fingers to thumb.

She about the woman's hands and lips and eyes enought, it took her longer than it should have to realize the other woman was also shimmering with the golden glow of the burn.

[kyouka-supremacy]

what do you think happened to Akutagawa's coat? I mean we saw that Atsushi left the submarine without the coat, where do you think it could be? do you think Atsushi lost the coat or left it somewhere??

I think it was implied to have been lost, as much as I can hate the thought of it. Atsushi isn't shown carrying it after landing on the beach, and the idea of him minding to carefully store it for Akutagawa... Doesn't really sit right you know, Atsushi isn't used to care for Akutagawa. I guess we'll have to see, because we still don't know how Atsushi's feelings have changed for Akutagawa– although, as for his thoughts in chapter 88 it doesn't seem like they've changed all that much (╥﹏╥) We'll probably learn more about how Atsushi's perception of Akutagawa has changed when he'll (hopefully) meet him at the airport. Who knows, it's possible that maybe then Atsushi will take out the coat to try and make Akutagawa come back to senses*: I feel like if there's anyone who's gonna pull off a “I know you're still there”, then it's going to be sskk.

If Akutagawa ends up surviving, it would be sweet to have a nice moment with Atsushi returning the coat to Akutagawa (fic writers LOVE the scenario), but realistically we know it's not going to happen (@/Asagiri prove me wrong challenge)– if anything it sounds more likely we'll have Akutagawa with his coat back no explanation given lmao. If his coat really got lost at sea, I just KNOW Akutagawa would dive to the bottom of the ocean to get it once he got back to his senses: after all, he already did it once (I'm not kidding peoples for some insane reason Akutagawa free diving to inhuman depths is literally canon).

If Akutagawa is dead-dead, I really need his coat to become integral part of Atsushi's outfit. I don't care if it'll never happen. It just makes so much sense on so many levels. Atsushi coming to a huge character development that shows directly in his appearance: him letting go of his very black and white worldview to understand that even bad people can do good, and that being reflected in his apparence changing from being predominantly white to having a balance of black and white. Atsushi every day carrying with him a reminder of all the pain and death the doa attack caused. Atsushi keeping a memorial of his long date dead rival wherever he goes to motivate himself by reminding that even if his soulmate-enemy is gone, he must carry on fighting with everything he's got for him too (no homo). If the whole yin yang / two faces of the same coin metaphor can't apply anymore, it's only fair Atsushi becomes a synthesis of the both of them, you know? Akutagawa's memory living on through him. But also, I just think Atsushi really deserves a coat?? There's this curious pattern of coats being particularly common between important characters in bsd (Dazai wore a coat in Dark Era and still wears a coat with his ada outfit, Akutagawa wears a coat, Chuuya wears a coat, Mori wears a coat, and even Beast Akutagawa, Atsushi and Dazai all wear coats. It's hard to think of it being a coincidence or lazy character design); I feel it's about time the protagonist starts wearing one too?

* Although there is no way Atsushi could have schemed it as he has no idea Akutagawa has been vampirized and is currently milling about, unless someone else informed him in the meanwhile.