#this contest result thing has gone on for three days

[gemsofgreece]

OK some things about Greece's Marina Satti results and we're done with this

JK I am not done with Marina I love her but we're done with the circus Marina was in, for another year

So, she is a perfectionist but I hope she will soon understand how much SHE SUCCEEDED. And it will look like a love delirium but no I am not being biased.

Marina Satti got 11th place. Missed Top 10 by one. She was basically killed by the juries.

In the televoting she won 8th place. So she was in the top 10 of all people's votes. She was also 8th in the votes from the Rest of the World, which is a big deal in my opinion.

I won't be mad at the juries because their voting overall made sense in many ways and we were aware that Zari was a not jury-friendly song in any way. It had zurna, it had rap, obviously juries don't go for this stuff. So, it's okay. We knew that.

BUT Marina Satti got 8th - 11th place:

By singing exclusively in the Greek language.

By singing in an entirely Balkan, eastern melody during a year that a lot of the Balkans and East Europe had withdrawn from the contest.

By kinda rapping / reggaetoning, which is generally hated in Eurovision.

By doing exactly her thing, despite knowing how much she would be fought by certain people.

By knowingly choosing the very risky song instead of a ballad and a typical dance song that she also had available as options.

By not trying to be "understood" and get sympathy votes.

By being given a tiny budget from the Greek delegation, much smaller than any previous years including to last year's NQ lame tycoon nephew entry. So GD gave a famous artist like Marina much less money than to those small unknown kids that had gone before her. WTF

By being hated for her song and her (genius) music video and a large percentage of the population writing in English and asking foreigners to not vote for her and blaming her for insulting Greece, Greek culture etc (HINT: No she did not insult it and a blog called gemsofgreece tells you that so relax) and insulting her, her morals, her family, her father's descent and her talent relentlessly for three months

By the unprecedented thing of the freaking SHOWBIZ of the country making openly insulting attacks against her and her song. Like, seriously, there were FAMOUS celebrities going on TV and calling her song "cat vomit", a fashion designer (before her dress choice lol) saying she should go to Eurovision naked because there's no other hope for her to get votes. I am serious. You might say, oh, she must have done something. NO. Guys, no. She has never said or done anything wrong to any celebrity in the country as far as I am aware. She was attacked by musicians, fashion designers, TV shows and honestly nobody knows why. It's a different thing to not like something than to get a polemic position openly as a celebrity against another famous person. This has never happened before, I don't remember anything like this. Celebrities shitting on another artist's effort out of nowhere, especially in advance. To put it simply, now that Marina will have to return to Greece (poor thing), she has good reasons to sue half the country.

By losing her father one month ago.

By getting pretty ill during the semi-final, losing her voice and being administrated medication every three hours.

By suffering chronically from severe anxiety, which is why she refused three prior propositions from the Greek delegation to represent the country.

Well, by receiving a new massive wave of hate from people from or supporting Israel and the Greek government controlled media and press, who all started a fierce campaign against her the last two days before the final. The reason was that she showed intentionally boredom / sleepiness during the time the Israeli contestant was speaking. Make of that what you will, I am only presenting the facts of how her placement was formed here. Many Jewish people wrote they had voted her in the semi but now they wouldn't. I believe because Israel is an eastern country, probably several people of Jewish descent voted for her and then all those votes were lost. It's no matter, I am just explaining that she would probably otherwise be 7th in the televoting, 10th overall. Here we analyze if Marina succeeded her goal, we don't nitpick for Eurovision's sake.

And as you see, she succeeded. With all the odds against her, with a LOT of people hating her and making her life harder and her effort impossible, with the loss of her father, she succeeded in her vision. Bring back Greek language, the eastern sound and having the world dance with it. Shoutout to Armenia who also succeeded in this and made top 10, the song was a little more conventional. Let's be real, Satti achieved all this with a VERY difficult song. The definition of a difficult song and in a little known language. Nothing else, just congratulations to her and I hope she realises all this and does not let her trademark anxiety and perfectionism get the better of her. Also, she really created an international fan community with this and I think there are good things coming for her in the future :)))))

PS1: Odds had her 8th-10th place but they underestimated the juries and the last day's hate she got. In general odds were not very successful this year.

PS2. No worries Greek and Cypriot televoting exchanged the 12 points again :D

PS3: to the ageist haters who wondered why she looks 20 though she is 38, kitties reach her age and you will be crying to look like her

PS4: Marina’s 8th place in televoting was the best placement since 2013, surpassing Amanda and Stefania with the English jury friendly songs 😃😃😃 Greek delegation take a bloody hint

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Not entirely sure you'd be into this, but vore featuring the workers from the squid game? They do have masks after all!

I think they're pretty good so I'll get some stuff for them! Also can you tell how far I'm digging back into my drafts for this one?

The guards were clearly enjoying this much more than they should. That was pretty obvious to the contestants after the first game they played. It had seemed safe enough when no one actually died but then...well, the guards came in, moving like wolves stalking their prey. When the first guy was being guzzled down, it got a lot more to start panicking, which resulted in a lot more eating. By game's end, nearly half of them were gone, and each guard had at least two guys stretching out their pink suits. The masks hid their faces, but not their clear enjoyment, as they rubbed and kneaded their guts, sloshed them around or pressed them into things, let out nasty belches and content sighs over their meals. A lot of the contestants wondered if that was the whole point, just for these strangers in masks to gorge themselves on easy meals. Every game went like that. Nothing explicitly deadly, at least until those who lost were grabbed and devoured without hesitation. Some tried to bargain their way out of it, others attempted to fight back, and some simply gave up. In the end, no one got away from the hungry guards, and every day they were getting fatter and fatter. When it came down to the last handful of contests, it was pretty clear they were being watched at all times by hungry eyes, the guards sizing them up, trying to decide who would get which meal. In the end, only one man would be left, every other contestant fattening someone's gut or ass. His prize was the money...the consolation prize was getting to feel up a lot of hungry predator stomachs without being devoured. Unless, of course, he asks for it. But you'd have to be stupid to give up all that money just to be a meal for one of those guards...the winner has a hard time deciding just how stupid he is then.

When the lights went off, the idea was that the contests were meant to maim one another as a part of the game. But one of the guards couldn't stand the idea of so much wasted meat and saw an opportunity. Everyone was too afraid to move that day as wet gulps and slurps echo out in the darkness. Some desperate screams manage to get over them every so often, but they're always muffled with a noisy gulp and a wet belch. When the lights come on again, the guard is gone, as well as a large number of contestants. Only a few jumpsuits, dripping in drool and left discarded remain. None of them knew exactly what happened, but they knew they were lucky to be alive. And those watching certainly enjoyed the show plenty, so the greedy guard was allowed to have his meal and settle in his room to digest undisturbed. The contestants in his gut scream and thrash, begging to be let out and given another chance. None of them thought it was fair, but in all honesty, it wasn't about fairness. He lays back in bed, arms behind his head, and lets out a nasty belch into the air. He'd miss a couple of games processing all of this meat, but that's more than worth it to score a meal like this. If he's lucky, and the audience was thoroughly entertained, he might even be able to go up a rank and get a new mask. Then he can start eating like this even more. Three games later, the remaining contestants would take note of one of the guards watching them and how much fatter he is compared to the rest, his pink jumpsuit stretched skin tight over his new heft. Some mumbling about how he managed that catches the guard's attention and he feels his guts gurgling. They might have another 'lights out' soon just so he can show them all how right they are.

The guard in the square mask stares down silently at the guards in circle masks. The low-ranking ones are always the ones that get too excited and too greedy over the prospect of so much live prey to eat. They all tried to sneak some meals in the last game, but when one got caught in the act, he squealed fast and now the whole group is in trouble. Their stomachs are still bubbling wetly, the contestants who were unfairly devoured still barely kicking or fully liquified already. They could have been let out but they weren't. The circle guards were allowed to have their last meals, at least. The first one to finish is the first to be punished, grabbed by the ankles and hoisted up. He trashed and begs, trying to apologize as he's devoured feet first. It doesn't do him any good as he's packed away. The process repeats for the other four, each one devoured feet first so they can spend their last moments yelling and begging, all the way up until their world is framed by teeth before it all goes black. It was the same thing with all of them--begging for another chance, trying to blame someone else, demanding that it's not fair, and cursing their predator. They're all packed away with ease, leaving the square guard to sit back with a sigh as his guts boil over a lot of fresh predator meat. Being so high-ranking, eating offending guards is always a delicacy for the square guards, and he was happy to be the one to take on the role today. This sort of thing seemed to happen all the time--at least one guard gets too cocky and winds up mulched for his troubles. But it usually gets the others to behave. By the time the next game happens, five suits are left hanging in the air, dripping with slime after being hacked up by the guard--who stands under them, a hand resting on his fattened gut while he watches the other guards mill about. Someone always serves as an example, and it always works until the next game.

[arewelemmings]

If you live in North Carolina, I wrote this for you. Why? Because I care. It's important, so please bear with me.

Here's a look at the North Carolina Senate Race, one week out: Twp candidates are vying for the Senate seat made available by the retiring Republican Senator Richard Burr.

Former Chief Justice of the State Supreme Court of North Carolina, Cheri Beasley, is running as a Democrat for this opening Congressional seat in the Senate, against Trump-endorsed Republican, Ted Budd. This hasn't been getting a lot of national attention, but it's an important race. Let's take a moment to familiarize ourselves with this contest.

Firstly, Ted Budd is somebody you certainly don't want in charge of anything you care about. As early voting began in North Carolina, stumping began in earnest. "People are furious right now about three, three main things," Budd said in an interview with National Public Radio. "It depends on how you divide it: It's inflation, it's crime, and it's education." It's interesting that he cites these three issues as worrisome to Republican voters, and voters who have yet to decide. Inflation is actually controlled by the heads of industry and the financial big wigs at the top of Wall Street, who line the pockets of Republican candidates, knowing these "lawmakers" will open doors of privilege for them at the expense of the working class. Donald Trump's rhetoric and actions have riled the most vile tendencies of the deplorables, encouraging them to be more vile, outrageous and criminal right out in the open. Any rise in crime is directly attributable to the cheating traitor who stole the 2016 presidential election. Our failing educational system is also a direct result of Republican policies, old and new. First, teachers have seen their paychecks decrease over time while the schools they teach in have gone terribly underfunded. Now they ban books and write laws forbidding the teaching of truth to American students in Republican run states, all because they believe it easier to control the ignorant, and therefore, work to keep them ignorant. So, as you can clearly see, all three of these issues are tied to Republican policies and/or social and cultural manipulation. Yet, Ted Budd speaks of them as if Democrats created these problems he alludes to. At best, he is disingenuous, but I would call him a liar, a man not to be trusted in a seat of power.

On the other hand, Cheri Beasley is a champion of Justice, dignity and human rights, honed for leadership in a capacity of lawmaking from her years of practicing law, and her time on the bench in the highest court in North Carolina. She has recently been quoted as saying, "People really are excited about this race. They understand the sense of urgency around it." And she's right; we also need to understand the urgency of this election. Women's rights are on the ballot this November 8th, along with easing the struggles of the working class, strengthening the rights of minorities and the disenfranchised, in fact, the survival of our democracy itself hinges upon the ballots cast during this election. A vote for Beasley is a vote to restore women's reproductive rights, which Republicans have been fighting to steal for decades. A vote for Beasley is a vote against racism, hatred, inequality, injustice, corruption, and all that has been going wrong in America these days. And it's important to note that Beasley and Budd are running nearly neck and neck, so we need to mobilize and get voters to the polls, and early ballots in the hands of voters. A win for Beasley is a win for us all, and another step toward saving democracy and American freedom from the destructive, conservative forces of the Republicans.

If I lived in North Carolina, I would be casting my vote for Cheri Beasley, and voting blue all the way down the ballot.

[fingfamily-blog-blog]

The Beginning of the End

My trip to Surabaya was fine, but limited. Ramadan closed things down for socializing bule (foreigners), so I met with two of my American colleagues, and we stayed in one neighborhod, eating at the same restuarant, drinking at another one. It was fine, but not a wondrous exploration or anything. As I sit on my bed writing this, here is a list of my professional responsibilities over the next 10 weeks: conduct two online writing class sessions, conduct two in-class writing class sessions, grade final papers (10-paragraph essays), submit grades, oversee an essay writing contest, and lead one reading club session. Dear friends, 10 weeks is 70 days! It is a stunning development for me, indicating that things have gone badly wrong between myself and my school, and challenging me in a way I haven't been challenged for 35 years. Indeed, my relationship with my school is at a nadir. Not even my closest colleague, my minder, Ibu Yusnita, is bothering with me much anymore. I accept that this is partially my fault, both in a cultural mismatch, and a personal proclivity sense. But the stretch of time that is open to me is the result of the end of the school year. After three more weeks (two of which will be spent on vacation - celebrating Eid al-Fitr, the end of Ramadan) there's nothing else for me to do.  So let me tell you what I am going to do. I'm going to read a novel called, This Earth of Mankind, by Pramoedya Ananta Toer, and take notes on it. I'm going to play guitar and work out regularly. I'm going to do that school work when it comes time. And I'm going to travel. Next week, I'll be taking a trip which stands as perhaps the most unexpected in my life. I've been drawn to the island of Sulawesi just based on its tentacular shape on the map. Any of the Indonesian islands can be considered remote and exotic. But Sulawesi stands in my mind as one of the most. I figured I'd first go to Makassar, in the south - it's close to Java and it has a romantic ring to it, harkening one to the great Spice Trade. But I gather that Makassar as a city is ugly and grungy, and of course the Spice Trade was essentially hundreds of years of resource extraction which enriched Holland and pauperized Indonesia. So I decided to go to Manado, in the far north of the island. Manado has more going on in and around it, islands, volcanic craters, swimming, surfing, etc. This is wonderfully attractive, but what makes the journey so unique in my life is that I'll be staying at a place called Thalassa Dive and Wellbeing Resort, where I'll spend 4 or 5 days learning to scuba dive, and ultimately receiving a certification to dive anywhere in the world, up to 18 meters. Now, that's not "advanced" diving. But considering I'm 58 years old and have never really even wanted to scuba dive, this is a remarkable development. As a result of the snorkeling I've done on Flores island, I want to do and see more. So I'll become a diver!  And it means that I hope to be able to dive on the other trips I take before I leave Indonesia. After Manado, I have a plan to spend 9 days in Lombok, the small island next to Bali. I gather it's a bit quieter there than Bali, fewer tourists. That's fine with me. I'll be staying in 4 different locations in those 9 days, so that will keep me busy, two of them are on even smaller islands where I hope to dive again. And I also expect that I'll be hanging out quite a bit, relaxing, practicing my beach bum routine, which doesn't really come to me naturally. Besides those journeys, which are already planned, I expect I'll be taking one last trip in Java, to the eastern-most points of Jember province, the Ijen Plateau, and Banyuwangi. If I can arrange it, I will also try to get to Bandung, in western Java, as I'm told is a nice place. If I finally leave the country from Jakarta, which I expect, then that would seem likely. And I will try to get to Bali once more. And, another big IF, I sure would like to get to the Maluku islands, even more remote and exoitc than Sulawesi. The main town is called Ambon, and if I can find my way there, I'll also try to take the 18-hour boat ride to the very small and historically important Banda islands, EVEN MORE remote and exotic. I also expect that I'll be sitting around my house for much of the time, and that will be a challenge. But, whereas the last time I had such a challenge, in Bangkok in 1988, this time, I'm more mature, and I have plenty of technology to keep me connected to my friends and family, as well as to keep me entertained. I've also recently asked my landlord's staff, who have been feeding me meals three times per week since October, to stop bringing me food. I want to make my own and I want to go out more and try some foods I haven't thus far, in particular Padang food, which comes from Sumatra and is famous all over Indonesia. I've not been professionally happy here in Malang. But I've had numerous positive personal experiences, and with several weeks of travel ahead of me, I look forward to more. Someday this journey will be over, and I expect to have a bevy of wonderful memories to bring home with me! 

[esamastation]

Roy doesn't know exactly when the new alchemist joins them on the field.

It's a bad time - they're establishing a new camp in the town and the area is under constant assault, it seems. Small strikes on all sides, seemingly from nowhere, taking out a man there, another there, crippling a truck, taking out a road… The Ishvalans are using some sort of network of tunnels, the brass thinks, and it's Roy's job to smoke them out. So that's what he's been doing, seemingly all week… smoking out the supposed tunnels.

There are no tunnels, though. The Ishvalans are just getting desperate and in their desperation they're figuring out new methods. They have home field advantage and new tricks of camouflaging themselves in the rubble that used to be their home. Ruins of a people, blending in the ruins the Amestrians had made of their houses. They're learning to live with it, to work with it, because it's all they have - and they're getting good because they have little choice in the matter.

No one is listening to Roy when he points it out, though. There's a dismissiveness to the higher ups, when it comes to the evolution of Ishvalan tactics. "What are they doing now, praying for better guns?" As though this war, hasn't already gone on three times as long as originally projected.

Roy is thinking about it, staring at a crooked, unlit cigarette someone had put into his shaking hands, when he's introduced to the new alchemist.

"Good news, Mustang," Hughes says, with absolutely no joy in his cheerful smile, and less so in his cheerful voice. It sounds like he's chewing charcoal. "You're getting partner."

Roy looks up, his mind still in the meeting room, thinking about numbers on a map, how they didn't quite capture the reality of charred skeletons. It takes a moment for what he sees in front of him to sink in.

Another blue uniform, still pressed sharp and bright new under the beige overcoat that's supposed to protect it and it's wearer from the dust and heat of Ishval. What stands before him isn't a soldier though - it's barely a man. It's a short blond boy, no older than sixteen at most, with heavy non-regulation boots and silver watch chain at his hip.

The horror and disgust that wells up it's barely a blip before it's smothered under, oh, of course, and shit, are we here already? Then Roy stands up, puts the unlit cigarette away and holds out his right hand.

"Major Roy Mustang - the Flame Alchemist."

The blond boy smiles, crooked and sharp and just as mirthless as Hughes beside him. "Nick Flamel - the Fullmetal Alchemist." His grip is tight and brief, his hand gloved.

He'd be the newest youngest State Alchemist then. Roy had heard his record had been beaten, though he hadn't really paid attention to who or how.

Hughes looks between them and for a moment his eyes show a certain desperation. Then he covers it up and pats Flamel's shoulder. "Fullmetal here is stationed under you until he gets a hang of things - you'll show him the ropes, teach him what's what."

Keep him alive, is what Hughes' eyes say, and no wonder. Being as young as he is, the kid can't have much in the way of training. Alchemists don't need to go through basic, after all - they're not there to march or shoot guns or stand in lines. Flamel had probably just gotten his watch, his uniform, and a one way ticket to Ishval. To one of the worst, most contested zones at that. Shit.

Did the brass send the kid here to die?

"What's your specialty - metallurgical transmutation?" Roy asks.

"I don't have a speciality, really," Flamel says and pushes his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. It doesn't quite fit him right - too wide across shoulders, a bit too long. They'd either left some growing room, or they just didn't have a uniform small enough. "But I'm damn good at environmental alchemy, which I figure is what I'll be doing the most around here."

Roy blinks. "Environmental alchemy," he repeats.

"I can make the battleground my bitch," Flamel says, his crooked smile sharpening.

And abruptly Roy is already exhausted with the kid. He's one of those, then, a cocky little sumbitch, top of his class and talk of the town, so used to being the top dog of his little bubble that he has no concept of what the real world is like outside that little bubble. Guys like him come swaggering in all the time, all big talk and smug grins, so sure they're going to be carrying their little superiority complexes spotlessly over the finish line that they walk into the first fucking landmine that comes across.

Roy sees himself holding the kid's hand after he gets gunned down, still thinking himself invulnerable, and it's exhausting.

"What?" Flamel asks, suspicious at his silence.

Hughes, giving the kid the exact same look Roy must be, clears his throat. "How about you show us?" he suggests. "So we'll have an idea what we're working with here."

Flamel arches a brow at that and then looks around, light brown - or are they burnished gold? - eyes narrowing in thought.

Their camp is still a mess from the last attack - they're fixing the fences and filling the holes in the road that got busted in the smattering of mortar fire from two days ago. The perimeter is more secure now, for a given value of secure. They'd chosen the highest spot in the town, the temple mount, to give them a high vantage point - better than being penned into a valley. It leaves them pretty damn open though.

Flamel looks over the houses they'd taken over, the tents pitched in the streets and the flag of Amestris hung over the prayer hall, and clicks his tongue. Then he claps his hands together, and crouches down.

For a split of a second, barely a blink, it looks like he's praying.

Then he slaps his hands on the street beneath their feet - and in a crackle of alchemical energy and rumble of displaced earth, the street reforms. The dirt flattens, grows perfect paving stones, shifts to form neat walkways on the sides, even forming gutters. Between one breath and the next, they have a perfect Amestrian city street, formed from the dust of Ishval, surrounded by Ishvalan buildings.

While the soldiers on the newly reformed street let out shouts of shock, Roy just stares, his mind trying to jump hoops figuring out how the kid just did that. Circles in his skin, under his sleeves, inside his gloves…?

Hughes whistles, hiding his wild eyes in a squint. "Nice. You know, it doesn't rain much around here," he comments.

"So?" Flamel asks.

"The gutters aren't really necessary."

Flamel looks at the street he'd made, hands resting on his hips, and shrugs. "Eh, can't hurt," he says and motions at the street. "Anyway, imagine that, but spikes instead of paving stones."

Roy swallows and looks at the kid, who's just standing there, seemingly in no way bothered. Fullmetal doesn't look smug or proud of what he'd done, only grinning a little bit at the way the soldiers throw away their shovels, no longer needed. If this isn't something for the him to even brag about, then…

Roy has in his head an image of the kid doing a field of spikes under a charging assault force, eviscerating people by the dozens, and it's clearly not Flamel's only trick. It's probably not even in his top five.

Fuck, the kid would end up with a three digit death toll by his first engagement.

"Right," Roy says. He isn't sure what his face is doing but going Hughes' expression, it's probably not good. "You can make gutters. How about trenches?"

Flamel grins, his eyes like molten metal. "Try me."

-

By the end of the week - no, by the end of the day their camp is hugely improved by Flamel. The fence is turned into a solid stone wall, constructed within minutes from the remains of bombed out houses. Another pile of rubble is turned into a watch tower. They have trenches, they have pits, Flamel even adds a moat and spikes around the camp, like they're in an ancient fortress or something. Hell, there's even gargoyles in the corners of the wall.

They go from one of the least secure camps to one of the most heavily fortified seemingly overnight. It's a huge boost to troop morale - not so for Roy's sanity. Flamel doesn't even look winded by the end of his improvements.

"How are you doing the circles?" Roy asks finally - bit of a social Faux Pas among alchemists, especially military alchemists, but he has to ask. Flamel made entire buildings, and he hadn't stopped to draw a single sigil.

"In my head," Flamel says, shrugging. Like that makes any sense.

Roy looks at him and then at the changes he's made, and can't say it's impossible - he can see the results with his own eyes. And they're more than impressive, they're…

Flamel isn't going to be here long, he realises. Whether the brass send the kid here to get rid of him or not, the moment word about Flamel's real abilities spread, he'd be snagged by the first general with any fucking sense. The kid's a powerhouse. Roy is too, of course, that's why he's here - but Fullmetal is a different kind of powerhouse. Just by himself, he would be able to establish a secure foothold in the middle of enemy territory and that's not someone you just let sit idle.

Roy looks at the kid and feels torn between feeling sorry, jealous and a little bit bitter. If only he was a bit higher in rank, he could keep Flamel and make a full use his abilities - and maybe keep him from becoming a mass murderer in the process.

"What was your exam like?" Roy asks. There's no way the kid showed even a fraction of these abilities, he wouldn't be here at all if he had. "How'd you end up with a name like Fullmetal?" From what he'd seen something like Earth Moving or Groundbreaking would've been more apt.

"I made a spear in my exam," Flamel says, not looking at him. "And pointed it at Bradley."

"... And they didn't arrest you?"

Flamel smirks a little and looks at him. "What did you do?" he asks. "I bet you scorched something."

Roy had. He'd been welcomed in on the spot. "Training dummies," he agrees, giving him a pointed look. "Because I don't have a death wish."

Flamel shrugs. "It got me what I wanted," he says and stretches his arms. "So, what comes next?"

Roy looks at their newly secure camp. "Depends on the Colonel, but I bet you'll be doing more road work. We need a clear path in and out of the town."

Even though the town is officially theirs, that doesn't stop the guerilla attacks - but now, with a secure camp, all they needed was a clear path for troops to move in and then it'd be only a matter of time. If the two of them weren't already reassigned by then, they'd be after the supply line was secure. Alchemists weren't wasted in safe stations.

"But that's tomorrow's problem," Roy decides. "Come in, kid - let's get something to eat."

- - -

Nostalgia is doing rounds in my brain.

[obeymeluv]

Isnt devildom liquor weaker than human world liquor? Mc had beat Asmo in a drinking contest. How do you think it they'd act, completely hammered in the human world. I think harder liquor means stupider drunks.

Spoiler alert to the in-game MC’s “heritage” reveal. You know, the descendent/reincarnation thing. If you know, you know.

Below: Thoughts on Devildom liquor + the specific incident Nonnie is talking about with Asmo in game + THE ACTUAL ANSWER TO THE ASK. My bad, haha.

My thoughts on Devildom liquor at that point in the game:

The MC is not as affected because they are human/angel. Maybe the angel part fortifies MC and makes it harder for them to get drunk?

Maybe the HUMAN side of MC is what makes it harder for them to get drunk on Devildom liquor? Like...everything in the Devildom is made primarily for demons so maybe there are ingredients in there that specifically affect those with demon blood. Maybe humans don’t have the biology to be inebriated by those ingredients?

I am a little fuzzy on that point in the game but did Asmo pre-game? Like, a lot? Did we ever find out? I could see him being so emotionally distraught that his lovely MC is leaving that he just wants to be sloshed. Maybe he assumed MC beat him in a drinking contest because he forgot how much he already drank?

Maybe Solomon gave MC a heads up that Asmo was down for drinking and gave them a pre-game potion of their own to ward off the affects.

End hypothesis: Maybe Devildom liquor IS strong (for demons) but that potency just can’t translate in human bodies so the bros (Lucifer especially) don’t want MC drinking it because they’re not sure what it will do. They just ASSUME it will do to MC what it does to them.

Other thoughts: Because demons sprinkled little secrets to the humans over the course of history, gave them trinkets and magic and things, I’d like to think they gave humans the idea or process of alcohol-making but are TOTALLY not prepared for the end result. All the flavors, types, etc. 

As far as I understand it (at the point I’m at in the game), travel between the Devildom and human world was widely discouraged until Diavolo could make a program that united the three realms and improved the overall image. So basically everyone has been separated for thousands of years.

What if demons are equally bad at holding human world liquor? I could just see a drunk Asmo being like, “What is this? Sangria? This isn’t what I told them to call it.” as he’s trying to drink and (speed) walk away from Beel, who wants the fruit out of the pitcher.

I could just see them all getting TOTALLY wasted on human world stuff just because they thought “Ahh, we taught them this 5,000 years ago! Of COURSE we can handle it! We invented it!” (spoiler alert: they cannot). Like, I’d like to think their biology works against them here. They heal quicker and probably get over stomach aches and things quicker, so they probably metabolize alcohol quicker to restore bodily equilibrium so they probably get flash-drunk off of just about anything with a decent alcohol content. 

HOW THEY WOULD ACT (AKA: the real question)

The facts: 

They’re all going to be like drunk kittens, big bassy purrs and wanting to cuddle you or scent you. 

They’ll basically curl up in a pile together; you occasionally have to move body parts (so no one suffocates). 

Do a head count every now and then, give them some crackers/carbs when needed, and put water all around them like a summoning circle because when one of them wakes up, all of them will and they’ll act like big babies

Put a bucket near Lucifer and Asmo, they’re sympathy pukers.

Levi and Belphie need total sensory deprivation when they wake up. You may only breach the darkness to bring them things to settle their stomach and anything to kill the headache

Just give Beel bread and anything like Gatorade/Pedialite. He’ll help you with the others after three loaves or so.

Asmo will be especially pitiful and demand you take care of the others first. Once they’re decently able to take care of themselves he’s near teary-eyed, demanding tummy rubs and tell him he’s still pretty even though he feels awful. Please get him a sheet mask.

Mammon’s not functional enough to help with anything major but he’s standing the next day so he rubs that in everyone’s face. He’s the one shuffling around with a half-eaten sandwich, looking for any comfort item (heating pack, cold wrap for his head). He will demon screech at you if you touch any of the lights in the house.

As Mammon comes to, he demands dim lights and acts like a grumpy mom. He’s making porridge and they better shut up and eat it. Says it’s for him but there’s a suspicious amount of bowls nearby.

Satan just swears he’ll never drink again (like always). Dutifully waits for porridge. Spends most of his time letting cold water run over his head. Can’t spend too much time hunched over because he gets nauseous. Baby him a little. Find a way to let his head float in a bit of water where he can lay down and he’s as quiet as a mouse. 

Who can drink the most? (Best to worst - my opinions only)

1) Beel (body mass helps), 2) Mammon (party king), 3) Asmodeus (huuuge history with mixed drinks. Boy is READY), 4) Lucifer, 5) Satan (neck and neck with Lucifer - casual drinker only. Even wine is rare for him), 6) Leviathan, 7) Belphie (usually sleeping instead of drinking). 

Lucifer:

We’ve seen little gags about how ‘Lucifer got drunk and unplugged the router’ so this guy’s either going to be super cuddly, a hot mess, or both

You know the people who fluff their hair, comb it back, undo a tie or some buttons and just get comfy as they drink? That’s Lucifer.

He’ll smile a bit more, laugh a bit more, and there will be some color to his cheeks

He’s not sloppy, just cozy. 

Drunk Lucifer is not overly loud but he is honest. He won’t throw himself into groups or pester all the brothers, but he’s up for some accidentally-heartwarming one-on-one

When he’s drunk he’ll lay his head on your shoulder and let you play with his hair

Will not win any drinking games. Is actually a lightweight compared to his brothers (see best > worst drinker, above).

Mammon:

GO BIG OR GO HOME! MAMMON’S HERE TO PLAY FOR BIG MONEY! (AKA: bragging rights that he can handle more than his brothers)

He and Asmo are quick to get the drinks flowing because they want to try shots of everything. 

He and Asmo are pretty good at matching brothers to drinks and tasting subtle notes, things like that

Show Mammon beer pong once and it’s done. He’s betting the brothers he can whoop them and is somehow able to pull off ping pong ball math to get Lucifer shit-faced real quick (might do it even faster if Belphie or Satan slip him some money)

The type to be like “Bet you I can hit that cup right there--third row, second from the left.” and can do it flawlessly. You have to give him head pats or $5, that’s the rules.

He’ll be one of the bros you have to chase around and make put his clothes back on. Boy will try to strip and strut

Will definitely hoard his favorite bottle (picked it on smell) and spend a majority of the time trying to drink it and avoid the bros. (”YOU CAN’T MAKE ME SHARE IF YOU CAN’T CATCH ME!”)

Leviathan

Not the best drinker. Not a frequent drinker at all.

His envy makes him drink because as he starts to go on a tangent about how ‘it’s not fair! Everyone’s having a good time!’ when he realizes it’s as easy as picking up a drink. Like...he can join in too.

Levi won’t grab himself an alcoholic drink because he’s a nervous over-thinker. Asmo or Mammon will just hand him a cup like the resident Liquor Fairy and he trusts their judgement

The first one to let his demon form out just because the liquor is a little warm in his belly and he feels like he’s flying? Also comfortable?

The excited drunk who goes on animated, slurred rants

The loud laugher

He’s honestly so adorably animated that anyone who knew him would be surprised? He seems far from a shut in

Trade off: he can’t hold his liquor well

Boy probably trips on his own tail or thinks something snagged his ankle to bring him down when, in fact, he just fell down

Sways when he sits

When he’s done, he just wants a nice comfy lap to lay in and maybe play with his hair. 

Like Lucifer, liquor will make him confess all his feelings. 

Watch out for the tail. It will be all over you when he starts to lose the ability to wrap it around himself.

Satan:

It’s a toss-up as to whether he gets drunk before Lucifer or vice versa. I’d like to think his tolerance is slightly higher since he might run in the same circles as Asmo, but he is a part of Lucifer so I’m sure it balances out

He’s a drink snob and this is what hurts him the most. He goes to fancy tastings and random things he’s invited to, but this is a drop in the bucket

He’s never gone hardcore before because he’s afraid he’ll be prone to anger

He’s not. He’s actually a lot like Levi. He just wants to smile and laugh and have fun.

The one who knows a lot of random/interesting stuff and has unexpectedly awesome party tricks

He and Asmo act as instigators and somehow con everyone else into getting drunk. It’s mostly because he wants blackmail material, but he enjoys the mind games

He’s the one you’re going to have to carry BUT he’s super chill when he’s having a good time. You want him to wear a lampshade? Okay, but only if you call him Enlightened One (get it?)

Makes bad jokes. Lucifer definitely laughs

The one that randomly dances with someone at the party. But it’s a fancy dance or slow dance, not something crazy

Will try to prove he’s not as drunk as he is by reading or reciting something and just breaks down into snorts and giggles

Cat Mode: Activated. He wants to be all over you. Hug him and play with his hair, please.

Asmo:

Asmo isn’t really different from his usual self.

He’s a little social butterfly, making his rounds and checking on people

He’s the silent, sneaky drunk. No one notices he’s drunk until his face starts getting red and his eyes get glassy

The quiet cuddler. Just progressively gets closer to you until he’s resting his head on your shoulder, hugging you from the side and asking you to give him his drink.

Would be the happiest person on the planet if you literally just held his drink up to his lips and let him drink it when he wanted to. You just love him so much?! You’re so thoughtful?! He wants to cry

Guilty party #2 for ‘chase him around and make him put his clothes back on’

Next in line for ‘Liquor makes me tell the truth and my darkest secrets’.

Will try any activity at the party and will dance at least once with everybody

If he gets in a fight, that’s because someone doesn’t respect what he put on the party playlist. He knows good music, okay?!

Has a personal goal to steal one drink from everyone, drink it before they realize, and hand them back the empty cup as he slips away. Something about it just amuses him.

Wants to leave lipstick/lip gloss kisses on people. Thinks they’re the cutest accessory!

The one who loses something at the party and makes everyone look for it the next day

The one who’s passed out in a random spot and no one has the heart to move them but everyone checks on them to make sure they’re safe. When everyone’s turned in for the night, he is safely moved like the precious baby he is.

Beel:

The one who takes the longest to get drunk. You don’t know if it’s because of his build or how much he ate to offset the alcohol

Unofficial baby sitter of the group. Pays special attention to everyone but Belphie, Asmo, and Levi in particular.

Not super loud. Just vibes and enjoys time with his family.

He’ll participate in the party activities because he does have that competitive streak but he’s not as invested in it as Mammon. If he wins at least once he’s proved his point and is on to something else

Surprsingly, #3 to ‘you might have to chase him and make him put his clothes on’. Drunk Beel is convinced he’ll get over the alcohol faster with less clothes because of temperature regulation and something that doesn’t really make sense because he’s slurring

Will drink more if Belphie is nearby or if he can hold onto Belphie. Taking care of Belphie and knowing he’s okay (in a tactile way) makes him a little more carefree. 

Doesn’t really confess like the other bros but he’s the one no one can really hear talking because his purr takes over everything. His purrs are so loud and deep! Big boy is truly happy

Drunk Beel is affectionate as ever and this is where you learn that demons can express affection by licking people. Most of the bros end up with a Simba-style mohawk. It’s just one lick but Beel’s got a long tongue and it fucks with hair real good.

Will jump in for a song or two if karaoke is a thing at the party. A really good singer but wouldn’t do it unless he had a decent amount of alcohol in him.

He’s the type to trip over stuff trying to help clean up. If he falls down he says he’s just ‘taking a break’ and will ‘help in a minute’. Might not get up again.

Once Beel lays down, Belphie, Satan, and Levi drunk crawl/stumble/slither over to him for warmth. This is how the cuddle pile starts.

When he lays down, if you get anywhere near him, he’s begging you to lay down with him. Wants to whisper little compliments and lovely things. A big sap. Handsy but will definitely know when to lay off and will listen if you get uncomfortable. 

Belphie:

Honestly, doesn’t really drink. He’s more interested in the nap.

His biggest motivation is to get the others drunk so everyone’s quiet and he can sleep. Definitely wants Lucifer blackmail.

He’ll have a few things but he prefers a lot of something mild versus a mix or a few shots of something super potent

Will try the funnel drink challenge.

The third enticer. He wants to work everyone up (Lucifer especially) and get the booze going.

Borrows off of Beel’s body mass and ability to handle alcohol here and there, but it all catches up with him eventually

The type to have really diluted drinks because he’s already sleepy by nature and doesn’t want to faceplant with a shot glass.

Will slow dance with Asmo. When Asmo starts to struggle with his weight as Belphie gets cozy and sleepy, Beel steps in and you just see the twins purring and warbling to each other as Beel just scoops him up and lets him sit on his hip like a toddler.

Another one who wants to slither into your lap and take all your attention.

The type to do random shit like boop your nose and giggle about it.

The one who doesn’t want anyone else to touch you. If he’s laying on you then the others need to leave you alone. It’s not hard to understand!

[99liv3s]

Be Careful What You Wish For

Lena laughed as she completed the last question of this little online contest she was participating in. The invitation had appeared in her email one day along with a link, and she had curiosity followed that link to a website that described the contest. All Lena would have to do is answer a few questions correctly before other "participants" and she would be the winner of "her fondest wish!!" Lena had laughed at this, thinking this was a fun little game someone had put up, and though she did not take it seriously at all, she decided to join in the fun. Where was the harm in it?? She was bored at the moment after all.

The "contest" consisted of a few straightforward questions that she was easily able to answer. Shaking her long blonde hair out of her face, Lena's bright blue eyes watched as the site processed her answers, then a message popped up on her screen: "Congratulations, you have won the contest!! You may now make your wish!! What do you desire??" Lena giggled as she jokingly pondered this question, then typed in the first thing that popped into her head: "I wish to live forever!!" Laughing softly as she hit the send button, saw "Your wish is granted! Thank you for playing!" And closed the window, Lena thought, "This was a cute, fun little distraction, but now I gotta finish chores!"

A couple hours later, Lena plopped into her living room lounge chair, rubbing her belly. She felt somewhat sick and bloated, but she was also exhausted from laundry and housework, so she figured she was just hungry and worn out. Shaking off the feeling, she decided that after she rested for a while, she'd make herself a sandwich. Another hour passed, with Lena watching TV when she looked down and saw a shock!! Her normally small petite belly had expanded outward, making her look very pregnant!! She gasped in horror, and jumped to her feet, a mistake that nearly sent her crashing to the floor, for she was not used to the balance of her new belly. She felt heavy, and full, confused as to how this had happened to her! "I'm having an allergic reaction, she thought anxiously. "That has to be it!!" "I've caught some sort of virus and I'm having a reaction to..." Her thoughts trailed away as she felt movement in her belly, and she absentmindedly rubbed it. "I... I can't be pregnant," she blurted out to her empty house. "I've never had sex... this has to be a bad dream, right??"

Lena waddled into her bedroom and reached the nearby bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked nine months pregnant, her belly hanging out of the clothes she had been wearing on the body that had been so small and slim just a few hours ago. She was still confused and scared as to what had happened to her when suddenly, she doubled over as a painful contraction hit her. Lena gasped as she felt pressure build up, then a gush of water leaked out of her, soaking her bottoms.

"UUUGGHHH", Lena moaned as she slowly made her way back into her bedroom. She reached the bed and climbed on it, as she felt something heavy drop onto her hips. Frantically, she kicked off her pants as she felt huge pressure in her pussy. She could not help but push, screaming in pain. "AAAAHHHHHH!!" Lena felt a burning sensation as whatever was coming out of her began to crown. She struggled to get her panties off, panting and crying as the pain peaked. As the head emerged farther, causing a bulge to form in her underwear, she screamed a high pitched scream and whined as the burning and pressure worsened. She knew she had to get her panties off, or it would block the baby that she was somehow delivering, so she gritted her teeth through the pain and pulled her underwear down to her feet. She then began kicking, not just to get the panties off her feet, but because the pain was so bad, it caused her to thrash around like crazy. She whined and moaned and cried as she felt the heavy head slowly push out, stretching her pussy wide. Screaming, she pushed, willing this process to go faster. "THIS HURTS!!!" she yelled, though she knew no one else was in the house. Finally, she felt a pop and knew the head had finally gotten out. Without waiting another second, Lena pushed, brushing her sweaty blonde hair out of her face, and felt relief as the baby left her body.

For about a minute, Lena lay there, shaking, hardly able to believe what had just happened to her. Then, something in her mind clicked as she realized "Wait, if I just had a baby, shouldn't it be crying??" Lena slowly moved around so she could pick up the baby she had just birthed, noting three distinct things about it: First, it did not have a umbilical cord attached to it, just a belly button. Second, the baby was a girl, with blonde hair the same general shade as Lena's, and third, the baby was not crying, but Lena could clearly see that it was alive and healthy, almost content. Her eyes were closed and she moved around and kicked, as if she had been born for a while and was just simply sleeping. Lena held her baby and stared at it for the longest time before realizing how exhausted she was. Afraid she might accidentally turn over on the baby as she slept, Lena decided she would not sleep with the baby in her own bed, and so the new mother gingerly got up and found the softest part of her bedroom's carpet she could find and placed the baby gently onto it, laying her on her back. Thinking that she would try to figure all this out tomorrow, she fell backward onto her bed and fell asleep.

When Lena awoke the next morning, her first thought was, "Oh God, what a horrible nightmare!! It felt so real!" As she rose up, she realized something was wrong. She was lying on the floor, naked. She looked over her body, thinking. "Did I fall out of bed??" She got to her feet and then her blue eyes fell upon the bed, and she screamed. The shirt and bra she had been wearing last night were lying on the bed, being worn by a skeleton. Lena trembled as she looked around the room, her mind racing. After a while, she remembered where she had placed the baby she had birthed... it had been lying in the exact spot where Lena had woke up, but as she now looked at that spot, there was no baby there, nor any sign there ever was. As she continued to ponder this, terrified, she also realized that her body felt better than it had ever felt in her life, almost as if it were a new....body....

Lena rushed into the bathroom and vomited as realization hit her. She had given birth to herself. Somehow, after she had fallen asleep, her body died, and her consciousness or soul or whatever had transferred to the baby, which had apparently grown rapidly. She looked herself over, noting that her body seemed to be the same age as it had been last night, in her late 20s. "How is this possible??" She breathed. Lena made her way back into the bedroom, noticing at once that the bones were now gone, leaving only the clothes she was wearing last night, and what appeared to be sweat and other bodily fluids. Lena shuddered at the thought, but did not know what else to do. Her tummy grumbled, and she realized she was starving... of course, this new body had not eaten yet.

Hours later, Lena had eaten, dressed, and had gone into work. Sitting at her desk, her mind was not on her work, however. She could not get her odd situation out of her mind, and the more she pondered on it, the more it made sense that the body she now inhibited was the one she gave birth to. "The baby's features were just like mine," she thought. "Female, petite body, blonde hair... if I saw its eyes, I bet they were blue, just like mine!" "I never had sex, so the baby could only be another me!" "But, how??" "How is this possible??" "What caused this to happen to me??" Lena spent all of her workday lost in thought, and after a while, convinced herself that it had to have been a nightmare. She must have hallucinated those bones, and just simply did not remember taking off her clothes, or falling out of bed during the night. As for her body feeling better than it ever had?? Maybe that was just a result of healthy living lately!! When she arrived home, Lena grabbed her bra and shirt from off her bed and threw it into the laundry. She then looked around the room, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she told her mind it was a vivid nightmare, and to forget about it, and get on with her life.

Two days had passed, and Lena had not given the incident another thought. She had been shut up in her office, preparing an important presentation for her boss to give soon. Her friend and co-worker Marianne had come by to collect the finished presentation, and Lena stood to hand it to her. "Excellent," Marianne said "Lena, this is just what our boss needs to secure that new agreement!!" "You always come through when we need it!" Marianne's brown eyes looked Lena over. "Oh, by the way, congratulations!! When are you due??" Lena looked at her friend confused. "What??" she asked, before looking down at herself and barely stifling a gasp. She was sporting a small bump, almost as if she were about 3 or 4 months pregnant. Her mind raced in panic as her friend was still speaking: "Boy or girl??" After a few seconds, in which Lena composed herself, she smiled and said, "Oh, it's a girl!" Marianne nodded. "I don't know why you didn't tell me or any of us before now, but again, congratulations!" Lena smiled as Marianne left the room, the Lena scrambled for the bathroom. As she closed the door behind her, she collapsed against it, breathing rapidly. "This can't be happening!" She thought. "I can't be pregnant!!" "This isn't happening again!!" "That was just a nightmare... wasn't it??" She glanced into the mirror, her shining blue eyes staring back at her, eyeing her small bump, and she groaned softly. "What the hell am I going to do??"

After she got home, Lena decided that she was not going back to work for a while. This proved to be a good idea, for as the week passed, her bump grew rapidly, and by the time she reached the weekend, she looked ready to pop. She had called the office, telling them she had caught a virus, and that she would be working from home for a while. This worked perfectly, except apparently Marianne began to worry about her, as she had begun calling Lena everyday. Lena assured her she was fine, just sick, and when Marianne asked about "the baby," Lena told her that she need not worry about it.

On the day Lena realized a full week had passed since she had had her supposed nightmare, she tried to get out of bed when she was hit by painful contractions and pressure. "Oooohhh", she moaned, rocking back and forward on the bed, clutching her belly. Hoping that walking might help the contractions, Lena got shakily to her feet and began taking small steps around her bedroom. With each step, Lena felt the baby inside her drop lower and lower. Eventually, she could not take it anymore and she dropped to her knees, crying out in agony. She spread out on all fours, her large belly hanging down and her blonde hair in her face, inwardly thankful she had been going to bed naked lately. Tears streamed from her blue eyes as she wailed and pushed, her butt and vagina high in the air. The baby's head tunneled roughly through her birth canal as she panted and moaned. Her legs shook with pain and cramps as Lena let out another roar of pain. As the head began to peek out of her, she felt the burning in her pussy that signaled the baby's crowning. "OOHH!! OOOHHH GOD!!" She yelled. "AAHHH IT HURTS!! IT'S BURNING!!!!" she cried and grabbed the top of the bed, pulling herself into a semi-squatting position, hoping gravity would help. Lena threw her head back and cried out loudly as she felt the head seem to split her vagina open. Bearing down, she pushed until the head was hanging out between her legs. Stopping only to pant and catch her breath, Lena reached down with her left hand and felt the baby's head. When another contraction hit, she squatted and groaned as she gave another push, and the baby dropped onto the carpet.

After spending a few minutes to rest, Lena looked down at the baby. Like before, it was a little girl, not attached, and not crying, but clearly alive. Lena held and hugged the baby against her chest, thinking rapidly. "It wasn't a nightmare, unless I'm having it again!" "What do I do??" "Do I dare fall asleep again??" Thinking back, Lena was convinced that giving birth this second time seemed more difficult and more painful than the first, but she was not sure. Realizing that she was exhausted and hungry, Lena placed the baby in the center of her bed and staggered to the kitchen. Her body after giving birth was sore and weak, but everything seemed to be over. She made a quick sandwich and collapsed on her sofa in the living room, lost in thought. As she ate silently, random questions popped into her head, and she decided that today, since it was early in the morning when she had given birth, she was going to experiment.

12 hours later, with night falling outside, Lena felt more confused than ever. After eating earlier, she had returned to her room and started touching and talking to the baby, in an attempt to get it to open its eyes, but it never did. Lena then tried to feed it, holding it up to one of her breasts, but nothing happened. On an upside, there was no diaper to change either, for the baby did not seem to have to poop or pee. If not for the breathing and it occasionally moving around, Lena would have sworn the baby was just a realistic looking doll. Tired, Lena decided to try one last experiment before she went to sleep. She had brought the baby into the living room and placed her on the sofa. Lena then returned to her bedroom, thinking that if she woke up on the sofa tomorrow, then it confirmed her theory about what was happening, assuming she could fall asleep will so many anxious thoughts in her head. However, as soon as her head hit the pillow, Lena drifted off immediately.

Lena turned and felt herself hit the floor. Snapping awake, she found herself lying in front of her sofa. She let out a soft scream and jumped to her feet. Rushing into her bedroom, she found her bed soaking wet, and only the pajamas she had worn to bed as part of her experiment. Trembling, she backed against the wall and slid down it onto the floor, burying her face in her hands. "It's true!" She thought. "Everytime I fall mysteriously pregnant, I give birth to a baby that will eventually become my new body!" "But, why?? And how??" "Am I cursed??"

Lena again did not go back to work. She decided to spend the day on the internet, searching for answers, ignoring a missed call from Marianne. Scouring the internet, she tried to determine if anyone else had ever been in her situation before, but she was unsuccessful. She had even posted her situation in a few forums on the deeper parts of internet, but only got responses telling her she had a vivid, or a sick imagination, and that her "ideas" would make a good story. Frustrated, Lena was getting ready to shut down her computer, before noticing the new email icon, and something clicked in her mind. She was reminded about that strange online contest she had taken, and realized that it was right after that when all these strange things had started happening to her. Lena accessed her search history and located the website where she had played the contest. She saw that message thanking her for playing and then found the information she had overlooked before. "Questions??" It said, with a phone number under it. Her heart racing, Lena grabbed her smartphone and called the number immediately!

After two rings, a kind female voice answered, telling Lena that she had called the helpline for the online contest. Lena told the woman everything that had happened since winning the contest, expecting the woman to hang up, laugh, or even tell her that she had no idea what Lena was talking about. However, to her surprise, the woman answered "Of course!" "What is happening to you is what you wished for." Lena fell silent confused. "I wish to live forever," the woman said as if she was reading it, then said with a giggle, "That wish has come true." "With each week, your body produces a brand new replacement, and once you give birth to it, it becomes your new body." "Constantly changing to a fresh body each week means you will never grow old and die." "Congratulations!!" Lena gasped in shock. "How do I make it stop??" She asked the woman. "Stop??" The voice repeated. "Why would you want to??" "Your wish is granted." "I didn't think that was serious," Lena yelled in a pleading voice. "Please, you have to help me!!" "It hurts to give birth every week" "I don't want this wish anymore!!" "Please get rid of it!" "That can't be done," the woman responded. "All granted wishes are final!" "Have a nice day!" With that, the woman hung up. Lena tossed her phone to the side and collapsed into her chair, crying. "I AM cursed!!" She blurted out!!

Lena called and quit her job, thinking that, in order to avoid awkward questions, she would have to find a job that allowed her to work from home. Three days later, she had accepted an online application for a work from home proofreader, which was similar to what she did before, but would allow her to avoid human contact and submit her work online. She was already showing another small pregnant bump by this time, and she absentmindedly rubbed it as she finished chores around the house. Though a part of her mind had subconsciously accepted her new life situation, Lena was still dismayed that she seemed to be stuck in this cycle of "rebirth" forever. She had continued to search the internet for any kind of hope or help, even going so far as to search for unusual births, frequent birth fetish sites, and even post about her situation in various birth related forums, but it seemed that her situation was unique, or else no one else had gone public with it. Her failure to find even a shred of hope caused her to fall into a kind of depression, and she only half-heartedly threw herself into her new work, knowing that she still needed money regardless.

After six days had passed, Lena was lying spread out on her sofa, her hand resting on her large belly as she read a romance novel, trying anything to help take her mind off things, when a knock at her door made her jump. Confused, Lena rose up and waddled to her front door, seeing Marianna through its small window. Lena opened the door, greeting her friend and former co-worker, who looked at Lena with concern. "Lena, what's been going on with you??" Marianne asked. "I haven't heard from you in days... you quit your job suddenly, and refuse to answer my calls or texts." "Are you ok??" Marianne looked Lena up and down, taking in the huge bump. "Lena, I didn't know you were that far along!" "Does all of this have to do with the baby, because I know that..." Marianne trailed off, for at the mention of the word baby, Lena burst into tears and fell into Marianne's arms, crying hysterically. "I'm... I'm not ok at all!" Lena sobbed, as Marianne held her. "Mari, I don't...know... what to do!!" For a while, Marianne just held her friend, listening to her crying, then looked into Lena's eyes, and asked, "When's the last time you left the house??"

An hour later, Marianna had driven the two of them to the park, thinking that some time out of the house would do Lena some good. As the two of them walked slowly through it, having the park mostly to themselves, Lena realized that Marianne insisting that she get out of the house was a good thing, for Lena began to somewhat feel better. "Lena, please talk to me," Marianna pleaded, a concerned expression on her face. As they continued their stroll, Lena shook her head, staring at the ground, and her protruding belly. "I want to tell you, but I don't think you'll believe me," She relied. "Tell me what??" Marianne asked, still looking at Lena with concern. When Lena did not respond, Marianne stopped her and the two of them stood in a large patch of grass in a deeper corner of the park. "Lena, you can tell me anything," Marianne said to her. "Remember, I'm a scifi and fantasy nut!" "Whatever it is, I'll believe you." Lena looked into her friend's face, thinking that if anyone in the entire world would believe her right now, it was Marianne. So, Lena took a deep breath, and told her everything: About taking the contest and making her wish, about how she had fallen pregnant without warning, how she had given birth twice already, about how she had discovered that she was giving birth to her own replacement bodies, and how she had found the help line for the contest, and how the woman over the phone had confirmed what Lena had suspected. Marianne listened to her friend intently, and when Lena finished, she was relieved that Marianne had not laughed at her or told her she was insane. "Unbelievable," Marianne gasped. "So, it's a curse, and it can't be undone??" Lena nodded somberly. "Mari, you gotta help me... I don't know what to do." Marianne hugged her friend, comforting her. "Of course, Lena, there must be something that we can do," she said, smiling. "We'll figure it out together!!" "I'll help you look deeper online, and I can discreetly make some inquiries with some friends who might be able to help." "We'll figure something out, I promise." Lena looked at Marianne, feeling the first bit of joy and hopefulness she had felt since this crazy situation had begun. It was a long shot, yes, but at this point, she needed any silver of hope that she could get. Lena sighed happily and let out a laugh, embracing her friend as much as she could, before a painful weight hit her hips.

Lena cried out in pain, nearly falling to the ground, if not for Marianne catching her. "Aagghh, it's coming!! Mari, it's coming!!" Lena cried, feeling the pressure in her lower abdomen. "Oh God, Lena, we've gotta get you to a hospital," Marianne responded, pulling out her phone to call an ambulance. Panting, Lena stopped her, grabbing Marianne's hand. "No.... no hospital!" Lena breathed. When Marianne stared into her face shocked, Lena shook her head. "How... will I... explain.... this?" "Too.... many.... questions..." Lena squealed as the pain worsened, and Marianne dropped her phone back into her purse. "Ok, back home then," she said. "Back home where it's more comfortable and private..." "There's.... no....time..." Lena said breathlessly. "It's... starting... to PUUUAAAAA!!" Lena let out a yell of agony as another contraction forced the baby painfully through her pelvis. "OOOHHH!! MARI, HELP ME, IT HURTS!!" Without another word, Marianne grabbed onto Lena and helped her over to a nearby park bench, thankful that this section of the park was currently deserted. As Lena moaned and cried, Marianne helped her onto the bench, taking off her bottoms, and positioning one of her legs to hang across the back of the bench, so that Lena was lying across it with her legs open. Lena screamed as she felt the burning and pressure in her vagina. "MARI, IT'S THERE! THE HEAD'S THERE!! IT BURNS!! OOOOWWWWW!!" Lena screamed as her pussy began to stretch around the head. Marianne moved in between Lena's legs, seeing the tip of the baby's head lodged in her small vagina. "Lena, honey, you're doing great!" Marianne coached. "Don't worry, I'll catch the baby when it comes out!" "It'll all be over soon!" "When you feel you need to, push!!" Lena screamed as the head emerged slowly, opening her wider and wider. "AAGGHH, IT HURTS!!" Lena yelled. "OH, PLEASE GET IT OUT!! MARI, PLEASE!!" As Lena begged and cried, Marianne rubbed her legs softly, watching as the head inched out. After another minute, the head fully emerged with a pop and a gush of fluids, causing Lena to gasp loudly. Marianne laughed and nodded in relief, looking into her friend's eyes. "One more push, Lena!!" She told her. "Just one more!"

45 minutes later, Marianne drove into the driveway of Lena's house, with Lena herself in the passenger seat, holding the baby girl that she had just given birth to in the park, weak and exhausted. Marianne got out of her car and then helped Lena slowly to her feet and guided her into her house. Lena lowered herself into her nearby armchair as Marianne took the baby from her and placed it onto the sofa. "That was intense, Lena," Marianne said to her. Lena nodded weakly at her friend and smiled softly at her. "Thank you for being there," Lena said quietly. "Is it always like that??" Marianne asked. Lena sat in quiet contemplation for a moment before saying hoarsely, "No, it seemed worse that time!" Lena stared at the baby lying over on the sofa, moving around timidly, lost in thought. Why did it seem like each time she gave birth, it felt worse?? Was it just her, or was it somehow because these bodies were technically giving birth after being a week old?? Lena watched as the baby continued to squirm silently. She did not think this baby was any bigger than the last two, so she did not understand. Would the next one be even worse? Lena noticed Marianne watching her, and gave her another weak smile, trying to assure her wordlessly that she was ok. "So, what happens now??" Marianne asked, looking around the room. Lena sighed and shook her head. "I don't know," she responded. "Everything that happens next just happens." "I fall asleep, and when I wake up, I'm somehow inside the baby's body, which is instantly the same age as when I fell asleep!" "I don't know why or how..." Marianne stared into her friend's face, clearly astonished. "So, wonder what would happen if someone was watching when you fell asleep?" She inquired. Lena just shook her head, too exhausted to think, though in a part of her mind, she wondered this too. "Lena, I'm gonna spend the night here," Marianne told her. "Maybe we can find out, and besides, I think you need me." "You shouldn't be alone during all this." Lena looked up into her friend's face, and simply nodded. "Okay," Marianne placed a hand on Lena's shoulder and squeezed it softly. "Alright, you rest for a while," she said comfortingly. "I'm just gonna run back to my place and pack a few things, ok??" Lena nodded and watched as Marianne walked back out the door. Lena was weary, and also hungry, so she eased out of her chair and made her way to her kitchen, finding a few cookies to munch on. Afterward, she went to her bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, letting out an exhausted sigh. She only wanted to rest, like Marianne told her to do, but within minutes, she was fast asleep.

Lena was jerked awake by a loud scream, and she rolled off the couch and onto the floor, disoriented. She got to her feet and ran into the bedroom, where she saw Marianne staring at a human skeleton wearing the clothes Lena had worn to the park earlier. Marianne was trembling with shock, and yelped again when she turned and saw Lena standing naked behind her. "Lena, it... it's TRUE!!" Marianne blurted out. "I believed you, of course, but seeing it for myself..." Lena placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I know, Mari," Lena said. "I've been living it the past few weeks." After Lena had quickly thrown on some clothes, the two of them returned to the living room, where Marianne collapsed onto the couch Lena had awoken from minutes earlier. "Packing took longer than I thought," Marianna explained. "When I came back in, I saw you asleep on the couch, and I didn't think anything about it, so I thought you put the baby in the bedroom, and I decided to go in there, and that's when I saw..." She trailed off, looking shaken, and buried her face in her hands. Lena sat next to her and put her arms around her comfortingly. "It was me, but not anymore," Lena whispered. "I'm right here now, and I'm ok!" Marianne looked into her eyes. "Until the next time you give birth all over again, right?" She asked. Lena nodded, and her face fell. "Yeah, in about a week, I'll be doing it again," she responded. "I'm cursed!!" Marianne seemed to have calmed down, and she looked at Lena, seeming to examine her entire body. "I'm not taking away how difficult this situation is for you, Lena," she began, "But, if you look at this another way, you could call it a gift too." "I mean, you never die, and you're good as new each week..." Marianne faltered under the shocked and scathing look her friend was giving her. "Sorry, I know you didn't want this," she said. "Like I said in the park, I'll help you find a solution any way I can!"

As the day passed, the two of them talked, with Marianne asking question after question about Lena's predicament, clearly fascinated and curious about it. Lena explained as best she could, and the conversation even continued when the two of them realized they were starving, and Lena decided to cook something for the two of them. It was later in the evening, while the two of them ate spaghetti Lena had cooked up, when Marianne had proposed staying with Lena on a longer term basis. After thinking about it, and listening to Marianne explain how she should no longer be alone during all this, Lena agreed, and the two of them took a trip to Marianne's apartment, to pack up more long term items for her, including her laptop, which would be essential for Marianne to help research Lena's situation.

A few days later, the two of them had established a routine, with Marianne still going to work during the day, leaving Lena to do her own work, chores, research, and more importantly, rest for what was to come. Lena had already begun showing again, as predicted, and the two girls had agreed that they would continue to keep this entire situation secret from anyone else. As such, Lena once again rarely left the house, lest she run into anyone and be forced into answering awkward questions.  Lena had also flat out refused Marianne's suggestion that she go to a hospital the next time she was due to deliver, for the same reason.  She did not want to imagine what would happen if she transitioned into the new body while inside a hospital room.  Lena knew this would once again mean she would be giving birth at home, with Marianne as her midwife, and though she hated to put her friend through that again, it was necessary.  Lena therefore was very patient and accomadating when Marianne began to comment on her rapid pregnancy, insisted in touching her bump, and started making preparations.  After all, Lena thought, having someone make plans in advance, as well as just having someone with her, might be helpful.

Marianne had certainly done her research into birth.  Close to the end of the week, with Lena's belly large and protruding out, Marianne had transformed Lena's bedroom into a personal home birthing suite, complete with a birthing ball and even a small tub.  Marianne also insisted that Lena do nothing but rest as the time for her labor grew closer.  Lena appreciated all of the effort her friend was putting in for her, and was thankful that she had ultimately shared her secret with Marianne.  For the first time since this situation had begun, Lena found herself not so depressed, for Marianne seemed to be able to do anything she set her mind to, and that gave Lena hope that perhaps together, they could even find a way to get her out of this mess.

A day after Marianne had finished transforming Lena's room, Lena lay in bed, on her side, moaning loudly, as pain and pressure had started up inside her as she had slept.  She rubbed her huge belly as she cried loudly, which brought Marianne running into the room.  "It's started??" Marianne asked, coming over to the bed.  Lena nodded, her eyes shut.  "It hurts, Mari, oh God, it hurts!" She whined.  The contractions wracked her body, growing in intensity, and Marianne gently tried to help Lena up.  "Here, Lena, get on the birthing ball, it'll help," Marianne said gently, helping her friend waddle over to it.  As Lena sat and began rocking on the ball, she admitted inwardly that it did seem to help.  She rocked silently, her eyes closed, changing her rocking pattern with every movement.  Focusing on trying to change this every time helped to take Lena's mind off the pain.  Marianne stayed with her, massaging her back, holding her hand, and whispering consoling words to her.  Eventually, however, the pain became too much, and Lena screamed out! "I HAVE TO PUSH!!" she yelled, and cried as the weight of the baby pressed on her hips.  Marianne had, in advance, filled the tub in the room with warm water, and she now helped Lena slowly into this water, hoping that would ease the pain.  Lena sighed as she felt the water warm her entire body.  She still felt pain and pressure, but it was not as bad.  "Thanks, Mari," she breathed to her friend.  Marianne only shook her head, and then Lena said, "For everything!!"  Marianne was about to respond, telling Lena there was no other place she would rather be, when Lena let out a moan and thrashed around in the water.  "I FEEL IT COMING!!" Lena screeched.  "Push, Lena!!" Marianne coached.  Lena pushed and pushed, gripping the edges of the tub tightly.  Marianne rubbed Lena's legs while simultaneously holding them open.  "I already see the head, Lena," Marianne cried happily.  "You're doing great!!"  "Uuuuggghhhh," Lena groaned as she gave another push.  With the head hanging halfway out of her vagina, Lena threw her head back against the head of the tub, panting.  "I don't know how much longer I can do this," she breathed.  "You've got this, Lena," Marianne reassured her.  "Just a bit more!!"  Lena felt another contraction and began to push, then screamed and thrashed as the burning hit her vagina full force.  "AAAAHHH, IT'S CROWNING!!" Lena yelled, as Marianne tried to calm her down.  After another minute of Lena's screams echoing through the room, there was a loud splash as the baby emerged from her into the water.  As Lena collapsed in relief, Marianne lifted the baby out and placed her on the bed.  "You did it, Lena," Marianne cried happily.

Marianne had helped Lena to the bed and moved the baby to another bed on the other side of the room.  Lena fell asleep almost immediately, tired from giving birth, and Marianne was determined to watch everything until Lena woke up.  A few hours passed, with Marianne watching both her friend and the baby, and then suddenly, as she blinked, the baby was instantly a full grown Lena, with no signs of change.  For a moment, there were two sleeping Lenas in the room with her and then the one in Lena's original bed stopped breathing.  As Marianne continued to watch, an hour later, in another blink of an eye, the first Lena became a skeleton, still wearing the clothes she was wearing when she fell asleep, as the new naked Lena stirred.  Marianne was at a loss for words as her friend got up from the new bed and searched for something to wear.  When she finally found her voice again, Marianne said with an uncomfortable laugh, "Well, I guess we can keep all this stuff here, since we know you'll be needing it again in a week!"

It was two days later, the girls having gotten back to their routine, when Marianne had finally found something.  She had sent Lena's e-mail to a buddy of hers, and he had traced the location of its sender.  He sent this location information back to Marianne, along with assurances that he did not read the e-mail, nor did he want to know what was going on.  Marianne shared this information with Lena, who felt herself tremble with excitement.  "That's only several hours away from here by car," Lena exclaimed excitedly.  "I know," Marianne said.  "We can go and meet with whoever is in charge of that contest and convince him to lift the curse."  Lena's heart sank a little.  "But, that woman on the phone said the curse couldn't be reversed," Lena stated.  Marianne shook her head, still smiling.  "She probably told you that because it would be an inconvenience to do it," she responded.  "If he or she is face to face with you, we can force them to lift it, somehow."  "Don't worry!"  "Soon, it's all gonna work out fine, I just know it!"  As Lena throught to herself, wondering if she dared to get her hopes up, Marianne checked her watch.  "I have a busy workday today, but I'm off tomorrow," she said.  "We can go then!"

The next day, the two of them woke up early, had a quick breakfast, and then got in Marianne's car, to begin their five hour drive to the location in Marianne's information.  Lena already had a small bump again, which had motivated the girls to start their trip as quickly as possible.  As Marianne drove, Lena sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly rubbing her little belly as the two of them discussed what they would say to whoever they were about to meet.  Eventually, since they had very little information to go on, the girls exhausted this subject and began discussing other things, like what their future plans were.  Lena, hopeful that this curse would be gone soon, wished to pursue a career in writing.  Perhaps she would turn this experience into a story of some sort.  Marianne, meanwhile, did not seem  to have any future plans, having always mostly lived in the moment and had never really thought about it.  Eventually, after five hours, they stopped in front of what looked to be an old house, and Marianne confirmed from her notes that this was the location.

The two girls entered the house, finding the door unlocked.  They found themselves in a large open living room, with a few chairs placed around and a fireplace against the wall.  Sitting on top of the fireplace were several lit candles.  As the two girls looked around the room, they noticed that the place was lit only by various candles dotted around the room.  A grandfather clock stood in a corner, ticking softly, and a circle was drawn in the center of the room.  "Woah, what is this..." Marianne exclaimed, before a young dark haired man dressed in a dark cloak entered the room from a doorway in the opposite wall.  He looked at the girls, then said calmly, "You are Lena, one of my contest winners!"  "WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME??" Lena  blurted out angrily.  "I didn't think you contest was real!"  "I granted your wish, Miss Lena," the man responded.  "It is quite real, and your wish was to live forever!"  "But, why did you make it happen like this??" Lena yelled, as she motioned to her small pregnant bump.  The man sighed.  "Because, it was the only way," he responded.  "I am a sorcerer, but my magic is limited."  "It can't extend life, but it can create a new one, for the act of conceiving is a process that already exists!"  "A bit of cloning magic, as well as soul transference, and life acceleration..."  "TAKE IT AWAY," Lena yelled.  "I don't want this wish anymore!!"  "Reverse the spell or curse or whatever you did!"  The sorcerer shook his head sadly.  "I'm sorry, there is no reverse spell or any way to stop or cancel my magic once applied."  "What I have given you is yours forever."  Lena gaped at the sorcerer, feeling as though her insides were falling.  She had hoped there was a way to undo this curse, but now, it seemed, there was not.  "I can't go on like this," Lena pleaded.  "Please, there must be something you can do!"  The sorceror shook his head apologetically, but Marianne spoke up.  "I have an idea," she said, and the other two looked at her.  "You said the spell could not be undone, but can it be moved or transferred??" The sorcerer stared at her.  "Yes, it can be, but I don't understand..."  "Then, give it to me instead," Marianne said, before looking at Lena and smiling slightly, as Lena gaped at her.  "Mari, what??" She said breathlessly.  "It's ok," Marianne answered.  "Remember when I said this could be a gift instead of a curse if you thought about it differently??"  "Well, I have thought about it, and for me, it would be a gift!"  She turned to the sorcerer.  "Can you do it??"  "I can," he reponded, nodding.  "Mari, I can't let you do this," Lena said to her friend.  "Lena, please, I want this," Marianne said.  "I found what was happening to you fascinating and amazing, even a dream come true."  "You don't want it, but I do, so we both win!"  "But, the birth... the pain..." Lena said, staring at Marianne in disbelief.  "I'm not worried about that, Marianne said happily.  "It's actually an experience I would treasure each time."  "Please, Lena, let me do this for you, and for me, ok??"  Lena sighed, and a tear ran down her cheek as a feeling of great relief flowed through her body.  "Ok, Mari," she said.  "Thank you!"

The sorcerer led the two girls down into a large basement room, with what looked like a large round pool in the center of it, filled with what looked like water.  He instructed the two of them to take off all their clothes and then both submerge themselves completely for 20 seconds, as he performed a ritual.  The girls did as they were asked and the two of them slowly walked down into the pool until they were both fully underwater.  After counting to twenty, Lena emerged from the pool and a splash, the sound of dripping water, and someone trying to catch their breath told her that Marianne had come out as well.  Looking over herself, Lena saw that the small baby bump was gone, her body back to its small petite form.  She looked over to see that Marianne now had a small bump, which she was clutching in one hand as she spluttered the water out of her mouth.  "Mari, look," Lena exclaimed, pointing at Marianne's belly.  "It worked!!"  "You're..."  "I'm pregnant!" Marianne said, happily, looking over herself and rubbing her belly.  "It is done," the sorcerer stated.  "The spell has been transferred."

As they drove back to Lena's house, the two girls talked happily, both having gotten what they wanted!  Lena was free, and never had to worry about giving birth again, short of actually having kids of her own someday.  Marianne, meanwhile, had taken the curse, or gift as she called it.  As Marianne giggled, driving happily, Lena stared at her.  "Mari, I'll never forget what you did for me," she said to her friend.  "Thank you so much!"  Marianne laughed.  "I should be thanking you, Lena," she responded, rubbing her belly.  "You've given me something special, and I can't wait to experience it."  Lena smiled.  "I was thinking," she began, "It might be good for you to have someone around that is experienced in this situation."  "Since your stuff is already at my house, and you'll need it soon, why don't you continue to hang around my place?"  "I can help you when it's time, and I enjoy your company!"  Lena patted her friend's belly, inwardly thinking that she'd be much happier delivering a baby every week than actually being the one giving birth.  Marianne smiled at her.  "You know what," she said.  "I think that's an excellent idea!"  "Let's start our new lives, together!!"

End!!

[rockmiyabideusexmachina]

2022 Megaman Valentine’s Day Contest Results! (Part 2)

The results are in, and the greater Megaman fandom community has chosen me as it’s...

...of the decade! That’s it, that’s the contest. Thanks so much for your votes and support! Good night, everyone!

*Ahem* Oh, that’s right. You have all been patiently waiting for the results of this year’s Valentine’s Day Fanart Contest. Carrying on, then.

Here are the results for Category 2 and the Wildcard, after the break.

I will be contacting all participants soon.

Reminder, for part 1 of these results, please head HERE.​

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CATEGORY 2 (Humor):  I Feel All Mushy Und Tingly Inside

For the humor category, our participants were to draw something in which a character had created some sort of mind-controlling device or concept to make other characters fall in love in a humorous way. 

For the full gallery of entries, you can head to this link HERE. Beneath each entrant’s name will also be a link to their individual pieces at full-size. This category was mostly multi-page comics, so get ready for a lot of reading.

1.) @papillonthepirate: $150 [IMAGE 1] [IMAGE 2] [IMAGE 3]

Gaga, oooh la la! Yes, you were right. You did have a perfect idea for this category! Fit into the cheesiness of Ruby-Spears with your dialogue on point and the perfect twist to Wily’s plan leading to his downfall. Easily made me laugh the most, as I could hear their voices as I read through this whole thing. 

2.) @aw-colorcat: $75 [IMAGE 1] [IMAGE 2] [IMAGE 3] [IMAGE 4] [IMAGE 5]

Even though I never had one, I should have realized that was an Atari from the beginning. LOL Clever job with that twist at the end, as well as the cute part between Heat and Fire proving love can find a way without mind-controlling. Very cute comic!

3.) @hyperbole1729: $50 [IMAGE 1]

Oh, Neo World Three, always screwing up a plan, and yet it still somehow working out in the end. Although with Charlie not getting hypnotized, will he still fall for Tesla? How will he compete for her love against four other eligible bachelors? Find out on the next exciting season of Rockman.EXE: The Tesla-rette.

And the rest of our entries, in alphabetical order by alias.

Still a winner.) AbilityField: $50 [IMAGE 1] [IMAGE 2] [IMAGE 3]

So cool and suave Blues is. You can’t control his love, but he can now control yours! I think Kalinka wins either way, even if poor Over-1 feels like it might have not gone to plan. 

Still a winner but you already got your prize money for another category.) @subzeroiceskater: [IMAGE 1] [IMAGE 2] [IMAGE 3] [IMAGE 4] [IMAGE 5] [IMAGE 6] [IMAGE 7] [IMAGE 8] 

As always, you are so ambitious with your comics. And this one is such a wild ride. Even with a few heavier battle moments, the puns, the pairings, the frog and prince plot spin all made for really amusing content. Loved a lot of the crazy emotions and faces drawn, between Ninja Froggy Time, Spark Man both feeling it and getting ignored, and so many more. But again, you are being rewarded for something else.

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*BONUS* CATEGORY 3 (WILDCARD): AKANE BRIBERY

For the wildcard category, all anyone had to do was draw me something Valentine-y featuring my favorite Megaman lady, Hoshikawa Akane. This act of mine hasn’t changed since Star Force came out, and yet you still all put up with me?! Well, now deal with me gushing over these pics, in a category just meant to tempt me.

For the full gallery of entries, you can head to this link HERE. Beneath each entrant’s name will also be a link to their individual pieces at full-size.

1.) @digitallyfanged: $150 [IMAGE]

Love is what I feel for this image. Gosh, those eyes just draw me in, with those super-stylized extra long lashes. The flow and movement of the pic from her hair to the dress blowing around in all it’s pieces, to the unique leaning pose. It’s just so different and gorgeous and totally won me over, so thank you!

2.) @subzeroiceskater: $75 [IMAGE 1] [IMAGE 2] [IMAGE 3] [IMAGE 4] [IMAGE 5]

Only you would both call me out as a simp and craft a piece around SIMPsons references, knowing how much I would enjoy it. I appreciate the volume and range of Akane’s in varying styles to tide me over. Super cute, super deformed, super hot and super humorous. Throwing in old pics you have drawn for the Kattelox gallery was perfect, and I don’t deserve you humoring me as often as you have over the years. Thank you!

3.) @maqqy96: $50 [IMAGE]

Pants are optional. Gosh, she’s so cute and so adorable here! Even as simplistic as the background is with her name and the green heart, it just works so well with the colors to tie into her outfit and still make the main art pop out. I love it a ton, thank you!

And the rest of our entries, in alphabetical order by alias.

Still a winner but you got your prize money for your other entry.) AbilityField: [IMAGE 1] [IMAGE 2] [IMAGE 3] [IMAGE 4] [IMAGE 5] [IMAGE 6] [IMAGE 7]

So much variety! I really do love the final pic the most with the heart hand pose and appreciate the wishes. But there is so much cuteness throughout! From the young lovebirds, which hardly anyone draws them from that concept art style, to hitting the major holiday costumes which tie into other contests/events I’ve held or helped out with over the years. The page of chibis is just super adorbs. Thank you for drawing so much of her, I love ‘em all!

Still a winner.) @duskblogsthings: $50 [IMAGE]

(Side note - I have no clue why the imgbox link changed the orientation when it uploaded! Sorry!)

I will gladly accept this Valentine heart box of chocolates from such a cute lady! Thank you so much for drawing this!

Still a winner but you got your prize money for your other submission.) foidot: [IMAGE]

The artsy side of Akane is something that draws me to her (pun intended), and I appreciate you tying that in here with this piece. Thank you so much for drawing her ready to create another masterpiece!

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Until next contest, thanks everyone! 

[rissynicole]

DTIYS Contest Prize: CozyMochi

This is the last one-shot for my DTIYS from forever ago, and it is for my amazing friend, @cozymochi. Once again, I hate that it took so long to finish all these up. I initially set a word limit for myself at 1,000 to 1,200 words (oh, Rissy, you sweet summer child), and all these one-shots ended up being at least twice as long, because I have no self control. At last, though, I have all three stories finished up for all three contest winners! 

I know it was a long-ass time ago, but thank you once again to everyone who participated and drew something for me! It means the world.

Alright! Onto this little story. Cozy requested a story involving the dynamic between Zim and Red. Particularly how Red seems to detest Zim, yet still possesses a certain level of genuine interest in Zim’s antics. Cozy also wanted some drunk Irken headcanons, and I was more than happy to oblige. Nothing’s funnier than some goofy drunk Irkens. I set this story during their time together as elites. Specifically, this is right after Miyuki has died and before Spork dies. The elites in Zim’s squadron have been together for years and are about to be deployed for invader training on Planet Devastis. 

Story is under the cut. 

Characters: Red, Zim, Purple, Commander Poki, Skoodge, assorted irken elites

Relationships: RaZe/f, RaPf, ZaSf

Warnings: Drunkenness (from slushies lol), vomiting (non-graphic)

Words: 3,079

A Morbid Curiosity

Contrary to popular assumption, Zim had been a rather large smeet. The largest in Smeetery 373, Clutch M-7347, in fact. For the first several months of his life, he’d blatantly been offered extra attention by both caretakers and peers alike. He was impulsive, petulant, and had already gained a track record for destruction, but it was still firmly believed that he could be molded into the ideal soldier by the time he matured. In the backs of their minds, they had all assumed Zim would grow to be tall, strong, and destined for great things. All the great ones held unharnessed energy and drive. A diamond in the rough, simply put.

Red, who stood at only 2.03 cm shorter than Zim, was especially awestruck by him. He genuinely looked up to him, both figuratively and literally, during their initial days together in the smeetery. He and Purple, who had been fast friends almost instantly, would flank Zim on either side while jockeying for position in the presence of caretakers and any high-ranking military entities who came to examine the various groups of growing smeets.

Time passed, though. Red and Purple caught up with Zim’s height. Then surpassed it. The others in M-7347 followed suit, first meeting Zim’s height, then easily outgrowing him. Almost overnight, Zim was not only the shortest Irken among his peers, but the shortest by far. Those who had once looked up to him suddenly saw him as little more than the dirt on the bottoms of their boots.

That was when Zim had gone truly mad. Having gone from undivided attention and praise to sudden disinterest broke something in him. To compensate for his stunted growth, his voice rose in octaves until his screechy yell was simply commonplace for him. His actions became more erratic, more desperate. He got in trouble more often. This only resulted in more distain from those around him, though.

Even Red and Purple had distanced themselves from him. Purple had gone from liking, to apathy, to outright loathing. Red, however, had managed to hold onto a mild morbid curiosity towards Zim. He would never admit it to a soul—not even Purple. But the fascination had sustained well past their time spent in the smeetery and into basic training.

Deep underground on Irk, the Irken elites of M-7347, along with many others from the same smeetery, were now finishing a day of training simulations. In a few days’ time, they would be shipped to Devastis as invader trainees. Zim, who had had a brief stint on Vort as research scientist’s protégé, had returned back to Irk just in time to be deployed along with the rest of them.

“You’re on thin ice!” Commander Poki had told him in front of the rest of his squadron upon his arrival back a week before. She hadn’t forgotten the extent of the damage Zim had done as a smeet under her command. “One more screw up, and you can say goodbye to any hopes of invader training!”

He, along with the rest of the smeets, set to finished sparring exercises, simulations, and reiterating the information they had been taught for years. They were all eager to serve the Empire rather than learn about it.

“Ughhh!” Red ripped off his virtual reality headset and threw it on the ground at his feet. He had nearly broken his record for PAK leg combat before being vaporized by the simulated opponents he had been fighting. Looking around now without the helmet on, he could see the other elites were in the midst of removing their own gear. They chattered among themselves and shook out their antennae, visibly relieved to free the long feelers from being pressed down against the backs of their heads.

Then, Red locked eyes with Commander Poki. “Problem, soldier?” “No Ma’am,” he snapped back, standing at attention. She looked sternly at him. “Pick up that helmet.” He did so with a touch of embarrassment, then turned back to her. “Now take it, and all the others, and return them to storage.” Not even a week before, Tallest Miyuki had perished in what was only known to the rest of

them as “a lab accident” while touring a military research lab on Vort. Her death had caused a ripple effect throughout Irken-occupied space, leaving the commanders a little more solemn a lot stricter.

At Red’s obvious sigh and shoulder slump, Commander Poki raised a disapproving eyebrow at him. “And take Zim with you,” she added, gesturing towards the corner of the room.

The Irken in question was in the middle of melting Skoodge’s helmet down with his PAK legs’ welding tips while the latter watched in stoic silence.

“Heh?” Zim asked, looking up from what he was doing.

Red darkened, throwing out a hand and gesturing Zim over. “Come on, runt. We need to put the equipment away.”

Zim strolled away from Skoodge, who was left to stare at his destroyed and smoldering headset.

The trip down to the storage level was uneventful, filled with Zim’s grating little voice and Red’s stony silence. Once they had returned the headsets, gloves, and boots back to their rightful places, Zim wandered out of the room and began to run down the hall.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Red was beginning to cross the line from annoyed to outright angry. “Foodening is starting right now, and if I don’t return with you, we’ll both be in big trouble!”

Zim didn’t break his stride but whipped his head around as he passed locked storage doors. “I heard they keep plasma-loaded battle tanks down here!”

One door was ajar. Zim scrambled inside, with Red in close pursuit. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Red closed the enormous steel hatch behind him before anyone could notice they were in there. “Come on, you stupid little—”

He stopped dead in his tracks. Instead of plasma-loaded battle tanks, the room was filled with snacks. A food service drone must have forgotten to close the storage room door.

Red took in an awed breath in spite of himself. Another more rational part of him was still protesting, begging them to leave the snack unit. Commander Poki was already in a sour mood. Before he could say anything, though, he lit up at the sight of something near the back of the room.

“Splazier-filled donuts!” He immediately crossed the room, tore open the package, and shoved one in his mouth. “These have been sold out for months!” Purple had insisted the snack drones kept them down here, and Red had unceremoniously dismissed him.

Zim was already ripping into a bag of assorted cookies. “I bet Skoodge wishes he was here now!” he shouted between a mouthful of crumbs.

Red laughed one loud, brazen “ha!” then stopped himself. What am I doing? Being friendly with Zim? He swallowed the last of the donut he was eating. They needed to leave. Back to the refectory.

“Hey! Check this out!”

When Red looked up, something was being shoved into his hands. He looked down at a cup full of alarmingly bright red liquid.

Zim was holding another tall plastic cup full of the same red drink. “Slushies! As many as we want!” He gestured grandiosely to a huge machine churning the stuff round and round.

Without another pause, Zim took a long drink from his cup, eyes widening dramatically as he swallowed. Red drank from his cup, and instantly understood Zim’s reaction. It was so impossibly sweet, he couldn’t help but react the same way. It was like nothing else he had ever tasted before. He guaranteed none of the other elites had tried it. Only commanders were ever seen drinking it, and even then, the elites only ever really heard them down in the refectory late at night. Whatever was in them could leave even the sternest Irken soldier a sloppy, inebriated mess.

“Ahahahahaaaa!” Zim cackled, throwing his now empty cup on the ground. It popped back up with a little pinging noise and splashed droplets of red slushy across the floor. He beelined to the machine again and filled up two extra-large cups. “Betcha two donuts you can’t drink the whole thing faster than me!”

“Are you serious?” Red looked up over his first cup, already two-thirds of the way empty, and scowled. “Of course I can drink it faster than you.” Zim was insane if he thought he could possibly win. Red was nearly a foot taller than him. Not to mention, Zim’s proposal of a “bet” made zero sense considering they already had all the donuts they could ever eat in one night.

Nevertheless, Red snatched the other cup from Zim and counted down. Within seconds, he had drained his cup. For what it was worth, Zim was a surprisingly worthy opponent. He nearly choked on the slushie, red rivulets trailing down the corners of his mouth. At last, he finished, a pained look on his face.

Red filled the next round of cups and grabbed an entire box of snack cakes. It wasn’t until midway through this round of slushies that he started to feel its effects. One minute, all was

normal. Then, the ground seemed to tilt a little. His own voice came out in a slight echo, as if he were speaking through a tunnel. Whatever Zim was prattling on about came out with the same sensation—distant and with a slight reverberation within the walls of Red’s increasingly weightless head. Conversation became easier. So easy, in fact, it was hard to imagine it ever having been a challenge. Laughter came more freely and without any shame on Red’s part. Zim wasn’t Zim anymore—he was just an Irken. Everything was warmer, from their smiles to their physical surroundings.

Eventually, there came a point when the feeling began to reel back around, though. Or increase. It was hard to tell. Soon, the room became too warm. Zim was no longer laughing but shouting stories and nonsensical jokes. Red began to argue over everything Zim said. Their voices slurred into incoherency.

The next events came in faded bits and spurts. Red vaguely recalled climbing onto one of the stacks of boxes holding snack foods and screaming something about Tallest Spork declaring him best Irken ever when they arrived on Devastis. Zim hollered from down below that Spork would be giving him that role. Red took a wrong step and tumbled down the little box tower and onto the floor.

The next memory was Zim stopping midway through attempting to fight Red with his “superior fists of superiority!” It took a moment for Red to look up to see why. Zim had his lips pressed together and was staring owlishly forward. Then, in a split-second, he was lunging forward and projectile vomiting. Red turned away with a disgusted groan and retreated to the other side of the room.

The night ended when Red was no longer able to remember his own actions. He must have blacked out eventually, because when opened his eyes again, Zim was standing over him. He had vague recollections of sitting up in a sickening haze as the world spun.

“C’mon,” Zim muttered. He looked barely able to stand on his own feet. Somehow, he managed to coax Red to his own feet, though, and support him somewhat as the two ambled back to the barracks. They buried themselves in their respective resting quarters and tried to sleep off the last several hours.

-x-

“Get up!” The door flew open, and the shadow of Commander Poki spilled out over the floor.

Dozens of sets of antennae stood on end, voices cried out, and Irkens scrambled from the sanctity of sleep to their spots in line side by side. Zim and Red both staggered miserably in line a few seconds behind the rest of them.

“Who raided the snack unit!?”

The Irkens looked at one another in bleary-eyed confusion. Zim and Red, however, went wide eyed. Red flicked his eyes to Zim’s direction, but the latter didn’t return his glance. Zim looked nauseated and dizzy. Red wondered if he looked that way, too, and immediately made an effort to stand up straighter and look more alert.

The commander walked down the line, looking shrewdly at each of them. “There’s no point in hiding it. If you don’t fess up and tell me now, each of you will be subjected to a PAK examination to retrieve memories of the night before. It’s your choice.”

She stopped in front of Zim and leaned down, until she was staring directly into his eyes. “You look awfully guilty, soldier.”

He looks like he’s going to be sick, Red thought.

“And I didn’t see you at the refectory last night...” Commander Poki mused. Zim swallowed but didn’t say anything in response. He remained standing perfectly still, staring almost through her as she spoke.

Red felt something tug at him. He wanted so badly for it to be the feeling of relief. Instead, he felt uneasy. He remembered back to the night before, when he and Zim were both raiding the snack unit. He thought back even further, to when the commander had told Zim “One more screw up, and you can say goodbye to any hopes of invader training!” Zim, for all his bluster and arrogance, had gone almost as pale as he was now.

The commander opened her mouth, about to speak again, when Red heard his own voice break into the still air. “I did it.”

Her antennae flickered. She rose to her full height, then turned towards Red. “Excuse me?”

“I did it,” he repeated. “It was all my idea. I—I broke into the snack unit.” He was beginning to stammer. It took everything he had to choke out his next words. “Zim had nothing to do with it.”

Commander Poki stood perfectly still, squinting at him. Silence passed through the air, mingling with the electric tension felt by everyone in the room. “You’re sure of that?” she said finally, still unconvinced.

“Yes.”

Her eyes narrowed even more, but she shifted her weight to one leg and dropped her arms to

her sides. “I expected better from an Irken of your caliber, soldier. Especially a week before invader training begins.”

Red nodded meekly. “Yes, Commander.” He waited, then. Waited for whatever punishment she would dole out. She was always at the ready to reprimand the other, shorter elites with grueling chores or exercises that would make even the fittest Irken dizzy with exhaustion.

Instead, she continued staring him down. “Do not let it happen again,” she said finally. Without another word, she walked out of the room. The door slammed down behind her.

Then, the room broke free of their restrained attention stances. Conversation buzzed. “What was that?” Purple was in Red’s face instantly. “What’s going on?”

Red looked towards Zim, again. He was sitting on his bed, a visible sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“You heard me.” Red turned to face Purple as he said it. “Zim went with you,” he shot back, eyes narrowed. “And?”

“Well, why did you bail him out? This could have been what we needed to get him out of ruining our lives for the next several years in invader training! Why would you make yourself look bad for Zim?”

Red looked around, only to meet the eyes of nearly every other Irken in their vicinity. Their eyes were even more venomous, more accusatory.

In spite of himself, Red felt himself squirm. An uncomfortable silence passed through. Everyone was looking at him. “Not your business,” he said at last. “And if any of you say another word about it, I’ll... I’ll...” He didn’t know what he would do. Nothing, probably. But he was the tallest of the group, and that had to count for something. Already, his empty threat had caused half the Irkens glaring at him to drop their eyes to the ground.

Before long, the hatch to their quarters lifted up again, and they dispersed down to the refectory for breakfast. Soon, Red lost any sight of Zim in the mix. Purple, however, remained glued to his side.

“Zim’s done absolutely nothing but rain horror down on everything he touches,” Purple ranted. “Everyone who goes near him either ends up dead, maimed, or in trouble.”

Red was nodding along idly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“And now he’s going to be going to be shipped off with the rest of us. Going to meet Tallest Spork. What a joke!”

The went through line, watching as their trays were piled with whatever slop the food service drones working behind the counters had prepared. Red thought about what Purple had said, though.

Zim was going to go to invader training along with the rest of them on Devastis. After everything he had done throughout basic, who could possibly predict what would happen? Impulsively blowing up his entire squadron? Causing yet another blackout?

Slowly, Red felt a warm flush of shame creep over his face as he picked at his food. Purple was right. Zim destroyed everything he touched. And he could have stopped it.

He suddenly hated himself for not throwing Zim under the bus when he could. After all, it had been Zim’s idea to sneak into the food storage hatch. Why would he do that in the first place? Some sort of neurotic need to cause as much mayhem as possible? Only an Irken with serious bugs in their ID PAK would do something like that. An Irken who would see consequences in the form of an existence evaluation by the time their PAK had proven itself to be unequivocally defective to the entire universe rather than just the company they kept.

Red stopped hating himself, then, and started hating Zim even more than he had before. Zim wasn’t just a nuisance—he was a danger. The safest place he could possibly be was far away from the Empire.

“Hey...” Purple’s voice broke his concentrated, seeping in from the periphery of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“You gonna eat your mooshminky?” 

Red blinked. “Oh, uh, yeah. I am.”

Purple grumbled under his breath as Red shoved the whole thing in his mouth at once. They got up and placed their trays on the carousel of dirty dishes before making their way to the combat simulation wing.

Whatever happens, Red thought, at least a day will come when Zim is no longer my problem.

~The End~

[ignitedbynatsu]

Flour Bomb

A/N: Do I post at the most ungodly hours for my readers in the US? Probably. Do I screw myself by doing so? Yeah, I guess... BUt don’t care 🤷I have this weird obsession when I’m done writing something that I have to get it out as soon as possible 👀 That being said, here is the Natsu x children shenanigans @pro-crastinator14 requested! Hope you like it ❤️

Warnings: swearing

Genre: crack, fluff

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

"Please don't leave us with those three" Gray pleaded as you bid your goodbye to the guild.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go," you told the ice mage as you gave Mira-Jane a hug.

"Then take them with you" he huffed. He was absolutely not looking forward to spending the day with those three troublemakers, especially with you gone.

"I can't, it's some private stuff with the family about our father's will" you explained before giving him a reassuring smile "You'll be fine, I'll be back by tonight.

"Nalu! Kenji! Promise me you'll behave and don't make it too hard on your dad" you crouched down to their level, so you could look them in the eyes and show then you were serious.

"We promise mommy!" Your eldest promised as she placed her hand over her heart, her younger brother soon mimicking her.

"Natsu, the same goes for you" you eyed your husband as you stood straight again. He was in an intense staring contest with Gray but turned to you as soon as he heard his name fall from your lips.

"When do I ever not behave?" He smiled sheepishly. Happy piped up "how about never?"

Natsu shot him a glare before giving you a loving smile "We'll be fine. Now go, you don't want to be late, do you?"

You pressed your lips against his, lingering a little longer than you'd normally do, only breaking apart when you felt your children hug your legs. "Bye, mommy!"

And with that you were gone, leaving the soon-to-be chaos-filled guild behind you for the day.

"Alright so, you'll go to uncle Gray and tell him something's in your water bottle and when he bends down, you squeeze the bottle, spraying him with water" this is how nearly the whole day had passed. Natsu and his children prank everyone in the guild. From putting fake spiders around the bar to scare Mira-Jane to colouring Levy's glasses, resulting in her having dark circles around her eyes. No one was safe.

"Natsu, that's enough!" A covered in strawberry cake Erza growled as she towered over the fire dragon slayer. They had hidden a small balloon in her cake so when she went to grab a bite with her fork, the small dessert went flying everywhere.

Everyone in the guild had a matching expression, showing how fed up everyone was with the pranks. "Fine, fine we'll stop, right kids?"

"Yep! Here you go daddy" Kenji handed him a mug with what Natsu presumed was beer, so he took a swing. It didn't take long before he spits the beverage out, tasting soap instead of the bitterness of the golden liquid.

The two children ran away laughing "Oh no, what have I started"

Everyone was on high alert for the two little monsters that were your children "this is your fault" Gajeel growled as everyone was looking for them.

"We were just having a little fun, how was I supposed to know they wouldn't know when to stop?" Natsu tried to defend himself.

"They're your kids, are you really that surprised they don't have an off button?" Lisanna deadpanned.

Natsu grumbled, knowing she was right and that he shouldn't have let it go this far "has anyone found them?"

Everyone gathered in the middle with no success, unbeknownst to them, walking right into the two children's biggest prank yet "flour bomb!"

How the two managed to get that much flower up there without anyone noticing was an absolute mystery, but as the words fell from the two young mages mouths, an avalanche of white powder flew down, covering the whole guild and their mages in the process.

"Nalu! Kenji!" Natsu yelled at his children, but the two had already run from the scene, the only thing that could be heard was their laughter.

"Shit! We have to clean this up before (Y/N) comes back" the fire mage cursed as realization dawned upon him.

"We?" Gray laughed "Oh, good luck buddy"

Gray patted his shoulder as he and the others piled out of the guild "Wait! Where are you going?"

"To get cleaned up and go to another bar!" Cana called over her shoulder "have fun with your monsters"

A couple more profanities left Natsu's lips as he peered to the guild, hoping to catch even a glimpse of his children.

"There are footsteps here" Happy announced who had flown up to where they had last seen the two.

"Happy you're a genius!" Once Natsu had climbed up the two followed the trail that led them to a small crawl space underneath the roof.

The dragon slayer poked his head in and there indeed where the two troublemakers "Nalu. Kenji. That's enough. Get your asses down"

The two shared a glance, they had never seen their father this serious before. They obeyed his order and quietly made it back downstairs.

"We're sorry, daddy, we didn't mean to make everyone mad" both their head hung low in shame as they prepared themselves to get yelled at.

Natsu sighed, knowing that he was partly to blame in all of this "it's not all your fault, I should've put my foot down sooner."

"So you're not upset with us?" Nalu lifted her head as she looked at her father with glossy eyes.

"I wouldn't say that, but I think cleaning this mess is punishment enough, so I won't yell at you" Natsu patted his daughter's head.

So the four got to work, trying their best to get rid of all the flour, but it was literally everywhere. Halfway through, the two children had fallen asleep, leaving Natsu and Happy to get rid of the rest.

"What happened here" you gasped as you took notice of the mess in front of you. Both your children were covered in flour and knocked out on a table, while Natsu and Happy, who were also covered in flour, were sweeping the floor.

"(Y/N)! You're back early!" Natsu's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets when he heard your voice. Your eyes narrowed at him as you awaited an explanation.

He sighed as he placed the broom against a table and glanced at Nalu and Kenji "A prank that got a little out of hand, but" he rushed to say as you pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance "before you yell at us, we all knew we were in the wrong and learned from our mistakes. We even decided to clean up as punishment for our behaviour"

Your eyes cast upon your children, still not saying a word so Natsu decided to continue with his apology "we're really sorry, I'm really sorry. I know you put trust in us, and we broke it"

"I'm never leaving you three alone again" you sighed "but it's fine, you saw that you were in the wrong and took responsibility. Let's finish cleaning up and get them home, shall we?"

By the time you were done, the moon was high in the night sky. "You sure you're not mad at me?"

Natsu's voice was hushed as he carried a sleeping Nalu in his arms while you carried Kenji. "No, you'll always be a troublemaker, but you're my troublemaker and I wouldn't have it any other way"

[supermantv]

daxton + first date after getting back together

Their first date after getting back together is technically at the Winter Dance, and while it had been overall pleasant, there were still the minor bumps (the major glaring one being that Paxton had nearly ran his girlfriend over with his car) that prevented the date from retaining a sense of utter bliss that Paxton was still seeking. He adores her, loves being around her, thinks she is the most exciting person that he has ever met, but there is no denying that Devi is an absolute hurricane. He loves that too, and he’s starting to understand that moments of complete peace will be hard-earned, but entirely worth it. He’s also hoping that these moments of peace become more and more common, with a smoother path paved to achieve them each time. 

They’re in his garage when he decides to broach the subject, a random slasher film playing on the screen that neither of the two are really invested in. Devi lays between his legs, her own feet dangling over the edge of the couch as she rests her head on the hard planes of his stomach. She traces unrefined patterns into the exposed skin above the waistband of his jeans where his shirt has ridden up, and Paxton knows that if she keeps this up, there’s a very high possibility he will actually be driven insane, so to prevent this, he shifts into a sitting position, forcing Devi to move with him.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and it’s hard not to get distracted when his eyes follow the movement of her hands, shifting to smooth out her skirt, because it’s yellow and pink, and cute, and short, and it very much suits her. 

“Um.” Paxton clears his throat and flicks his eyes away and Devi must see something in his actions to tip her off to the situation because she actually laughs. Loud and unapologetic and Paxton feels the tip of his ears beginning to burn but he’s smiling. “Shut up,” he grumbles without a trace of any real aggravation, lobbing a pillow at her head. She catches it easily and hugs it to her chest. 

“Okay, okay,” Devi says and she quiets down but her eyes are twinkling. “What’s up?” 

“I was just gonna ask what you wanted to do for our first date on Saturday.”

“First date?” Devi asks bemusedly. 

“Yeah, y’know, first date since getting back together,” Paxton clarifies, but Devi still looks confused. 

“Wasn’t that at the dance?”

“Yeah, about that,” he starts, drawing back his shoulders and filling his voice with enough mock authority that Devi guffaws under her breath. “I’d like to put in a formal request right now for a do over.”

“Why?” Devi asks, taking this chance to throw the pillow back at him. It bounces harmlessly off his face where it slides into his lap, and he cries out from the shock of the hit rather than the pain. Devi ignores him. “I had a good time. Did you not have a good time?”

“I had a great time,” Paxton reassures her and his heart just about melts when she beams at him. “But I very nearly ran you over with my car at the beginning of the night.”

“After that!”

“After that you threatened to kill the DJ.”

“He deserved it,” Devi grumbles and the same murderous scowl she’d worn that night resurfaces. “But those were minor issues anyway.”

“I’m not sure vehicular manslaughter or attempted homicide are minor issues,” he jokes and his girlfriend rolls her eyes before he becomes serious again. “Really though. I just want to go on one perfect first date with you. No Trent or Marcus, and no narrowly avoided death.”

Devi wrinkles her nose. “Perfect is a tall order.”

“Third time’s the charm,” he says, but Devi’s doubtful expression doesn’t waver, so he relents. “Okay then, not a perfect first date. A first date where everything goes according to plan.”

“That’s more realistic,” Devi says, but she sounds and looks unconvinced by his words. “But still.”

“Don't worry,” Paxton says, leaning forward to rub his thumb tenderly across her cheek. She relaxes into his touch and he grins. “I'll prove you wrong.”

“I sure hope so,” Devi sighs, and no more is said on the subject for the night because then she's grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and yanking him into her. 

But of course, Devi was right to be skeptical, because as Paxton is starting to learn, it is impossible for things to go according to plan when they're involved. 

He’d called that very same night to make reservations at a semi-fancy Italian restaurant across town, and was promptly told they didn't do reservations, which as Paxton figured was even better, because if a restaurant didn't do reservations, that had to mean there was always available seating, right? He asks his mom to teach him how to iron on Thursday, and by the time Saturday night rolls around, he feels relaxed and ready, so assured that nothing could possibly go wrong. He lays the bouquet of flowers he'd bought for Devi gingerly in the passenger seat and whistles to himself as he starts the car. 

Except his car won't start. Why won't his car start?

And from then on, things only spiral out of control further. Paxton texts Devi asking if she can just walk to his house and he'll order an Uber to take them to the restaurant from there. Except when he checks his bank account, he cringes at the lack of money, failing to realize earlier how long it'd been since his last paycheck from his summer job. He wouldn't have even been able to pay the bill for their food, much less order a $15 Uber now. And really, he's not above begging his parents or sister for money, but his parents aren't home, gone on a weekend camping trip in the wilderness where they most likely don't get cell service. And Becca is working on a new assignment for school, her door locked with very clear instructions for Paxton not to interrupt her. He doesn't want to risk becoming a murder victim before his third first date with his girlfriend. 

So, when Devi arrives at his house and the front door swings open to reveal her visibly frazzled boyfriend explaining to her that he's going to be cooking for her tonight instead of going out, she smiles sweetly and nods her head in understanding. Paxton wonders briefly if she had seen it in his face, how close he is to snapping, because he’d been expecting maybe a little push back, a slight protest. He knows his girlfriend isn't renowned for her accommodating nature, but he thinks she's trying to be in this moment, for his sake, and he's grateful and questioning how he could have gotten so lucky. It makes him want to cradle her in his arms and kiss her senseless, but he can't because he needs to figure out what he's going to feed her. 

Paxton leads Devi to the living room and leaves her with a peck on her forehead and the TV remote before rushing back to the kitchen. And this is where the next problem presents itself, because Paxton doesn't know how to cook. 

At best, he can scramble an egg and microwave a hot pocket. Both of which he thinks Devi would not appreciate. So, Paxton grabs two packages of ramen from the cabinet and drops the noodles into a pot of boiling water. He thinks he can spruce it up with an onion, trying to recall all the tips and tricks he'd seen on the Food Network, but as he's cutting it his eyes begin to sting and he can't see all that well because he's blinking back tears and he's starting to feel like a contestant on Chopped when he slices his finger with the knife. He winces at the initial pain, but the cut is shallow, and it would be fine but now his blood is all over the cutting board and the onion and there goes that idea. 

Paxton is praying that it can't get any worst from here, because if one more thing goes wrong he's not sure he'll be able to keep it together. 

He turns off the stove and removes the pot from the heat, pouring the noodles carefully into two separate bowls. It's certainly not Michelin star worthy, but Paxton promised Devi dinner and it's better than nothing. 

But it's as if he’d been a war criminal or a serial killer in his last life, and the universe is determined to punish him, because Devi is sitting at the dining room table waiting for him, and all Paxton has to do is take three moderately sized steps to make it to the make it to her. But his foot gets caught on the corner of a rug and he staggers forward, the noodles and bowls flying out of his hands and straight onto Devi. The broth stains and drenches her dress and the noodles coat her from her hair down to her shoes, but she's still sitting, as if she hadn't processed what had just happened. 

“Shit,” Paxton swears, crouching next to her and flicking noodles off her thighs. “Are you okay? Any burns?” 

“I'm fine,” she says, glancing down at him, and her eyes are a little wide and her chin wobbles slightly, and he feels his heart drop into his chest because she's about to cry-.

The sound of her laugh startles him and his head snaps up, thinking she might've cracked before he had.

“What?” he asks, concerned. 

“I tried to tell you,” she says, but she doesn't look upset. Noodles cling to her cheeks but her smile stretches the entire length of her face. She doesn't even sound like she's gloating, even though she had been right, and as a result of his unwillingness to listen she was now wearing their dinner. 

Paxton’s fingers curl around the hem of her dress, causing broth to seep down his fist. “I wanted to make this perfect for you.”

“And it was,” Devi insists, hands coming up to cup his face. 

“Devi,” he grimaces. “You don't have to lie.”

“I'm not!” she objects. “It was perfectly us. And I like that.”

Paxton lifts a brow. “You like being covered in soggy ramen noodles.”

“You're deliberately missing the point,” Devi rolls her eyes and pinches his cheek. “I like being with you, even if the day is a complete disaster, I'll be happy because I was spending time with you. And, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm a bit of a disaster magnet.” 

“I think it's cute,” Paxton murmurs demurely. 

“See,” Devi says. “You know what I'm talking about, and you agree.” 

“The noodles don't help though.”

Devi makes a face. “No they do not.” 

And while Devi is taking a shower in his bathroom and Paxton is laying in bed, thrumming his fingers against his stomach, he thinks about what she had said about this date being perfectly them. He smiles to himself.

[alldayangst]

a free world? (Harry Styles)

All my fics are PoC/LGBTQ+ friendly.  Trigger warning/warnings for divorce, kids witnessing unhealthy marriages/divorce. Inspired by Godspeed by Frank Ocean.

“This court thereby grants the plaintiff a divorce. Please wait ninety days for the divorce to be finalised.” The judge bangs their gavel. “This court is adjourned.”

Harry remembers these words like it was yesterday. They sounded nothing like the ‘with the power vested in me’ speech the minister gave five years ago, so he wondered why you were smiling. The whispers you exchange with your attorney were nowhere near as heartfelt as yours and his ‘I love you’s’ and ‘I do’s’ . He looked at you while you look at your lawyer like he just saved your life. Harry wonders if that was the way you truly felt all along. 

One thing that never failed to complicate things was the fact that you and Harry had children; children you adored unconditionally. You adopted Heidi and Eden when the love between you and Harry was just too strong not to share, and you remember the ear splitting sobs Harry screeched out for their sake when you decided separating was the best option for you both.

“This is all my fucking fault.” Harry sat on the steps like a child on punishment. You towered over him like a parent in despair. Where did it all go wrong? Snot, sweat and tears. The human body had a funny way of showing pain. “No, nothing’s your fault.” You remembered these words like it was yesterday. They sounded everything like the ‘I think we should end this’ speech you have him three days prior, so you knew exactly why he was crying. His red, runny nose and frantic head shaking was as close as you could get to reliving the undying heartache of yours and Harry’s ‘I fucking hate myself’s’ after arguments and ‘I’m not happy anymore’s’. He looked at you like you could save his life. You wondered if that was truly the way he felt all along. “Why bring a child into our home if I can’t provide the life I promised them?” Harry continued to weep, defeated, as you cradled his head in your arms, resting yours against his. 

No love lost.

“The kids know you love them, even if you don’t love me. Being happy and divorced aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Harry snorted and shook his head in your hands when you mentioned the word ‘divorce’, and by that, you could tell that he wasn’t ready to finish something that he started. But you were. “There will be mountains you won’t move, Harry.”

Fast forward to after you were granted the divorce, you’d been slow to move on; choosing to stay ‘two hearts, one home’ with Harry for the sake of your children. 

You didn't want to leave, you’d rather slow down. You wouldn’t be able to stand the idea of your children’s last idea of their parents together being animosity in bedroom corridors. 

“The table is prepared for you.” Harry noticed you all fidgety, finicky with your ring, pulling it off to the fingertip and rubbing it over your knuckle like this was all some sort of game.

You ate your food over a quiet table. You liked a quiet table now. It was better than the subtle shots and low blows you and Harry threw at each other seven months ago. Perhaps you didn’t know then what was to come.

“Y/N said they found a home not too far out of London.” Heidi dropped this bomb out of nowhere, then proceeded to eat her food, neglecting the fallout. Your children had taken to calling you by your first name because that’s what Harry had reduced you to, you were no longer ‘baby’, ‘honey’ or ‘lovie.’

You hear the clank of cutlery as Harry dropped his knife and fork and abandons his meal.

“Is this true?” he questions, eyes gawking in a line of sight straight at you. Once upon a time, you’d claim Harry could see right through you, into you - but after a few mean words and closed door rows, his vision doesn’t work as well.

“It’s true.” You breathe in uneasily.

“Can we talk in the bedroom?” Harry wiped his face on the cloth and you followed his lead on what you’re sure is to be an adventure upstairs.

“You’re moving? You’re moving without me?”

“Harry, I think you’re confused. You signed up for a life without me once you chose not to contest the divorce.”

“So, what, you wanted me to contest the divorce?” Now Harry is confused. His eyebrows are scrunched up together, and his face is in a kind of puzzle where if you didn’t know him, you’d probably think he was angry. And maybe you were onto something when you called yourselves ‘soulmates’, because Harry knew you know him better than anyone else - you’d had a power where you could see right through him, into him - and your 20/20 vision never failed you.

You’d hate to admit your ego was bruised when Harry didn’t contest the divorce. In a way, it made things peaceful - your house, your alimony and your kids didn't have to be split right in the middle, but nothing would compensate for yours and Harry’s broken bond. That little part of your heart that wanted Harry to contest the divorce didn’t do it out of a love for conflict, but to know you were something to fight for. Why didn’t Harry fight for you? You’d fought for much lesser things. You looked down at the rug beneath you, unable to come to terms with the shame and hurt that you felt you could spontaneously combust under. “I guess some strange part of my mind wanted you to fight for me, thought it would make me feel worthy, like you still loved me.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” Harry lifts up your head and kisses the tears beginning to for under your eyes. “Because I do love you.”

You hum in satisfaction because you think this moment is over. Harry has other plans.

He kisses all over your face. Your nose. “I love you.” Your eyelids. “I love you.” You feel your cheeks begin to get wetter, Harry is crying too. Your chin. “I love you.” Your neck. He’s muffled as he smooches and speaks in intervals. “I didn’t contest because I thought this would make you happy. I just want you to be happy.” Maybe this is how Harry felt all along. Harry grabs a handful of your backside. “And one day this is going to be over. And I’m gonna wake up and we’ll laugh because it’s a bad dream.” Harry goes to pick you up, and that’s when you decide you’ve both gone far enough. Love isn’t about pushing hate in the other direction. “Harry, we have children downstairs, we have children downstairs, we have children downstairs.”

Two days later, you were sat next to Eden in the living room, unaware that Harry had chosen to dwell on your encounter the other night. It’d been a habit of his, he’d refused to relent on sweet, simple words, subtle signs, he’d never let things go. Harry and Heidi were washing dishes in the open kitchen adjacent to you with Harry sneakily stealing a glance from you every other second, resulting in some haphazardly washed pots and one broken plate.

The china dispersed itself across the ground. You and Eden looked up from your laptop while Harry and Heidi stared at the broken plate on the floor like it would mend itself that way. “Fuck, Daddy!” Heidi blurted out. Harry looked at her and then looked at you guiltily, hoping you didn’t think it was him that had taught your daughter that language. “Don’t say ‘fuck’, sweetheart.” It obviously was. “Can you help Daddy get the broom?” Heidi zoomed off in search for the broom while Harry thoughtlessly kicked shards of broken china around in attempt to pack the mess together. He wanted you to think he was a good Dad. You knew he was a good dad. But Harry was jonesing for your approval as if it would reverse the divorce papers in the mailman’s hands or stop you from separating your heart and your home.

“Y/N, where is Essex?” Eden looked at you curiously while Harry listened tentatively at the message of your hometown. “It’s where I come from and it’s where you and me are gonna live.” You tap Eden on the knee.

“I can’t find the broom.”

“Harry, you better go help her.” You said.

“Eden, go help your sister.” He tells your son.

Heidi said that you’d be living not too far from London but Harry never thought you’d end up back in Essex. You rarely mentioned your birthplace, and your distinct Essex accent got drowned in loud, screaming concert crowds and lost in London after years of residing with Harry. You’d worn your hometown on your sleeve only a handful of times. Harry vividly remembers Niall expressing doubt with you during drinking games to which you’d responded: “Please, I’m from Essex!”, and it made Harry ponder on whether you were going back there to drink the memory of him away or out of genuine fondness for the place. So Harry doesn’t think and walks over to you, faces inches apart and says, “You look down on where you came from, sometimes. But you have this place to call home. Always.” And you look into his green eyes that remind you so much of emeralds and pretty forests and remember that they are the only place that you’ll truly call home. You feel your heart racing and the clock ticking and his eyes boring into yours in search for an answer, and unsure what to say, you’re relieved for the first time in your life that your children are not around. “I need to go help them find the broom.”

Three months later, a paper comes through right on time. For you, not for Harry. But for Eden and for Heidi who sat in the back of your car ready to live in a town they’ve never been to and their parents never mentioned. 

Harry knew this day was about to come, because the letter that came for you a few days prior features your birth name, your full birth name. No Styles, no marriage title, no hint to the fact that you even knew Harry at all apart from the address. The address that was now his, and solely his. Harry starts to feel like a little kid again, and wants to cry on the steps and have you cradle him again even if it’s the last time you touch him. “I will always love you how I do, Harry. I vowed that. This love will keep us through the blinding of the eyes. I’ll love you to the day that I die.” And with that, Harry engulfs you. Because that paper that came right on time meant that your divorce was final and this wasn’t a sick dream he could shake himself from. “I’m wishing you godspeed, glory.” And that’s how you really felt all along. Harry holds your hand with his free one and you let him remove your ring from your finger. He’s crying now. It’s too late. You rub along his back and pat it, and maybe that’s his signal to let go, but he doesn’t. 

He can’t believe you’re going back. He can’t believe the town you disowned is your better option over him. You look back at it like it saved your life. “I’ll let go of my claim on you, it’s a free world.” But he hugs tighter.

Taglist: @swiftingday

Credit for the gif goes to: /hampsteadharry​

Masterlist

Upcoming Works

[sylvanfreckles]

Departing Shadows

You thought I'd forgotten, didn't you? Here it is, another rescue from my doomed fanfiction.net account.

Summary: Legolas arrives to winter in Imladris after an ill-fated patrol in Mirkwood. But when the prince's refusal to accept the truth of what happened affects his healing, Aragorn is determined to break through the shadows that threaten his friend's spirit. No slash. Second-place winner of the December 2005 Teitho contest.

This is one of the angstiest things I've ever written, so...it'll be right up someone's alley, I'm sure. Please check the warnings if you're concerned. It was apparently partly inspired by The Pretenders' "I'll Stand By You".

And like I always say. I may cringe, but I will never regret! On to the fic!

(I should warn you...I made up the horse's name just so Aragorn could call him Smokey. He first appeared in another fic that I'll post one of these days. His name might look decently elvish but it's total gibberish.)

...

"Legolas!"

Aragorn refused to let the knee-deep snowdrifts impede him as he surged forward to greet his friend. The prince had come to Imladris for the winter, arriving, it seemed, just ahead of the heavy snows.

"Hello, Estel," the blonde elf said wearily, dismounting from his horse and nodding to the groom that had come to take care of the animal.

"I see Smokey is well," Aragorn commented, referring to an old joke they had between them about the horse's name.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Ranger, his name is Simoliké."

Aragorn laughed, throwing an arm around his friend and pretending not to notice the elf's flinch. "It is wonderful to see you again, Legolas."

The elf sighed, relaxing just slightly as the man guided him down the cleared walkway up to the house. "Are your brothers home?" he asked with a hint of hesitation.

"They're out until this evening," Aragorn explained, biting back a grin as he remembered the twins' protests at being sent away the day the prince was due to arrive. "Ada wanted them to help some of the other homes prepare for winter."

He noticed Legolas seemed relieved to hear this, and wondered at the elf's reaction. Then again, he thought, knowing the circumstances behind the prince's journey perhaps it was not entirely unexpected that he would be hesitant to face the rather exuberant greeting that Elladan and Elrohir would cook up.

"How are you, Legolas?" Aragorn asked as they entered the house, turning his friend to face him.

Legolas looked down, and for the first time Aragorn noticed the dark shadows under the elf's eyes, the deep pallor of his skin, and the almost haunted look in his eyes. "I am fine," the prince said softly.

Rather than outright scoff the elf's answer, as he was used to doing, Aragorn simply nodded. "I believe my father asked to speak with you when you arrived," he said. "He's in his study...just leave your bags, someone will take them up later."

Aragorn walked the elf to his father's study, and was surprised when Lord Elrond asked him to remain. He sat easily in a chair, noting with some concern that Legolas was perched as though about to bolt.

"Legolas," Elrond greeted, setting aside the scroll he had been studying. "How is your father?"

"He is well, Lord Elrond," the prince replied, fidgeting a little.

"Are you aware that he sent me a letter to tell the reasons behind your arrival?"

Legolas flinched. "I had guessed as much."

"Can you tell me what it says?"

The younger elf frantically shook his head, his eyes wide. Aragorn looked on in concern, and only a restraining glance from his father kept him from jumping to his friend's side.

"Then shall I tell you?" Elrond asked, not even waiting for a response. "In his letter he mentioned that your patrol suffered a devastating attack by a party of orcs. All but three of the elves under your command were killed in battle, and those of you who survived were taken captive. The orcs recognized you as captain of that patrol and slowly tortured the other three survivors to death in an attempt to get information out of you. Is this correct?"

Aragorn's eyes widened, and he glanced at his friend. Legolas was trembling, his gaze fixed on Elrond as though afraid the older elf would attack him.

"Legolas, you cannot hide from what happened," Elrond said kindly. "Yes, six of your people are dead...six good elves that should not have suffered so. But you must not blame yourself, Legolas. You must face what happened and—"

But whatever else Lord Elrond was going to say was forever lost as Legolas chose that moment to bolt from his chair and flee the study. Aragorn was after him in a heartbeat, not so much to bring him back to Elrond as out of honest concern for his friend.

Luckily, in his haste Legolas was less stealthy than usual and Aragorn could easily follow him. He found the elf just outside the door, bent over on his knees with his arms around his stomach. Aragorn knelt beside his friend and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling the prince's hair back as Legolas was violently sick.

"I can't, Estel," Legolas whispered, his voice shaking. "He asks me...I can't."

"What happened?" Aragorn asked. "You don't have to tell me if you don't wish to," he added as Legolas tensed. "I want to help you...tell me what I can do."

"I..." Legolas shivered. "I can't, not yet."

"All right," Aragorn nodded. "What do you wish to do, then?"

Legolas sighed and sat up just enough to lean against Aragorn. "I want to forget than any of this ever happened."

"I know," the human said soothingly. "But my brothers will be returning soon," he added, squinting at the setting sun. "Do you want me to tell them you've retired early?"

"No," the elf said, standing shakily to his feet. "I do not wish them to suspect something is wrong."

Ai, anyone who looks you in the eye would know that you are not well, Aragorn thought. "Perhaps you would like to bathe and rest before dinner, then?" he asked, ever mindful of all the lessons he'd received on being a gracious host.

Legolas smiled, and in that smile Aragorn finally saw a glimmer of the elf who was his best friend. "You would not mock me for my 'obsessive bathing'?" he asked.

"Not today," Aragorn said with a laugh. "I believe you know the way...or would you prefer me to escort you so you don't get lost?"

"No, Aragorn," Legolas sighed. "But if you could apologize to Lord Elrond for my behavior..."

"Of course," the human nodded. "I'll speak with him immediately," and get him to tell me just what is going on, he added mentally. "See you at dinner, then," he called before making his way back to his father's study.

"Come in, Estel," Elrond called, not even bothering to look up.

"Ada, what is going on?" Aragorn asked, not even bothering to pass on his friend's apology as he knew Elrond would not hold Legolas' behavior as offensive in any way.

Elrond sighed and motioned for Aragorn to close the door. "In his letter Thranduil told me that Legolas has refused to speak of anything that happened during his captivity."

"He said he doesn't want to talk about it," Aragorn said.

"He is burdened because he feels responsible for six deaths that were beyond his control...six elves who would have gladly given their lives to keep the secrets of Mirkwood safe."

"Did the orcs know he was a prince?"

"No, they thought he was only a captain. Had they known, however, they might have tried to use him as leverage. In that case the results may have been different," Elrond sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

"Different?"

Elrond met the human's gaze, a depth of sorrow in his eyes that Aragorn had not expected. "When the deaths of his comrades failed to get him to speak, the orcs resorted to torturing Legolas. He spent three days in their grasp, until another patrol found and rescued him."

Aragorn sat back in shock. "He was tortured..." he repeated softly. "Is he going to be all right?"

"Only time will tell. I will say this, though," Elrond held up one finger. "If he does not come to terms with what happened he will break. His spirit is already shadowed, and I fear what will happen if he does not begin to release this soon." The elf-lord sighed. "I believe he is on the brink of fading."

The young man felt his resolve harden. "I will not let that happen," he said fiercely.

Elrond's gaze saddened further. "I hope so, ion-nin."

Aragorn turned to leave, but hesitated and looked back to his father. "You were wrong," he said softly. "You should not have confronted him. He is not ready."

The elf raised one eyebrow, his gaze tightening slightly. "And how do you know this?"

"He told me," the man said simply. "He will talk to us when he's ready...not before. For now, the best we can do is simply listen and wait for him to tell us. I dare say there have been enough healers trying to draw him out."

Elrond nodded to acknowledge Aragorn's argument, though the human could tell he hadn't convinced his father of anything. Sighing, he left the study and jogged down the hall to the one elf he knew he needed to see: Legolas.

Legolas was not surprised in the least when he came out of the bathing chamber to find Aragorn perched on his bed. He had almost expected the human to come barging in while he was still bathing, as though thinking that catching the prince unawares would make him reveal what he had gone through.

He shook his head, dispelling that thought. Aragorn would never do that to him. "Are you waiting for something, Human?" he asked, forcing a playful tone to his voice.

"Just wanted to see if you needed anything else."

Legolas sighed. "I don't want to talk about it."

Aragorn's brow furrowed in concern. "I wasn't going to ask."

The elf paused, trying to keep his hand steady as he reached for his hairbrush. "Why not?" he asked bluntly.

"I don't want to rush you," the man said simply. "I want you to talk to me when you're ready."

Legolas caught himself blinking back tears, his emotions stretched too far at this point for any sort of restraint to last. "What if I'm never ready?" he said in a whisper.

"You will be," Aragorn said confidently. "Take some time...take a few days to rest, if you like. You're safe here," the man added, resting his chin in his hand and studying the prince as he brushed his hair.

The elf sighed, setting the hairbrush aside and lying down on the bed. "I know," he murmured, fighting the bone-chilling exhaustion that seemed to follow him everywhere.

"My father's healers," he said after a few moments, "spent every day trying to convince me to talk about what happened...what I saw, what I went through. Every time I saw them I just started retreating further and further within. It was out of desperation that my father sent me here. He hoped your father could do something."

Aragorn grunted an acknowledgement. "He wants to help," the man said quietly. "And he could probably understand what you're feeling...but I know what you mean."

Legolas turned a curious eye on his friend, waiting for the human to continue.

"In my first months out with the rangers," the man explained, "we came across a pack of wolves. They were bent on destroying us, and managed to kill two of the younger rangers before we killed them. One of those men was my friend," Aragorn added softly. "The first human friend I'd ever made. We were near Imladris, so they brought the wounded here. I knew my brothers and my father had lost friends before...but having so many try to help me recover from my friend's death was just overwhelming and I shut them out. It wasn't until one of the other rangers simply told me that he would just listen if I ever needed to talk that I found myself willing to share anything."

He turned a saddened gaze toward the prince. "If you need to talk, Legolas, I will listen. And whatever you share, I will keep in secret as long as you wish. If you need me, I will stand by you through whatever you face."

Legolas sighed and nodded. "Thank you," he whispered, the world darkening as he drifted off to sleep.

Elladan and Elrohir cornered Legolas later that night in the Hall of Fire, demanding an account from their friend of his journey and the latest news from Mirkwood. Aragorn was relieved to see Legolas at ease, laughing and joking, but disheartened when he saw through the facade to the crumbling spirit within the prince.

He could see that the elf was exhausted, though he wondered if that was more due to the journey here or to the terrible weight he carried. "All right, enough," Aragorn declared, smoothly stepping in and maneuvering his friend away from his brothers. "You can speak with Legolas in the morning, the hour is growing late and I wish to have a word with my friend before he retires for the night."

Ignoring the protests from the twins—half-hearted and jovial though they were—Aragorn steered Legolas to a vacant balcony.

They stood in silence for a while, looking out as a light snow fell throughout the valley. "Everything is so peaceful here," Legolas finally said, sighing and leaning heavily against the railing. "Not like home...there is no shadow over Imladris."

Aragorn grunted softly in agreement. "You know, tomorrow the first thing my brothers will do is drag me out of bed and bury me in the snow. They've done it during the first snow every year, but I wasn't here for the first snow so they'll probably do it with this one. They used to try convince me it would teach me to walk atop it as elves do...but I've long since learned that was a lie."

Legolas chuckled. "And I suppose you'll wish me to come to your aid?"

"Of course," Aragorn grinned. "What else are friends for?" he added, and lighthearted though his tone was he hoped Legolas would understand the hidden message.

The blonde elf sobered immediately. "I know," he said quietly. "I have been struggling all day...here I have a friend who has promised to stand beside me no matter what I face, yet when it comes to facing myself I have not the courage to ask."

Aragorn's heart went out to the elf. "You don't ever need to ask, Legolas," he replied gently. "I will always stand with you."

"Always?" the elf asked, turning to Aragorn so the human could see the tears glistening in the elf's eyes. "I am afraid, Aragorn. Afraid to face what is inside of me...afraid that the memories will be too much...but most of all I am afraid that if everyone sees this they will know I am a coward."

The elf turned away, covering his face with one hand. Aragorn immediately pulled his friend into an embrace, letting the elf sob into his shoulder. "You are not a coward," he said firmly. "Fear is just another battle, Legolas. You must face it, and you can defeat it."

When his friend had calmed down enough to release his death-grip on Aragorn's tunic, the human gently steered the elf through a set of fairly empty corridors to his chamber.

"Now sleep," he ordered, taking a look around the guestroom in which Legolas was staying. Sudden inspiration struck, and he turned to his friend's pack and began digging through it.

"What are you doing?" Legolas asked.

"It is far too cold in here," the man complained. "Even for an elf...you'll catch your death of cold if you stay in here tonight," he stood up triumphantly, a set of Legolas' sleeping clothes in his hand. "Come with me," he ordered, grabbing the elf by the arm.

Ignoring his friend's protests, he ushered Legolas down to his own chamber where a fire was already roaring happily in the fireplace. "This is much better, isn't it?" Aragorn asked, swiftly changing into his own sleeping clothes.

Legolas raised one eyebrow. "My room is not cold, Aragorn."

"Well...maybe not to you but I'll rest much better knowing that you're not sleeping in a room so frigid it could freeze a dragon," Aragorn retorted, climbing into his bed. It was large enough for three or four people, so he knew the elf couldn't protest because of lack of room.

The elf shook his head in amusement, and turned his back to change. Aragorn's stomach somersaulted when he caught sight of a few still-unhealed wounds on the elf's back—marks left from a whip and burns the size of his thumb. Whatever shadow had fallen on Legolas' spirit had left his friend unable to fully heal.

Legolas finished changing and slid into the other side of the bed. "Happy now, Human?" he asked.

"Of course," Aragorn laughed. He blew out the lamp on the bedside table, and waited until Legolas' breathing evened out to slip into sleep.

And when the nightmares struck, as he had known they would, he was right there.

Lord Elrond paused outside of Legolas' room—the prince was a frequent enough guest that one of the rooms was considered his—and knocked softly. Not hearing an answer he quietly opened the door and peeked in, a bit surprised to see that the room was vacant.

Then again, he mused, he shouldn't have been surprised at all.

Chuckling inwardly he stealthily opened the door to his youngest son's room just enough so slip in, and couldn't hold back a smile.

They were still sleeping, Aragorn with his arms wrapped around Legolas and the elf's head tucked under his chin, as though his mere presence could beat back the shadow that hung about the archer's spirit.

It was the nature of their friendship—of the friendship of two friends closer than brothers—for each to protect the other.

This time, Aragorn was the protector...against whatever demons preyed on his friend's spirit.

Elrond held back a sigh as he approached the bed, not wanting to wake either prince or ranger. He knew what he had said in his study had sounded unfeeling and harsh, but he had been hoping to force Legolas to face what had happened. He could now fully see the distress his words had caused the younger elf, and standing at the end of the bed he could make out distinct tear-trails left on the prince's face from whatever horrors he'd endured in his dreams.

And his eyes were closed, as though that would keep the images away.

Elves could usually control their dreams, but Elrond knew that Legolas had been repressing memories of his captivity and those memories would seek to break through, mostly in the form of nightmares.

But perhaps...perhaps his son could succeed where all of healers of Mirkwood and Legolas' own family had failed. The love of a brother, extended without hesitation or condition, might be just what was needed to break through the shadow.

As though knowing he was being thought of, Aragorn opened one eye and regarded his father with a raised eyebrow. Elrond pressed a finger to his lips to indicate silence, and slowly retreated, pausing just long enough to throw a smile over his shoulder at his son and the sleeping prince.

He would not speak about these things to Legolas again, he decided, unless the prince approached him. Perhaps Aragorn was right, and the best cure would be to listen and wait until Legolas was ready to speak.

Aragorn had dozed off when his father left, but woke suddenly with a yelp when a pair of hands seized his feet and dragged him off the bed.

"EL!" he shouted, not knowing which twin it was. Laughing gray eyes peeked into his as the less-responsible twin perched on the bed.

"It snowed last night, Estel," the twin—Elladan—said cheerfully.

"It is far from the first snow," the human grumped, trying to wrestle his feet away from Elrohir.

"Ah, but it is such fresh snow," Elrohir exclaimed, chuckling and pulling Aragorn a few more feet when the ranger tried to sit up and pry his hands away.

"Couldn't the snow wait a few hours?" a fourth voice asked groggily as the prince sat up, awakened from his exhausted sleep by the commotion.

"Legolas! Help me!" Aragorn called, ignoring the surprised glances of the twins who had evidently not seen Legolas when they entered the room.

"Aye, help him!" Elladan shouted, jumping to his feet and grabbing Legolas by the wrist. He dragged the prince off the bed, ignoring the protests and finally managing to dump the blonde elf, along with several blankets and a few pillows, onto the floor.

"What do you say, 'Dan?"

"I say the smelly human needs a bath!" Elladan exclaimed. "Shall we go?" he added, easily flinging Legolas over one shoulder and opening the door.

The prince was helpless with laughter in spite of his protests by this time, as every time he tried to wriggle away Elladan managed to poke him in a ticklish spot.

Elrohir followed, still dragging Aragorn by the ankles. The ranger began protesting that they would have to go downstairs—surely Elrohir would let him walk that much?

But he had forgotten his brother's tenacity. Elrohir did let go of Aragorn's ankles, but only to grab him around the chest and haul him down the stairs backwards, leaving his feet to drag behind.

Elladan was waiting impatiently by the door when Elrohir finally arrived with his struggling captive. Together they took their prisoners outside, Elladan depositing the prince gracefully in a clear spot in the yard and running to aid Elrohir.

Aragorn shouted in protest, but was no match for the twin elves as they managed to bring him to the ground, burying him in the snow and wrestling with him until he was completely soaked, shivering in his sleeping clothes.

"A-ada will b-be angry with y-you if I c-catch cold," Aragorn muttered through chattering teeth, hugging his arms tightly to his chest to preserve some warmth. Why did he let them to do this to him every year?

"Ah, but it is winter and you have nowhere better to be," Elladan said with a grand shrug. "What better place than the healers' wing?"

Legolas laughed at this, still sitting aside atop a patch of unbroken snow.

"The prince is amused," Elrohir commented.

"Yes...perhaps before he judges this as amusing he should experience it for himself," Elladan suggested with a wicked grin and in a flash the two had jumped to their feet and ran for the prince.

To Aragorn's alarm, the prince reacted with wide, fearful eyes and turned to flee.

The twins laughed as they chased him down, gleefully giving him the same treatment they'd given their brother. But Aragorn heard Legolas' protests grow more frantic and fearful, until he was in a high state of terror and begging the twins to stop.

Ignoring his own discomfort, Aragorn plunged into the unbroken snow and drove his way forward to the three elves, angered when his brothers treated the younger elf's fear as part of the game.

"Get off him!" Aragorn shouted, somehow pushing both Elladan and Elrohir away. Legolas lay curled up in the snow, his arms over his head and his breath coming in terrified pants. "Legolas?" he asked softly, placing a hand on the trembling shoulder.

The prince recognized Aragorn's voice and launched himself up into his friend's arms, burying his face in the man's sodden tunic to muffle his sobs of fear. Aragorn was shocked to see a small amount of blood on the snow, and more on the back of the elf's tunic.

With a warning glance at his brothers to stay back, Aragorn wordlessly gathered up the archer in his arms and trudged back into the house, heading straight for the healers' wing.

The moment his son entered the room carrying the trembling elf, Elrond knew the twins' yearly prank had gone tragically wrong. He sighed to himself, pulling back the blankets on one of the beds and nodding for Aragorn to set the prince down. He would have to explain this to his sons later...it wouldn't be fair to them to leave them wondering.

Then, as Aragorn showed him the reopened wounds on the archer's back, his concern grew.

"Ada, he was terrified," Aragorn confessed in a low voice, hoping they were far enough away that the blonde elf couldn't hear them. "He was pleading for them to stop, but they were just joking."

"I should have told them," Elrond sighed.

Aragorn agreed with his own sigh, bringing a few rolls of bandages over to bind his friend's wounds. Elrond dispensed a servant to bring down dry clothes for his son and the prince, seeing that both were cold and wet.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked, kneeling beside the bed to look his friend in the eye. Elrond glanced over and was startled to see the prince pale-faced, tears streaking out of tightly-closed eyes. "It's all right," the human said soothingly, placing a hand on the elf's shoulder. "It's over...they're gone."

The servant returned with the clothes, and Elrond politely turned away, pretending to be hunting for something on the herb table, as Aragorn helped his friend change before changing himself.

"A-aragorn?" the prince whispered.

"Yes?" the man was kneeling again in an instant, grasping the white-fingered hand that extended toward him.

"Will you stay?"

Aragorn smiled tenderly. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Several hours later, after hearing the story from their father and shoveling all the paths from the house to the various outbuildings, Elladan and Elrohir peeked into the healing room to see how the prince was faring.

Legolas was sleeping again, Aragorn in a chair at his side with a book in hand. He glanced up at his brothers and offered them an apologetic glance.

"We came to apologize," Elrohir whispered.

Aragorn shook his head. "You didn't know," he murmured.

"Still...when he asked us to stop..." Elladan's voice trailed off when he thought of how he and his twin had unintentionally hurt their friend. "Is he all right?"

"He will be," Aragorn nodded. "He finally told me what happened," he added with a sigh. "He slept a bit just after you...after we came in, but woke up after another nightmare. This time, though, he told me what it was about."

Elladan raised one eyebrow, unconsciously imitating his father. "Another nightmare?"

Aragorn nodded sadly. "He had four last night. Ada said it was repressed memories trying to break through, and now that he finally told me what happened it seems he's sleeping peacefully."

The twins agreed, both noticing that the prince seemed more at peace than he had been since his arrival. "I hope can forgive us," Elrohir murmured.

"He already has," Aragorn replied gently. "He knows you didn't mean to cause him pain."

Elladan nodded, eyes suspiciously damp-looking. "Well, I guess we'd better get changed if we want to be warm and dry for dinner," he commented wryly. "Ada has had us clearing the paths for the past few hours as punishment for reckless behavior."

Aragorn couldn't keep a broad grin from spreading across his face. "Doesn't he do that every year?"

"Aye," Elrohir shrugged. "I'm beginning to think it's less punishment for throwing you in the snow and more because he knows we'll actually do it."

"You do deserve it," Aragorn interjected laughingly.

Elladan just snickered. "It's worth it every year to see your face, though," he teased. "Come on, 'Ro, unlike some humans we don't enjoy playing in the snow," he added, leading the way out of the healers' wing.

Neither he nor his twin caught the devious smile spreading across their brother's face.

Clean, dry, and impeccably dressed, Elladan and Elrohir sat at the table in the dining hall merrily chatting with the other elves in the hall. Their father sat at the head, as usual, either conversing with the elves to either side of him or just watching out over the hall.

Legolas and Aragorn were not in their places, but given the prince's frail condition of late the twins expected them to be taking dinner in the healers' wing.

And so neither one suspected anything until two rather large buckets filled with snow were upended over their heads, the buckets left to sit like oversized hats.

Pushing the bucket off his head and shaking the snow out of his eyes in fury, Elrohir glared about the room to see who had done such a thing. His eyes lighted on Aragorn and Legolas, sitting across the table with suspiciously-innocent faces.

"Why, Legolas," Aragorn said in mock amazement. "I do believe it is snowing indoors."

Legolas nodded, looking up at the ceiling as though it were a wonder to behold and valiantly holding in his laughter.

His heart was lighter than it had been in weeks. Aragorn had listened, offered what strength he could, and simply stood with Legolas as he faced the fear in his soul.

And beyond that fear was the peace he had thought he lost.

Finally, the shadows were departing.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH38

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 38: Star Death Reality Show (XXI) {cw: gore}

"The explosion just now was because Mark shot a rocket launcher underground, but as you can see, I’m unscathed. The origin of the rocket launcher is somewhat complicated. In fact, there's a huge research institute hidden in the underground beneath this village. Before, I met He Yi there..." Qi Leren explained the previous events, and the framing of his “miracle” made his words' credibility soar, full of brainwashing persuasiveness. Once he had recounted his story, three minutes had elapsed, and the illusory wings behind him gradually dissipated in the air, his feet set foot on the ground again, and the silvery spots of light around him disappeared.

But even though he had returned to his normal state, Lara couldn’tn't look at him the same way as before.

"You seem to have a lot of questions." Qi Leren stopped his story, stared at Lara, and spoke in a tone that was definitely not his usual voice.

"Yes... I... You... Who are you?" Lara asked.

Qi Leren smiled: "I have already answered this question."

Lara certainly remembered that he said he was an apostle of God. After this impact on her worldview, she obviously couldn't take this answer as a joke.

"You’re really..." Lara murmured. She was afraid of this answer from the bottom of her heart.

Qi Leren looked at her gently and nodded his head.

Lara took a step back and took a deep breath of cold air. The chill through her heart and lungs calmed her down, but there was a flame burning in her heart, burning her questioning heart.

Seeing was believing, however, and she had nothing to say.

"Now... What are we going to do?" Lara asked. She seemed to have lost her cognitive functions after the shock of this scene, and listened to the apostle's commands like a docile little sheep.

"A lot of things. There is only one mature octopus left, but we can't find him for the time being. There may be a few larvae that have just completed parasitism, and they won’t be too aggressive... Let's gather those who are still alive. We can enter the underground research institute, where there’s a machine that can detect whether someone has become a host," Qi Leren said.

They acted quickly. Jing Siyu and Jing Sixue were woken up in the middle of the night and were taken away in a daze. As they walked, Qi Leren kindly asked what they had done today, and found no abnormalities. He wasn’t sure whether these people were infected now, but they had no ability to spread in this the first day after being parasitized, so he wasn’t too worried. As long as he could take them to the instruments in the underground research institute.

Xue Jiahui, Mark, and Annie were dead, and there were only ten contestants who may be alive at present. Among them, one had a mature octopus in their body, and eight or nine times out of ten, this person was Francis. But looking at the present situation: Dr. Lu and Du Yue were missing, He Yi was also missing, and Francis was also missing.

Qi Leren and his party found Janet and Alex, who weren’t as obedient as the Jing sisters, but even those who didn’t want to cooperate were convinced after Qi Leren took out his handgun. Although Janet wanted to keep her mouth shut, when Qi Leren shot the vase beside her, she spoke honestly.

Qi Leren smiled kindly, looked at this group of people who had gone silent, and sincerely understood the joy of getting things through violence.

The five people were led back to Annie's house and were amazed when they entered the attic, as they hadn't thought that such a secret room was hidden in the house. When they entered the basement, the messy sight before their eyes and the lingering smoke that hadn’t yet dissipated silenced everyone.

Janet looked at Qi Leren with indecision. Although she had completely regarded the story Qi Leren told as a joke before, she was not those two young girls, Jing Siyu and Jing Sixue, who had gone pale with terror. She didn't believe anything about Leviathan or the amphioctopuses, but her woman's intuition made her keep her mouth shut and look at the situation coldly.

They entered the underground research institute through the blasted tunnel. Right now the power supply wasn’t connected, but Qi Leren knew where to turn on the backup power. He knew where to instruct the five people to go, and he stayed at the back in case of a sudden attack.

Lara, who walked at the front, was very careful all the way, and took a fire axe to defend herself when she passed a fire control station.

In this shadowy underground research institute, the dark and long tunnel was like being in the body of an ancient beast. Within the range illuminated by flashlights, there were dusty relics everywhere. When walking here, their empty footsteps echoed constantly, inspiring the most horrible images in everyone's brain.

Qi Leren suddenly felt that he heard footsteps. He stopped, listened to the sound for a moment, and there was the rush of running in the distance.

"Someone’s coming! Turn off the flashlights and stand against the wall," Qi Leren whispered.

The five people were taken aback, became nervous, and obeyed without thought.

The footsteps were getting closer and closer. Qi Leren stuck to the wall and took the safety off the gun in his hand.

"Huff, huff, huff..." The short breaths were getting closer and closer, and Qi Leren suddenly felt that the sound was a bit familiar. It seemed to be...

"Du Yue?" Just as the man ran around the corner of the corridor, Qi Leren called out his name.

Du Yue slammed on the brakes and almost lost his balance. He looked at Qi Leren with surprise: "Qianbei! Qianbei, are you all right?! You absolutely won’t believe what happened at that time, I—fuck, he's crazy!"

"Steady, speak slowly, where is Dr. Lu?" Qi Leren handed him a bottle of water, and Du Yue unscrewed the bottle cap and drank a few mouthfuls.

"What's going on?" Janet also asked in disbelief. She noticed that Du Yue had blood on his body.

"I ran away with Dr. Lu... He should be fine, that guy chased me." And after a pause, Du Yue told everyone what had happened.

Du Yue and Dr. Lu had found a second ID card  in the basement of an uninhabited house that could open the door to the corridor. They had also met Lara and asked her about Qi Leren. They had honestly said they didn't know, but they were looking for him. When they went to the basement in Jing Siyu’s house, they opened the door again and met Qi Leren inside. Qi Leren had turned back to cut off the institute’s power supply. As a result, shortly after the power supply was cut off, Francis actually entered the basement, holding a dagger in his hand.

"I... um... used some special means and ran away." Du Yue scratched his head, and Qi Leren knew as soon as he heard it that he had used the [Protagonist Halo] skill card.

But this was the first time he had heard of a “protagonist” using his full power to escape. Shouldn’t he have used it to kill him? This boy hadn’t followed the routine!

Qi Leren was a little worried about Dr. Lu, but on second thought, he felt that with his luck, he shouldn’t have any troubles—look, the monster had come after Du Yue at the critical moment. At most, he had probably fallen on the ground and screamed, and by now he might have found a safe place to hide. Qi Leren had great confidence in Dr. Lu’s ability to win by lying down.

"Don't panic, since Francis is using a dagger, we’ll have no problem at all, even if... Quiet, I hear something!" Qi Leren heard footsteps again, and he held his breath, listening to the footsteps getting closer and closer. Then they suddenly disappeared, as if the owner of the footsteps had already known of their existence.

The distance between them was very close, just around the corner.

The darkness before his eyes, the coldness of the air, and the heartbeats of him and those around him made him feel as if he was deep underwater.

Qi Leren could bear it, but the two little girls couldn't. Jing Sixue held her sister's hand tightly and pulled her back. The cloth rubbed in the dark, making a shuffling noise. This slight movement was just like a flame in the silence of night, which made the stagnant air burst out in an instant!

Dadadada! Suddenly there was the sound of a machine gun firing on the opposite side, and Qi Leren shouted: "Get down!"

The bullets ricocheted off the fall, brushing Qi Leren's cheek.

Fuck me, how has the enemy’s weapon already upgraded from a dagger to a machine gun!

No, you can't fight here, or the six people next to you will be in danger!

Qi Leren paid attention to the last time he had used his S/L skill. The cooling time of one hour had passed, so he could use it. This time, he again forgot the Prophet's warning. After saving, he got up and rushed around the corner. In the dark, the only light was that of the machine gun’s shots, and it lit up the world frame by frame. His body slid along the ground like a fish and he swept his leg out to knock Francis down.

Francis roared. The machine gun was too long to hit the Qi Leren who had gotten close to him. He discarded the machine gun and gripped Qi Leren's arms. His strength made him think that his bones would be broken.

After being parasitized by the octopus, Francis's body had mutated to be more like a strong man. Qi Leren, who had not fought closely with the octopuses before, suffered a dark loss at this point, and he easily fell to the ground. The revolver in his hand also flew out and hit the wall, clattering away to somewhere he couldn’t see.

Qi Leren couldn’t come up for air and almost fainted. Amidst his confusion, there was a loud thundering in his ears and something slammed against Francis's head. With the women’s screams, the strength holding Qi Leren became lessened, and Qi Leren broke free, rolled over, and coughed heavily on the ground.

Qi Leren endured the dizziness and nausea and looked up. An axe was stuck on the back of Francis's head. Du Yue pried Lara’s hands off the fire axe. Lara covered her mouth and collapsed against the wall, sniffling and repeating Francis's name.

"Qianbei, are you ok? I'll help you up." Du Yue kicked the flashlight he had just left behind and helped Qi Leren.

"He’s not dead, cough... the octopus in his body will come out soon..." Qi Leren knew the octopuses’ habits and warned hoarsely. He picked up his handgun from the ground and pointed it at Francis's brain. Every shot was accompanied by the sound of Lara’s exhausted crying.

Qi Leren was panting heavily. His throat had almost been crushed and there was still some damage, so that he couldn't speak loudly, but he still amplified his voice as much as possible: "Stand back! Run! The monster inside him is coming out!"

As if it had been called, as soon as Qi Leren finished speaking, Francis’s brain had been blown off, and Francis, whose body had fallen to the ground and was bleeding, suddenly moved.

Janet also collapsed. When she saw the first tentacle sticking out of Francis's broken head, the woman screamed in a soprano voice: "He's alive, he's still alive! Monster, monster!"

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[astrognossienne]

scandalous beauty: athalia ponsell lindsley - an analysis

“Not that St. Augustine citizens went around killing people they didn’t like. But Athalia was not on a level playing field. Nobody liked her, so there was not a big hue and cry when she was killed.” - Sally Boyles, a neighbour of Lindsley’s

For someone so brash, loud, and ballsy, her life, especially her early life, was quite a mystery. Just like her controversial death. On January 23, 1974, former model, dancer, political activist and television personality Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was murdered with a machete by an unknown assailant on the front steps of her home in St. Augustine, Florida. Her murder is notorious more than four decades after it occurred. The only eyewitness said a man attacked Lindsley with a machete in broad daylight on the front steps of her white mansion. Gossip swirled that neighbour Frances Bemis knew who killed Lindsley and would notify authorities. Bemis was later murdered on her nightly walk. Police arrested only one suspect for Lindsley's murder, which remains unsolved to this day. For someone who was a Leo, I don't think Athalia was a very happy person. I think she tried to bring others down, with her based on her ill-concealed dissatisfaction with the way things were. Unfortunately for her, her demise happened in a town that didn’t care for her.

Athalia Ponsell Lindsley, according to astrotheme, was a Leo sun and Libra moon (the moon is speculative). She was born Mary Anne “Athalia” Fetter in Toledo, Ohio in 1917. Her parents were both wealthy New Yorkers; her father was a utilities magnate and her mother a socialite. Shortly after her birth, she and her family moved to Isle of Pines (now known as Isla de la Juventud), Cuba where she was raised until the age of 12. By the time the parents moved to Jacksonville, Florida and enrolled her in parochial school, she was winning beauty contests and pursuing an acting career. After high school, she moved to New York City, where it didn’t take her long to be employed as a fashion model for the celebrated fashion designer John Robert Powers, which helped her land work in some Broadway musicals and as a hostess on a TV game show. By 1949, she was the hottest model in NYC. She was just as hot off the runway as well; the list of Ponsell’s sexual conquests was long, including the likes of actor Tyrone Power and Joseph P. Kennedy, Jr. She was reported to have been married three times, one of  them to a man named Ponsell, but there is no information on him or her other two spouses. She had a scrapbook of all the celebrities and people she was acquainted. But success had quickly gone to the young model’s head, and by 1954, she’d burned all her bridges at her modeling agency, and her reputation as “the bitch of New York” was well-earned and kept her from earning any more work in the entertainment industry.

Out of work, over the hill, and her looks fading, Ponsell quit her 20-years of modeling and entertainment work and retired to a white stucco mansion in St. Augustine in 1972. By that time, the 55-year-old washed-up model became embittered. From the moment she arrived in St.Augustine, she did her best to position herself at the top of the city’s high society. But the sides of that pyramid were very steep, and to the city’s old-school cultural hardliners, she was an outsider, and an obnoxious one, at that. St. Augustine is known for being a rather cliquish town, and unless you have Spanish, Menorcan, or WASP roots, any newcomer is looked at as an outsider. She was known as a pain in the ass, criticizing everything she thought was wrong with the town and its citizens. Naturally the upper crust didn’t take too well to her. She may have annoyed them, but she did catch the eye of another important person, Mayor James Lindsley, a St. Augustine native who went by the nickname “Jinx”. Jinx was known around the city for his ability to work hard and drink even harder. He was of the generation where if he was wronged, or if there was a problem, he settled his differences with his fists. Despite his passionate love affairs with ass kicking and Jack Daniels, Athalia was drawn to Jinx’s good standing with St. Augustine’s old guard, Jinx was attracted to her still-good looks and fiery personality. The two courted hard and fast, and just a few months after they met, they married.

Their marriage was rocky from the start, providing the town with juicy gossip. In fact, just 3 months into the marriage, the two separated. They wound up living in separate homes, fighting back and forth about possessions and property. She may have treated her husband and the town like dirt, but she was very moved by animals and took in a lot of strays and accumulated a coterie of animals. This didn’t endear herself to the neighbours, and they complained of dogs barking and other noises coming from her makeshift “animal shelter”. One neighbour in particular that took exception to Athalia and her animals was a hot-headed county manager called Alan Stanford. Stanford lived next door to her on Marine Street, and the two clashed from day one. Stanford filed several noise complaints against Athalia and her pets, resulting in her arrest. In revenge, she made Stanford’s life as county manager a living hell. She became a fixture at City Hall, attending every county meeting she could and accuse Stanford of all sorts of improprieties, from the mismanagement of county funds to stealing equipment from the road department. Some of these accusations weren’t entirely unfounded, but it got to the point where her presence was dreaded. She was after his job and wanted him fired. Stanford, in turn, threatened her life. December of 1973, she found out that Stanford lacked the civil engineering degree required for all county managers, and went to the state to report him.

On January 23, 1974 she attended her last city hall meeting, armed with petitions of several citizens calling for Stanford to resign. She exposed the fact that Stanford forged documents and padded his experience and qualifications as county manager. Later that day, to celebrate, she met her estranged husband Jinx for lunch. The day went surprisingly well, going shopping in Jacksonville and running errands. At approximately 5:30 pm, they both went home to their respective houses. As Athalia walked her pet blue jay around in her front yard, an intruder emerged from her back yard, armed with a machete. Moments later, the police department received a call about a murder. The police arrived to the provided address and found Athalia sprawled across the front steps of her porch, nearly decapitated and hacked to death with a machete in broad daylight.

The scene was chaotic, with neighbours trampling all over the grass trying to get a look, contaminating evidence. In their great police work, the cops never thought to rope off the crime scene. When her husband Jinx was notified of his wife’s murder, he took his time getting to her house, making a pit stop to his attorney’s office along the way. A few hours later, the cops find a machete in his pickup truck. But an open-and-shut case this was not. In February of 1974, the rumour was that Jinx killed her in a drunken rage. Even though Jinx had a violent temper and smacked his wife around, in the eyes of local investigators, he was “unarrestable”; they had no real evidence against the mayor and he even passed a lie-detector test. A tip from one of Athalia’s neighbours came in: it seems the neighbour’s 19 year-old son claimed to have witnessed her old nemesis Alan Stanford kill her. There was a trail of blood that led from Athalia’s front porch directly into Allen Stanford’s back yard. More than a few weren’t concerned with Athalia being killed because she was such a bitch that they feel that she deserved what she got.

In March of 1974, there was a blood-stained machete, a watch, and blood-soaked trousers found in a bag in a swamp; the blood on the clothes matched Athalia’s, and the clothes belonged to Stanford. On February 22, 1974, Alan Stanford was arrested and charged with murder. On January 1975, the murder trial commenced. The prosecution had a strong case and a guilty verdict seemed almost certain. Just before closing arguments, Stanford’s defense team called the 19-year old witness to the stand. Despite previously identifying Stanford as the killer, the young man was now unsure of the identity, having never actually seen the assailant’s face. On the day following the killing, a young nurse rode her bicycle as she always did. The police stopped her and questioned her about the murder. The nurse picked out a third suspect, deputy sheriff Dewey Lee, as the killer, further muddling the waters. The jury found Alan Stanford not guilty, despite the mountain of evidence against him. Local authorities were so upset by the verdict that they refused to re-open the case. Even though Stanford was acquitted of the murder, Athalia wound up getting the last laugh in the end, they local county board voted 4 to 1 to fire Stanford due to his lying about his credentials. He wound up leaving town shortly afterward. Today, St. Augustine is different; most who lived on Marine Street during the 1960s and 1970s have either moved away or passed away. Athalia’s house, now a historical landmark, still stands today, a grim reminder of how local resentment can go too far.

the murder of frances bemis

Frances Bemis was a socialite and neighbour of Athalia Ponsell Lindsley who happened to be a close friend of hers. Shortly after Lindsley’s murder, Frances started gathering information in order to write a book about the murder, claiming that she had information on what really happened. On November 3, 1974, she went for an evening walk and disappeared. Her body was found near her house, her skull crushed by a cement block. Her murder has never been solved.

This was the next analysis that I planned to do after the Robert Mitchum one, so I decided to just get this one out of the way.

Stats

birthdate: July 25, 1917*

*note*: due to the absence of a birth time, this analysis will be even more speculative.

major planets:

Sun: Leo

Moon: Libra

Rising: unknown

Mercury: Leo

Venus: Leo

Mars: Gemini

Midheaven: unknown

Jupiter: Gemini

Saturn: Leo

Uranus: Aquarius

Neptune: Leo

Pluto: Cancer

Overall personality snapshot: She had a prestigious, compelling presence, even when she was just clowning around, and a natural ability to command both respect and affection from her friends and colleagues. In the nicest possible way she assumed the position of the leader because she had a strong independent streak and believed in her lofty, worthy ideals, but she also gravitated towards collaboration and an impartial examination of the facts. She could be bossy and yet her bossiness was so diplomatic that it was convincing, even impressive. Although she wanted esteem and tended to identify with honourable goals and people, she could work alongside others she respected and she really wanted the best for everyone. She had style, and she instinctively knew that ‘manners maketh man’ and that, if for some reason they didn’t, they went a long way in making life worth living. When she came into her own, she developed a strongly aesthetic approach to life and are naturally creative. She needed a very positive, active medium through which to express herself, such as drama, teaching or running her own business.

Anything to do with beauty and harmony interested her, such as decorating, design and painting. Her interest in social equality took her into politics or the law. She had a strong sense of herself and stubbornly followed her own personal code of ethics, yet she also enjoyed being part of a group that had a common purpose or bond. She cherished ideals of liberty and equality, but if there were some distasteful tasks to perform she moved very smoothly into the role of delegating – well, she thought, someone has to give the orders around here or we would have no harmony at all. Although she seemed to enjoy an easy, breezy approach to life, there was quite a serious side to her personality, and she could be surprisingly controversial and provocative. She was willing to stand up and be counted, and perhaps make it look easy. She had a natural appreciation and enjoyment of the good things of life; she assumed that they should be hers by birthright. And through cunning charm, calculated boldness, and intelligent maneuver she managed to have plenty.

She was ambitious, sound at giving orders, carried responsibility well and was a good teacher, especially able to bring out the best in children. She believed in herself and generally knew the right thing to say at the right time, although she could show a stubborn and dogmatic side. She had a high opinion of her mental powers, and it was certainly true to say that he had plenty of mental energy. She was a mentally restless person, both versatile and broad-minded. She experienced personal growth through analysis and using her intellect, although the collection and communication of facts may have been an end within itself. She was a reliable and loyal person. Her will and sense of honour were strong and she was a great organizer. On the downside, her self-assuredness could become dogmatism and imperiousness. Conservatism may have affected her creativity, artistic values and love affairs. This expressed itself as self-imposed restrictions or as selfishness. She often felt inadequate, which created an insidious form of oppression over all her forms of expression. She could also take herself so seriously, that people think that she was older than her years.

She belonged to a generation that could be unpredictable in that it liked to instigate change simply for the sake of shaking things up and providing stimulation. Humanitarian ideals became extremely important, as well as the belief in absolute freedom for every individual. She came up with radical new ideas which she stubbornly followed. As a member of this generation, she may have felt deep spiritual convictions, although she may not have seen herself as religious in the traditional sense of the word. She was part of a very artistically talented and creative generation that wanted to escape from the demands of the world around them into a world of excitement and glamour. Members of this generation loved the theater and the cinema, in fact, any sort of creative self-expression. They also believed in the rights of any individual to express themselves. This generation was both idealistic and romantic, selfish and individualistic. Lindsley embodied all of these Leo Neptunian ideals. Also, as a member of the Leo Neptune generation, she experienced and fully embraced changes in sexual mores and attitudes, changing the way people approach the whole issue of romantic relationships. Changes were also experienced in the relationships between parents and children, with the ties becoming looser. She was part of a generation known for its devastating social upheavals concerning home and family. The whole general pattern of family life experiences enormous changes and upheavals; as a Cancer Plutonian, this aspect is highlighted with Lindsley’s father dying relatively young and her having to care for her mother until she died.

Love/sex life: There is never any question as to the ground rules of her erotic universe: what best served her ego, best served her libido. She had a marvelous capacity for enjoying sex but her pride and self-possession always came first. Some people might have found the egotism of this position offensive but many others hardly noticed. After all, a lover as lively, generous and exciting as she had good reason to be proud. There was always a distinctively theatrical quality about her love making. She wanted sex to be a big event, full of drama and intellectual significance. This grandiose approach to sex can certainly be entertaining but it often made her romantic moments seem less than spontaneous. More importantly, real life sex rarely met her cinematic standards. This is one reason why she often found the idea of love much more appealing than its physical manifestations.The sex in her head was never common or clumsy, and she could always count on great reviews.

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Capricorn

Lilith: Virgo

Her North Node in Capricorn dictated that she needed to develop the more caring and compassionate side to her personality and try to place less emphasis on the materialistic aspects of her life. Her Lilith in Virgo ensured that she exhibited a Madonna-whore complex; she made her way through the world with her sensational wits and she had no time for constricting judgments. She confronted the grittier facts of life, especially sex. She was good at sex but not as a form of sappy emotional expression.

elemental dominance:

fire

air

She was dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. She generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. She was exciting to be around, because she was genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, she could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Ultimately, she chose the latter. Confident and opinionated, she was fond of declarative statements such as “I will do this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because she was bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—she was be bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at her best, her confidence and vision inspired others to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves. She was communicative, quick and mentally agile, and she liked to stir things up. She was likely a havoc-seeker on some level. She was oriented more toward thinking than feeling. She carried information and the seeds of ideas. Out of balance, she lived in her head and could be insensitive to the feelings of others. But at her best, she helped others form connections in all spheres of their daily lives.

modality dominance:

fixed

She wasn’t particularly interested in spearheading new ventures or dealing with the day-to-day challenges of organization and management. She excelled at performing tasks and producing outcomes. She was flexible and liked to finish things. Was also likely undependable, lacking in initiative, and disorganized. Had an itchy restlessness and an unwillingness to buckle down to the task at hand. Probably had a chronic inability to commit—to a job, a relationship, or even to a set of values.

planet dominants:

Sun

Mars

Pluto

She had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. She likely had strong leadership qualities, she definitely knew who she was, and she had tremendous will. She met challenges and believed in expanding her life. She was aggressive, individualistic and had a high sexual drive. She believed in action and took action. Her survival instinct was strong. She wanted to take herself to the limit—and then surpass that limit, which she often did. She ultimately refused to compromise her integrity by following another’s agenda. She likely didn’t compare herself to other people and didn’t want to dominate or be dominated. She simply wanted to be free to follow her own path, whatever it was. She brought about complete and profound transformations in her life, good or bad (and it was often bad). She felt the need to let go of what was familiar to her and accept new and different ways of being and doing things. There were areas in her life where she had to accept regeneration, which involved the destruction of the old and the creation of the new.

sign dominants:

Leo

Gemini

Cancer

She loved being the center of attention and often surrounded herself with admirers. She had an innate dramatic sense, and life was definitely his stage. Her flamboyance and personal magnetism extended to every facet of her life. She wanted to succeed and make an impact in every situation. At her best, she was optimistic, honorable, loyal, and ambitious. She ventured out to see what else was there and seized upon new ideas that will expand their communities. Her innate curiosity kept her on the move. She used her rational, intellectual mind to explore and understand her personal world. She needed to answer the single burning question in her mind: why? This applied to most facets of her life, from the personal to the impersonal. This need to know sent her off to foreign countries, where her need to explore other cultures and traditions ranked high. She was changeable and often moody. This meant that she was often at odds with herself—the mind demanding one thing, the heart demanding the opposite. To someone else, this internal conflict often manifested as two very different people. At first meeting, she seemed enigmatic, elusive. She needed roots, a place or even a state of mind that he could call her own. She needed a safe harbor, a refuge in which to retreat for solitude. She was generally gentle and kind, unless he was hurt. Then she could become vindictive and sharp-spoken. She was affectionate, passionate, and even possessive at times. She was intuitive and was perhaps even psychic. Experience flowed through her emotionally. She was often moody and always changeable; her interests and social circles shifted constantly. She was emotion distilled into its purest form.

Read more about her under the cut.

Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was a former model, Broadway performer, actress, dancer and television personality who died in a savage late-afternoon attack at her home on Jan. 23, 1974. Wife of the once mayor of St. Augustine, James "Jinx" Lindsley, who died a few years after her death. Mrs. Athalia Lindsley was very active politically.

She also took in many animals, such as dogs, cats and even two goats. At the time of her murder, she was outside trying to rehabilitate one of her rescue birds, a blue jay named Clementine which had an injured wing. She had rescued the little bird from neighborhood cats.

Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was a very devoted daughter who took care of her mother full time until her mother passed away.

She was 58 years old when her life was brutally cut short.

A neighbor and local politician was the only person ever arrested and tried for her murder, after a very dramatic trial, a jury found the defendant not guilty, and he was acquitted

(x)

[qqueenofhades]

Trump's SCOTUS pick scares the ever loving shit out of me. I'm trying not to have a full blown panic attack actually.

Sigh. I know.

I’m not going to say that picking someone literally, un-exaggeratedly out of The Handmaid’s Tale for SCOTUS, especially to replace someone like RBG, isn’t mother fucking terrifying. It is.  Especially since Mitch McConnell is trying to set her final confirmation vote for October 29, literally five days before the election. Yes indeed, that would be a third Supreme Court seat filled by an impeached president who lost the popular vote by three million votes, (possibly) confirmed by Republican enablers (some of whom are absolutely going to lose their seats in this election) who represent a sizeably smaller fraction of the US population than their Democratic counterparts, in a display of outright, staggering, truly breathtaking hypocrisy about the protocol of election-year vacancies on SCOTUS, which they themselves shouted about to no end with Merrick Garland in 2016. This is how tyranny by minority rule works, and... yeah. It’s bad. It’s awful. When is this going to end.

That said, however: we do not yet exist in this theoretical grimdark future where some dystopian 6-3 (or even 7-2) conservative SCOTUS strips us of our rights at every turn, with no recourse except for us to sit passively and take it, and there are a lot of things that we ourselves can do between now and then to make sure that it never happens. First off, House Democrats have proposed a bill to introduce 18-year term limits for SCOTUS justices, rather than it being an automatic lifetime appointment. This would also give every president the ability to appoint two justices per four-year term. Because SCOTUS has become such an instrument of partisan warfare, and because the obvious implications of having a partisan head of state pick the senior federal judges for a lifetime is part of what has fucked us up now, this would be a GREAT improvement. House Dems can’t make it into law right now, because Democrats do not hold a majority in both chambers of Congress and they do not hold the presidency. You know how this COULD be passed? If Joe Biden was elected with a blue House and Senate. That way, even if God forbid the GOP horror show snuck Coney Barrett onto the bench just before the election, this could be fixed.

Here’s another way to think about it. I myself have a HUGE problem with catastrophizing: a bad thing happens, and then it seems like an inevitable chain of nonstop bad things until everything gets irredeemably, unfixably even worse. This year, obviously, has not done much to help that, because yes, the bad things keep coming. But they’re still individual events and have not yet crystallized into some unbreakable, unavoidable future. History is made up of thousands of millions of choices, accidents, unforeseen developments, total random bullshit, and much more, as much or more as it is made up by the macro-scale actions of oligarchs. Obviously, globalization and capitalism have made us all more connected to each other, and thus changes to the system can ripple more broadly, but they are not the only people who make history. If there’s one thing I can tell you as a historian, it’s this: the future is just history that hasn’t been made yet, and it is subject to the exact same unpredictable bullshit that has constituted history throughout, well, history. Nothing is unavoidable and we have never existed in a world where we can’t do anything at all. Also, authoritarian regimes (especially those imposed without the consent of the people -- willing subjection to authoritarianism is one thing, but the other, yeah) have a relatively short shelf life, historically speaking. That won’t help all of us who could be hurt right now (though we can STILL fight back and speak up and help our neighbors), but it’s the truth. Authoritarian rule (especially when it’s not balanced by economic security, which sure as hell isn’t happening right now) can last for a while, sure. But it is always its own worst enemy, and it will always be ended. How that ends is a choice we can make.

This isn’t the “get out on the streets and Start The Glorious Revolution!!!” nonsense that the armchair internet leftists, none of whom are actually starting a glorious revolution or doing anything except bitching on Twitter about how Biden and Trump are alike, are fond of. This is an active choice to realize that there are always things you can do, that there are things you can do right now, and one of them, most obviously, is voting. This mess was all completely goddamn avoidable if people had voted for Hillary Clinton in 2016. But well, they didn’t, and we get one last shot to fix this by democratic process. Trump is already openly setting up to contest the election results/try to invalidate them/throw out ballots. This is all old-school fascism. This is what is happening. He is counting on another razor-thin margin of votes that he can then contest in his hand-picked SCOTUS; he wants another Bush v. Gore very, very badly. The only way to blow away any legitimacy for anything like this is to vote in such overwhelming numbers that there’s no question of Biden’s victory, no need to wait for mail-in ballots (another reason the GOP has been trying so hard to destroy the post office) or anything else. At heart, Trump is a coward. He’s also an egomaniac. If it comes to stepping aside peacefully or being dragged out of the White House by the FBI for everyone to laugh at for the rest of time, hmm, I doubt he’s going to go for that. (And if he does, well, I will also savor the sight of him in handcuffs for all eternity.) However, that doesn’t mean the GOP machine won’t TRY, because Trump is not just Trump, but is his entire miserable cabal of enablers. I have written my fingers raw about how badly people need to vote. This is literally your last chance to do it.

I’ve seen a lot of the-sky-is-falling, we’re-doomed, they-have-the-votes-so-don’t-even-bother handwringing in the last few days. To some degree, yes. We all feel doomed. We have all been asked to find strength to deal with massive and unending waves of terrifying bullshit past anyone’s normal capacity, and we’re tired. We want it to end. But it’s SO CLOSE to ending, if we can all just get out and vote for Joe Biden in massive numbers on November 3 (or if your state has early voting, sooner; BANK YOUR VOTE). That’s such an easy thing to do. Nothing is set in stone. We can still fix things and make it so, you know, we’re not living in a fascist state ruled by Gilead. (And besides, all this Chicken Little rhetoric is super easy for the Russian troll farms to exploit. Don’t listen to it. Shut it down. Reject it.)

They want you to think you’re powerless. You’re not.

They want you to think this will never end. It will. We decide how.

They want you to think this is a foregone conclusion and you should just go back home and let it happen. You don’t have to.

They want you to think your vote doesn’t matter. It does.

They want you to think your rights are gone. They’re not.

They want you to think this future is inevitable.

IT’S NOT.

Hang in there.

Lots of hugs.