#which were obsolete by the time this child was born

[shessoft]

Reneé Rapp - on VHS

[fozmeadows]

the older I get, the more the technological changes I've lived through as a millennial feel bizarre to me. we had computers in my primary school classroom; I first learned to type on a typewriter. I had a cellphone as a teenager, but still needed a physical train timetable. my parents listened to LP records when I was growing up; meanwhile, my childhood cassette tape collection became a CD collection, until I started downloading mp3s on kazaa over our 56k modem internet connection to play in winamp on my desktop computer, and now my laptop doesn't even have a disc tray. I used to save my word documents on floppy discs. I grew up using the rotary phone at my grandparents' house and our wall-connected landline; my mother's first cellphone was so big, we called it The Brick. I once took my desktop computer - monitor, tower and all - on the train to attend a LAN party at a friend's house where we had to connect to the internet with physical cables to play together, and where one friend's massive CRT monitor wouldn't fit on any available table. as kids, we used to make concertina caterpillars in class with the punctured and perforated paper strips that were left over whenever anything was printed on the room's dot matrix printer, which was outdated by the time I was in high school. VHS tapes became DVDs, and you could still rent both at the local video store when I was first married, but those shops all died out within the next six years. my facebook account predates the iphone camera - I used to carry around a separate digital camera and manually upload photos to the computer in order to post them; there are rolls of undeveloped film from my childhood still in envelopes from the chemist's in my childhood photo albums. I have a photo album from my wedding, but no physical albums of my child; by then, we were all posting online, and now that's a decade's worth of pictures I'd have to sort through manually in order to create one. there are video games I tell my son about but can't ever show him because the consoles they used to run on are all obsolete and the games were never remastered for the new ones that don't have the requisite backwards compatibility. I used to have a walkman for car trips as a kid; then I had a discman and a plastic hardshell case of CDs to carry around as a teenager; later, a friend gave my husband and I engraved matching ipods as a wedding present, and we used them both until they stopped working; now they're obsolete. today I texted my mother, who was born in 1950, a tiktok upload of an instructional video for girls from 1956 on how to look after their hair and nails and fold their clothes. my father was born four years after the invention of colour televison; he worked in radio and print journalism, and in the years before his health declined, even though he logically understood that newspapers existed online, he would clip out articles from the physical paper, put them in an envelope and mail them to me overseas if he wanted me to read them. and now I hold the world in a glass-faced rectangle, and I have access to everything and ownership of nothing, and everything I write online can potentially be wiped out at the drop of a hat by the ego of an idiot manchild billionaire. as a child, I wore a watch, but like most of my generation, I stopped when cellphones started telling us the time and they became redundant. now, my son wears a smartwatch so we can call him home from playing in the neighbourhood park, and there's a tanline on his wrist ike the one I haven't had since the age of fifteen. and I wonder: what will 2030 look like?

[seriouslysnape]

Morning Shift

Dad! Severus Snape x Mom! Fem! Reader x Baby Tags: Fluff. Sev being a good dad. Reader getting rest she deserves <3. Baby being a cutie. Word Count: 2.0k "I didn't mean to oversleep."

☾☾☾☾

☾☾☾☾

It was quite rare for you to have the chance to sleep in.

Even before the baby was born, you were pretty much up and going by dawn every day. It made you feel more productive to get up early and get the day started before the sun even had the chance to fully rise.

An occasional Saturday or Sunday would roll around where neither you nor Severus were in any rush to get up and moving. Those were during the slower weeks of the year, usually during the summer when Severus wasn't teaching and your work wasn't as demanding.

But after the baby was born, those occasional lazy weekend days had become pretty much obsolete. The mornings and nights had become less hectic as your newborn transitioned into an infant, and she was on somewhat of a sleeping schedule. However, when the baby was up, so were you.

Severus gave his fair share of helping out with the baby at all times of the day, but typically, Severus tended to her the most in the evenings. Severus usually fed her dinner, bathed her, and prepared her for her early bedtime.

It wasn't intentional really, but the two of you fell into a routine where you handled the mornings, the two of you rotated off during the day, and Severus handled the evenings/nights. Severus would help anytime when needed, but for the most part, that was the best arrangement.

On one particular weekend morning, however, the routine was different.

Severus awoke to a quiet house. There wasn't the sound of his wife stirring in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for him and the baby who would no doubt be babbling for her breakfast.

He felt a presence in the bed next to him, a gentle warmth coming from it as well. He was surprised to see you were still asleep, bundled up in the covers as comfortable as could be.

The warm glow of the newly risen sun beamed through the windows of the bedroom, spilling over your back that was facing the glass. He watched you only for a moment, pushing some stray hairs from your eyes and pulling the covers higher on you to keep you toasty.

It made his heart swell to see you getting some extra rest on your day off, and he made it his mission to let you sleep as long as possible. He was more than happy to be on baby duty that morning and a change of routine was a bit exciting.

The clock on his bedside table read 7:12 a.m. which did alarm him briefly. It was twelve minutes past the baby's usual wake up time, which meant either she was getting some extra sleep as well, or she was storming mad that no one had come to pick her up to begin her day.

Severus was quiet as he crept out of bed, his footfalls quiet as he exited your bedroom to enter the baby's room just next door. Severus always left the baby's nursery door slightly cracked in the event the baby needed something during the night or woke up earlier than usual.

He pushed the door open gently, a burst of sunlight painting the hallway. The room was perfectly warm for a January morning, a vast difference from the bitter cold on the outside.

He glanced at the crib, seeing some movement in the crib. She was squirming excitedly, happy that someone was finally coming to get her up for the day.

She was awake, but not agitated in the slightest that no one had come to get her yet. She was content to lie in her crib for a little while, the charmed mobile above her crib keeping her entertained. She couldn't have been awake for very long, considering it was only a few minutes after her usual wake up time.

Severus approached her crib with a gentleness that few knew he possessed. His dark eyes, so often narrowed with sternness, softened when they gazed upon his child.

"Good morning, darling." He smiled, reaching down to pick up the cooing baby.

His daughter smiled back at him with a sleepy grin and sluggish eyes, but held an expression of confusion as to why her mother wasn't there to wake her like usual.

"Not expecting me this morning, hm?" He asked, which only returned a yawn from his daughter. "We'll let Mum sleep in this morning. She deserves it."

The eight-month-old only babbled in response, mouthing at Severus' shoulder through his T-shirt. You and Severus were pretty sure she had some teeth coming in based on the fact that she wanted to chew on everything.

Usually you dressed the baby as the first step of her morning routine, but it was the weekend so she would more than likely be home for the majority of the day. Severus opted to leave her in her pajamas for now, which she had no protests with.

She was rather clingy today, her tiny hands grabbing for him to pick her up again once she was dressed. She knew that if anyone in the world would pick her up whenever she wished, I was Severus.

Severus struggled with leaving her when she wanted to be picked up. You had been telling Severus for the last month or so that it is indeed okay to let her sit on her own as long as she's being supervised. She was beginning to work towards crawling, and you knew the only way she was ever going to learn to crawl was if she had the chance to be on the ground.

But Severus couldn't resist his daughter's grabby hands and beaming eyes. He spoiled the little girl, and he just couldn't tell her no.

He whisked her down the stairs, smiling at her giggles when he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Severus knew it was time for breakfast, and he knew that she was going to get fussy if he didn't get her fed soon. He slipped her into her highchair, her legs wiggling as she squirmed with anticipation.

"What would you like for breakfast, princess?" He asked, only receiving an interested stare in response. "I know you like eggs...and I think Mum picked up some fruit yesterday."

Severus turned and surveyed the inside of the fridge, studying its contents to make a decision. She was getting impatient, whining and babbling for Severus to hurry up. She was on a specific schedule, and her late wake up time had her about fifteen minutes behind.

Severus went with his suggestion on the premise that eggs and fruit were a safe option. She wasn't terribly picky, but since this wasn't her usual routine, he figured giving her something that he knew she liked was best.

Severus selected a few eggs from the fridge, deciding to cook them all and divide the portion appropriately between himself, you, and the baby. He knew it wouldn't be long before you were up, so he got started on getting a pot of coffee brewed as well.

With a wave of his wand, the stove ignited and began cooking the eggs in a pan while he worked on getting some fruit mashed up for her.

"Strawberries or a banana?" He asked her, who was more interested in dancing in her chair than picking which fruit she wanted.

Severus was certain that she hadn't eaten strawberries before. He took a chance and went with the strawberries, retrieving a few and getting them smushed enough to be suitable for baby consumption. He plated the eggs once they were cooked,

He pulled up a chair to her highchair, holding the tiny baby spoon and bowl in his hand to begin feeding her baby spoonfuls of her breakfast.

She made a noise of approval with the strawberries, barely even swallowing before motioning for more. For an eight-month-old, she was a fantastic eater and would try nearly anything.

Your daughter giggled, her eyes sparkling with the sight of her dad in front of her. Severus couldn't help but feel a tug at his heartstrings. This was a side of him that no one else got to see, a side reserved only for his precious little one.

He felt so incredibly lucky to have a child. He felt even more blessed to raise her and love her in the ways he never was. He wasn't a perfect father by any means, but he made it his personal mission to never give her a reason to think of him as a bad father.

When her noises slowed and she hesitated to take any more bites of food, Severus stopped feeding her and began cleaning up. Slowly but surely, she was fed to satisfaction -- and Severus managed to fill himself up by getting bites in between feeding her.

Her face and shirt was painted with stains of sticky red from the strawberries, but she was happy as a clam and not at all concerned about the fact that she would most certainly need a bath.

Severus stood at the sink, letting her entertain herself while he arranged the dishes to be washed. When she gave a particularly joyous squeal, he knew that she had spotted something that she liked.

You were up now, standing in the doorway of the kitchen just freshly awake.

"Good morning, you two." You spoke gently, still clad in your sleepwear from the night before.

Severus turned, grinning at you with a small pink tint in his cheeks.

"Good morning, darling. We've just had breakfast." He smiled at you, his wife who he adored so dearly.

"I see that. You should've woke me up," You said. "I didn't mean to oversleep."

"Nonsense, darling. You needed the rest, and I am perfectly capable of taking on breakfast," He said. "I...assumed eggs and fruit were a safe choice."

"Oh, yeah. That's perfect," You approached the highchair, using your fingers to swipe some of her bed head hair to the side. "Looks like the strawberries were a hit." You laughed, noting the stains of red on her pink pajama shirt.

"Yes...sorry about that, my love." He blushed.

"I needed to do laundry today anyways," You smiled, not irritated in the slightest. "She'll be grown out of it soon."

A slight pang in Severus' chest made him go quiet for a moment. She was growing so fast that he couldn't even believe it. In four short months, she was going to be a year old. To think that it had been almost a year since she was born completely blew his mind. Next thing he knew, she would be starting her first day at Hogwarts and getting sorted into her House.

For now, he was enjoying her infant stage of life. Just as he had cherished the newborn phase, and how he would the toddler stage and beyond.

"I say it's time for a bath." You lifted her from her highchair, laughing again at how sticky she was.

"I can handle it," Severus said, turning the sink faucet off. "Might as well finish her morning routine."

"Are you sure?" You asked, feeling a bit guilty that he was taking on your usual morning duties.

"Absolutely," He grinned, taking her from you and turning his attention to her. "Mum will read you your bedtime story and put you to bed tonight. Does that work?"

She only hummed, clearly content with the arrangement they had going on today.

"Thank you, Sev." You said, thanking him for being so attentive and letting you sleep in for a bit.

"Oh, darling, it was nothing," He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Why don't you have breakfast and coffee while I get her ready for the day?"

Sure enough, Severus had a plate and a cup of coffee ready to go for you, a charm casted to keep the coffee hot and the food warm.

"The day where we have nothing planned?" You grinned, and Severus chuckled.

"Exactly."

And to Severus, a Saturday with nothing to do was perfect. In a lot of ways, nothing was everything when you and the baby were around.

His family (albeit small) was everything he ever needed.

[clove-pinks]

Franklinheads, what is your top pet peeve when it comes to perceptions of the [historical] Franklin Expedition?

Mine is 100% the "most advanced technology of their day" concept of HMS Erebus and Terror. I think the origins of this are in the 1980s, when Owen Beattie's ice mummy exhumations propelled the Franklin Expedition into the spotlight. JUST LIKE THE SPACE SHUTTLE CHALLENGER!—this was the pat comparison of the day. You could definitely draw some parallels if you tried hard enough, but no, I don't think the Space Shuttle Challenger is a very good analogy.

There was pretty much nothing unique or particularly new about the technology in Franklin's ships—not the tinned food, not the desalinator, not the heating system, and definitely not the puny steam engines—and Franklin's men knew this! They were aware that Erebus and Terror were beat-up old warships, one of the ships fought in the War of 1812 before most crew members were born! Fitzjames called them "old tubs," and Le Vesconte jokingly compared them to 17th and 18th century fictional vessels (Red Rover and Water-Witch).

Steam frigates with hundreds of horsepower were built even in the 1830s! But they couldn't carry fuel lasting for years; whereas Franklin's men had ~13 days of coal for their 20-horsepower engines, which at most might get them out of a harbour in unfavourable winds. As a child I read books that made such a big deal about the steam engines, I really thought they would be under steam all the time, crashing through the ice with their Advanced Technology just like the space shuttle.

If anything, the Franklin Expedition is part of a tradition of the British using obsolete ships and technology for polar exploration. Compare Terra Nova with the latest technology of the 1910s: she looks like the relic of an earlier age that she was.

[tokiro07]

Toki Reads Shonen Jump 2025, Issue #8

One Piece: The Giants give us a bit more lore on Nika, revealing that the legends are heavily debated based on translation; Not!Shanks and Gunko approach Loki with an offer to join the Holy Knights, but he refuses even as they kill one of his animal friends. Nika being up to interpretation reminds me of what Rayleigh told Robin about how their interpretation of the Poneglyphs might be different from hers; Gunko is confirmed not to be Monet, but god damn if that design ain't an immediate Top Tenner for me!

Yozakura: Mutsumi makes a nice dinner for the family to reveal that she's expecting another child, and everyone gets one last moment to show off their personalities as Gondaira signs off the series' run with a commemorative photo of the family. Sniff...fambly...I may not have been incredibly invested in the plot of Yozakura Family, but I really enjoyed this cast while they were around, and I'm gonna miss them

Undead Unluck: The Union is given the right to edit the Master Rules as the Gods of the new world, but only choose to edit Revolution to bring back Autumn and make absolutely no other changes; Andy takes Fuuko back to the bridge where they met and finds that Soul is still hanging around, who has a brief discussion with both Andy and Ruin about what's next for the world; Fuuko's memories return. In classic UU fashion, the events of this chapter felt a little fast, but Fuuko being the one to climb out onto the ledge of the bridge to keep Andy safe is ABSOLUTELY worth it

Roboco: Roboco makes friends with a little old lady, Tome, and her obsolete robot, Hanaco; when Hanaco breaks down, Roboco takes her to Dr. Mockus, who manages to transfer her processor to a more modern OrderMaid, allowing the two to continue their lives together. I don't love all of the one-off characters that Miyazaki keeps introducing, but this duo was really sweet and endearing

Sakamoto: Shin tries to get Sakamoto to bring him along to meet his dad, but Sakamoto refuses and Shin goes off on his on; he successfully finds his dad, but gets thrown off a boat for his troubles; fortunately, Sakamoto saves him in his usual badass way, by catching him with a car as he drives off a bridge. I think I could have stood to see a little more build-up in their first meeting, just one more chapter of them butting heads, but I'm having fun

EluSam: Emperor Go-Daigo dies and Takauji is made Shogun; under his rule, internal conflict among the Ashikaga Shogunate begins to crop up, most notably including the execution of Toki Yorito. Wait, review canceled, when I was trying to look more into the incident that led to his execution, I learned that Toki's disrespect of Emperor Kogon was the first documented usage of the word "baka," how the hell did Matsui NOT include that???

Witch Watch: Momo accidentally eats sweets with Nico's growth spell infused into them, making her a giant; hilarity ensues. Is this the horniest chapter of the series so far? This was a rough one to read while on break at work

Blue Box: Chinatsu's introspection on interpersonal perception continues, this time being applied to the all-too-familiar misconception that talented people are simply born geniuses and not incredibly hard workers; Chinatu resolves to not worry about being misunderstood and instead focuses on enjoying her passion. A classic theme in Shonen Jump, Miura manages to make it work exceptionally well; it also seems to be setting up that for however naturally talented Yumeka is, the difference between her and Chinatsu's efforts is catching up with her, which is just a fascinating angle to take this storyline

Akane: Rakugo reporter Kashio laments the sudden disappearance of Akane from the Rakugo world right when she was on the rise; while on a business trip to Paris, he stumbles across her performance and sees that she's not only doing well, she's honed her craft to new heights. Is it just me, or does Akane look exactly the same? I feel like her design, if there are any differences, isn't strikingly different enough for a three-year timeskip, but perhaps it'll be more obvious and impactful once she's up and moving around

Kill Blue: Ogami and Ryo find Chisato and Tenma on a date and decide to tail them; while Ryo challenges Tenma to a game of catch, Ogami and Chisato discuss their relationships, with Chisato suggesting that Noren may have stronger feelings for Ogami than she lets on. I really like Chisato and Tenma as a pairing, I wish we'd see more of them

Nue: Gakuro gets his ass kicked by Yoshichi, who turns out to have enough Command Energy to not only use TWO Shikigami, but to use them continuously even outside of battle. While the explanation given certainly makes it seem impressive, I'm mostly caught up in the idea that Yoshichi's "integrated Hollow Weapon" is somehow distinct from other armor-based Hollow Weapons; however, I don't care enough to research whether or not this is actually consistent with the power system so far

Kagurabachi: It's revealed that up to this point, Chihiro has been coasting on the overwhelming power of his Enchanted Blade and in actuality doesn't have any sword skills worth a damn; this upsets sword-nut Kuguri, who abandons their battle out of frustration until Chihiro draws him back in by revealing that he's learned one of Samura's techniques after only seeing it once. While everyone else is losing it over Chihiro resolving to be "Hakuri's samurai," I'm over here appreciating that we're getting a closer look at how sorcery plays into this world's combat, even if it is a pretty standard method so far

Chojo: Chojo is cursed by a haunted doll until Ippongi accidentally defeats it with a purely reflexive judo throw. I think I'd appreciate a deeper dive into the supernatural aspects of this world - if espers and ghosts can exist, what else is out there?

Astro Royale: Hibaru continues fighting Hachiku, the older brother of the guy who pretended to be Shikaba previously; Hibaru tanks one of Hachiku's explosive punches just to land a hit with his own, calling him out on his lack of ambition. Ambition's another classic theme in Jump, but I haven't really been getting the feeling so far that it's one Wakui really cares to analyze in this story; guess we'll see

Kiyoshi: Sanguis Commander Kyoka comes to visit the Gates of Hell, ordering omurice from Kiyoshi before knocking out his friends and going on the offensive; when Kiyoshi reverses the situation, she concludes that he's her type and asks him on a date; Sakaki declines a warning from a fortune-teller because he prefers to gamble. Kyoka is hot as hell, an instant fave, but uhhhh how old is she compared to Kiyoshi?

Hima-Ten: Kanna finds a roach in her house and recruits Tenichi to take care of it; she dresses up as a maid and makes him omurice as a thank-you, making this Omurice Week. Kanna continues to be best girl, PLEASE let this series be poly so she can be happy

Ichi: Desscaras shows World Hater and the audience why she's called the Strongest Witch. Is this how the yaoi girlies feel about Gojo?? I'm sorry I ever doubted you Desscaras, I wasn't familiar with your game

Shinobi: After the fight with Tobi, Yodaka is brought in for emergency care, but after seeing Mukai's concern for his wellbeing, he can't shake the feeling that there's more wrong with him than just some broken bones. I said earlier that I didn't want the leads to become romantic with each other, but I didn't realize just how much chemistry they'd have at the time

Hakutaku: Hideout Plan is rejected by the judges for being too big in scope to ever achieve proper implementation, but everyone's skills are acknowledged; Hikuma realizes that he wants to make games that only he can make. Probably the best chapter of the series so far, we'll see if it bears fruit

Syd Craft: Waltz captures Elio as she prepares to blow up the ship, but Elio's love for Syd inspires Waltz to sacrifice herself to protect the ship instead of sacrificing them to save her kidnapped lover; Elio, Syd and Lulu (who was apparently on the ship) save Waltz from both the bomb and herself. I'm embarrassed, I was so smug about calling that Waltz was the second bomber but I MISSED that she was explicitly drawn with a bomb strapped to her; however, since no one said anything , I assume either no one noticed or no one cared

Top 3 of the Week:

Undead Unluck for giving me a lot to chew on in this week's review

Ichi the Witch for Desscaras' breathtaking ceiling battle

Mission: Yozakura Family for leaving us on a note that makes me look back fondly on the last five years with this family

Runners-up include Blue Box's ongoing analysis of Chinatsu's character and the themes of the story, Kagurabachi's extremely compelling yaoi moment, Ultimate Exorcist Kiyoshi's new knockout waifu, and Shinobi Undercover's success at endearing me to a couple I didn't initially care about

[contentloadingandstuff]

k, hear me out! You know how Dottore has (h̶a̶d̶) segments/clones of himself at various points in his life??

Let's say the reader is a segment of him when he was a kid.. and is used to spy on the traveler (though I guess the traveler doesn't know its a clone💀)

This was a tough one, I'm not gonna lie. I've redone it a couple of times, and I'm still not sure if I like it. But the idea is great, don't get me wrong. It was just hard to fit it in a relatively short format. Lumine is the traveler here, because flip-a-coin said so.

Genre: Angst/Whump

Characters: Lumine, Dottore

TW: Graphic descriptions of disease and body decay.

You were born exactly fifteen years ago.

Well, born is the wrong term here. You were separated from Dottore's body, and contorted into an exact copy of him. You looked the same, talked the same, knew the same, walked the same.

Yet your mind was a separate one. Nobody knows if that was an oversight from the other you, or if it was intended. That meant you didn't share the same personality or values. Dottore, young as he was back then, wasn't the best person to argue with about worldview. A few careless words could mean being on the wrong side of the observation room.

So you swallowed all of your worries and pretended to be him. You worked together, but you got the short end of the stick most of the time. While Dottore would engage in actually interesting experiments and activities, you were his 'gofer'. The amount of trips to the kitchen, public institutions and libraries were far too many to count. It was a dull, but not a bad way to live.

Over the years, something became painfully obvious, though.

Dottore made a mistake. A grievous mistake. Not lethal for him, of course. But for you.

You aged. Faster than him, in fact. Something went wrong during the soul fragmentation process, which caused rapid growth of your body. When he became one of the Harbingers at a fairly young age, you were already taller than him. Your physical appearance didn't go along with the development, so despite measuring a whole two meters in height, you still had his teen features. That proved to be an interesting development in your other self's eyes. It meant that people couldn't recognize you as another version of him.

That opened a whole new world of possibilities, namely espionage. Suddenly, from carrying around books or coffee, you became a field agent for the Fatui. With Dottore's skills and a whole new identity, you could easily infiltrate any enemy organization and strike from behind. Luckily for you, Dottore's ego extended to his other versions, meaning that all of the dirty work was left up to the skirmishers to carry out.

Still, it was hard to live like this. Constantly gaining people's trust, meddling with their affairs and vanishing without a trace, only to do it again. You took many names and lived under many covers, never able to settle down and have some well-deserved rest. You were happy, however. Happy that Dottore had a use for you, that he saw value in your existence.

You were so stupid to think that would last.

When Dottore learned how to change the appearance of his other clones, your skills became... obsolete. What's more - you were now a threat. Unlike the other segments, you had a separate, free mind to you, and since you knew far too much about the Fatui's inner workings, you were dangerous.

Yet the other you felt a certain... nostalgia towards you. You were the first of his masterpieces, possibly the greatest of them all. So Dottore wanted to use you for all of your worth.

As soon as a certain short, blond haired girl and her flying companion made themselves known by foiling Childe's plan, it was obvious someone had to keep tabs on her all the time. Someone expandable, but loyal.

And so, you became her shadow.

You slowly learnt her routine, her connections, friends, beliefs and skills. Even though Lumine wasn't really aware of your existence, you knew more about her than even Paimon. Despite your hard attempts at remaining hidden, a slip up occurred some day, and you came face to face with her. Smooth talking and quick thinking were both in your job description, so you managed to save face. Lumine was still very young, and gullible enough to believe you were just passing by, despite having seen you around multiple times already. Seeing a prime opportunity in this new development, you asked her to join on her travels. And she agreed.

For some time, it felt like an entirely different world. A world without the need to torture, betray, steal and lie. You helped her with her issues, using your skill and knowledge to aid her quest of finding her brother. And you used it in the name of good. You two helped almost everyone you came across. Whether it was saving an abducted family member, recovering stolen goods or just helping someone prepare a gift, sweet Lumine never refused anyone, no matter how trivial or mundane the work was. As a derivative of a psychopath, you didn't get it at first, especially that you knew what she was capable of. Why in the world would she go around saving kittens or entertaining one of the Harbinger's siblings when she could overcome gods? But the answer made itself more and more clear with every smile you helped her put on someone's face.

She did it because... because it felt good.

It felt good to do good things.

Good to build, not destroy.

Your fondness for the traveler was getting more and more obvious with each report sent to your creator. When you stated in one of Lumine's wound descriptions that "luckily for us, she made a full recovery", it was clear that your loyalty was not as crystal clear as before. That angered Primo Dottore. How could he create something so traitorous?

When the order to cut her throat when she slept, you refused for the first time. So the next time you met eye to eye, The good Doctor presented you with a small syringe. He told you it was your usual anti-aging solution, and you took it without question, as always.

The effects of that substance he gave you weren't immediately obvious.

It started slow, with cracking skin, joint aches and stomach pains. Over time, you found more and more of your hair on your brush. A month passed, and you started coughing. The wounds, no matter how small or insignificant, didn't heal up properly anymore. Gradual muscular dystrophy lowered your combat abilities, forcing Lumine to protect you from danger. Fever kicked in as the many wounds became infected. Wiping puss from them soon became too bothersome, as it returned moments later, its supply seemingly endless. By the end of the second month, your skin was shriveled and pale.

Your cells started falling off along all of your tracts, leading to bloody secretions. Lumine, already disheartened by your state, was on the verge of tears when you stained the sink crimson for the first time. She seeked help from everyone she knew - Kokomi, Zhongli, Barbara, Ei, Miko, Baizhu... None of them could help keep her best friend from falling apart before her eyes. They could only provide temporary relief, drag out the inevitable.

Weeks passed, and you were reduced to a bandaged up, incomplete skeleton. Your left arm fell off when you hit it on the door, and your right knee collapsed, unable to hold you upright. Everything hurts. You couldn't drink, eat or sleep. Despite all of the abuse, your body refused to give up, refused to finally keel over and die. You still had something to do.

With the last ounces of your strength, you revealed Lumine the truth. The truth about your name, your origin, your work. You confessed to as many horrible deeds you committed as you could recall, hoping to drive her away. To make her despise you. To make her not care. Not cry every night.

She didn't leave your side until the end. Why? Because she knew you. You didn't want to murder, to lie, to rob and betray. You never asked for this life. It was forced upon you by a Harbinger with the  ambition to rule over life and death.

Lumine's mind was filled with fond memories of you. Your laughter still resonated in her mind, but she just couldn't get herself to recall your face. Because every time she thought of it, only the noseless, toothless and wide-eyed cadaver would greet her. She couldn't force the image of someone she cared for, liked, loved so much reduced to this.

She came to her senses only months after your funeral, and took up her quest again. This time, alone, and with a far different attitude.

She spared Childe. She spared Scaramouche.

But whoever faced her in Fontaine would not be so lucky.

Thanks for reading!

[cosmica-galaxy]

~ AUDITOR ~

The moment the egg appeared after a passionate night with his Player, the Auditor almost seemed to know instantly that it was his. Mostly because of the shadowy aura that surrounded the little egg. 

Both he and his Player happily embraced the new vessel for life as they decided that moment forward they were excited to become parents.

The Auditor, despite his busy work schedule, always made time to do his duties as a partner in looking after the little egg. It was hard to balance the organization, hunting Hank Wimbleton, AND being an employer on top of parenthood…but it would all be worth it in the end. Still…there were days where it felt like it was getting too much. The painful daily dance of going back and forth between the parents almost seemed tirelessly endless.

Until one day, The Auditor decided that he had a bright idea.

The egg was always in need of warmth and protection, this much was very obvious. But his idea combined both of these into one single effort.

He decided he could store his egg INSIDE of his body.

No, he didn't absorb it or send it to the hell dimension. He merely kept his body folded around the egg in a protective manner. Kinda like a storage unit. The egg would be inside of his body, but in a little…pouch-like area he’ll make for it so it doesn’t go into his hell dimension. That way, it got both heat and protection from a single parent and it would render the current trading back and forth routine completely obsolete. What better place to be safely incubated than inside of an employer, a variety of nevadean god?

So, with your added permission, the Auditor became the egg's personal guardian 24/7 for 6 long months. It was a strange feeling carrying around that egg, but it was a welcome one. He would do anything for the offspring of himself and his precious Player, even if it meant dealing with a little bit of added weight and pressure. Then, one fateful day while he was doing his business paperwork at his desk, he swore he felt his chest heave. He paused for a moment, blinking in confusion. Until he felt the heave come from his chest again, surprising him. The Auditor was quick to lay down the pen and reach into his body. Pulling out his obsidian-colored egg from within the confines of his chest, the Auditor holds it curiously. Before jumping in shock when the egg wiggles in his hands. He stands up quickly and rushes to the center of his office, gently placing the egg on the floor as he waits nearby. His crimson eyes watching it with enthrallment. Then, it wiggles again…and again…and again. Suddenly, a loud sound fills the room. Crack! The employer’s eyes widens as he sees a large crack form in the top of the egg. Coming closer to the egg by squatting, he watches the motions intensely as more cracks develop on the shell. Then…the top suddenly popped off and beautiful iridescent white flames could be seen fluttering about on the inside. Despite his excitement, the employer merely watches. Admiring the scene as his child forces their way into the world of Nevada. Not lending a hand to help as he longs to encourage his child to complete their first task on their own. To prove to him how strong they are. There was a bit of a small struggle with the egg, but with one final push, the egg shell splits into two halves and the top piece falls away, revealing a small flaming white body that lets out a couple of inquisitive squeaks as they sniff the fresh air. That’s when the Auditor finally leans in to touch his newly born young one, which rapidly squeaks in response to his touching. He grins as he finally helps to peel away the remaining shell from the youngling’s body, fully freeing the child from their confines. “Excellent work. You’re already coming along strongly.” The Auditor coos to his little one, picking them up off the floor and taking the little flame into his arms. He nuzzles the little baby affectionately with his cheek as he lets out a few purrs, receiving a higher pitched purr in return from his little baby. The child then lets out a slow multi-colored yawn as they were already tired, the father merely chuckles at the display. “I didn’t expect you to have much strength right now. You’re still a newborn after all. But you will gain more potential as you grow older and stronger. One day, you’ll even take your place among the employers. For now, rest my child. You still have your other parent to meet later on.” The Auditor purrs in contentment as he nuzzles his child again, enticing another yawn out of the newborn as they curl into a little ball close to his chest. “My precious Player is going to be so happy to finally meet you…” –  (Warning for a non-overly description of Tricky feeding his babies a grunt)

~ TRICKY ~ The moment the eggs appeared after the night that Tricky got…ahem…frisky with his precious Player, Tricky was already going over names and becoming very protective of them. Already seeming to understand that they were his. Despite his insanity, he still seemed to be aware of his actions and intentions when dealing with his newly acquired young. As for the eggs, there were three in total sitting together in a little pillow nest that Tricky slew together for his little ones to sit in until they were ready to pop out. Each egg was donned with a unique pattern that seemed to be correlated to Tricky in some form of fashion. Now with precious cargo hiding in the building that Tricky and his Player called home, the zed was much more protective than he had ever been before. Any potential dangers or threats to his unborn babies were dealt with in a timely manner. Any trespassers were viciously torn apart and used as decoration to warn others to never trespass upon his territory. Despite his much more hostile approach to those outside of his immediate circle, the moment he comes back into the refurbished building, his mood does a 180. He becomes loving and affectionate to his Player and always goes to check on the eggs and spiffy up their pillow place. He would even bring home gifts. From blankets, to food for his lover, and heat retainers for his developing little ones. He even took up night patrols to make sure his eggs were safe and that the parameter was secure. For months, you and Tricky took up roles as protectors and babysitters while your little ones safely developed in their nest. Safe, warm, and protected. Then, one day that happened exactly on the dot of 6 months later, Tricky watched in surprise as one of his eggs jostled around while he was on his parental shift. The clown jumps to his feet quickly and eyes the egg that was moving, which was the smallest egg. Purple with green dots all over it. He nestles in close, practically laying on his stomach and sitting on his haunches while he watches with growing interest as the egg wiggles again. Then, a loud sound fills the room. Crack! But that wasn’t all. A chorus quickly followed after that sound! Crack! Crack Crack! With every sound a fracture would appear on Tricky’s eggs and he watched in complete awe as three of his eggs began to move around. More cracks forming on the surface of their shells as Tricky could barely contain the violent shaking of his body. Then, the smallest egg’s top suddenly pops off. Revealing a small gray face with a greenish skull-like accent and bright red hair, just like his. The littlest one begins to cry out a chorus of squeaks as Tricky licks the little one early, enticing more squeaking and whimpers from his newly born baby. “HELLO LITTLE BABY!! I’M PAPA CLOWN!! PAPA TRICKY :D :D” Tricky bellows, causing the little one to flinch from the audio. Then, the second egg’s top pops off. Revealing a slightly larger baby and similar skin, but with a straight line of red hair instead of a full head of hair. It looked like a mini mohawk in a way. Tricky greeted the second baby just like he did the first, with a warm lick across the face. Finally, the third egg cracks open, revealing the third and biggest baby. This one was heavier than the others, not to mention larger, but it also had similar markings and similar hair tufts that look identical to their father. Tricky, just like the ones before, gave the biggest baby a big ole lick. Tricky took into account the appearance and sounds that his newborns were making and he couldn’t stop shaking violently from excitement. But the moment he tried to lick them again, one decided to take a nip out of his tongue. It makes the father flinch and look closer at his babies. Finding that they already had teeth…sharp ones at that. They were also gnawing on their eggshells, even eating them! So clearly they were hungry. “CLOWN KNOWS WHY YOU BITE! YOU ARE HUNGRY! CLOWN WILL GET FOOD FOR BABIES! BE RIGHT BACK!” The insane clown says as he leaps out a nearby open window and begins to head off somewhere with his trusty stop sign over his shoulder. Not a few moments later, he was back climbing in through the window with a deceased bandit in his grasp. Having been bludgeoned to death by a certain traffic sign that the clown was notorious for carrying. He lays the body down next to the nest, which rouses the little newborns back into a squeaking and nipping little mob. “DINNER TIME! :D” Tricky happily announces. He then quickly rips a chunk of meat from the deceased grunt and happily feeds it to the littlest baby, which surprisingly swallows down the chunk of flesh with little to no problem before squeaking out for more food.

Once the other babies knew they were getting fed, Tricky had his hands (and ears) filled with the noisy cries of his babies wanting dinner. To which he fed them as quickly as he could. This process continued until the three little babies were finally full enough to settle down and cuddle up to one another in their nest. Tiny bellies stuffed full with meat from their ‘dinner’. Tricky was surprised, seeing as the little ones nearly ate half of his kill and they were just born! “CLOWN HAS NEVER BEEN PROUDER!” The insane zed sniffs in pride while dramatically wiping away a fake tear. He couldn’t wait to show his Player how good of a father he is when they get back from their supply run!

[professionallydeadinside]

The Prince’s Pauper

Prince meets her new younger brother.

“Dear, say hello to your little brother.”

It felt wrong to hold this bundle in her arms. This bundle who had nearly killed their mother three times this night alone. This bundle with eyes that didn’t look like her father’s eyes. Eyes that stayed shut, as she hoped they would forever.

“Be careful, he’s very delicate.” Prince noticed her mother was delicate too. Rings under tired eyes that should’ve gone to bed twenty three hours ago. But no, this bundle felt it had to be delivered two months early, small and pathetic.

“I don’t want a brother.” Prince frowned at the thing in her arms.

“Oh my little Prince, I know.” Her father chuckled as his wife’s voice sounded small. Prince saw as he smiled wider then she’d ever seen, all this directed at what? Surely not the lump of flesh in her arms. This useless being that, born so early, surely wouldn’t survive the night.

“But promise me you’ll be a tiny bit nice.”

Prince looked up, her mother smiled and beckoned her closer, she gladly handed off the bundle back to her.

“Prince, your brother is going to be in some danger growing up. He is very special, to us and to you.”

‘No. Not to me.’

“You’ll have to help to protect him. He’s your brother after all. I have no doubt that he’ll be safe in your hands.”

She was a child. Her parents should’ve been protecting him. Her parents should’ve been protecting her too. Loving her. Those fond looks, those soft voices, that smile on her father’s face which seemed just as much a stranger as the child her mother was holding.

Why had they withheld this from her? What made him so much more deserving of it?

Prince scowled, clenching her jaw and bunching her skirt in her tiny fists. A heavy hand touched her shoulder.

“Dochka, you will be good, won’t you?”

She had to be good. In order for her parents to see the mistake they were making, investing their time in training a boy who would never be as good as her, she’d make sure of it. She’d make sure of it if it meant smothering him with the very love she craved.

Yes, that’s how she’d do it. Turn him obsolete and dumb, useless and stupid. Have his body, grown soft and fat with pampering, feed her when she so desired to take what was rightfully hers.

“Oh yes. I will. I promise.” Her squeaky voice and bright eyes put her parents to ease.

Prince looked over to the bundle that had begun to wake. Her parents didn’t notice how her expression slipped when her brother reached out to her with a goofy, toothless smile. She let him grab at fingers that were barely larger than his.

“I’ll take care of him.”

[killed-by-choice]

“Georgia Roe,” 27 (USA 1975)

In 1975, a 27-year-old who was later given the name “Georgia” after her state underwent an abortion at 10 weeks pregnant.

Georgia’s medical history was noted in a later case report. At the age of 8, she had surgery for severe pectus excavatum. Her heart had stopped for 20 minutes, but circulation was maintained and she had no further issues noted until age 20, when possible cardiac enlargement and/or pulmonary edema was noted. A brief course of treatment relieved her and she was noted to have been living a “normal life”.

But at the age of 27, she underwent a hysterectomy abortion (removing the uterus with the fetus still inside) at 10 weeks pregnant.

It is possible that Georgia thought that the abortion would preserve her health. At some point after having three uneventful and healthy births, she had started experiencing pelvic pain, which was identified as chronic cervicitis. At the time of the abortion, she’d had a class 3 Pap smear* and a cervical biopsy showed atypical squamous metaplasia**.

It is also possible that she had the abortion because she just didn’t want another child. She had already given birth to three babies, each one born full-term with no complications from the pregnancy or birth. The reason for the abortion remains unknown.

In the recovery room, Georgia had an occasionally irregular heartbeat and ST depression was noted. Another EKG 2 days later showed "possibly a little more" ST depression. Despite this, the hospital released her after 5 days and did not have her see a doctor for a follow-up.

Georgia’s family members reported that in her last few weeks alive, she suffered from continuous vaginal bleeding. Despite her alarming symptoms and her medical history, Georgia still was not given any follow-up medical treatment.

5 weeks after the abortion, Georgia was in her car on the way to a relative’s funeral. When she got out of the car, she suddenly collapsed and died.

A doctor who had occasionally seen Georgia during her life but had not seen or treated her at any point after the abortion listed her cause of death as “coronary occlusion”, but no autopsy was ever performed.

Georgia was 1 out of 10 known deaths in the state of Georgia to happen to a client who had recently had a legal abortion in 1975. Due to a voluntary and largely ineffective reporting system, it is unknown how many more cases go unreported.

* The now-obsolete class system for papanicolaou smear testing marked the results as a class 3. This means that abnormal cells were detected, but it doesn’t confirm the presence of a dangerous problem and cells marked as class 3 will sometimes become normal again without any treatment at all. The biopsy may have been ordered after the results came back.

** Atypical squamous metaplasia can be precancerous or fully benign. It can come from a virus, hormonal conditions, polyps, menopause and more. It does not necessarily mean that the patient has or will develop cancer, but follow-up testing is usually in order.

[blackwhitematernal]

Dr. Omiata

Dr. Anise Omiata never expected to feel so obsolete. Born in the 30th century, she had risen through medical school with the highest accolades and cultivated a reputation as a brilliant cardiologist. Machines replaced surgeons by the time she finished her training, and fully automated organ transplants rendered most of her specialized skills unnecessary. She had entered medicine with dreams of protecting those who could not defend themselves in war-torn lands, but by the time she was practicing, a sterile and highly efficient system did most of the work. The human hands-on element of surgery—and the excitement it brought her—vanished.

Her dissatisfaction built over the years. She had read accounts of earlier centuries, dramatic stories in which doctors made life-and-death decisions in the operating room, and warriors risked everything on bloody battlefields. It seemed romantic compared to her everyday life, where the biggest decisions involved calibrating an AI system rather than trusting her own hands. The sense of heroism that had once energized her was lost in the shuffle of automation.

Even as a child, Anise was fascinated by the idea of saving people—although her fantasies were never purely heroic. She wanted power, to be the deciding factor between life and death. She thought of knights rescuing damsels.

Eventually, she turned to the next best option: time travel... or dimension hopping, nobody knew at that moment what was really behind the rifts they created in spacetime. The technology for temporal exploration was still in its infancy, but it attracted the curious and the restless. Anise enrolled in the necessary programs, completed the training, and signed on for a one-way journey to a war-torn medieval era. She left behind friends and relatives who couldn’t comprehend her motives. Many saw it as reckless. She saw it as an adventure into the raw chaos she had always craved.

When Anise arrived, she found herself in a Nordic land swept by constant conflict. Armored warriors marched through fields of ice and mud, swords and axes glinting in dim light. Nights were filled with the sounds of clashing metal and war horns.

Anise’s dark skin, coiled hair, and strange language drew every eye. She was unlike any person these Nordic warriors had encountered. The first traveling group she encountered tried to kill her, suspecting she was some kind of sorceress or spy. However, her military training and biotechnology that was common for her time, small self-powered ocular and brain implants to increase her reaction speed and strength, had well made up for her slim and short feminine stature.

Using hand gestures and a peasant to speak, she reasoned with the king who saw potential. Here was a woman with advanced knowledge—perhaps enough to cure the wounded or even help him gain an edge over his enemies in a bloody war. He spared her and brought her into the fortress to learn more.

In cumbersome conversations with the king and his advisors, Anise displayed her grasp of anatomy, disease management, and tactics. She demonstrated her skills on dying soldiers.

While the king and his court debated how best to use her, Anise surprised them by requesting not a comfortable position in the palace, but a role on the battlefield. She proposed to lend her strategic insights in the war council. At first, it seemed ludicrous: a foreign woman in command of soldiers, especially in a realm that prized male warriors. But Anise’s unwavering confidence and her willingness to prove her combat prowess piqued the king’s curiosity.

Anise chose a war hammer as her primary weapon. Swords were more common, but it was much more important for her to deal with armor.

Of course, for Anise, this served her once-in-a-lifetime wish to be a warrior, a savior through vengeance and power. To feel the rush of battle as one of the things she had always wanted, the rush that she never felt as a heart surgeon.

The king only had to give her that one chance. Soldiers laughed at the idea—until they saw her fight. Anise’s rigorous training back in the 30th century involved martial arts systems unknown to these people. Her implants made her seem invulnerable, unchallengeable one-on-one. The terror that filled the eyes of these tall, grizzled blonde and redheaded men was incredible.

Deep down, she wrestled with her own intentions. Part of her wanted to be a heroic figure, protecting people who couldn’t defend themselves. But she couldn’t ignore how much she enjoyed the violence. She questioned her morality every time she felt that surge of satisfaction in aimlessly cracking and spiking the skills of men who barely looked different than those she protected. Perhaps her fantasies were more selfish than she cared to admit. Yet she pressed on. This was her new life.

Months passed, and her reputation spread. Most of her squad feared and respected her. She told herself she was saving lives, that it was better for her to handle them personally rather than let her men butcher them.

One day, during a large-scale skirmish near a frozen river, Anise noticed a warrior who stood out. A young woman with bright delicate skin and large blue eyes. She moved with agility, and though her frame was smaller than most of the men. What on earth bright her here?! Anise thought.

Her men seemed to not pay much attention. With limited understanding of their language, she asked... Why? pointing at the woman. "Thorald is getting desperate, he's running out of soldiers and sending villagers to pad out their numbers."

Anise singled out this woman. Her soldiers were curious but knew better than to interfere. Anise had no idea what she was going to do, but the thought of this delicate creature on the battlefield being struck down by one of her archers made her heart pound with anxiety. Singled out, chasing this svelte woman through a legion of enemy soldiers that meant nothing to her, Anise found her target and challenged her alone. As the woman's eyes filled with fury and she swung, Anise took a blow on her shoulder armor, feeling the jarring impact. She responded with a quick pivot, hooking the blonde woman’s ankle and sweeping her to the ground.

The woman lost her grip on her sword as she fell, and Anise kicked it out of reach. For a heartbeat, they locked eyes. Anise saw fear and fierce resolve in that expression. The woman reached for a knife at her belt, but Anise pressed her war hammer near the woman’s shoulder, pinning her in place without crushing her.

There was curiosity in those vibrant blue eyes. From the moment they met, this villager rushed through training as cannon fodder was nothing to a super solider of this era yet...

Anise was frozen and terrified. She felt helpless, defeated. Around them a battle waged, yet at least none came to save this useless fodder ling on the ground in shame. Anise was the only person in this world who cared about this fragile defeated woman whose she never met in her life.

With no weapon, those pitiful eyes shed tears, awaiting the brutal crush of the hammer. Shame and frustration made her lips quiver.

Anise felt a thrill that ran deeper than anything she’d experienced as a cardiologist. The primal reality of choosing whether someone lived or died. The woman yelled, her language unknown, but no translation was needed... 'what are you waiting for you black bitch, kill me'.

The mixture of terror and defiance spurred Anise’s old protective instincts. She couldn’t explain it fully: maybe it was the desire to shield someone fragile, or maybe it was the satisfaction of possessing someone who depended on her mercy.

One of her soldiers came up from behind. "They don't make quality slaves. They'd rather die than serve us." the man said, watching her do... anything really, other than crush the woman's head in confused him.

Anise studied the woman’s furious, tear-streaked face for a heartbeat longer. She crouched and slipped her arm under the woman’s shoulder, heaving her upward in one swift motion. The woman thrashed, alarmed by the sudden shift.

“Stop,” Anise muttered under her breath, though she knew the blonde soldier might not understand the word. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She slung the woman gently yet firmly across her shoulders, as if lifting an injured comrade. The lean and slender woman, half a foot taller than Anise looked comical, in such a position, her ling legs dangling over her captor's chest a black hand squeezing into her thigh. The pale limbs flailed for a moment, fists and elbows jabbing, feet kicking, but Anise’s augmented strength made it manageable. Though the woman’s voice rose in a sharp stream of protests, Anise ignored her and trudged onward.

“Commander, what are you doing?” A soldier asked in anger, seeing his commander rush off with a worthless thing draped over her arm.

Not wanting to waste words, Anise shot him a glare that warned him to mind his own business. She turned and began to run, weaving between the clashing fighters. Her black coiled hair whipped around her face, the coppery stench of blood and damp earth clinging to the frigid air.

As she sprinted, she was distantly aware her reputation would be shredded by such an act. A “hero” to these men was supposed to claim slaves and severed heads from great warriors, not rescue their filth. If her king saw her deserting the fray, he might revoke her command or punish her for disobedience. But for the first time in a long time, Anise didn’t care about prestige or duty—only about preserving this slender, angry life draped across her shoulders like a precious prize she refused to see broken.

The sensation reminded her of the adrenaline rush she used to crave during complicated surgeries in the 30th century. more intense than ever. She found her breath coming heavier as she forced her way across the battlefield, occasionally batting aside a stray attack or pushing through lines of fighting men. Shouts rang around her, but no one dared challenge the lethal foreign woman brandishing her war hammer to clear a path.

When she finally emerged from the thick of the melee, her boots leaving the muddied snow behind, the sound of carnage dulled to a roar behind them. Beyond the battlefield’s outskirts, she found a half-frozen stream that led through a stand of leafless pines. She paused there, chest heaving, to readjust her hold on the blonde woman.

She still struggled, but exhaustion was creeping into her movements. Both had endured the bitter cold and the shock of battle.

A few hours passed before Anise reached the settlement where her small quarters were located. She had commandeered an old farmhouse on the outskirts of the king’s territory—far enough away that no one bothered her too often, but close enough to remain under his general command.

By the time Anise kicked open the creaky wooden door, her legs were shaking with fatigue. She carried the young woman inside, setting her down gently onto a cot near the fireplace. The flickering fire illuminated her delicate features—now smudged with dirt, tears, and sweat.

The blonde immediately tried to scramble away, stumbling. Anise lifted her hands, palms out, showing she meant no harm.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, feeling foolish talking to someone who likely didn’t understand her language. But the tone of her voice seemed to slow the woman’s panic. The woman eyed Anise warily, backing up until she pressed against the stone wall.

The woman’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, but her eyes—though still angry—were more confused, less afraid. Anise stepped forward slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal, and gestured at the hearth. She wasn’t sure how to convey that she only wanted to warm and feed her, but she tried to put reassurance into every motion.

Eventually, the blonde relented enough to let Anise guide her closer to the fire. Anise quickly grabbed a fur blanket from a nearby bench and draped it over the woman’s shoulders. The battered soldier flinched at the contact but didn’t resist.

She rummaged in the small pantry until she found a leather flask filled with water and a few scraps of bread from the previous day. Softening the bread in water, she handed it over. The blonde looked at it suspiciously, then took it with trembling fingers. When she finally bit into the soggy morsel, Anise's eyes lit up with joy.

[translationandbetrayals]

Ableism, elitism, and other social issues in the dystopian city.

This time I want to explain a short personal analysis about my favorite anime, No.6. (Yeah, No.6 again).

Those who know dystopian fiction works such as "1984", "Brave New World", and others will be able to quickly understand the plot of the novel, manga, and anime No.6. But I admit that I didn't usually have much interest in social issues when I was young, so I delved into these deeper issues thanks to this story.

This seemingly perfect city hides many secrets to justify its apparent "functionality" in the middle of a world devastated by what seems to have been an apocalyptic war that left most of the earth uninhabitable. In the system developed by the "founders" of No.6, social conditions are determined by the "potential" they can project in the long term in people, the new and future citizens as they are born into this world.

That’s why our protagonist Shion, having outstanding results in the IQ test at 2 years of age, was assigned to a special class only for children who were also like him; this event would guarantee not only his elementary education and his specialty, but would also condition him to be one more link in this chain of productivity that the system was promoting by "separating" people based on their intellectual abilities. Because, of course, in this world full of conspiracy and censorship, other types of intelligence were not "productive", the formation of critical thinking was sought to be avoided, and therefore there were no characters who dedicated themselves to the humanities or the arts. What's more, Shion's counterpart, Nezumi, was the representation of that "non-productive" world for the No.6 system. Shion, before meeting Nezumi, had never touched a physical book or read a classical text, much less had an approach to an old library or a piano. Among many other reasons, Nezumi became special in his heart because he showed him everything that until then had been hidden about "the real world".

In Shion's environment everything was technology, science, modernity, and "vintage" things was considered old-fashioned and obsolete. In my opinion, that world is dehumanizing.

Btw, his only friend, named Safu, a girl with the same intellectual potential as him, was harassed in class for wearing the sweaters and clothes that her grandmother had left her. Although the anime and manga don't go into much depth about the characters within the same "privileged reality" of Shion and Safu, I can notice a particular difference between these two children and their peers. Shion, despite being raised and educated to remain submissive and ignorant, having autistic traits in combination with his cognitive intelligence and motor clumsiness, was not an easily influenced child (in fact, the first and only one to influence him was Nezumi) and somehow intuitively "knew" that what his life had been until then was not "perfect" in reality.

Safu, on the other hand, I also dare to say is a neurodivergent character, even an alternative representation of the autistic spectrum, in its most "feminine" variant: she, in love with Shion since childhood, was rational and direct when expressing her affection to him (rather, she was extremely direct), she expressed herself with an encyclopedic language for delicate matters and she mastered with great expertise her field of interest, which was the endocrine system and the functioning of hormones in human beings. Despite her apparent confidence and pedantic behavior, she was empathetic and open-minded to others, in that sense both characters tangentially departed from the rest of the “social elite" bubble they were growing up in. She was also able to notice the feelings Shion was developing for Nezumi before he realized it himself.

Both characters were the only ones within this privileged context -and who didn’t know beforehand the history of the founding of No.6- able to question the system around them and feel "uncomfortable" in the midst of other people who blindly obeyed, like sheep in a flock, the way of life that had been imposed on them (in which, among other things, they had to wear a bracelet all the time, and swear loyalty to the city everyday).

All of these elements caught my attention considering that the original novel began to be written in 2003 (the story is based on the "future" period of years between 2013-2017), and linking the neuroqueer representation present in the work, which was most likely also given unconsciously by the author (since under old paradigms in other cultures, neurodivergence was interpreted as a "personality type" and was made invisible), makes me remember in an analogous way the old diagnosis of Asperger Syndrome, which historically speaking also had a controversy for being considered ableist and "separating" autistic people based on whether they were more capable and potentially productive for society or not. These two characters had the future in their hands, since within their individual peculiarities, they were brilliant students, just what this modern city and in search of absolute control of its population, was seeking to enhance for its own benefit.

I really recommend this anime and manga to those who like dystopian novels or want a first approach to the genre, I assure you that in more than one aspect it will make you think about many social problems that are present in our tangible reality in almost the same way.

-Alejandra Lermanda

[huggableflesh]

Super hero setting ramblings: H.E.R.C.A.L.E.S

The Acronym stands for Homeland Economic Regulation of Commercial Anomalous Legal Exchange and Supernatural goods.

Alright imagine its the early nineteen hundreds the second world war of anyone's life times just ended and the economy was finally starting to recover, superhumans were rapidly coming back home from war not just to acceptance but reverence from the people or at a minimum begrudging respect and acceptance one of the worst economic crashes in recent history was clearing up things looked good and they only got *better*. In 1945 a small child Catalyzed with a power that bordered on miraculous.

Wishbone, a name created when they were five that would stick with them well into adult hood their power was the ability to grant wishes. Not quite at will, not quite at a target of their choosing it's limits weren't exactly known but it was semi uncontrollable from what people could tell

People around them, or sometimes no where close were finding themselves holding a no strings Attached wish. Golden yachts, mountains of diamonds, cornucopia of infinite food and hotels that could somehow always make space for new guests and we're self cleaning. Wishes we're being granted left and right maybe not exactly how they were asked for or in a roundabout way but they were granted.

Then came the next child born to change the face of a continent was in Africa, One Amara Nkase at the age of five Catalyzed the ability to teleport things other then themselves . Despite discovering this ability they didn't realize how few limitations it had until one day they wished long and hard for a cold drink on a hot day and found a can of coke suddenly in their hands.

The girl discovered that while inability to teleport themselves or other people was a major limit of theirs, it was one of the *only* limits they had.

Rapidly with the help of their parents the girl had formed a business empire that had made every other form of shipping and locomotion obsolete almost instantly, for a time world hunger had been solved entirely. In-between infinite sources of food and entire aspects of public infrastructure being supplanted so Wholey it looked like the world was heading towards a golden age.

Sadly it wasn't too last, after 40 years wishbone died and Amara had fallen into a coma, in less then a year decades of what seemed like utopia started tearing at the seams.

Their powers didn't stop immediately, no wishbones wishing trinkets still worked and things born of wishes didn't suddenly cease to exist, it's just they no longer were connected to that seemingly infinite power source that charged all of the miracles people had been taking for granted.

people fell into panic, Cornucopias of infinite turned into cornucopias of "Only a few storage containers worth" of food.

The portals that previously were programmed to respond to outside stimuli, allowing the area it lead to be changed with the simple wave of a colored flag or a code became stuck to the last setting they were on.

The world went to shit fast, it was if electricity and running water suddenly stopped world wide (not to say that didn't happen in a few places).

But that's a different story, as governments scrambled to get the industries that had been growing moss for the last forty years back on their feet many many governments decided that never again could their country become so wholey reliant on the abilities of a single super human to function.

It wasn't the same in every country, nor did it have the same name but most places scrambled to get something akin to it.

In America we have H.E.R.C.A.L.E.S which dictates that the closest relevant governmental authority may place arbitrary restrictions on any business based on the sale of goods or services reliant on abilities unique to an individual.

The intent of bill was to prevent the economy from ever growing so dependent on a single schmuck with super powers that their death causes a national disaster, this isn't quite an outright ban but if any rogue Catalyst edges too close to too many major business they may end up being forced to have a maximum amount of clients they can take at a time or minimum prices they're allowed to sell their products for in order to make them arbitrarily expensive luxuries.

Later this bill would be expanded to effect any supernatural power not potentially available to the wider populace, which is to say pretty much all of them.

Now then from an out of universe context this law was created mostly as an explanation for why most businesses aren't employing superhumans with non punchy powers left and right or why no superhumans with incredible but not quite combat useful powers has made a killing.

Notably I also didn't want to make the government stupidly evil, the ban doesn't include charity or government contracts which are often used to supplement businesses while intentionally making sure to not drive them out of business.

No heroes with as massive consequences as wish bone or Amara have showed up or if they did they didn't get the chance to effect the world like they did.

[nightguide]

upon all honesty there is a point in being a woman that you're wanted for

upon all honesty, death is intermittent for you to believe than to trust

upon all honesty, speech is slurred to truance and no reason for escape than despair believing in you and patience seeking asylum elsewhere

death is nothing more than hope than what you will lose

a song you believe you wrote but honest complaint is you believing in it too much (hopeless vocalist)

feet aid you that assists with passion than dream which is a broken phone in the end like you being a human wifi tower

broken appeal to the senses than the eye which morphs with you overtime like a nymph on a parasitic run outside elsewhere in a sea you're making home to land which infects the sun's UV rays on your eyes that blind your skin from drying which was the worldly belief

lost of hearing, seeing and smell which is more prominent than the 5 senses you're used to hearing and the 6th sense being the sun which is optimal to your personality check if maintained in being stranded on the city wide perspective of your rebirth like stardust forming you back together lost and reformed again which is how familliarity is formed upon worldly recognition is how you lost compassion over a universe city alike you is how you died in the first place became an idiocracy

your soul is in despair as you became but your body is your spouse warring the world for you believed you in any accuracy formed you were before you is how you were meant to die in actual reality like you passed away like you were by ocular avenue is you being used by the motive surpassing the obvious morale token by the social circus

you're orphaned out of pure glee and not reason is how 'never' is damned of you to exist than looking at the mirror and 'being okay' is nothing to you anymore is how you're not taken into pride but by death only to consume old age wisdom for 'pity living' is rage turned into obsolete absolution of Zoroastrianism which is a belief of a curse against a pious name that needs to 'be resolved of your deadly crimes against a 5 year old inside a man who cannot take being 'lonely' like his mother abandoned him' a child created a religion to see the world but never allowed it right back is a city in the Qur'anic view that is taken to hold by a mom-ster hungry reptilians if all conspiracy theories were in one child, it would be that and you knew who made it up who lived long enough to see it come to life which is the social honest buddha who died long enough for the first man to live which is you but you're dead anyway, so you're seeing a live action effect of your life being torn apart like the one moment of you is being dead is your canon fairytale that takes place a while into your ego bruise becomes comic fiction which is how you chose to die by a problematic scandal in which you never resurfaced from is your whole career is how people tear lives apart to bite back for the existence of the meaning of why you love your job so you knew who went first (after me)

there is no saving you but yourself (ill will)

there is no

there is nothing

true selves

characters in motion in which you cannot talk about but observe

you're in pity quiet in which the obvious will hate but you're told their story inwards out (at the end of your ancestry is your story told there but you'll never get the point til damned quiet times makes you the next soul to go upending their own childhoods but you knew who destroyed their lives early on to witness the world burn in front of your own, so say goodbye to the ones you hate that believed you now that you're never going to outgrow them but die another day to see 'them' live

you'll never be removed from their energetic terrarium even if you live long enough to see yourself die with them which is what they truly wanted

heck, they'll take your identity with it

and they'll leave you naked, cold and alone til they see that as a fantasy and kill you with it is how you were born, a baby.

you'll know why you're meant to die but they'll live long enough to see you be and they are and why you immortally hated them with so much you never gave them is damnation realisation is how you were meant to tell the story in lights since you spent so much time in darkness

SO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME HE WAS HIDING ALL THIS UNDER THAT JEAN JACKET AT THE CONVENTION MATT SMITH PLS LEAVE THE JACKET AT HOME WHEN YOU COME TO MEGACON.🧎🏻‍♀️ I am simply GAGGED

[bondsmagii]

i think i saw you mention reading the little stranger once..? if not disregard this but if you have, im curious as to your interpretation of the ending and the ghost's identity 👀

[MAJOR spoilers in this: I go into intense detail of the whole plot. if you're thinking about reading this book please DON'T read this until you're done! it's such a good story and it should absolutely be read with as little prior knowledge as possible.]

OK [rubs hands together] first of all let's look at the part of the book that its title comes from:

The subliminal mind has many dark, unhappy corners, after all. Imagine something loosening itself from one of those corners. Let's call it a---a germ. And let's say conditions prove right for that germ to develop---to grow, like a child in the womb. What would this little stranger grow into? A sort of shadow-self, perhaps: a Caliban, a Mr Hyde. A creature motivated by all the nasty impulses and hungers the conscious mind had hoped to keep hidden away: things like envy and malice and frustration…

I think the clue is right here. the ghost is Faraday, our narrator.

from an early age, Faraday has been obsessed with Hundreds Hall. he attended a garden party there as a child, and in fact was only born because of its existence -- his parents were staff at the house, and met there. he is fascinated by the house, by its grandness, by his forbidden access when he was a child; immediately he wished to possess a piece of it so badly that he vandalised it, taking a small piece of the wall with him.

later, as an adult, he gets intimately entangled with the family there. he is overly concerned with their business, and is very protective of the legacy of the house. the book focuses a lot on legacy and grief; of changing times and the inevitability of decay -- not just of buildings (quite literally; Hundreds Hall is collapsing around their ears) but of entire time periods. the Ayres are of a vanishing generation, a class of people who were already becoming obsolete but whose exit was hurried by the Second World War. they, and their grand house, are outdated -- but Faraday has a profound attachment to the place, and feels that this natural decay (as all things must, eventually, cease to be) is a threat to the house. he wants to protect it, and everything it stands for for him (his past; his childhood that he seems to idealise at least a little; and of course his personal attachment to it -- and his possessiveness) and this manifests in concern for the family.

gradually, over the course of the story, the ghost gets rid of all threats to Hundreds Hall. Roderick, the heir, is mentally unstable because of the war, and also has no loyalty to the house past a duty that he feels he cannot escape from. the ghost begins by tormenting him into insanity and driving him from the house. Angela, the aging mother, seems to gradually come around to the idea that this way of life is useless, and seems to slowly lose her own attachment to the place -- and the ghost torments her in the form of her small daughter who died young, and whose death she never got over. she kills herself, and it's strongly implied that her daughter's ghost encouraged her to do this under the guise of them being together. even the dog, which, after biting a neighbour's child, could have opened the Ayreses up to lawsuits that would have cost them the house, is killed directly by Faraday when he puts it down.

Caroline, the daughter and sole heir after her brother is deemed mentally unfit, escapes this fate for some time. despite the fact she's perhaps the harshest and most realistic about Hundreds Hall, Faraday is in love with her, and therefore she's safe because, if he marries her, he will be the master of the house. Faraday thinks he can save it; that the two of them can do something with it, and I believe that his infatuation with Caroline has nothing to do with her. she represents the house to him -- ownership of it, and its future. he loves her for what she is and what she represents, but not for who she is. Caroline initially accepts his proposal because she does have some feelings for him herself, and also because she's under pressure to wed (such was the time then, where a woman was expected to marry), but she obviously senses that it isn't right. she breaks things off with Faraday (who has naturally not noticed her reluctance at all, being literally delusional with happiness), Faraday is heartbroken and jilted, and shortly afterwards Caroline encounters what appears to be the ghost on the stairs, and falls (or is thrown) to her death.

let's look at that quote again. the subliminal mind has many dark, unhappy corners; a shadow-self; a creature motivated by all the nasty impulses and hungers the conscious mind had hoped to keep hidden away: things like envy and malice and frustration.

is not the ghost often described as a shadow? on the stairs; outside the nursery -- was it not a dark shape, a shadow-form? and it's beyond doubt that Faraday harbours all of these things: he is profoundly unhappy, even if he doesn't acknowledge it himself; he has a lonely, unfulfilled life; he is envious of those who own the house, envious of those outside his class, self-conscious of his working class background. this in turn leads to frustration, and then to outright malice -- but he is a controlled man, for the most part, and all of these urges go somewhere deep. as soon as he starts becoming intimately involved with the house, the haunting begins. and look at the nature of the haunting at first: fire. destructive and purifying: "if I can't have it, no-one can!" once Roderick -- his biggest threat as an umarriagable (for Faraday) heir -- is out of the way, the fire ceases. the haunting turns to the form of the little girl, the dead daughter, in order to torment the mother. it could even be argued that the dog was tormented into violence because Caroline was so close to it, and Faraday wanted to remove her entire support network and drive her closer to him. the haunting shifts, targeting each of the Ayres family individually and personally, often using private information that Faraday knows because of his position as a friend of the family. then, finally, when his last chance fails, it rises up as one final act of malice and kills Caroline ("if I can't have her, no-one can!").

and still Faraday wanders the abandoned house, long after the occupants are dead or otherwise gone. the house has a reputation for being haunted, but he never experiences any of these things for himself. is this because the work is done, now there are no human threats to Hundreds Hall, and Faraday can technically wander it whenever he likes? or is it because he is the ghost, if unaware he is so, and only trespassers -- anyone who is not him -- are terrorised out? there could be an argument for either, but I think the question of the ghost's identity is beyond doubt.

[lesbian-in-leather]

do you have any headcanons for how Mary might have been as child/teenager?

Oh my god yes I ABSOLUTELY do

Straight off the bat I think she was born with a lot of very dark hair

As a baby I feel like she very rarely cried, and laughed on occasion, but mainly just watched people. She would grab at their clothes/hands whenever they came close because she didn't like being stuck where she couldn't see anything and wanted to be picked up

Her first word was "Carson" - which upset both Cora and Robert greatly (they made a greater effort with Edith and Sybil to make their first words "mummy" or "daddy" which only made Mary feel like she was less important, because she didn't remember them paying her this much attention and she was very much pushed to the side)

I think she learnt to speak in complete sentences at an early age - something that regularly made the adults all laugh because the things she'd say were not the kind of thing you expect to hear from a child, let alone one that young

As a toddler I feel like she was one of those really serious kids that is too logical for make believe, but also believes almost anything adults tell her

I also think she was VERY talkative - she would be talking almost constantly, and loved to have discussions with adults (but they very rarely took her seriously which would annoy her a lot)

I think she'd frequently manage to slip away from her nanny (especially after Edith and then Sybil were born) and would sit on the gallery and watch everyone arrive for grand parties. I think she liked to imagine the beautiful dresses she'd wear to parties when she was older, but any guests that happened to look up would just see these pale little hands holding the pillers of the balustrade and dark eyes watching them intently

I think Carson would see her there the most and, as a young butler (I feel like he got promoted when Robert married Cora) would be worried she'd ruin the parties but never had the heart to tell the nanny to repremand her

Edith would cry a lot and Mary couldn't stand it so she'd go exploring the house. She once got lost and took a nap because "no one can do much exploring when they're tired" and the entire household was frantically searching for her for hours. She was found asleep in one of the servants' beds that night

I think she liked to spend time in Carson's office and he knew he shouldn't let her, but he also liked to hear her talk about whatever was interesting her at that moment and they would have very interesting discussions

She learned to read very early on and would spend a lot of time in corners with a good book. Robert, Cora and the nanny would lose her at least twice a week because of this

She didn't realise for a long time that Nanny would read to them because they were children, and so liked to read to people whenever she could. Edith, Robert and Cora thought she was trying to show off or take attention away from Edith and Sybil, so she only ever really read to Carson in his office. This is another reason he refused to send her away

Obviously we know about her wanting to steal the silver to run away when she was about five, and I feel like that was after she felt particularly overlooked just after Sybil was born

She and Edith got into a lot of arguements and Edith always managed to get her in trouble for them. The typical line was "you're the older sister so you should set an example" and both nanny and her parents would tell her that she should be responsible

She was very good at her school work but she usually annoyed the governess by debating things with her. From the ages of three to seven, "why?" Was her favourite question and she never liked to follow an order until it was answered

As she got older I feel like she withdrew into herself a lot more and became a lot quieter

She was thirteen when her parents first let her eat with them at dinner, and she enjoyed it immensely (especially when she got to tell Edith). After dinner, Violet and Robert took her aside and told her that she talked far too much to be a respectable woman, and she was too obvious when something displeased her

After that she changed how she reacted and spoke, and created her façade. She never told anyone, but she based her new personality on her favourite character from her favourite book - Lizzie Bennet. The more she used this personality, the more it leeched through into her own until they were one and the same

The first time she had dinner with someone from outside the family, she was fourteen and it was with a girl a couple of years older than her (with her parents). The girl hated Mary and humiliated her in front of everyone, making her cry. The girl saw and laughed in her face. That was the day Mary decided she would never let anyone see how she really felt

By the time she came out at 16, she was the same person that we saw at the beginning of the series - calm, collected, with scathing sarcasm and wit and the ability to hide all of her emotions. Violet once remarked on how far she'd come since that first dinner, and Mary couldn't decide if that made her glad her façade had worked, or upset that her family didn't miss the 'real her'

At Edith's coming out ball she made a point of it being "better than Mary's" for so long that Mary got sick of it. When she insisted that no one would want to dance with Mary now that she had come out, Mary decided to deliberately upstage her. She wore a prettier dress and danced with all the boys Edith liked to prove that Edith couldn't replace her. No one realises that this came from a genuine fear of becoming obsolete in the family, and so began the transformation of their relationship from childish arguements to an all out war

Wow I got a bit carried away and this is very long... if anyone read this far thanks!! And sorry for rambling lmao I just have a lot of Thoughts

[forestwhisper3]

Finally finished catching up on One Piece and was starting to look into the stuff for the new movie when I found out about Uta.

Or more specifically, her fruit.

(Slight spoilers for One Piece Film: RED, so read on at your own discretion)

Seriously, why does this stuff keep happening? Why do I keep getting weirdly close with canon stuff? First with Peony in my pokemon fic, and now with this?

There’s a reason why I’ve tagged the picrew images of Ran with the fanfic name Crescendo. I was intending to give her a devil fruit. The Uta-Uta no Mi to be exact. And now this movie has Shanks’s daughter having it and I can’t decide whether to be weirded out that this fruit is associated so closely with him or upset that the idea for this fruit was used (seriously, with how many endless possibilities there are for devil fruits I still choose one that ends up in canon).

I actually sort of hit a few things with the fruit’s power too. The Wiki article says it can teleport peoples’ consciousness to a virtual space, where they can manipulate reality to their will and also control the real-world bodies of those trapped in it.

Before I found all this out, this was how I imagined the powers of the Uta-Uta no Mi. Granted, I was still working out the details, but this was what I had by the last time I worked on it (straight from my word document):

Uta Uta no mi- song fruit

Can produce effects with songs.

Stage 1: mood alteration

Stage 2: hypnotic effects/persuasion

Stage 3: control of the body (much like the dance island)

Awakened: Can hear the "song" (soul?) inside of living things; gains the ability to alter the world around them.

Pros: Wide variety of uses. Can affect large groups of people at the same time.

Cons: Limited by the imagination of the user and lyrics of the song. Can't affect the user, whether it's beneficial or not. User needs to be able to speak. Can be resisted if the one hearing it has a will stronger than the user's. The more powerful the effect intended, the more energy is used (i.e. things like drastically affecting the weather/environment or bringing someone back from the brink of death will significantly weaken her and she'll need some time to recover).

So...yeah. In a way, I sort of had similar ideas to what ended up being the actual powers of the Uta-Uta no Mi. I still kind of like mine better, so I still might end up going with that, but I guess it’s going to have to be non-canon now.

...And now I’m imagining that, in canon, Ran dies after Uta is born and Shanks gets ahold of her fruit to give to their daughter. Might make for a nice canon meets AU side story, at any rate.

Although I’m still on the fence of Uta being born in the fic. If I did the math correctly, Shanks would have been eighteen when she was conceived.  While I did plan on him and Ran having a child, it wasn’t going to be until they were both a bit older than that. Plus, if Ran is there, then Uta won’t get the fruit and that makes the whole movie (which I still need to see) obsolete, right?

Anyway, I guess that’s about all I have to say on that. Thanks for listening to my half rant, half confused tangent. Here’s a short clip (still being refined) on how I planned on Ran getting the Uta-Uta no Mi:

========

"Is this-?"

"A devil fruit," Roger confirmed, his expression one of the most serious I'd ever seen from him. "I want you to have it."

"What-...What does it do?"

"It's the song-song fruit. Officially, there's not a lot known about it, but there are rumors..."

"Rumors?"

"That it could hold the key to life and death."

My eyes widened, and my heart was pounding frantically against my chest when I looked up at him. He nodded, and I felt tears flood my eyes.

"There's not enough time for me to figure out if it's true," Roger continued softly. "We both know my days are numbered. But you...I know you can do it. Look after them for me, Ran."

"Roger...I-I-..."

He smiled warmly. "I know."

Before I knew it, I had wrapped my arms around him, my hands clutching tightly to his shirt as sobbed into his chest.

"It's not fair!" I choked out. "Why-...why does it have to be you, Roger?! You should be able to see the future with us- to see the man your son becomes."

Roger returned the embrace, and it was only because he did that I was able to feel how shaky his next breath was.

"Will you tell me about him?"

Not all of it, I thought. He was in enough pain thinking about his own death- I didn't need to add anyone else's.

"His name will be Ace, and his greatest treasure will be those he calls his family."

========

Bonus clip- Shanks realizes/accepts his feelings and the seeds of them begin to grow in Ran (WIP):

"Shit! Ran!"

The panic in Captain's voice was the first sign that something was wrong.

The second was when she didn't immediately come up for air.

He didn't bother waiting for the third before he was tossing Cap- his hat aside and jumping over the ship's railing into the water below.

Shanks's first love was the sea. The beauty. The danger. The freedom. It called to him in a way that he knew he would never be able to settle down on land. But...there was something else that has slowly been claiming its own stakes in there too.

Or rather, someone.

He hadn't really noticed it- not at first, anyway. His first impression of her hadn't exactly been the greatest, though he could now admit that that was more his fault than hers. He'd just been upset at missing out on a party. But the more he spoke with her...the more he got to know her...

She was like the sea.

Full of mystery and adventure...

Kind to those who respected her and unforgiving to those who didn't...

...and so beautiful he could gaze at her for hours.

Even now, as she drifted unconsciously in the water, she was beautiful. Her pink hair, darkened to a coral hue, fanned around her like streams of silk, and her skin was like porcelain.

It was when he thought that not even a mermaid's beauty could compare to her at that moment that he finally accepted that he'd fallen. Hard.

However, it was only after he'd brought her back to the surface that it really hit him. The way his heart was still thundering in his chest from residual fear as she began to cough, the way his breath seemed to leave him as her eyes- sea blue eyes -focused on him with confusion, then realization.

"Shanks...you-"

"You okay?"

The question came out just as breathless as he felt holding her so close to him. She just stared for a long moment before she finally looked away.

"Y-Yeah."

========

Leave it to Shanks to wax poetic about the things he loves, ahaha. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the little clips. I feel a little better about this whole thing now that I’ve had the chance to vent a bit. I leave you now with a new picrew of Ran.

“Sorry for not saying it before, but thank you, Shanks. For saving me.”

*Shanks then proceeds to turn redder than his hair*

These two are going to be so flippin cute, I swear. I actually kind of want to start this fic now.

(Made with this picrew: https://picrew.me/image_maker/1705444)

...Later!