#so like either i need to become more immune to all illnesses or these kids need to stop transmitting infections for the rest of forever

[pochapal]

health update: last week's sickness kind of went away then it came back real bad and i've been in bed all sopping wet and pathetic these last two days but i think as this evening's progressed i'm past the worst of it so all things considered i am fundamentally in the same state i was in seven days ago only now a process has occurred

[last-flight-of-fancy]

Backstory exploration time for WoL~

WoL: Hallima, he/they Au Ra

Timeline: Heavensward up to Dark Knight Level 50 (Wages of Mercy)

Hallima thought he was some sort of mutation his whole life. There might be some trauma around that.

Hallima was an orphan.

Well, he is an orphan. It's not like this fact has changed- he may have gained some troublesome pseudo-siblings recently, but the fact remains that Hallima spent a great deal of his life until recently hopping from town to town taking odd jobs from whoever would hire him to get by.

He considers himself lucky, in a way. He's hardier than the average eorzean, covered in scales and thick skin, and most illnesses seem to pass him by. It offered him advantages most wandering urchin's simply don't have. That said however, he is not immune to things like exhaustion and hunger, and it was not without the ocassional helping hand that he had made it to adulthood.

He considers himself lucky to have made it to adulthood at all.

People rarely ask him about his past, a fact he is quietly grateful for. The calamity had rendered so many with lost loved ones that it has become considered somewhat gouche to ask after such things unless needed. Perhaps that's why it surprised him so much when Alphinaud- prim, proper, polite, Alphinaud- had done exactly that late one night as they rested in the Fortemps residence.

"Does anyone worry for you?" He asks, laying on his back in his cot and staring at the darkned ceilings. Hallima looks up from the weapon he's doing some maintenance on, lit by only a dim candle on a nearby table.

"Why?" A practiced evasion, though it feels somewhat wrong to use on Alphinaud in particular. To say he's come to care about the kid would be something of an understatement.

"Ah, that was rude, wasn't it? I'm sorry. I just... started thinking about Alisaie and wondering what she's doing... if the Crystal Braves had targeted her too..."

Hallima hums softly to indicate he's listening. A thought spiral, common to these sorts of late hours, and considering everything that has happened... He gets it.

"Then I wondered if she worries for us in turn... And then I realised how silly that was. She sent the carraige for us, of course she worries. Not that she would admit it, mind."

That tracks from what Hallima has seen of the girl. Stubborn and independant, but fiercly loyal besides. He's met the type before.

"Anyroad, the thought crossed my mind and it left my mouth before I could consider it. Forgive me."

"It's fine." The darkness within writhes at the lie, but is mollified with a glance towards Alphinaud's contrition, mixed with his own fear and anxiety hidden just beneath the surface. "... No. No one worries for me."

"I see." Alphinaud sits up then, and the candlelight makes the bags under his eyes all the more distinct, but it does not lessen the earnestness of his gaze. "Well. You may increase that number by at least one."

Hallima doesn't really know how to react in the face of Alphinaud's sincerity, so he gives a generic smile and a thank you before encouraging the boy to try and sleep once more. It's only after Alphinaud's breathing slows into a steady snore that Hallima smothers the candle with a bare hand and lets the mask drop.

-

Hallima grew up thinking he was some form of monster with ideas above its station. Or perhaps a Mi'quote who's fur turned hard and rough instead of soft and downy. Or any number of things that might occur to a child who has never met anyone quite like them. By the time he hit adulthood, Hallima thought that he had come to terms with the reality that he would probably never know.

And then he'd met Yugiri, who kept her face covered at all times, but there was no mistaking the rough texture of her tail or the shape of things beneath her hood which are too stiff and improperly placed to be even the strangest of mi'quote ears.

Hallima had not asked.

She had stared at him, long and hard, and in the end she hadn't asked either.

(or maybe she had, in her own surreptious way. She was an expert ninja and infiltrator after all)

Why hadn't Hallima asked, despite his suspicions? He's still not sure.

He can imagine the scoffing his companions would give if he told them it was fear.

He has no other words for it, though.

-

Hallima looks into Fray's face- their face- and feels at once rage and grief. His face, their face, and one both familiar and not. It tugs at memories long buried, and Hallima doesn't want them.

Reality has never cared much for such things, however.

Fray- or rather, Esteem- falls defeated, and two become one once more.

-

Hallima's earliest memories are of horrible, biting cold and numb fingers that he cannot bend.

-

There's no time for that, not with the war between Ishgard and the Dragons looming ever present.

-

Midgardsormer had called them kin.

-

Meeting Sidurgu was like looking into an inverted mirror, and after their experiance with Esteem there is an undeniable moment where Hallima is sure that their other has somehow made their own form somehow.

This is not the case.

Sidurgu asks their help with Rielle -the girl soft and familiar in ways that Hallima can't quite pinpoint- and they quickly agree. They see the bond between the two easily, one simultaneously fireforged and silk-web delicate, and want to protect it.

(They do not say this. Sidurgu would probably hate the sentiment. but still the sentiment remains).

But then Sidurgu tells them of his people's arrival in Ishgard, fleeing the Empire and seeking refuge, only to be cut down by fearful Ishgardians who assumed them in league with the dragons.

"Everyone." Sidurgu stresses. "Man, woman, child. None escaped the slaughter."

Hallima's earliest memories are of freezing cold, staggering through snow drifts and desperately alone.

They do not ask.

[fruitzbat]

want to hear why you hated morbius

what I'm saying is probably what everyone has been saying more eloquently and comprehensively in the year since it came out, but I'm procrastinating on writing my own shit so I think I'll get into what leapt out at ME during the two hours of my life I lost to it a month ago:

First and largest strain on my suspension of disbelief would be right off the bat (hehe) in that Michael Morbius and Milo (Matt Smith, of the bad dancing clip fame) have a disease where they need to have their blood manually replaced (iirc) several times a day. The way that this manifests for them is weakness and having to walk around with canes or an IV pole at all times. Periodically, their machinery malfunctions and they pass out. Like, Michael can still be sent off to school in The Big City with some support (he needs his blood manually replaced, like his kidneys don't work), but Milo and one of Michael's later patients is basically bed/house-bound (they need their blood manually replaced, like their kidneys don't work). There is absolutely no fucking way that any of these people should even be alive, let alone, like, outside or going to school. The ramifications of not having the ability to filter your own blood? Like, a completely non-functioning liver or kidneys? What about the immune system, especially if you're talking about someone needing that many transfusions? Your body makes so much of it, and you need that replaced several times a day, and it seems to be an inborn disease so this is something that would need to be caught at once. Unfortunately, I think that this is one of those illnesses that kills you as a baby. I don't know enough about blood diseases to know how real this kind of illness might be, but I think the writers didn't either, which is a shame.

One of the big pressures on our boy Morb once he becomes a vampire is that his artificial blood that he invented, which is supposedly a 1:1 perfect match to human blood, isn't sufficiently nourishing him and he needs The Real Shit. This is never really elaborated upon.

The fucking hospital he works at has no funding to fix the goofy-ass serial killer hallways or to pay the nurses to run when one of their patients is going into shock, but has enough for Morb's fuckin vampire bat turret in his office, which is just THERE like a dentist's fish tank.

There's a public school across the street which only seems to house shithead pre-teens who come out to point at the "freaks" (read: effectively the cancer patients). Milo loses his special little origami note from Michael, the kids find it and he asks for it back, and these kids fucking jump him? for no reason?

Morbius starts morbing on people. His beautiful assistant has seemingly zero qualms about this. I mean, slay, who am I to judge, but this man will not fuck you. He doesn't know how.

The cops jump ALARMINGLY fast to the conclusion that it was vampires, given that this is a universe where the supernatural is arguably not the most prevalent presence in the daily lives of New Yorkers.

The cops in this in general. Wild, even for a superhero movie. One of them tries to do the whole fucking "handcuff flick" thing to Michael without anything resembling probable cause,

There is like absolutely zero setup for the conflict between Milo and Morbius within the context of their vampirism. Like, you could see the resentment from Milo when it came to the fact that Michael was the "favorite" and brilliant and madly successful etc, but the framing for their moral schism is minor if not nonexistent.

[chidoroki]

Heavenly Delusion EP5

aka: many questions, no answers

“If you’re gonna play here, you better speak when spoken to.” “Hi.” Pfft, can’t get anymore bare minimum than that reply.

Oof, what a quick punch! & Y’all can’t get angry at Maru for punching when you started the drama in the first place.

Why do I have a sneaking suspicion that isn’t an actual tooth he pulled from his mouth? like it could be since he took a kick to the face but it doesn’t really look like one either.. despite the clear gap in his smile now.

A little late the party Kiruko, but a swift kick nonetheless.

“It’ll grow back.” “It won’t grow back. It’s an adult tooth!” Thank you for saying so, but it still looked weird, unless Maru has a weird body like those kids in the institute? I dunno.

Or maybe not. He was born somewhere else apparently and during the year of the great disaster. Whatever that is.

How would this Mikura lady know how to kill Hiruko with that odd touch thing Maru has?

I keep thinking Kiruko’s va sounds familiar but I literally don’t know her from anywhere else.

“So, if Mikura taught you everything, does that mean she has the Maru-touch too?” “No, she said only I could do it. And that’s why I need to go to Heaven.” That’s what I was wondering! But then how did she even know how it works or that he had it in the first place?

“There’s a group abducting people with the right skills and expertise to get civilization back to how it was.” Is this Ministry of Reconstruction place the same facility those kids are in? Regardless, Robin knew of it?

Poor Kiruko almost had a heart attack when Maru wasn’t home only to be found over in the next room..

Oh my, that’s certainly one way to ruin the hug.

Ah come on, don’t mention the possibility of past and future timelines, I’m gonna get so confused if that’s the case.

I knew one of the adults was gonna notice that footprint Tokio left on the wall.

What do you mean that sick and frail child Tarao could once lift up a whole ass boulder??

Speaking of the boy, r.i.p. But “Ten'ei 17” is the year they’re in?

Nothing says good morning like attending a funeral before breakfast. But do they have this huge institution for only 23 kids? That’s all?

Yo what the hell? I dunno who this Asura kid was but they sure as hell didn’t die from the same disease if Kona saw them literally hanging from the ceiling whoever ago.

Mmmhm, so that was a suicide. Thanks for clearing that up. Thought it was a punishment for trying to escape at first.

And that was five years ago.. if their time works the same as ours does.

“If an illness developed within a body built with immunity to everything, then it’s possible that all the children could fall ill.” So are you like.. genetically making these kids or what?

“The Day of Fate is the only thing that can’t be changed. Until then, figure out what it is and how to cure it!” Whenever I think I have an idea what’s going on with this show they just keep adding more elements to get me lost. Last week I was feeling okay and now I have many unanswered questions.

Immortal Order? And a doctor that supposedly keeps you alive forever?

“If you transplant part of a monster onto a human, they become extremely powerful and have immortal life.” Ah hell.

Sooo Tarao was cremated but some weird looking thing was left behind? And it definitely doesn’t look human.

[sidshrek6]

Health Tips for Kids in Winters

In winters come flu, cough, fever, and all those nasty diseases. All the winter fun is ruined when your kids are sick. There are multiple reasons why children are more vulnerable to get ill quicker than adults and one of those is their weak immune system. Children, especially toddlers and pre-school aged are sensitive and need additional care. Here, in this post, I am going to tell you five ways to protect your kids in winters.

1. Give them Enough Sleep When winters come, kids get excited and become hyperactive. They just want to go out and play in the snow or with school playground equipment. Just like other seasons, your little ones need the right amount of sleep in winters as well in order to stay healthy.

What is more, our bodies inevitably need more sleep when days become shorter and nights get longer. However, children need it more than adults, so make them sleep enough during winters.

2. Keep them Hydrated Kids usually don't feel thirsty during winters, but their bodies need enough amount of water to keep hydrated and function properly. Children almost forget to drink water the entire day and this makes them sick really quickly. Keep a 1.5 bottle for each kid and ask them to finish it during the day. Make it a challenge for them and promise chocolates or their favorite snacks for the one who finishes earlier.

3. Seasonal Foods Nature provides us with foods according to seasonal demands. These fruits are given to us by nature according to the seasonal requirements. With cold breeze outside in winters, we need to stay warm inside and these foods perform that function for us. All the foods should be cooked prior to eating to get the best taste and intake nutrition. Your little ones will be healthy and remain warm and their energy stores will be filled if you feed them seasonal foods.

4. Additional Vitamins Even though vitamins are needed throughout the year, they are required in larger amount during winters when diseases are likely to attract because immune systems function at a slow pace. Vitamins, especially vitamin D helps to make kids' immune system stronger, which, in turn, aids in fighting diseases. Give them either enough exposure to sunlight or vitamin D3 supplements to fulfill deficiency. Moreover, vitamin C is also needed to strengthen the immune system, so make sure you give them food rich with vitamins in winters.

5. Wash Hands It's not just for winters but for every time of the year. However, you should be stricter in winters because of cold and flu around and your kids are likely to attract infections. Make it their habit and do not allow them to come to the dining table if they do not wash their hands, especially if they were messing around in playground structures. When you teach them to wash hands, also tell them the reason and importance of doing so.

For some people, colds and coughs are a standard part of life. For most people, a cold or the flu will pass quickly without any serious complications. But its good to know when it’s time to call your doctor if your child have the flu, and needs cough and cold treatment

[idolsummons]

One benefit to being an all powerful demon, a monster not of this wretched plane of torment and mortal coil, was that Gundham was immune to every human illness that had ever been discovered, and even some that hadn't. He could remain well while the mortals around him suffered and fell to many ailments of the body throughout time though he would never admit how painful it always was to watch, for all his powers he could do nothing except ease the suffering humans so often felt. Comfort for the living, mercy for the dying, never once had he felt the vile grasp of even the most common of colds.

Or at least that had been the case up until he had become closer with a certain small group of humans. In all his years, he had never let himself become as close with anyone as he had with those he had met in this lifetime. The thought of his companions dying while he lived on had been a reality all too painful to bear in his life. That had somehow changed with the introduction of Sonia, Kazuichi and Hana, the three having wormed their way into his life with no signs of letting go, not even in death if Gundham had a say, and he would when the time came. He had a plan of course, but for now he was content to live out his human's lives with them in peace until the need for...intervention with death itself became necessary...

One thing about becoming close with humans like he never had before, was that Gundham was learning all kinds of things. The most recent being that human immune systems could change, adapt to their surroundings and share commonality with those they spent the most time with, and demons, as it turned out, were not exempt from this.

It was just a cold, or so Kazuichi and Sonia had said, the pair having already suffered from the illness a few weeks prior, something that Gundham had aided them through with the assumption that he would be spared from such a plague to his own mortal form. He had been wrong, much to his dismay, this simple cold feeling like death itself to a being who had never experienced such a thing before. Death, or a form of it at least, he was familiar with feeling, but this? This was a hell worse than hell itself.

Though he felt rather pathetic where he lay curled up in Hana's bed, his more demonic traits being hidden under a blanket as his powers seemed to slip away with each sneeze and cough that wracked his body, Gundham could do nothing but whine and moan at this new pain he was forced to feel. "This...is a curse...a....a plague unlike-" A sneeze, followed by another round of coughing. "Unlike any throughout history..."

i've been there my guy ･ﾟ✫ @mudskip-muses

Hana sighed as she re-entered the room. So over-dramatic. Was this a case of a man flu or a demon who was unfamiliar with the follies of the human race? In that split second, she decided it was both. 'It's just a cold.' Hana's words were slightly muffled by the mask she wore to cover her mouth and nose. She couldn't rightly ask Gundham to reach for one every time she wanted to enter the room, and she wouldn't bother with protecting herself were it not for a show she had the weekend coming up. Hana could soldier through being sick if she had to - it wouldn't be the first time she'd performed while dying on the inside - but she'd really rather not. 'I made you some soup.' Hana placed the tray on the bedside table beside him. 'When I was a kid, my mum'd make chicken soup whenever me or my sister were too sick to go to school. This is just vegetable soup. I wouldn't prepare meat even if I thought you would eat it, and this'll be good for you either way.' She sat at the far end of the bed. The fact she was sticking around was a miracle in itself. 'A cold isn't the end of the world, y'know. Your body will, like, do its thing to get rid of the virus and you'll feel even better than you did before it, trust me.'

[sid-health-care-blog]

Health Tips for Kids in Winters

ith winters come flue, cough, fever, and all those nasty diseases. All the winter fun is ruined when your kids are sick. There are multiple reasons why children are more vulnerable to get ill quicker than adults and one of those is their weak immune system. Children, especially toddlers and pre-school aged are sensitive and need additional care. Here, in this post, I am going to tell you five ways to protect your kids in winters.

1. Give them Enough Sleep When winters come, kids get excited and become hyperactive. They just want to go out and play in the snow or with school playground equipment. Just like other seasons, your little ones need the right amount of sleep in winters as well in order to stay healthy.

What is more, our bodies inevitably need more sleep when days become shorter and nights get longer. However, children need it more than adults, so make them sleep enough during winters.

2. Keep them Hydrated Kids usually don't feel thirsty during winters, but their bodies need enough amount of water to keep hydrated and function properly. Children almost forget to drink water the entire day and this makes them sick really quickly. Keep a 1.5 bottle for each kid and ask them to finish it during the day. Make it a challenge for them and promise chocolates or their favorite snacks for the one who finishes earlier.

3. Seasonal Foods Nature provides us with foods according to seasonal demands. These fruits are given to us by nature according to the seasonal requirements. With cold breeze outside in winters, we need to stay warm inside and these foods perform that function for us. All the foods should be cooked prior to eating to get the best taste and intake nutrition. Your little ones will be healthy and remain warm and their energy stores will be filled if you feed them seasonal foods.

4. Additional Vitamins Even though vitamins are needed throughout the year, they are required in larger amount during winters when diseases are likely to attract because immune systems function at a slow pace. Vitamins, especially vitamin D helps to make kids' immune system stronger, which, in turn, aids in fighting diseases. Give them either enough exposure to sunlight or vitamin D3 supplements to fulfill deficiency. Moreover, vitamin C is also needed to strengthen the immune system, so make sure you give them food rich with vitamins in winters.

5. Wash Hands It's not just for winters but for every time of the year. However, you should be stricter in winters because of cold and flu around and your kids are likely to attract infections. Make it their habit and do not allow them to come to the dining table if they do not wash their hands, especially if they were messing around in playground structures. When you teach them to wash hands, also tell them the reason and importance of doing so.

For some people, colds and coughs are a standard part of life. For most people, a cold or the flu will pass quickly without any serious complications. But its good to know when it’s time to call your doctor if your child have the flu, and needs cough and cold treatment

[cyanspica]

Death of a Nation Standing Ovation

Sorry I typically follow you on AO3 and am brand new to Tumblr!

spica: i’ve been this hellsite for a long time and i still don’t know submissions work so i will post this and then reblog my response

Death of a Nation is quite simply one of the best fanfics—let alone pieces of literature—I’ve read in quite some time. Your sure-fire sense of the fullest depths of your characters, the beautiful poetic nature of the language, the nail-biting and fast-moving plot, all contribute to an extraordinary and thrilling work. That’s without even mentioning how you take a pre-existing composition like Hamilton and make it into a new masterpiece completely on its own merits, using the motifs and lines from the musical in fresh, creative ways that never cease to stun. What’s more, you’re able to mirror some of the darkest horrors of our current reality—the grief wrought by pandemic and illness—and give it meaning. You make the loneliness that I, and so many others feel, so vibrant, seen, and recognized.  Is it too much to say I’ve reread this at least 10 times? In any case, I truly wish you could hear how loudly I’m applauding for this work, for you. It is a privilege to have found this.  

I know you’ve mentioned writing this has been hard—and let me tell you from your prowess, you wouldn’t know it. You make the impossible look easy. But I don’t like the idea of your struggling without support, so just know if you’re ever feeling down about writing, or lost in this work, I will do what I can to keep cheering you on and celebrating what you’ve accomplished (feel free to poke me if you ever need some hyping up, I might be late doing it but will still do it with joy).

In that spirit, I’m including some thought starters for if you ever find yourself fighting writers block. Please don’t see this as dictating what you should write (I wouldn’t dream of it!) This is just the questions of a fan which might entertain you for when you’re banging your forehead against the desk. I just thought that maybe th wonderings  that make me so excited about this work might in turn help reinvigorate you when you need it. No need to answer these, in fact, feel free to ignore—either way, I’m still here for whatever you will create, which I know will be exemplary. 

THINGS THAT KEEP ME UP AT NIGHT AND IM HAPPY ABOUT IT

—Not sure this was intentional, but one thing I find so gut-wrenching is that physiologically Hamilton is immune to becoming an infected/zombie. But, at least emotionally, in his darkest moments, his interiority is very zombie like; listless, lonely, bestial, rash,  operating sheerly out of instinct. Not be what you meant, but it still slaps me every time.

—I love how the pic of John is an anchor for Hamilton (I’m not crying you’re crying), while at the same time his relationship with it changes over time (sometimes it holds a burning quality, sometimes there’s long periods where he doesn’t touch it at all). I wonder if he will ever lose the photo or have to let it go, and what that would be like for him (for example my heart ached for Madison when he had to leave his gun behind). 

—You do an excellent job of showing how Hamilton connects finding a vaccine with any remaining meaning in his life. I wonder when and if he finds those working on a vaccine, if there are other immune folk (gasp is that what Sam Adams meant when he whispered “You’re not alone”?), and what searching for a vaccine has done to them/their bodies. I’m curious as to what makes him immune. Maybe his inherently Hamiltonian instinct to survive, or maybe whatever virus he survived as a kid that killed his mother happened to be an early pre-inculcation against the later zombie infection….

—Love how the theme of red (neck scar, wounds, anger) is such a consistent theme.  Will Hamilton ever run across John’s zombie form? Yikes

—One of my fav aspects of the H/J/M triangle is that while J/M have known each other for over a decade, H has known them for months apocalypse time, which is basically a lifetime. You do such a fantastic job at still giving J/M a lifetime of intimacy while also demonstrating how H has become so central to their apocalypse selves, which, at this point, are the selves that matter most.

—You’re so phenomenal at hinting at Hamilton’s past for Madison/Jefferson. It was pure mastery the way you waited to reveal Hamilton’s French until the very moment it broke them all; just, wow. I’m interested in how much more, if anything, they’ll learn about him, and if it’ll make them come apart or come together (bites nails). 

—The way in which you tap into and express Hamilton’s baseline survivesurvivesurvive heart beat is staggering; it almost becomes this yellowy bestial thing inside him. It makes me think about whether he’ll reach a pitch black moment, and what that might look like; is there ever a universe where Hamilton questions the survive drive and entertains whether living in the apocalypse is worth it, if finding a cure still seems an impossibility.

—Nevis, the Caribbean, the Hurricane, Charleston, NYC are such well-written phantoms in Hamilton’s mind. Will he ever have to re-walk down ghost memory lane, in the way Madison had to? Revisit Charleston? Swim at sea though he’s terrified? Again ignore me what do I know.

—The concussion series was hands down such incredible writing. I remember reading it, out of consecutive sequence as it is, which got me confused, which was PERFECT, because it made my mind take on the bewilderment that comes with being brained. Loved that (I’m also always here for sick/injured Hamilton. His personality type is near allergic to asking for help and I think the way you play with hat during his vulnerable moments is fantastic). One of many shards from that series struck me: “You’re pretty fucked up, huh? You’ll be fine, though. Get up, man. You still gotta pay for your own booze a little while longer.” (Drags fingers down face, mind spiraling in a million different directions of what this might signify. That’s all.)

—It was amazing to be able to see some of this through Madison’s eyes. It makes me think about if we’ll ever get a Jefferson flashback, or get to see the fuller versions of the whispered conversations that Hamilton misses out on. Meanwhile my brain scrambles to imagine if we’ll get to know what the note “scrawled in spidery cursive” said that was left beside Jeff’s shotgun. 

Anyways, I hope this thought vomit isn’t insulting, or seems like I’m trying to tell you what to write. I think you have such a special work here. You’ve put so much thought and heart into it, I thought the least I could do is show how it’s taken over my thought and heart. Thank you for this gift.

[datawyrms]

Responsibility

For Phic Fight 2021, The Lord of Chaos’s prompt c:

Spectra fed off of misery; nocturne fed off of dreams.  The elusive town cryptid that only shows up when people need saving gains a following and Danny finds that he gets a boost from the people who have faith in him, he starts to become aware of them, especially when they needed him.

The rest of the town seeing him as benevolent was a positive thing. The uncomfortable stabs that his ‘parents were right’ about ghosts lessened as fewer and fewer treated him as a monster just as troublesome as Technus. He didn’t need to tense when the news was on, to hear his attempts to help called a ‘savage attack’, or that stupid nickname. He’d slept a bit easier, knowing that people did understand he only meant to help lately. Sure, Mom and Dad might still insist he was an evil ghost, but it was so much easier to ignore that when he didn’t feel he was only one step away from proving them right to everyone else. Clumsy and reckless he could take. Just as long as he wasn’t some ‘evil soul sucking abomination.’

Having Jazz a bit more in the loop had actually started to pay off. She wasn’t as good at catching a ghost as Sam or Tucker, sure, but she wasn’t hindering him anymore either. Honestly, if all three of them worked together, his powers weren’t really needed unless something huge found its way to town. Which his friends had insisted he take advantage of at least once a week, to let them handle the usual patrols and alerts while he tried to catch up on work and sleep. Mostly sleep, to be honest. Focusing on work was almost impossible when his ghost sense went off, even if he knew they didn’t need help. He wanted to go, he had to go; but they were very good at yelling at him for not ‘trusting them’ to handle things. He really did need the break. That’s why he was feeling a little less haggard, a bit more alert. At least, that’s what made the most sense.

Then the ‘lurching’ started. He couldn’t think of a better name then that. It wasn’t like his ghost sense, that sort of just crawled out of him and didn’t give him much to go on beyond ‘there’s definitely a ghost around’. That could go off and leave him rolling his eyes at the box ghost, or fighting for his life against Plasmius with the exact same feeling. The lurching was...different. Like his ghost sense forgot where his windpipe was and decided to escape in a random direction. Inssenantly. It didn’t hurt, but it was annoying, worse than the pang that would pass when he ignored whatever got his ghost sense acting up. It just kept pulling in a direction, but refusing to get out from under his skin. Sometimes it would keep going for an entire class, which just made whatever the lurch’s chosen direction noticeably cold. He was pretty sure he was immune to frostbite nowadays, but that didn’t make explaining things easier if someone spotted his hand looking almost blue from lack of blood flow.

Maybe his core was on the fritz again. Who knew what sort of weird things could happen to a human who spent half his time dead?

Tucker suggested that he was just getting ghost puberty to go with the ‘joys’ of human puberty. Which sure, was funny and they could shove each other around and forget about it for a time. It didn’t feel like the right answer. None of his other powers acted up, honestly he was feeling better after fights then he usually did lately. Less drained, anyway. It wasn’t stopping either.

It just got worse. More intense. More frequent. Instead of vanishing the area the lurch decided to pull in seemed to grow the longer he tried to dismiss it. Noticeably. To the point even Dash asked if he should avoid punching him because ‘that shit looks contagious’. (He privately hoped it was. Dash totally deserved weird pulling that made you frost over.)

He had to ignore it, he couldn’t just drop everything every single time the lurch decided to show up. He’d look completely off his rocker, running in some random direction because ‘my shoulder feels cold to the north-west’. If it was close enough to be a real danger, his ghost sense would just go off!

So Saturday was going to be a ‘lurch hunt’. No more ignoring it, no school or mandatory activities that should keep him from following the strange cold that felt desperate to go after something. Yet even deciding that made his insides squirm. He had to follow it, he should be- but that was dumb. He missed enough class as it was.

So why was it so hard to focus on anything else when it started going? Like nothing else mattered? It wasn’t like he was drifting off or sleepy either.

Jazz said he was ‘fixated’ on something.

But how do you fixate on some weird feeling under your skin? He didn’t even know what it was! Just that Sam and Tucker kept needing to flick things at him to get him to pay attention to reality. One of his best rested weeks in ages, and he was worse off then he’d been focus wise in years. Stupid ghost powers. Saturday took far too long to come. Even when one of the lurches stopped pulling he couldn’t relax. Instead of relief he just felt. Hollow. He’d woken up in a panic, half expecting to be chained down in one of Vlad’s sick laboratories, but he wasn’t cut open. He wasn’t even injured. Safe, in bed- and feeling like the cold ran off with his ribcage.

Something was wrong with him. That had to be it. Once they found the cause, he’d solve it and it would stop. It had to.

Following it shouldn’t make him feel as relieved as it did. Taking his ghost form and flying after some...feeling that wanted to drag him somewhere was more like when Freakshow’s Staff dominated his mind than anything positive. A compulsion he couldn’t help giving in to.

At least his ghost sense went off once he’d followed it long enough, finding one of Vlad’s mutant ghost animals chasing someone through the streets.

Normal. A bit of one sided banter to get it’s attention, a few punches and ectoblasts and it was shoved away in the thermos. No more pulling, and one less ghost terrorizing town. That didn’t make sense. Unless it really was just his ghost sense increasing in range while becoming infinitely more irritating?

That’s what it felt like, at first. He’d follow, ghost sense, find the problem. Except there was something odd. Every ghost he found like this wasn’t just wandering about, or making a mess. They were all actively chasing, stalking or attempting to scare someone. Okay, so it homed in on more ‘violent’ ghosts then? That seemed possible.

Until one of the lurches kept pulling, but there was no ghost sense. The one that kept pulling him towards a man with his back against the wall, fumbling with a wallet. The man who wasn’t being threatened by Skulker, or a vulture, or any of this typical fare. Just another human with a gun, and the will to use it.

This so wasn’t his thing. He fought ghosts, they were half his fault to begin with. So why was his ghost sense leading him to this? Well. It hadn’t. Lurching confirmed for not ghost sense?

Jazz would totally chew him out for tackling someone with a gun. He just had to forget to go intangible at a bad time, and he’d be all ghost. Or worse, go intangible and someone else got a body full of lead. He couldn’t just...ignore it now that he’d seen it though. The chill that hummed below his skin wouldn’t let him.

So the guy was a bit startled about getting pulled through a wall and dropped off the other side. Probably lost some change. He’d expected a bit of fear, at least. Like come on, some ghost just grabs you while a gun’s in your face? That’s still scary.

Yet he didn’t seem bothered. Just thankful. Called him a ‘hero’. For being in the right place at the right time. By just happening to be there because...because he knew? Something in him knew. That was wrong, he shouldn’t just know when people were in danger like that. He vanished without a word, not wanting to stick around and hear more. It was coincidence. Hopefully the guy wasn’t too offended that he just bolted, but he couldn’t stay there. He didn’t like how the complement felt good in a way he couldn’t describe. That the cold in his chest thrummed with a pleasure that made the rest of him feel ill. He wasn’t a hero, he was just some kid. A kid who still wanted to have a life that wasn’t all this, eventually.

He can’t ignore at dinner that he picks at his meal, not from exhaustion but because he’s not hungry. He’s still energized, he’s still full- and no amount of gagging over the sink makes his stomach empty. ‘Ghosts helping humans only do so for their own ends’. He’d ignored and denied that, he hadn’t been getting anything out of being the local ghost punching bag- so why was he now? Did he steal something? Feed on that person he saved?

He hated that his face didn’t even have the sense to look pale at the idea. He looked healthy. Probably better than he usually did. Even the circles under his eyes weren’t as noticeable. Were Mom and Dad right? Was he just...more of a ghost now?

Sam and Tucker don’t buy his ‘couldn’t figure it out’ explanation. Mostly because he refuses to try it again with them along to help figure it out. Even as he grows cold and more lurching keeps gnawing at his attention. He’s human too, he doesn’t need...whatever this is.

Sam kindly tells him he’s being a gigantic idiot.

He’s too distracted by the chill to notice. Tucker explains that after he’s blinking confused at the corn chips bouncing off his forehead. They laugh it off. He’s pretty sure they’re just being nice. They know something’s wrong, but he can’t bring himself to tell them yet. They wait. For now.

He ignores the feeling. He tries to ignore the guilt, that he knows someone out there is in danger. That someone out there needs his help. That all he needs to do is walk out of class and he can go do some actual good. He can’t go chasing after everyone in town. Things happen! He’s just one person! The sooner the lurching in him figures that out, the better. It still ruins his focus, makes him grit his teeth and fidget in place. He wants to go, he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t even know what he wants. For it to stop. That would work. The tugging stops halfway into his next class, the frost in his blood lifts. It leaves him empty. Starving.

Everything tastes bland. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Even his favourites barely seem worth the effort of snagging off a table. He’ll eat, he can’t have Mom and Dad looking at him like Sam and Tucker are now, but it just feels heavy in his stomach. A brick he’s decided to try digesting for fun. He’s hungry, ravenously so, but doesn’t want anything.

He knows exactly what he wants and hates himself for it. Stupid ghost half. He doesn’t need that, he doesn’t want to be some...leech. Seeking out trouble just to benefit from it. It’s wrong, he hates it, and if he could grab his core and slam it on the table for a few hours he would. Just until it remembered that they helped when they could. When it was close by, when it was a ghost problem. Not every bit of danger in town!

Misplaced aggression goes to the nearby ghosts. Which it often had,  really. It’s normal. He’s just making sure people don’t get hurt, ignoring the humming of MINE coiled in his ectoplasm. The other ghosts feel it. They hear it when he hunts them down and wants to keep swinging even when they put claws or hands up in surrender. He doesn’t trust himself to banter with them right now. He doesn’t want to hear the words his ghost side wants to say. He shoves them back into the Ghost Zone, and the smarter ones stay away. A stronger ghost is already feeding here. There’s nothing for them to take.

He’s running on autopilot. Days are meaningless. He can’t focus in class, his notes are nonexistent and his patience is beyond frayed. He can’t sleep, the cold is too much, the emptiness hurts and fewer ghosts show up. He can’t even blow off steam by kicking the Box Ghost through a wall. He won’t follow it, and he’s fairly sure it’s going to kill him. That or his parents will. Even they have to notice how he barely eats and won’t focus on anything short of a horn section in his face.

Sam and Tucker sit him down. Force the issue. They know he’s a mess. They don’t have answers. How could they? His choices are to starve this ghost instinct out, or to just give into it and completely ruin his human life. He’ll be fine. It’ll stop eventually if he keeps ignoring it. Then he’ll be able to focus again. It’s all he can cling to.

He’s stubbornly ignoring the prickling awareness of other thoughts. Ones not from his brain. Ones that get louder when the lurch grips him, that practically overwhelm his own as fear and panic grows. Maybe he’s just gone a little off the deep end. He doesn’t hear voices. He refuses.

Jazz has her concerns. That he can’t ignore it. She knows more about Mom and Dad’s research, more about classifications of ghosts. She tries to be gentle, nudging him to be aware that stronger ghosts were more...like a concept then an individual.

He doesn’t want to be some sort of ghost concept of problem solving. She’s worried he won’t have that choice. Some part of him already knows she’s right.

He seeks out Valerie. For help. She’s confused, baffled and suspicious. After all this time he spent convincing her he’s not evil, he’s begging her to call him that. To convince other people he is. To make them fear him and his help. He doesn’t want to be a hero like she is. He just wants to be himself, doesn’t want to hear the people begging for help when he’s trying to sleep.

She doesn’t understand, but understands one thing. He’ll feed on those who rely on them. She has to stop that, doesn’t she?

They fight, and often. He does poorly, lets her save people while his misfires cause damage and chaos. It makes him want to scream each time. Some of the thoughts and voices dim. Not enough. Too many are understanding, too many can see the regret and pain that wrack him with each failure. He’s always hungry. He wants to try again, but everything in him rebels against it. The ghost hunter avoids him. It’s ‘not a fair fight’. He’s ‘not himself’. His green eyes are more dead then they ever have been. He can’t maintain his legs.

As a human, all he wants to do is sleep.

Mom and Dad notice. He collapses and his eyes flare green when they try to help him. Just automatically sensing them as danger, against him, not someone that calls for him. They think he’s possessed, and he wishes they were right.

He half considers not telling them the truth. Let them think of a way to let his ghost half quiet down, to stop hungering for validation he doesn’t want.

Jazz tells them before they can do much of anything. Pinches his ear for being stupid- that getting experimented on won’t help him.

Their hugs make him feel bad. This should be a good moment, a time where he feels safe and accepted. But his mind is not his own, not with the others whispering in his skull. Their warmth and love feels like a drop in the empty barrel of his hunger.

They want him to be healthy. They want him to be happy. He can’t be happy if he needs to abandon his life to be healthy. He tries to explain it, the emptiness, the voices (Jazz cuffs him again for hiding this, which seems fair.) and they promise to try and figure out why, maybe find a way to limit it or separate himself from whatever connection his ghost half seems to have made with the town. Until then- they encourage him. To go ‘help’ people. To feed the clawing cold taking over his existence. He’s not sure if they really mean it. It doesn’t stop him from listening.

It’s hard to feel guilty when it feels so good. To have the fear quiet and be replaced with thanks. Someone’s out of danger and happy, and he feels less hollow for a time. Mom and Dad switch him to home school. They say it’s a better fit, to be able to stop and start based on when he’s not being dragged away by his own instinctive need to protect people.

It feels like giving up. Admitting he’s too much of a freak to live like everyone else. Dad tries to compare it to his special classes when he was young. Different to fit his learning style, not failing. The pulls and voices aren’t nearly as distracting when he’s full. Food actually tastes like more than sand again. Sam and Tucker don’t need to try as hard to smile now that he isn’t looking like death warmed over. He doesn’t like not getting to see them as often. He can’t deny he feels better this way, and can actually pay attention now. Even if most of the time he just wants to nap when the hunger stops. Go ‘back into hiding’ as the town thinks he does.

It’s getting better. Slowly. Not in a way he wanted it to. Better nonetheless.

[aquanology]

SHE LI ANALYSIS CAUSE I CAN!!! (THANKS FOR 50+ FOLLOWERS AND NO THERE'S NOTHING MISSING IN HERE ITS 50+)

Yo so I've reached 50 followers a long while ago and I wanted to do something big but I hesitated and didn't know what to do...I thought a lot about it and it's here. The long awaited She li analysis, I was waiting for the new chapter so I can make this. Anyways I hope you enjoy it (or maybe not?)

So from far away people wo see She li as a Bully Mo and when they learn that his family posses good amounts of money, everyone would see him as a rich brat and I wouldn't blame them, Though that's not all there's to it. it's much deeper and yes I have 5000 IQ how did you know?

Now his childhood wasn't that great looking at how he was surrounded by maids and not his parents most of the time, mostly because they were busy working and when they weren't busy doing work they would be busy arguing about things that little She li didn't know much about.

It was pretty lonely even if people would surround him be it the maids, the other adults or even other kids he wasn't getting the attention of his parents. He might've thought that he wasn't important enough for his parents to spare a moment or two to spend time with him or atleast for his parents to look at his way. He hated their noisy fights and so, like any kid who didn't want to listen to his parent's loud arguments!that might've seemed like a broken record for him at the time, he would go outside to distracte himself. I don't know how many times he had to do this to ignore the pain that his parent's loud fighting has been causing to him, and I don't know how long he spent his time doing that (probably as long as the fighting continued) but I'm pretty sure that what we saw from She Li's flashback wasn't his first time doing so. And I'm sure he was trying to inflict physical pain so he can forgot the mental pain. At that point little She Li might've felt a bit...empty because no one really seemed to genuinely care for him or spend time with him and he didn't seem to have a special relationship with anyone either, he might've felt like he wasn't a human because of all of that.... he might've been sad and angry that he can't experience love and affection perhaps he thought that it's his fault for feeling down all the time, when in reality it was his parents fault for not using the spare time they have for providing She Li with affection and quality time instead of arguing most of the time. I'm sure he felt less of person because he didn't get what he really needed as a kid. But little did She Li know that he will feel less of human the next time his parents argue loudly.

That had started with the routine of his parents fighting and She Li looking for something to distract himself with, he ended up digging for worms and I suspect that he did that for a long while that day in which might've explain the bleeding. Later on he got diagnosed with Guillain-Barre' (Ghee-Yan Bah-Yan) syndrome this syndrome is a autoimmune type, in which a persons own immune system damages the nerves causing muscle weakness or paralysis, it can cause symptoms that last from few weeks to several years however most people recover fully while some have permanent nerve damage.

His thoughts were seemingly messy I wouldn't blame him if he still thought that his parents didn't care about him, I mean it was kind of their fault for not asking about what he does when playing outside or with whom, or for the least bit leaving a maid or two to check on him from time to time. But it was that day when he met a certain person in that hospital.

It was Mo Guan Shan that he saw at the hospital. A kid who was capable of feeling pain both physical and mental, not only that but he has a caring mother who seemed to care about her kid. At that moment She Li must've felt envious, a kid whom he didn't know had everything that She li didn't, he had the ability to feel pain and suffer and on top of that he had someone who cared about him who loved him and gave him attention when he needed it the most.

Perhaps She Li thinks that if Mo Guan Shan would become a happier and a healthier person then he would be superior to She Li, because then he would have something that is far away from She Li's reach and capability.

That's why he keeps on hurting Mo over and over again whenever Mo is feeling better or even worse. Maybe She li feels superior or on the same level as Mo when he stops him from feeling truly happy and at peace with his loved ones. As if only then the gap will become bigger than it was before. Because She Li thinks that he won't be able to be the same as Mo is, I mean he might get his syndrome treated and he might be able to feel the pain (both physical and mental) but She Li isn't sure of he can actually be truly loved or if he will be capable of loving and making someone as happy. And that is why he says things like this:

Of course it's not only to make Mo feel bad (cuz like no would want to be told that they are the same as She Li is) but to also make himself feel like they are the same (be it on the same level or the same type of people) when they are not.

I do think that She Li admires Mo for how human he is and he doesn't want him to be anymore of a human he wants Mo to be the same as him, someone who can't have anyone care about him, someone who might numb out and stop being a human for their own desires and someone who can be as hurt and heartless as She Li is regarding that he is hurt inside. I also think that She Li and He tian are similar I mean both of them were not met with love and affection from their family except He Cheng tried to rub the illusion of their fathers love on He tian, though it didn't work quite well. A relationship where you have to sacrifice everything to receive approval isn't and wouldn't be ideal from He tain's perspective, as well as She Li never talk about how he felt (he most likely didn't) the pain that he got from his parents inability to raise him properly like other parents do (by loving him and spending some time with him). However I'm not blaming everything on his parents they had their reasons yet that doesn't mean that it's justified to argue outloud most of the time and pay less attention for your kid than you with your job and arguments. Also I want to make that this post isn't here to justify She Li's bad actions against other people but to just look at him as something other than a snake, to look at him as a human and to hold accountable are both as important as the other is, and I don't want She Li to just have his actions bite him back but to also learn how bad his actions are. I want him to know very well that he hurt others and I want him to feel guilty and I want him to change, remember staying ignorant can not only hurt him but everyone else but learning where he made mistakes and holding himself accountable can help everyone not only the people hurt by him, us too will highly benefit.

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Hey so this is me- the present me since I don't do this all in one day (cuz I'm a lazy person) so I hope ypu enjoyed this analysis and I hope I made it clear enough that this isn't for justifieing She Li's actions but an attempt to try and understand him. Also I'm sorry cuz I made a post a long while ago about She li and I though he had a different illness than the one in the manhua and I linked a website for that illness, however I deleted the post and I apologize for the big mistake...

This is the link for She Li's actual syndrome if you want to know more about it.

Anyways this was my "Why is She Li a bitch" post- wait, shit this the wrong script...welp can't change it now I guess. Again thank you for 50+ followers stay healthy and don't be a bitch like She Li.

[britcision]

Wishing the kids a very “learn the difference between diagnosable depression and just feeling depressed” on this fine evening lads

Like actually no my brain deciding that all my favourite foods are gross and my life is a hollow void will not be solved by systemic changes

It’ll be solved by vitamin D supplements at the moment cuz I am A) very lucky and B) riddled with intestinal disease that prevents me from metabolising shit in small doses

Yeah feeling depressed is an extremely rational reaction to what is going on in the world but that’s also why I’m not going to my therapist about being pissed/depressed/disheartened about that

I went to my therapist because everything in the world was in washed out faded grey and my life felt meaningless

And then I got medicated for my depression and wouldn’t you fucking believe it but the world is actually super beautiful and there are colours and smells and shit

I’m WAY less numb, I’m not dissociating every day, and I feel like I can actually affect the problems that make me feel depressed and make a difference, if only for the people in my life

Destroying capitalism will not fix that my brain occasionally decides to kill me any more than it’ll fix my immune system’s devout intention to rip its way out of this puny mortal shell to attack and dethrone God

It’s also gonna take LONGER THAN A DECADE so actually nah let’s get people medical treatment and help so they don’t fucking die on the way to your perfect world

Cuz if your perfect idealised society does not include help for mental and physical illnesses, which are not gonna magically go away even if no one has any societal problems ever again?

Why the fuck would I want to join a society that requires my death, or bare minimum that I be shoved in the closet and left to suffer between arthritis, crohns, and the second secret smaller ibs that mostly only comes out when my crohns is in remission because Fuck Me I Guess

Your world without treatment is my hell and I’ll drag you to yours before I see it become reality

Like we’re also gonna destroy capitalism and all that inlaid bigotry in society but the only reason I can contribute to the fight is that I’m heavily fucking medicated

And no, disabled people are not going to be your “acceptable loss” either

(Also fun top secret fact did you know that most of the regular treatments for depression are actually also NSAIDs, a class of pain killer? Cuz yeah I went through the full list available in my teens for one or the other

It’s almost like people tend to feel better when they’re not in constant fucking pain

But hey I’m still in constant pain and the depression��s sat under the bed like a terrified bogeyman that dare not show its face so it’s not a 1-to-1)

Anyway y’all are gonna learn the difference between a mental illness and just feeling bad or I’m gonna swizzle your intestines on a stick and you’ll learn what my day feels like

But don’t worry

We’ll fix society

You won’t need any treatment for it

[regrettablewritings]

DJ X READER HEADCANON you pick 😉😉

I blink at the request that stares back at me from my inbox, brow furrowing with every flutter of my lashes. "Sis . . ." I murmur, "you good?" As though my ass had not also been search for content relating to this forgotten POS just the other day. But if you insist . . .

4. What they do on date night:

To be brutally honest, DJ will look you dead in the eye and tell you that going for a night out on the town pick-pocketing is a date. Or, at least, he will try to. It's surprisingly hard to maintain eye contact with someone whose glare could probably cut beskar.

In his defense (if he even deserves any), DJ does try to make it a little more fun than he already finds it -- granted, it's done in a very DJ way. You get your little evening promenade through the streets, he tricks you to a quick bite to eat, you hold hands and run through the lantern-speckled streets before turning down a narrow alleyway that's just perfect for sharing an intense liplock . . .

Of course, this all translates into your evening together including: Walking through a marketplace, your asshole boyfriend slipping peoples' credits out of their pockets and purses under the guise of bumping into them; him using those sticky fingers of his to nick some street food off of a cart before its proprietor called the authorities on his theft; said sticky fingers lacing with yours as he guides you down the crowded streets (grinning like the little shit he was for enjoying the chase); all before making a sudden jerk down an alleyway.

You're breathless, irritated, and . . . maybe -- only just maybe -- a little excited by the thrill of it all. But you can't let him know that, otherwise, he'd never let you live it down and he'd be the cock of the goddamn walk for who knows how long. Worse: He'd consider this a win for his insistence that this sort of thing counted as a date! And there was no way in hell you were about to let that happen!

You only got as far as opening your mouth to hiss own some choice words at him when you instead got cut off by your thieving significant other pressing you against the grubby alley wall. Even if you hadn't been distracted by the action to remember to cuss him out, the words were instantly killed. They were inhaled by his own lips, his kiss encompassing your words, your thoughts, your . . . everything. They were speared by his tongue, as though it were his weapon against the beast that brewed within you.

And they were quelled by the feel of his callused fingers brushing against your cheeks before moving onward to the beck of your head, pressing you only further into his hold. DJ's fingers were deft, but that didn't necessarily mean that their carefulness was always directed at you. It's . . . something to savor . . .

Of course, it was meant to fool the chumps following the both of you but you don't mind. Not in that moment anyway. When you get back to wherever you're staying for the night, it's another story, but one DJ is more than happy to bring to a happy ending.

It's a bit nicer when he gets his hands one someone's credits, though: It means he can take you out to an actual establishment. However, be warned: It's only a bit nicer because you also need to be on the lookout for the authorities (or the poor bastard you stole from), or be prepared to make a run for it.

11. What their first impression was of each other:

Dirty. Old. Bastard. A dirty old bastard. And to your credit, you weren't wrong, but of course, the first impression is always the shallowest. And considering the shithead had just tried to put the moves on you when you were already having a rough day . . . Yeah, he honestly deserved presumptions with the depth of one's own navel -- an outie, preferably.

He stood out against the Canto Bight elite with his grubbiness, looking like a leathery garbage pouch at best and like a guy who'd try to sell you a faulty droid at moderate. A dirty, bastardly part of you couldn't help but muse that perhaps the worst he could do was be a nasty lay -- and not nasty in the way one might want, either.

Granted, it wasn't hard to imagine that: The fact he was hitting on you while you were trying your best to just survive your shift at the casino that evening did little to convince you he was any good.

And as for DJ, it was a one-two-punch type of introduction. Literally: First he eyed you, then he got a little too suggestive, and then you punched him. What a sleazeball, right? It was his own damn fault for assuming the least of you, though. You were cute like all the other servers, no doubt, with that shy smile of yours that made it abundantly clear to him that this sort of place wasn't your scene if you didn't have to work there. Unlike the other servers, however, he was feeling pretty brazen about you.

DJ has no interest in the concept of “fate” or “destined meetings”, but even months out from that point he wouldn’t be able to place precisely what compelled him to break his usual protocol of being discreet. Nor why he was so insistent. All he knows was that he called you over to him and, rather than requesting a drink, he “chatted you up”. And might’ve suggested that you two blow off this place and maybe “blow off somewhere else”.

He also knows that the moment you struck his cheek, cheeks burning and eyes widened with the realization of what you’d done, he was wrong and right about you.

You were frankly lucky he turned out to be a blight on the Canto Bight scene, otherwise your boss would’ve fired you the moment he had learned of what you had done. What you were unlucky for, however, was that from then on, the thief started showing up more often. Not enough to get caught (at least, not for long), but enough for him to determine that maybe the both of you really should blow this joint -- in the nonsexual way.

And in the end, you became unlucky once more: For someone so grubby and bastardly, he was also quite the charmer. Y’know, once you’ve smacked him around a bit.

14. What nicknames they call each other:

You honestly struggle to nickname DJ, predominately because, well, DJ is already a nickname. You think. After all, you sincerely doubt anyone would actually name their kid Don’t Join even as a political statement. Really, the fact you don’t know his actual name sort of calls for consideration of how healthy your obviously unhealthy relationship is. But any pleas to learn this asshole’s real name just winds up being like having a namana cream pie shoved in your face, because DJ just turns it all into a joke.

There have been many occasions where DJ would tell you different names he would swear were his own -- often times in the same week! Other times, his claim would be that he’s told you it while you were asleep, or that he once told you but you got conked on the head and forgot it.

Interestingly enough, it’s through these juvenile exploits that he’s earned a bit of a nickname from you: “Bastard”. Just rolls off the tongue, don’t it? To be fair, though, you’re with him for a reason: Even if he may not seem like it, he does have a soft sport for you. Even if it comes out about as smoothly as his features.

In a way, he reminds you of a mutt. A stray mutt. Especially when he shoves his head into your lap after a long day of fucking about and being a menace to whatever society you two decided to hop a ship to.

“You’re like a puppy sometimes, you know that?” you murmur. You scritch into his mess of hair, earning a low growl of contentment from your datemate. He never had to admit it out loud, but your touch clearly did wonders to him. This was evidence by how his already large body began to further sprawl along the couch the ship he’d stolen came with. Yup; just like a puppy. A big, raggedy puppy. Who needs a trip to the refresher as soon as this scritching session was over.

For DJ, on the other hand, nicknames come easily. Honestly, it’s mainly due to how he barely takes anyone or anything seriously: When you don’t concern yourself with all the muddled nonsense of society or wide circles of people, it becomes a whole lot easier to see everyone’s buttons. And considering he was a master slicer, button-pressing was definitely his thing.

Despite the fact that you were a one-in-a-million instance of being someone whom the thief actually trusted and treated with even a modicum of respect, even you weren’t immune to his acts of mockery.

“Mornin’, P-p-pipsqueak,” he’d smirk over a cup of caff, knowing damn well that his advantage of height bothered you sometimes.

“Ea-asy there, k-kitten,” he’d purr whenever your frustration would come boiling to the brim. Things like that.

“Lookie here, dollface,” when he wants to butter you up without losing his stance.

But that doesn’t mean he’s unable to be more affectionate. It’s in there, it’s just . . . in there. The best examples, however, tend to be when the both of you are having downtime and are actually safe somewhere. Or whatever safe could mean when you’re with DJ.

Generally, a jail cell wouldn’t be considered safe. Maybe not unsafe if the only occupants were your boyfriend of ill repute and yourself, but it certainly wasn’t enjoyable. And yet, the way DJ just seemed to laze about in them made you feel unnaturally calm. Well, calmer. It would’ve been nicer if your more-than-capable boyfriend would put those slicing skills of his to use and just busted the both of you out of there, but to DJ, a night in the clink meant at least a few hours of shut eye on a bed.

“B-bes-s-sides: We can alw-w-ways just grab on-e of those f-f-f-floating citadels they g-g-g-got docked out there,” he would reason, making himself comfy on the thin mattress. He had a point, you supposed. And it wasn’t as though you hadn’t been expecting this as a part of your life once you got together with him. Still, you weren’t entirely comfortable joining him on said mattress . . . Maker knows when it had last been washed!

You would be far from the first to consider DJ to be the most observant person, dating or not, but your concern must’ve been rich enough for him to practically sense it: Without hesitating, he sat up just enough to offer you his hand.

“C-come on,” he said. “I need to c-c-c-catch some shut e-e-eye, and it ain’t hap-p-p-penin’ if you’re standing d-d-down there the entire t-time.”

A feeling of mild dread seeped into you, followed by a wet blanket of acceptance. You were going to just spend an hour in the refresher of whatever ship you swept off with. Sighing, you accepted the hand, only for the hold to pull you up not onto the mattress, but directly on top of him!

There was plenty to react to -- the sudden movement, the feeling of being on top of DJ -- but the man himself didn’t seem at all fazed. Instead, he focused primarily on tucking in whatever lagging limbs you had and making sure he was cozy enough to continue serving as your mattress for however many hours he needed to recuperate. Which he apparently was: Not once did he protest to your weight pressing down on him, nor did he grunt with displeasure whenever you turned the direction of your head against his chest.

At the most, he only ever offered your back a brief circle of rubbing with his free hand, the other serving as his pillow, before uttering a drowsy, “You good there, kid?”

And, to your surprise . . . yeah. In spite of everything, yeah, you were pretty good . . .

And yet, interestingly enough, no matter what he calls you, none of that ever measures up to when he calls you by your name. Not pipsqueak, not kitten, not dollface or kid or whatever, but your actual name. Because DJ hardly ever refers to anyone by their actual title, let alone cares to remember it. By not only remembering it, but applying it, it shows you that he does care. It’s deep down -- like, real in there -- but it’s there. And you’re the only non-slicing being in the entire galaxy to have ever cracked that sort of safe.

Wear that badge with pride, Hotshot.

Thanks for your patience on this one! Clearly I had a lot of fun writing it! 💖 💖 . . . May gotta actually start writing for DJ. Maybe.

[s-creations]

In Sickness, In Health Chapter 2 - Common Cold & Sore Throat

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros          Rating: General Audience          Relationships/Pairings:  José  Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles   Additional Tags: getting sick, being cared for, mental health, injury, sore throat, common cold, chicken pox, broken bones, whooping cough, taking care of others.

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

While people wouldn’t see it, Panchito’s job was filled with risk. Did he have to operate heavy machinery? No. Did he have aggressive people shouting at him to ‘see the manager’? No. But others tend to forget how intense kids could be.

They had energy to spare and short attention spans. Anything that moved pulled their attention and they wanted to touch everything. There was also the unfortunate bonus of seeming to carry every common illness known to mankind. Ones that didn’t seem to penetrate their immune system. Which meant that said germs would abandon ship for the nearest, weakest person. 

Namely a rooster that was exhausted from a work heavy month of performances. 

Panchito knew something was wrong the moment he woke up in the early hours of 2AM. Eyes crusted over and his head felt like something was beating against his skull that was also filled with rocks. The list of ailments only grew upon realizing he was his nose was closed and a deep, wet cough sounded as he attempted to breath. His throat felt like sandpaper. This was terrible. 

Donald was up the moment he heard the first cough. Going from a deep sleep to wide awake in a matter of seconds. “Chito?”

The rooster smiled weakly. “Hola…” 

The word barely came out. No voice either. How lovely. Donald was immediately waking José up, pushing a half lucid parrot from the room. Telling him to finish sleeping with the boys. Once the room was cleared, the duck was at Panchito’s side. Hands gently pressing on his forehead. “No fever.”

“Sore…”

“Stop talking. You sound terrible. ...Must have caught something from your last gig. You reported enough kids rubbing their noses to get me concerned.” 

Panchito merely hummed in response. Even that action hurt his throat. The duck pulled away, the bathroom light flinching on soon after. The sound of items being moved urgently before Donald returned once more. 

“Here, I got you some medicine. This should help you sleep for the rest of the night.’ 

The rooster mouthed a ‘Thank you.’ as he took the pills. Winching as each traveled down his throat. He put up no complaint as Donald climbed back into bed. Arms wrapping around with a hand reaching up to rub his chest. 

In no time at all, Panchito was out. 

__________________________________

“Tio José?”

The parrot grumbled weakly as he was woken up. A weight on his chest made him aware someone was resting on him. Louie, his sleep-addled mind provided. That’s right. He’d been pushed out with a quick explanation of Panchito being sick and to stay with the kids before the door was closed. He’d collapsed into Louie’s bed, then...fell back asleep, no doubt. 

Opening his eyes, José found Huey standing by the bed. Dewey hanging over from his bunk bed. Louie still asleep on the parrot’s chest. 

“Bom dia, meus queridos meninos.” 

“Are you okay?” The red cladded triplet asked. 

“Mmm… Your Tio Panchito is sick. Uncle Donald kicked me out  so I did not become sick as well.”

“Is it bad?” Dewey asked. 

“I heard a cough. But not much else.” José smiled softly as Louie let out a small groan. 

“Stop talking,” the green cladded triplet moaned softly, “Too early. Need sleep.” 

Huey crossed his arms. “It’s 8 in the morning Louie. If Tio Chito’s sick, then we need to help! I read that nutrition filled foods are helpful to combat illness. We should make a vitamin rich broth.” 

“Waffles!” 

“Dewey, waffles aren’t healthy.” 

“But they are delicious.” 

“Meninos bobos…” José yawned, cradling Louie close as he sat up to properly address the other two. “How about we make soup for Tio Chito and eggs for us? Save waffles for when everyone is able to eat them. Do not want Tio Chito to be upset.”

Dewey groaned, but conceded with a low. “Fine.”

The four of them shuffled out of the bedroom. Louie was still being held by the parrot as they made their way to the kitchen. Huey took the lead. Propping his JWG up and asking for help from José when he couldn’t reach something. The kitchen was soon filled with a delicious smell. A bowl filled with broth and a plate piled with eggs, bacon and toast being handed over to José. 

“These look wonderful Huey,” the parrot smiled, “Let me give these to your uncles and then we can eat.”

“Okay Tio José.” Huey laughed softly as his uncle preened the feather atop his head. 

The parrot knocked on the bedroom door gently. There was a quiet ‘Come in’ and José peeked in slowly. He found Donald and Panchito still in bed. The duck was awake, sitting up and scrolling through his phone. The bedside light on its lowest setting to provide some light. Panchito was still asleep. Arms wrapped around Donald’s waist with his head resting on the duck’s lap. 

“Bom dia, meu amor. I brought you breakfast. I would say for both of you, but I see Chito is still asleep.” José commented as he fully walked in.

Donald smiled softly, taking the plate and putting his phone to the side. “Thanks. You can try and wake him. He should eat.” 

The parrot hummed softly. Putting the bowl down before reaching out to rub between Panchito’s shoulders. “Chito? I have some breakfast for you.”

The initial response was a deep, wet cough. Panchito rubbed his eyes as he sat up slowly. “¿Qué hora es?”

“Good morning,” Donald spoke softly, “José brought you breakfast.” 

It was a bit of a task to get Panchito to sit up properly. The rooster seemed to have no energy to move on his own or keep himself upright. Eventually needed to be propped up against Donald and multiple pillows. 

“If you’re not better by tomorrow, we’re calling the doctor’s.” Donald commented as José handed the bowl over. To which Panchito merely hummed and then winced. “I got it from here José.”

“You sure?” The parrot asked. 

“Yeah. I’ll text if we need anything. But you should keep an eye on the boys.”

Sure enough, a loud clatter sounded from the kitchen. Quickly followed by ‘Tio José!’ from all three ducklings. José letting out a slow sigh.

“I see a movie marathon in our future for today. Get well Chito.” The parrot leaned over to place a kiss on either bird’s brows before leaving. Stern words were heard, but were muffled by the closed door. 

A routine was set up by the two in bed. Panchito was fed a few spoonfuls of broth before pausing to let his stomach settle. Donald took those moments to eat his own breakfast. The bowl was half way finished when the rooster refused more. 

“Do you need the bathroom?” Donald asked quickly. 

“No…just tired…”

“Take some more medicine before you sleep. It’ll help.” 

Panchito let out a groan when Donald slid from the bed. The warmth left as the duck made his way back towards the bathroom. Returning with a cup of water and pills in hand. Both of which the rooster downed quickly. Warmth soon returned as Donald climbed back into bed, when Panchito clambered too quickly. Rewarded with fingers preening his feathers. 

“Just sleep… You’ll be better soon.”

And even with the stuffed nose, sore throat, and pounding headache, Panchito smiled. Knowing he was going to be fine.

[cellard0ors]

Let me tell you a story...

Buckle in if you like TMI about Cellar and her current many, MANY life dysfunctions...

So, last time I posted an update, it was because I was sort of mentally low.

This has not improved - mainly because all the building blocks of my life fell over like a bad jenga tower.

My Mom had called a few days ago to say, 'I've got a tumor!' 😄 All happy voice, because that's how she rolls. She tells me she's going in for a CT scan Monday and not to worry, it's no big.

Monday rolls around - I've been having issues with my back, so I set up a Doctor's appt and talk to one of my bosses about leaving early. She's cool about it. Great.

THEN my Dad calls. He's hysterical - tells me Mom has been taken to the emergency room. Doesn't make much sense. Hangs up on me (Because he's mature like that) I call back - ask if I should come - he tells me 'Do what you want' - 🙄 again, super mature. I tell him I'm coming.

Run and tell the boss I spoke with earlier I have to go NOW - again, super supportive. I call my SO and tell him - again, supportive. Cancel my appt, run to emergency room. Sis and Dad there - they don't know much and I talk VERY little because when you put those two together, it's best to say as little as possible.

Eventually get in to see Mom - she was at critically low blood loss levels. Apparently before the CT she started expelling a lot of blood from both ends (if you catch my drift) and they rushed her in. She's critically low on blood - they have to give her 4 pints. She's awake and super: 😀😃😄

Because that's just how she is. Nurses say she has a sweet soul. Don't disagree, but dang - for someone facing all of this she's beyond perky. Since she's only allowed 2 visitors at a time, we keep swapping - Me, Dad, Sis.

Eventually I DO manage a moment alone with her and - VERY SERIOUSLY - tell her she can't go anywhere - because I CANNOT be left alone with Dad and Sis. Nurses laugh and assure me they'll take care of the heart of our family.

The plan is to take her into surgery, because the tumor she has is in her stomach and it's quite large - how large? Hard to say, because my father is hysterical and exaggerates - don't get me wrong, he's had a rough go of it - his mother has been given different rates of time about how long she's going to be around (some say 2 to 3 months, others say less/more) and now here's his wife, very ill - but his kids, while adults, are here and he's very much not helping.

Anyway - they take her and surgery is a few hours. I call work and tell them I won't be in Tuesday, because I don't know what the outcome of the surgery will be and I want to see her asap.

Get word surgery went well and she's resting. Reschedule my own doctor's appt for Tuesday, because I'm going to be around the hospital anyway to see her, so may as well.

I go see my doctor - they take blood/x-rays - say I probably just need to stretch more and build up my core strength since I'm on my feet all day at work. I have bad posture and that's why my back is so sore I sleep like shit and sometimes the pain is enough to wake me up. Gave me muscle relaxers too. Whatever.

Plan on going to see Mom only to be told Hospital will only allow 1 visitor per day - so, that's just Dad. He's pretty much living at the Hospital with her and going home at night to sleep. Sis clearly bummed he won't come stay at her fancy place, which - granted - is closer, but her text is all about how her downstairs is so perfect for Dad, etc.

...she also tells me she's training to become a yoga instructor and, since she's working for the government and immune deficient, she'll probably be working from home until 2023 - too bad for me, working in retail and all.

That's another story all together - but just want to lay that one out there.

I DID get Dad to come out so I could give him some things for Mom - talk with him. He only takes the flowers - says I should hold on to the things I brought to entertain her (books, magazines) because she can't use them right now since she's hepped up on morphine and basically sleeping 24/7.

She also reportedly said she doesn't want to see me or Jena...or Dad, which is pretty funny, because when I did see her in the emergency room, she did seem a bit annoyed by his fussing.

Regardless - apparently her tumor was double the size they thought, but not cancerous (thank goodness) and they took about a 3rd of her stomach. She swore up and down she didn't feel any pain unless you pressed on that part of her and Dad just thinks she was lying/withholding info because she didn't want to bother him - possible, but I don't know - in my experience, when Mom felt bad, she made sure everyone knew.

Either way - it's. A. Lot.

Here's a quick summation of everything going on in collusion with this Mom thing:

* Vacation from work starting this Saturday

* Continued Grandma-Gate situation (what I call everything that's going on with my 93 year old Grandma and her impending passing/issues)

* One of my bosses at working asking me to think about putting in for a promotion to be a supervisor - i.e. a low form of retail management. Me. In retail management. AGAIN. I'd open and close the store and that sorta mess - not a big fan of the idea myself, but everyone I know seems to think it's a great idea and that I should really think about it.

* SO talking about leaving his job for various issues - considering he's main breadwinner, very dicey - worried about what kind of job he can move to.

* My back being a bitch and making sleep a chore.

* Life in general being a chore.

If you've read all of this - my condolences. But better out than in, I guess.

[maribabyart]

Do you have any Demon Martha headcanons? How do you think her reunion with Mrs. Mayberry (The teacher who paid for her assassination) in hell would go?

 OK YES I HAVE HEADCANONS FOR THIS HERE WE GO --

MARTHA HEADCANONS <3

So, I’m gonna start with her before she died so I can fully get into why every part of her is the way she is as a demon.

Martha is light skinned Latina woman with family coming from Venezuela. Her mother has a much darker skin tone than her, but her father is far more light-skinned, where she gets her complexion from. While she was raised in America, her parents were immigrants. She was born at home, and she didn’t get a birth certificate until she was four, the year before she started schooling.

She has three older brothers. They were very rambunctious with Martha as a child, pulling pranks on her/with her, taking her hunting, etc.

She was raised out on a farm in the middle of a forested area in Kentucky. They raised cattle, sheep, chickens, and horses. Martha’s main job on the farm was to groom/ride horses and feed chickens.

She learned her sharp-shooter skills in a more intense version of something like 4H unique to her area. She was fantastic with a bow and arrow, and even better with her firearms.

Cannibalism was normalized in Martha’s life from a young age. She knew that it must be kept secret from the outside world, and that it wasn’t accepted. However, it wasn’t something she found to be horrid.

Her family -- and their close friends -- came from a long lineage of Satanic cultists that practiced cannibalism to purge any bit of, “soul” remaining in the corpses of their sacrifices. Due to this, Martha had evolved to be able to be immune to the ill side effects of cannibalism, along with the ability to not feel repulsed by the idea of eating human meat.

Her favorite part of the body growing up was the brain, and it still is to this day. She loves the frontal lobe slathered in spices and hot sauce.

She began her cultish killings at age fourteen, when she officially joined the cult of her family’s descent -- Compañerismo de la Fruta Prohibida (Fellowship of the Forbidden Fruit, a refrence to their following of Lucifer)

Martha didn’t love Raphael Peterson, or, “Ralphie”. She was married of to him at age sixteen, when she became a, “Woman” in the cult’s eyes. They were both meant to appear as an ideal couple so that people wouldn’t suspect them, as their parents before them have.

Ralph and Martha always saw each other as friends with benefits.

They moved to Dayton, Tennessee to start their family when they turned eighteen.

In Nashville, Martha started singing to music her husband played in Taverns. Think Dolly Parton style music. She sounded a lot like that.

Their first child was born when Martha was eighteen: Their daughter, Jolene Peterson. Two years later, they had their son, Beau Peterson.

Martha was always really involved with her kids’ school activities, and she was always volunteering to work events, and her kids were in every activity they could be.

She used her physical attractiveness to seduce and kill men.

While sex favorable, Martha is on the aspec -- greysexual (sexual pleasure is irrelevant to her, and she only engages in it to appease her partner generally. She only finds sexual attraction in people while in the act.) Because of this fact, Martha only has affairs for the sake of gaining trust to bring the men home so they can be killed and eaten.

When Martha was shot, the community villainized Mrs. Mayberry because the town darling, Martha Jane Nunez Robles-Peterson, would NEVER cheat, right? The situation was misread: Martha was just talking to Jarold Mayberry that night about t-ball-related things, right? He WAS the the little league captain for her 6-year-old-son’s league, wasn’t he?

Martha was gifted millions by the community, and people were insanely supportive of her. They wanted the sweet Martha they, “knew” to get better soon. They loved her so -- such a darling woman!

Her music became more well known, and soon, Martha was all over TV. Her big musical break came from when she auditioned for American Idol and made it. Her sob-story propelled her, and she eventually won.

Martha was a hero to everyone around her -- surviving a traumatic event that was uncalled for, while also being so damn chipper and kind.

Hell, did you guys see the background in one of those scenes?! Martha was canonly proclaimed a SAINT! People loved her that much.

She used the public trust to lure in more victims and never be suspected.

Martha was 28 when she died. Ralphie was 28 as well. Jolene was 10, and Beau was 8.

Ralphie managed to survive the explosion, albeit he was completely paralyzed, and the two children went to heaven. Ralphie repented during his last month alive, and confessed to his crimes. He was sent to heaven as well.

Martha and the children were declared to have died in a bear attack, as Compañerismo de la Fruta Prohibida covered up their true demise with ease.

People were heart broken -- Martha’s music was used in sad collages on Youtube, Tik Toks had Martha’s face in them for memorials.

No one ever realized her crimes.

Now! As a demon....

In hell, Martha picked up the alias Hero -- it’s what she was in life, right? I’ll be calling her Hero from now on.

Hero is both different and similar to how she was when she was alive. She’s still the got her kind-hearted, southern mama vibe going for her: She tends to be able to fit into any demonic crowd well, either by attractiveness or by sheer, overwhelming allure -- she’s a very magnetic personality.

As far as powers go, Hero’s are mostly related to firearms. She’s acquired these powers through deal making and soul dealing, as most demons do. Her charming aura very quickly lure people into thinking she’s naive or really just being honest with them.

Her nails can peel back to allow her to shoot from, “finger guns”. Each finger is a different gun, besides her middle and index fingers. They are both shotguns. Together, they make a double barrel shotgun.

When in full demonic form, Hero’s bandages become sentient. They peel away from her wound, revealing a minigun like weapon in the hole in her head. This can rapid fire while the bandages can grab onto things or hoist Hero up. She can make this last for five minutes -- ten at the longest -- before she gives out to sheer exhaustion and needs to eat demon meat to replenish herself.

Within her first week in hell, she was known to be powerful. Not quite an overlord, but powerful enough to hang around overlords. 

She hit overlord status three months later, during the terf war seen in Hazbin Hotel’s pilot: She took several areas of land, and was seen to have several lesser demons flocking to be on her good side.

Hero used her land to build up a bar and grill that serves strictly demon meat and blood, where demons can play music and dance. It’s like a fucked up country dinner. It’s an insanely popular addition to Cannibal Colony, where she lives.

The place is called La Cocina de la Calle Kuru (The Kuru Street Kitchen)

Hero REALLY wants to get her hands on exterminator tools, but she’s not really a fan of black market deals -- it’s too “trashy” for her.

Hero knows Alastor pretty well, as he’s came in for meat and to watch the music. They’ve had pretty decent conversations while she was on break, seeing as they were both influential  southern, cannibalistic serial killers. It’s a running gag between them where they jokingly talk about who was more iconic -- “I bet I took out more belles in a lifetime than you could in your entire afterlife!” “Well hon, at least I could eat the brains without gettin’ Kuru!”

She talks to Rosie a lot about business, and has met Niffty and Mimzy before. (Al hooked a bitch up with some friends lmao)

She REALLY likes Mimzy. She reminds her of Ralphie, and they became super fast friends. 

Vox and Hero have a confusing sort of friendship, as neither really wants to be seen with the other -- In his case, because she’s much lower on the overlord spectrum than him, and in her case, because she’s no stranger to Alastor and Vox’s hatred for one another. However, she often finds herself consoling Vox on sleepless nights after closing up the bar, trying to convince him that Valentino is NOT worth his time. Beyond that and him occasionally paying her back in tech at random hours of the morning, they don’t talk often.

Hero LOVES dancing! Like, a lot.

She’s seen Charlie’s ad for the Happy Hotel. Her and Mimzy watched it, and they both thought it was the stupidest damn thing they’d ever seen. However, Hero said she was happy Charlie got up there, because she was just, “Cute as a button, that lil’ sweatpea was!”

Hero’s best friends are Mimzy and an unnamed demon who specializes in black market, extermination tool selling (the one seen in in Addict -- Cherri Bomb’s former lover).

These two people, and these two people alone, can call her “Martha”

Hero cooks whenever she’s stressed. She also adores sewing and binging soap operas and reality shows on Voxflix.

Hero’s Instagram would be, “HeroicMelodies” in reference to her music career and name.

Hero gets hit on A LOT, and she despises it. She doesn’t need to seduce people anymore to get away with murder, and she doesn’t want to. She dresses the way she does because she LIKES that clothing. People can fuck off.

The reason Hero is white and pink is to show how innocent she looks. Her pitch-black eyes show her dark soul.

Hero sings in Spanish to herself when cleaning up.

Sometimes, Hero and Rosie spend holidays going around with ground demon meat to throw to the hell crows and other critters. They find it peaceful.

Hero, shockingly, holds no hatred for I.M.P., and commonly jokes about how the I.M.P.’s, “Did her a favor” by sending her somewhere she can actually be her. She has no idea who called for the hit, though. 

Hero finds Blitzo’s Instagram posts being poorly spelled to be, “Damn near precious”.

She thinks he’s a teenager, and probably would think it less adorable if she knew he was a grown man with a grown kid.

Hero doesn’t care about Mrs. Mayberry at all. Like, at all. She honestly assumes the woman is in heaven. She knew Mayberry wasn’t bad -- she probably wouldn’t care if she was in hell, though. Oh well. Sucks to suck, bitch.

Husk frequents La Cocina de la Calle Kuru to drink and engage in the gambling scene. Hero finds him trashy, but can’t say she hates him. She finds him funny as hell, and enjoys the business. Just not someone she’d personally hang out with.

[lucas-koh]

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XII

Parts 1-11 linked in bio!

Somewhat canon compliant.

Rating: M, mentions of medical misdemeanour, implied sex, language

Song: Do I Wanna Know (Live At The BBC) - Hozier

Word Count: 3367

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @choicesficwriterscreations @bubblelaureno @bratzlahela @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Twelve: An Inconvenient Truth

So. Denial hadn’t been working. At this point Suki had to admit to herself her crush on Bryce. She had no clue what to do. She should end it, right? It wouldn’t be fair on him. He hadn’t signed up for this and they’d made it pretty clear they didn’t want this to happen.

Suki hadn’t had feelings for anyone in such a long time that it had never seemed possible to her. She’d never dreamed she’d end up feeling some type of way for Bryce Lahela. The moment she felt that déjà vu she should’ve run for the hills. Maybe in hindsight the whole thing was a mistake, but it was too late now.

She was laying there in his bed, on his chest, wearing his pyjamas. She definitely wasn’t doing herself any favours right at that moment.

She wanted to stay there forever, enveloped in his smell and his warm skin and the light breeze of his breaths on her forehead; the soft cotton of his pyjamas, the dizzying sensation of his arm on her waist.

But god, Bryce really hadn’t bargained for this. She had to get out of there before she drove herself crazy or overstayed her welcome. Or worse, drove him away. Because although it might not have been what was best for her after the revelation, all Suki wanted was to keep Bryce in her life.

“Thank you so much. Again. But I oughta get out of your hair.” She started to lift herself off him, dreaming up reluctance as his arm fell away from her.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want. You said you had today off too, right? You must be feeling pretty rough,” he chuckled.

“Thank you for offering but really. I should go home.” Should more than you know. Should for my own sanity. Should because it’s the right thing to do when it was me who fucked up.

Bryce left her to it as she changed out of his pyjamas – slowly, she was hungover as hell – and back into the clothes that were strewn across Bryce’s kitchen.

“I’ll wash your underwear for you,” he offered, as they had been caught in the crossfire of her vomit. She could tell it was a serious offer despite the smug smirk painted on his face.

Stop it! Stop it stop it stop it! “No, you won’t. I have a washing machine at home.”

She collected them from him in a plastic bag, how embarrassing.

Imagine making such a state of yourself? I’m twenty-fucking-eight years old and I drank too much because I was afraid to admit I might have some stupid schoolgirl crush on my fuck buddy? Have you ever seen anything more tragic? And now he’s fucking handing me my sick-soaked underwear in a plastic fucking bag. Like a fucking child. A child who threw up at school and had to go home early and get picked up by their mom. And now I can’t stop fucking cursing myself for putting myself in this position. If there was ever any moment at all that he maybe saw me as more than a fuck, that moment was lost now.

So Suki left, her head spinning and not just because of an asshole of a hangover.

Maybe it was just a temporary baseless infatuation. Maybe Suki shouldn’t have been jumping to such drastic measures…

So that - Suki’s denial and clinging on to the hope that she could find a way to continue this – was how Suki and Bryce ended up continuing to sleep together throughout the month of February. But the longer it went on, the more sure Suki was that this addicting feeling when she thought of him was sticking around. And it wasn’t fair on him.

She kept thinking about it, considering her options, making the excuse that she didn’t want to jump into the wrong decision. So yeah, she kept sleeping with him. And no, there was no way in hell Suki was admitting to Bryce that she was into him.

She’d been afraid to contact him after everything that had happened, the amount of embarrassment she’d caused for herself, but he was the one to reach out first. It surprised Suki that he even wanted anything to do with her after all that.

“How’s your hand?” He’d asked the first time since the incident, picking up her wrist and investigating the healing.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt much any more.” The wound was scarring to scab and itch.

“It’s looking good.”

“I guess I have your skills to thank.”

“How many times have I told you?” He grinned, “I’m a talented guy.”

They’d become comfortable with one another, really comfortable, and the friend part of friend with benefits could no longer be ignored.

Suki’s problem? Bryce was impossible to get a read on. She had absolutely no idea to tell if her newfound feelings were reciprocated, because he was a huge flirt to everyone. And Suki wasn’t one to take risks. So she didn’t say anything, assumed Bryce felt the same as he ever had for her.

She was right, of course, but not in the way she expected.

A few nights into the month Bryce texted:

Scalpel Jockey: *sigh* i should call her😉

Bryce’s text was accompanied by a selfie taken in front of his toilet, wide grin and thumb up. So embarrassing. He’d been right about the blackmail thing, then. He wasn’t going to let the mess I was go.

Santa Fe: you’re not even using the meme right

Scalpel Jockey: well my toilet misses your mouth so be sure to come visit it tomorrow

Santa Fe: you think you’re going to get laid after reminding me of the most embarrassing night of my life?

Over-exaggeration. But it honestly sort of felt that way.

Scalpel Jockey: of course I will😏

Santa Fe: nope

Scalpel Jockey:👀😌🤨

The next day,

Santa Fe: fine. see u soon.

—-

“Owwww somethings digging into my back!” Bryce yelped as he’d rolled away from Suki. He did some odd contortions to reach underneath himself and grab whatever was causing the grievance. “Suki, why the hell is your id badge in my bed?”

“Uh, maybe because you chucked it into the abyss a minute ago.”

He gave her a look with pursed lips. He rolled to his side facing away from Suki.

“Aww, you look so cute in this. All innocent and shit.”

“Give it back.”

“I mean it! Look at that little face,” he cooed, brushing the image with his thumb.

“It’s really not my best picture at all,” she groaned. What was it about ID card images which made them always turn out terrible? And then one is left with said image for potentially years to come.

“Suki, this says your birthday is January 18th? You didn’t say anything?” He turned to face her.

“January was so busy, I wasn’t that fussed.”

“You should’ve said. I would’ve celebrated with you.”

“Birthday sex?” She laughed.

“No, like proper birthday stuff. Whatever you like doing on them. And then maybe some birthday sex,” he added with a smirk.

“Eh. It was fine, I just got takeout.”

Bryce tutted.

“When’s your birthday, then?”

Suddenly he looked bashful and uneasy. “Um. November 27th.”

“Oh my god. You’re an idiot.”

“Nah. I’m a Sagittarius,” he winked.

“I can’t believe you were trying to make me feel guilty for not mentioning my birthday when you didn’t either.”

“We actually spent it together. That day I looked after Tommy. I had a great time.”

“Oh.” He had to stop saying things like that. It was terrible for her heart. “I can’t believe you let me set a random kid on you for your birthday.”

“I said I had a great time didn’t I?”

And god Suki’s stomach was having a party, an anxiety-ridden, nerves-on-fire, doubt-clad, smitten-as-shit party.

—-

In no time at all It was Valentine’s Day. Not that Suki was paying any attention… or that she wanted to spend it with a certain god-like surgeon. She didn’t even need to mention it, the plan was just act like this was any other hookup. February 14th was just a day – the way we ascribe time only exists because of us; and therefore it’s just a normal hookup. Using existentialism to cure crush nerves? Surprisingly works.

Santa Fe: 👃

Scalpel Jockey: sorry sukes i’m sick🤒

Well. That was not what she was expecting.

But wait. What if he was faking? What if he knew it was Valentine’s Day and was worried Suki was trying to make a gesture and had to let her down easy?

Worse, what if he was spending Valentine’s with someone else? After all, they had agreed not to be exclusive. Shit. What if Bryce liked someone else?? She didn’t even think about it before and now she felt a bit sick. He was an insanely attractive guy – chances were even without time to meet people there would be plenty at the hospital falling at his feet. There was no way he hadn’t been asked out for Valentine’s.

Those worries were quelled by another text, a picture of Bryce’s legs in his bed and the TV at the end playing something. There was a small bag full of used tissues.

Bless him, he really is sick.

Suki knew what she had to do.

Clanging about in the kitchen she muscled up some veg-packed soup, a vegetable lasagne, and a vegetable stir-fry. She also blended a fruit smoothie. Then she packed everything into Tupperware and fit a couple of portions of each into an insulated container.

Suki marched over to Bryce’s with the insulated container full of her cooked meals and determination. God, I’m a simp.

When she arrived she knocked hard so that he could hear. It was a couple of minutes before Suki heard footsteps, then they stopped (presumably for Bryce to look through the fish-eye) before Bryce creaked the door open.

“Suki. Didn’t you get my text, I’m sick I can’t-“ his voice was weak and croaky, slightly nasal – and he definitely sounded ill.

“I know. I’m not here for that. I bought you these,” she held up the insulated bag.

“What is it?”

“Food. Meals. Because you’re sick and you can’t cook. It’s just simple immune-boosting stuff,” she held out the bag for him to take.

He sniffed loudly and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

She was going to protest, but for some reason she didn’t. The plan was just to drop the food off, not to come in. But when faced with the opportunity Suki’s legs carried her subconsciously. When Bryce opened the door up for her she could see him closer. Dark bags under his eyes, greasy hair, chapped lips. He was wearing sweatpants (similar to the pair Suki had tucked away in her drawer at home from Christmas), and a cotton t shirt. He looked rough. Somehow, he was still the most beautiful man she’d ever met. And seeing him like this wasn’t off-putting at all, it just made her want to look after him. Be there for him. Why am I willing to do so much for him? Liking people is a bit like giving away your soul, isn’t it?

“You get back into bed and I’ll heat one of these up for you. They should still be mostly warm, anyway.”

“Sukes, I’ll be fine,” he said nasally. The nickname sent Suki’s organs into overdrive. Because here he was at his lowest, referring to Suki with an affectionate moniker and sounding like a melancholic song.

“I kind of owe you, remember?”

Bryce hummed a nod, too tired for much else, and slunk back into his bedroom.

Suki busied herself checking all the Tupperware’s – they were cool enough to go in the freezer by then so she put all bar one away. She heated that one for a few moments and transferred it into a bowl with cutlery, planted that on a tray, and brought it through to Bryce.

He was in bed as Suki had instructed, old reruns of Criminal Minds playing on his TV. He smiled weakly when he saw her enter with the tray of soup.

“Thank you,” he said as she placed the tray on his lap.

“No problem.”

He took a spoon of soup and gulped it down gently. Then he turned to Suki, who was now perched lightly on the edge of his bed facing him.

“I’m not good with… seeming weak,” he said, looking at Suki intensely.

“You don’t need to worry about that. It’s only me. I vomited in your toilet.”

“Exactly,” he muttered, and when Suki was about ask what he meant he carried on, “this soup is amazing.”

They sat in silence with only the sounds of the TV as Bryce worked his way through the bowl of soup. Suki was too nervous to ask what he’d meant.

“Thank you,” he said as he finished the bowl. She took the tray from him and took it back through to the kitchen, washing everything up for him. She returned to Bryce’s room, noting beads of sweat on his forehead. Going into Bryce’s en-suite, Suki found a washcloth and soaked it with some cold water before giving it a squeeze.

When she returned to Bryce’s side she gently dabbed the washcloth over his hot forehead. He looked up at her, vulnerable, exhausted – very un-Bryce. She was ever so gentle as she dabbed the cool cloth over his skin. Then Bryce reached up and held onto her wrist weakly with his hand.

“Why are you doing all this?”

“Like I said, I owe you. I was hard work that night at yours.”

He seemed to accept this answer, and gulped a little as he let go of her wrist. She pulled the cloth from his forehead for a moment.

“I’m still nervous,” he croaked.

“About?”

“You seeing me like this. It’s not exactly sexy.”

Suki’s nosiness was getting the better of her, and she knew now would be a good time to strike since there’d been an opening.

“The whole… weakness thing – that’s why you were weird about the surgery?”

“Yeah. Yeah it is,” he sighed, looking at Suki as though weighing up his options. He seemed to come to a decision and continued: “I already went through struggles with self doubt. My parents fucked up my whole belief in myself - it’s why I overcompensate now. It’s why I took the surgery thing so hard, I felt myself doubting my abilities. Well it was more like – less that I was actually doubting myself, because I know I’m good, and more that I was worried I would start doubting myself.”

“Yeah, that totally makes sense.” Suki was surprised he was opening up to her like this. She noticed how he mentioned his parents, but she’d let him get there when he was was ready.

“I’m sorry for not telling you at the time.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t owed the story. So what really happened? You got kicked off because of karaoke?”

“Uh, the other surgical interns kind of have it out for me.”

“What?”

“Well… everyone liked me at first. You know, I’m a likeable guy,” he flashed a grin, a ghost of his normal megawatt smile, “but I think once they saw how competent and determined I was that changed fast.”

“Jealousy,” she scoffed, “So that’s why you don’t hang out with them any more?” Suki remembered how he’d avoided them at Halloween.

“Yeah. And there was a group of them spreading shit from the start about me, dangerous rumours that could get me fired. Saying I drink on the job, I have *ahem* sexual relationships with my patients, that I’m a terrible surgeon and only made it here because of my parents money which is...”

“Your parents are well off?”

Bryce’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, uh, people found out about who my parents are too.”

“Who are they?”

“Another time,” he bit his lip as though unsure, concern as he looked into Suki’s face.

“Okay- drinking at work, sex with patients? Where the hell did those come from?”

“Well I keep a few condoms in my locker, for you, that can’t have looked great after the accusations. I don’t know shit about the drinking. I guess it just sounded bad and anyone who has had out it for me just wants me to look incompetent.”

“Those fucking dicks.”

Bryce shrugged. “It shows I’m a major threat,” he gave her a smug grin but his heart wasn’t quite in it. “So all that stuff got relayed back to Dr Emery and the karaoke the night before was apparently the last straw. She didn’t want to take the risk in case it was true and gave my surgery to Ben.”

“Ben, huh?” She asked, a sudden iciness in her tone. Like, Ben ‘you like her?’ Ben? Digging into Bryce’s private life Ben?

“Yeah, he’s another intern - you probably don’t know him.”

Maybe not. But I’m about to.

“I know some Ben’s… what’s his last name?”

“White.”

“Oh no, I don’t know him,” Suki smiled sweetly, dabbing Bryce’s head with the flannel again. She’d gotten the information she needed.

Bryce chuckled weakly. “I told you.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah so, obviously Dr Emery investigated it all after that and realised that none of it was true. But by then I’d lost it anyway. The damage was done, you know? Sorry, I know I sound a bit ‘woe is me’.”

“Not at all. You can talk to me, seriously. Friends – remember? I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” And angrier than I’m letting on.

“I suppose I owe you an apology too. For shutting you down and running away when you tried to ask me about it. I’m just- it’s- I like being That Guy, you know? The one who’s got his shit together. The one who’s the expert surgeon. Who doesn’t let things phase him. Laughs everything off. The one who’s amazing in bed,” he looked at her with a look that was, if Suki didn’t know any better, nervous. God, it’s so weird seeing him like this. But my heart is completely breaking for him.

“If I’m-“ he continued, then seemed to change his mind, “what you need from me wasn’t that, so I didn’t want to mess things up.”

“By being human? You could never,” she smiled as she bought the flannel back to his face, but it was more an excuse to stroke her finger over his cheek comfortingly. Bryce’s eyes seemed to shut involuntarily and he moved into her touch, just letting it be for a while. He was still hot, but had a bit more colour to his face, so Suki felt she had helped at least a little.

Fuck. I like you so much.

This definitely wasn’t helping her whole predicament, because each word he’d said to her, each touch, each look on his face – and she was a puddle on the floor. Overwhelmed with the ache she felt in her chest at the whole situation. That something as ridiculous as jealousy – between people who’s job it was to help others for gods sake – had put Bryce in such a spin. And it seemed to her that losing the surgery was bad for him, but the way that affected his confidence and how he felt he had to be around her – that seemed to have affected him more.

He was too proud.

And she cared for him too much to be okay with seeing him like this.

Suki must’ve been cradling Bryce’s face longer than she’d realised, because he eventually started snoring quietly. His eyebrows now flattened on his face and looking more at peace than he had since she’d arrived. She was careful when removing her hand and placing a pillow up under his head. She placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, brushing against the cool damp area she’d been dabbing. Then she snuck into his bathroom to fill up a glass of water and collect some aspirin, leaving them on his bedside table for him before escaping his apartment.

Suki was on a mission, fuelled by affection and anger.