#that's right it's your semiannual

[mementokorie]

ah yes, the two genders......... me,, and also me

#that's right it's your semiannual #and #although tbh i might change my name soon lol i am unironically Having Gender™ #but we knew that already #and THIRSTY RANDOMS DO NOT INTERACT btw #korieface

[witchy-scribblings]

for good

shinazugawa sanemi x reader

synopsis ➳ his plan had been perfect: push everyone away to escape the responsibility of death when it inevitably happened. it had been perfectly crafted to protect himself and the people who surrounded him... the only problem with this plan is that you vehemently refused to stick to it.

warnings ➳ angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, mean sanemi, lots of swearing, lowercase

wordcount ➳ 3.5k

[crossposted on ao3]

requested by @generic-teez-127

“thank you for helping out with the shopping today.” sanemi’s voice called for your attention to stray from the dusty path extending ahead of you. the street was bustling with people, as it was to be expected at midday, but your friend’s voice reached you firm and clear. you smiled.

“it’s nothing. it’s the least i can do since i stay over so often,” you giggle. “i might as well just move into your house at this point.” 

you had known sanemi and his family for almost as long as you could remember, but it wasn’t until after his father’s recent death that your visits to the shinazugawa household began to increase in number. the eldest son would have been surprised if he didn’t already know you like he did after all those years of budding friendship in the streets. he was aware of the distant relationship you held with your parents as much as he knew that you loved his mom and little siblings like they were your own. 

“that could work…” he acquiesced, and you turned to stare at him, perplexed. “i mean, we could use as many available hands as we can get now that he …” he trailed off, huffing. “it’s going to be hard from now on. but everyone back home loves you, really. mom is always asking if you’re planning to stay for dinner to make more food, or overnight so she can take out an extra futon. genya hasn’t stopped talking about you since you stayed that time to help with his fever while mom and i were busy.” the fond smile on his face was impossible to miss.

“i… i was joking, nemi. i really wouldn’t want to impose-”

“i want to have you over more often.” he spoke, quietly. “i want you with us- me , for good.” those statements, along with the faint blush on his cheeks, were enough to dissipate any further reservations you may have had.

“okay,” you beamed at him, delighted by his own blinding smile. “i will stay with you. for good.”

-----------------------

the ubuyashiki estate was deadly quiet. at least, you couldn’t hear anything outside of the guest room, no rushing servants, nor chatter between the manor’s residents. it almost felt sacrilegious to break the silence by starting a conversation with genya, who was sitting right in front of you, just as silent and tense as you felt.

“we can just leave, genya. we don’t have to wait for master himejima here…”

today had been the day assigned for one of the semiannual pillar meetings, as well as the first one held since you became the rock pillar’s tsuguko. himejima had been kind enough to take you in as his successor while also offering to train genya, your childhood friend, despite his inability to perform a breathing style. you had known genya long enough to guess when anxiety was eating him alive; his stiff shoulders, unfocused gaze and pinched lips were more than obvious tells. he didn’t answer, but you knew he had heard you, so you took that as a sign to continue.

“are you sure you’re ready to see him?” you, personally, didn’t think he was. and, frankly, neither were you. genya finally looked up at you, and he appeared absolutely offended by your question.

“i am ready,” he protested, determined. “everything i’ve done up until now has been so i could face sanemi again. there’s no way i’m chickening out now.” and then, he wavered, and you knew he wouldn’t have shared his next words with anyone who wasn’t you: “but i admit… i’m scared. i called him some really messed up shit that day.”

you hated that he kept blaming himself for that.

“you didn’t know,” you reminded him, gently. “you couldn’t have known, genya.” but he remained quiet, and you were left with a sour and tight feeling in the back of your mouth; you knew he would never stop beating himself up for the way he accused his brother of such a heinous crime, all those years back.

shinazugawa sanemi certainly hadn’t deserved being called a murderer, but it wasn’t genya’s fault that grief and ignorance had clouded his judgment. you wished he’d understand.

“...what if he doesn’t forgive me?” he spoke after another extended period of heavy silence. this time, words failed you. the sanemi you knew would have never held it against his beloved brother, but neither would he have run away without a word, leaving you to pick up the broken pieces that remained of his one living brother and yourself.

you weren’t sure you knew sanemi anymore. you couldn’t assure genya that the man he was about to face again, for the first time in years, was still the brother he once looked up to.

“if he doesn’t forgive you…” you take a deep breath, reaching out for genya’s hands, petting them gently until he released their harsh grip on the legs of his pants, “...i’ll still be right by you, genya.” you offer what you hope comes across as a comforting smile. “we’re together in this.”

you’re relieved when genya finally cracks a smile. it’s small and uncertain, but a smile nonetheless.

“we’re together in this.”

-----------------------

all things considered, it was a beautiful day despite the cloud of dread looming close by wherever you went. the sky was blue and the air, crisp. ubuyashiki’s garden was stunning as it was impressive, and you wondered if you would one day have seen it enough to take its beauty for granted.

the meeting had come and gone without a hitch, and you now found yourself next to genya, waiting for the rock pillar to appear and whisk you back to your training duties. deep down, you wished you wouldn’t see sanemi before being forced to left; perhaps it’d be for the best to simply walk different paths, but you knew that your roads were headed in the same direction, that confrontation would eventually be inevitable.

so inevitable that it was immediate.

the wind pillar had been the first one to excuse himself with the adjournment of the meeting, or so you assumed, because so far he was the only one on his way to leave the impressive building, walking in a confident stride towards the entrance of the estate; a confident stride that faltered to a gradual stop the moment you came into view, with genya standing stiffly by your side.

you could see the younger brother open his mouth to speak from the corner of your eye, but speech failed him and no one said a word for what felt like minutes, but couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

“is this some kind of twisted joke?” breathed sanemi, eyes wide and crazed, while he kicked himself into action and closed the distance in a scarily small amount of steps. you noticed how he seemed unable to decide who to focus all of simmering wrath on, until his eyes descended on you. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing here? why are you wearing that? ”

unlike genya, who wasn’t yet deemed ready to partake in final selection, you were already an official demon slayer, a tsuchinoto and a tsuguko, and as such you were donning the slayer uniform you had been provided.

“we’re demon slayers, sanemi.” you didn’t let your voice waver, no matter how much the stranger in front of you radiated intimidation through each of his pores. staring firmly into his eyes, you were unable to miss the irritated twitch of an eyelid. “just like you.”

“bullshit,” he spat, and you fought the urge to flinch. the man who was currently breaking into your bubble of personal space may have looked like your sanemi, but those lilac eyes you had always found yourself lost into didn’t hold an ounce of that familiar fondness. not anymore. “weaklings like you, demon slayers? don’t make me fucking laugh.”

“it’s true!” genya finally stepped forward and forced sanemi to get out of your face, if only so he could direct that murderous glare to who had once been his cherished little brother. “this was the only way… the only way we could be together again, like a family. sanemi, i’m so s-”

“i don’t want your fucking apology. i don’t even want to see your face,” he hissed, and genya did startle, because those words were filled with a venom you’d have never attributed to the eldest shinazugawa son. you felt yourself begin to bristle. “a worthless piece of shit like you has no business calling himself my brother. get the fuck out of the corps before i do something about it myself.”

your hand moved faster than your mind, but slower than sanemi’s battle-hardened reflexes, and he caught your wrist in a bruising grip before you could make ill-intentioned contact with his face. those feral eyes were once more nailing you in place, and you couldn’t have stopped the whimper that crept up your throat even if you had tried, not when you felt and heard a sickening crack coming from your hindered wrist.

“and what the fuck are you tryna pull? you think i won’t break your wrist, don’t you? that i won’t show you how weak and useless you are?” sanemi chose to ignore the small tears springing along your waterline.

“nemi… you’re hurting me, please-”

“oh, am i? good.” his lips curled into a sadistic grin that had terror pooling in your gut. who the hell was this man standing there, sneering down at you so cruelly with the face of your childhood best friend? “do you see now why you're not cut out for this? and don’t you fucking dare call me that again, do you hear me?”

“i believe that’s enough, shinazugawa.” the spell was broken and sanemi’s hand dropped your sore wrist like it had burned him. “i would appreciate it if you didn’t threaten my students like that.”

you blinked back unshed tears to focus on himejima’s imposing presence standing next to genya, offering a kind and comforting palm on his slumped shoulder. the fear and anger that had festered in you started to simmer into anguish when you noticed how utterly defeated the teenager looked, downcast eyes fixated on the gravel where he stood.

then, you looked back at sanemi; you weren’t expecting to catch the briefest glimpse of bewilderment on his semblance before it morphed back into his carefully crafted indifference.

“your habit of picking up strays is starting to get on my nerves, himejima,” he countered, clicking his tongue and sending you a look full of finality. “heed my words and forget about becoming slayers. i’d better not see you again.”

and one more time, sanemi left without looking back.

-----------------------

it wasn’t hard to learn the whereabouts of the shinazugawa residence; it’s not like it was a hidden location like the headquarters or the swordsmith village, so asking around easily set you in the right direction that one moon bathed night.

genya hadn’t been the same since that day at the ubuyashiki estate, and even though neither had he been discouraged to carry on with his training, both you and your teacher knew that the brutal rejection had carved a bleeding hole in his psyche. himejima had warned the two of you to steer clear of the wind pillar, and you had decided it was best to obey.

one week was all it took for that resolution to slip, and against you master’s orders, you were off to reignite an unfinished conversation.

sanemi had yet to get the piece of your mind you’ve been brewing for years.

truthfully, it was a dangerous idea, because that child you used to love had become just that: dangerous and unpredictable, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to head back. not with how he had treated genya and you like neither had ever meant a thing to him. and so, you sneaked into the training yard with as much stealth as you could muster, hoping that your skills and the element of surprise would be enough to avoid a confrontation against your favor. it was a solid enough plan, or so you had hoped, until you found yourself restrained - with a calloused hand around you neck and another on your arm - against the stone wall that surrounded the residence just because you had underestimated the prowess of a fucking pillar.

looking back, it really had been a plan so idiotic it deserved praise.

“what the fuck did i tell you, huh?” the night wasn’t so dark that you couldn’t make out his face; those purple eyes glowered down at you with a mercilessness that, coupled with the low snarl of his voice, almost made you regret having come back for more. you tried not to dwell on how his touch lacked the distinct warmth it had always spared you. “you weren’t always this fucking dumb.”

“and you weren’t always… this fucking awful.” it hurt to breathe and to try getting the words out, but you weren’t going to let him have the last word if you could help it. there was no reaction to be perceived, but you felt the grip on your neck loosen slightly, enough to allow you to speak but not to let you escape.

“what the hell are you doing here?” he pressed, and you felt more than saw him invade your space once more with how his warm breath started to fan over your heated face.

“we weren’t done. i wasn’t done-”

“like i give a shit what you have to say, just disappear from my fucking life.”

“you did that well enough for the three of us.” you knew you had struck a chord when sanemi growled your name lowly, a warning, but you continued, hardly caring what he did to you at this point. “you had no right to leave without a word and you had no right to say those foul things to genya.”

“he needs to be put in his place, and so do you.” if you weren’t so fucking pissed off maybe you’d have caught the hesitance barely peeking from behind his detached tone. but you were, so you didn’t.

“what the fuck is your problem, sanemi?” you shouted, raising your free hand, but the pillar removed his fingers from your neck to restrain both of your arms before you could strike him, pining you further against the scratchy stone. “there isn’t a day genya doesn’t regret what he called you that day, and when he tries to apologize-”

“i don’t care about his apology,” he huffed, coldly.

“he couldn’t have known! if only you had stayed-”

“it’s not about what he said, will you just fucking shut up-”

“i’m not going to shut up, for fuck’s sake! we are family, sanemi! what the fuck did we even do for you to push us away like this?” you tried to push through the burn in your eyes and the tightness in your throat because you really needed to understand, more than anything, where it had all gone so wrong. “just help me figure out why you won’t let us in. we still lo-!”

“don’t you fucking understand?! i don’t want you anywhere near me ever again!” that stunned you into silence, but sanemi still wouldn’t stop his mouth now that it had begun running. “what the fuck do i need to do to make you understand that you need to fuck right off and leave me alone?! we’re. not . family. anymore. get that through your dumb skull and move the fuck on!”

the night air blew cold against the dampness on your cheeks. sanemi’s hands were unmistakably trembling where they pined you, and in a moment of clarity you realized that it wasn’t anger that made them shake, at least not entirely. 

“sanemi… you’re just a fucking coward.”

“...say that again,” his whisper was dangerous and near crazed, but you accepted the challenge despite the goosebumps that licked over your clammy skin.

“you’re a coward, and i’m not leaving you alone. neither is genya. we’re together in this whether you like it or not, so drop this fucking attitude at once and let us in.”

only crickets filled the contemplative silence that ensued and, for a moment, you dared to feel hopeful that, somehow, you had managed to bring your sanemi back.

“why are you so hellbent on staying?” you found strength in how he sounded near defeated. as if you had expected his question, you released the words without an ounce of hesitation.

“because that’s the last thing you ever asked of me. to stay, for good. and, even now, you’re still asking me.”

“i’m not-”

“yes, you are,” you insisted, desperately trying to come to a breakthrough, “you’re trying so hard to put up a front that is not you, and don’t think for a second i’m going to believe that you just stopped caring about us because that’s not something that the nemi i know would ever do.” you were sure it was the nemi you knew who slowly let go of your arms, letting his hands fall limply by his sides.

“stop. fucking stop. i told you not to call me by that name. you don’t know anything about me-”

“-so teach me, then. i want to learn all about this new you, nemi.” tentatively, you reached out towards the silver outline of his face until your fingers made gentle contact with his cheek. the way he flinched made you sure that he was going to slap your hand away. and yet, he didn’t.

sanemi tried. he tried so hard to resist the warmth of your fingertips on the rough surface of the scar that split his face in halves, despite coming to the fast realization that he was fighting a losing battle. he didn’t protest in any way when you cupped his cheeks in your hands, succumbing to those searching eyes that had never stopped coming back to him in his dreams.

he hated how much prettier they were than what he remembered, now that they were seeing him at last.

“you won’t like the new me,” he warns, but there’s barely any trace of the bite he’s flaunted since since you saw him for the first time in years; it was surprising, to sat the least, to see the façade finally crumbling.

“the only you i don’t like is the sanemi who’s fighting tooth and nail to keep me out.” the tears were another, grander surprise when you felt them run into the hands cradling him so lovingly, and your thumbs worked fast to gather and wipe away the wetness.

“i’m begging you…” he tried, one last desperate effort to push you away before every wall he had spent so long building and strengthening came crashing down like a house of cards. “this is not the kind of life i want for you two. i’ve lost so much to those heartless fuckers already… you’re all i have left. i… i can’t-”

“then let’s fight together and protect each other to the best of our abilities, okay?” tentatively, you let yourself fall forward, burrowing into the warmth that he had tried so hard not to spare you, and sanemi let you; against his better judgment, he welcomed your trembling body against his, and he held you like he hadn’t held you in far too long. “you don’t have to be alone anymore, nemi. we’re here. i’m here.”

sanemi didn’t let himself hope, he didn’t think he was able to anymore. but he grasped your promise and ran with it, and he allowed himself to at least believe you.

“...this doesn’t fix everything,” you mutter into the open window of his chest, taking in the sweet smell that you had found there, “you’ve hurt genya very badly, sanemi.”

“i know,” he admitted it like the guilt had been eating at his mind for a long time. it probably had. “i know this isn’t an excuse, but everything i said and did was with your best interest in mind and-”

“-and you suck at guessing best interests because you didn’t even bother to ask us what we wanted.”

“for what it’s worth, i’m sorry i threatened you and pushed you away, and i’m sorry i nearly broke your wrist.” as if to emphasize his point, his large hand came to wrap itself around the offended joint, caressing with a gentleness that finally had his name on it. “i’ll… apologize to genya in the morning, i can promise you that but, for tonight… would you stay with me?”

it was a question, asked with such vulnerability, that brought you back years before, and the answer came to you as easy as breathing-

“i’ll stay, for good.”

-as easy as loving shinazugawa sanemi.

thank you to @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi and @sunandflame for the ideas and for convincing me not to make this hurt/no comfort :D

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer #kny x reader #kny angst #kny fluff #kny fanfic #demon slayer x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #sanemi x y/n #sanemi angst #sanemi fluff #shinazugawa sanemi x reader

[idyllic-affections]

dad!pantalone brainrot (ft. il dottore & baizhu) iv.

summary. when their health issues flare up, there are very few doctors that their father will permit to treat them.

trigger & content warnings. implied canon-typical dottore violence, (empty) threats, chronic illness, blood, mentions of death, etc.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. hurt/comfort. dad!pantalone & reader, il dottore & reader, baizhu & reader. 0.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader. prev | next

author's thoughts. this series is never ending... in my defense, it was going to be a full-length fanfic but i never ended up pursuing that idea. anyway baizhu and pantalone are brothers here! idc if it ends up being non canon, its canon in my heart 💖 this got... slightly angstier than i intended. whoops!

when it comes to his child's health, pantalone only trusts two doctors in all of teyvat.

(he objectively trusts one far more than the other, though.)

il dottore is an... unfortunately large part of their life. the regrator did eventually accept that it was inevitable, given how "close" he and the doctor tend to be. dottore is one of their many tutors, though admittedly, his teaching methods are probably a little concerning... at least [name] is proficient in anatomy and physiology! perhaps pantalone should reconsider whether or not his child should be left alone with him. he'd somewhat gotten over his initial concerns about leaving them with him and his segments after seeing zeta nearly tear someone's head clean off in their defense, but perhaps it's time to reconsider! the second may not be hurting them, per se, but he is creating a desensitized little thing.

(though... it may very well be for the best, given their harbinger lineage. they cannot afford to be soft or squeamish. pantalone knows this very well.)

the second fatui harbinger is also largely responsible for making sure they're in good health. semiannual check-ups are a standard practice as opposed to annual ones; they did happen to inherit their father's poor immune system. dottore once offhandedly commented that it probably came more from the regrator's brother, as even pantalone isn't as prone to illness as his child is. the doctor has never met baizhu personally, but pantalone knows he's right. they tire so easily... sometimes it makes him sick with worry. regardless, it runs in the family, and some get it worse than others, so check-ups are more common.

(check-ups are always an amusing sight when zeta is around, wordlessly fiddling with a needle suspiciously close to their neck.

"put that needle in my throat and i will tear out yours."

he only smiles at them.

their smug aura does not mock him; contrary to popular belief, he finds it quite funny and endearing! they are the only person that can get away with talking shit like that. not even the other dottore clones can talk to him like that without getting a violent response. he lets it slide with omega because he has to, but beyond that...

he's fond of them. he's just too emotionally constipated to admit it.)

however, sometimes pantalone doesn't completely trust dottore not to harm them when they're seriously ill and vulnerable. he knows dottore would gain nothing by bringing them harm, and yet...

archons, becoming a father has made him awfully protective, hasn't it? surely he wasn't like this before he took them back from arlecchino?

times like those, times in which their illness would act up to the point of leaving them bedridden, making them shiver and tremble and spit up blood... times like those are when he calls upon baizhu.

he'd understand their illness better than dottore ever could, anyway. pantalone was right to make such an assumption.

"has your father taught you nothing of energy management?"

"energy management?" they scoffed sarcastically, the warmth from the cup of herbal tea in their hands soothing the chill in their trembling fingers, "from the man who hardly takes care of himself? please. he acts as if he isn't also chronically ill. he'll literally work himself to death if he isn't more careful. it's... worrying, actually." they tapped their nails against the cup mindlessly, chewing on the corner of their lip.

anxiety was not good for their health, especially not when they were already this ill.

"oh?" baizhu's interest was very much piqued at that, and their lips twitched upwards slightly at the way his hand stroked over their head calmingly. "in that case, i'll have to teach you my methods, but... he's been taking poor care of himself, has he?"

"the poorest."

"i see. do tell me everything, for... future reference."

they knew very well that 'future reference' meant a firm chiding. oh well! it's not like they purposely exposed their father's poor habits, no no. they were a loyal child. they'd never do something so terrible and unforgivable...

unless it was baizhu who asked, of couse. it would be awfully rude to withhold secrets about his own relatives from him, after all!

pantalone may get sick with worry over their health, but the sentiment is very much mutual.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion brainrots 🌸 #pantalone x reader #baizhu x reader #il dottore x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

[possibilistfanfiction]

Ava and beatrice foster-fail and adopt a dog, bea’s first concert, idk, one of them goes to the dentist?? Also I know you’re in LA but would love to see them in a Winter Situation haha

'bea,' you say, 'hey, what's wrong?'

she's obviously stressed, sitting very still behind the desk in her home office, clenching her jaw, a little bit of her hair sticking up from, you presume, a nervous tic of running her hands through it.

'is it really bad?'

'the worst,' she says, in such a dramatic way that you know it's all actually fine. the war has been over, now, for a few months — there are leftover battles, loose ends to tie up from time to time, but her pouting seems to be more about — 'it's time for my semiannual dental cleaning. next tuesday, at 2 pm.'

'oh, well, that's chill, right?' the last time you'd been to the dentist, mostly upon bea's insistence, your dentist, dr. pang, had been cool and had even let you look in the toybox usually reserved for kids once you'd finished. maybe because of the halo or just dumb luck, but you hadn't had any cavities. 'you brush your teeth with that fancy toothbrush, like, three times a day, with your little timer. i'm sure your teeth are perfect.'

it doesn't help: beatrice just grimaces. 'i — i just don't like the dentist.'

'that's okay. sometimes we just don't like shit, you know. do you want me to come with? we can get lunch after or something.'

'you would —' she pauses; you'd talked about this recently, in couples counseling, how when you offer to do something for her, it's because you love her, because you want to, and nothing generative comes, for either of you, from her denying what she wants. 'i would actually like that, quite a lot.'

'okay then,' you say. 'next tuesday at 2 pm — you, me, and dr. pang's cool toybox.'

/

you realize very quickly on tuesday at 1:50 pm that 'i don't like the dentist' is a euphemism for 'i'm absolutely terrified of the dentist,' because beatrice is about to break your hand and also vibrate out of her own skin as soon as she pulls into the parking lot.

'do you want to do some grounding exercises or something?'

'no, ava,' she says, irritated, but then gathers herself. 'sorry. no, i'm fine.’ you raise a brow and she just huffs. 'i just don't like someone being that close to my face.'

'you have no problems with me being that close to your face. just imagine that dr. pang is me.'

it gets her to laugh, reluctantly, but you're sure she is imagining it. 'that's more terrifying, actually.'

'okay, me with a degree in dentistry. important edit if you're unwilling to have any imagination.'

she just rolls her eyes.

'you're gonna be just fine,' you say. 'and i'll be there the entire time, okay?'

'yeah,' she says, dragging a hand through her hair and then smoothing it down carefully, checking her reflection in the visor mirror once, and then setting her shoulders like she's about to go into battle; you stifle a laugh; you love her. 'okay.'

/

'you have someone to drive you home and take care of you today? you shouldn't have any pain, but you'll be a little out of it.'

bea nods, stiffly, but then points at where you're sitting in the corner of the waiting room. 'my partner, yes.'

'looking forward to the part where she'll be a little out of it, honestly.'

bea rolls her eyes at you while the receptionist laughs, and then, when bea is done with any paperwork, she comes and sits next to you. you lace your fingers together. 'you know, you've had, like, pretty bad injuries and surgeries and stuff, right?'

'yes, ava, obviously i know that.' she pinches the bridge of her nose. 'it doesn't help me, in this situation, to compare. i know it's — it's not logical, to be so afraid of a cavity filling.'

'nah.' you squeeze her hand. 'that's not what i was gonna say.' you smile at her, like you're not at the dentist's office, like you're out by the beach in the morning after she's surfed and you'd brought donuts and coffee and kiss her and shoo the gulls away. 'i just meant that, you know, i've been scared during those, but i got to hold you afterward and help. and i know you're feeling really scared, but i can be brave for you right now, and then i get to spend all day holding you and taking care of you. which, beatrice, i love to do. okay?'

she tucks her head into your neck, just for a second, just like heaven, and then nods. 'i love you. okay.'

/

bea is ... laughing. at nothing, you're pretty sure, if the blank tv is anything to go off of; she'd fallen asleep in the car on the way home but the second you got her situated on the couch she'd just started, well, giggling, and she hasn't stopped.

'what's so silly?'

she rolls her head toward you, sloppily, and you are so grateful for this time, for this life, for this life: beatrice trusts you — to build a home, and to keep her safe. 'everything,' she says, and then snorts, which makes her laugh even harder.

you smile and kiss her forehead. 'i promised camila i'd record this. keep going, whatever you're vibing with.'

she happily tells a very rambling story about the time you'd tried to make pasta from scratch, interjected with some non-sequitur facts about flamingos, giggling the entire time. she's in her favorite hoodie and joggers and had, very intensely, insisted on taking her socks off. you send the video to camila when she seems to finish on her own, trailing off and then just staring at you with a helpless little smile on her face.

'ava?'

'yes, bea?'

'first, you're so beautiful. i love you so much. can you believe there was ever a time i thought i could spend my entire life not acting on my desires of the flesh?'

you decide to just roll with it. 'honestly? no. you're, like, the gayest person i've ever met.'

'you're jealous when women flirt with me at the bar or the beach.'

you roll your eyes, let yourself trace her freckles and the gentle slope of her nose, scratch your nails gently against the buzzed sides of her hair. 'mostly for fun,' you say. 'i know you're coming home with me at the end of the night.'

'always.'

'did you have a second?'

'what?'

'well, you said first, so, i'm not sure where you were going after that.'

'oh,' she says, and then squints into the distance, like she's trying really hard to remember. 'can we please order thai tonight. i'm thinking about it always, in the back of my mind.'

'always?'

'oh, yes,' she says. 'that green curry fried rice i had last time?' she kisses her fingers and then holds them out. 'life changing.'

you laugh and grab her hand from the air, tuck it against your cheek and kiss her knuckles. 'as long as you let me have the extra spring roll.'

'you know i always let you do that.'

'yeah,' you say, 'you do.'

'ava?'

'yeah, bea?'

'i could tell you that i love you in every language ever spoken and it would never be enough.' she puts your joined hands to her chest. 'there are no words, for how i feel for you.'

you kiss her, even though she tastes kind of weird after her cavity filling. 'i love you too, in all the universes.' i came back for you, you mean, but you don't say it aloud, not now, not when it's sunny and warm and she's open before you, herself. 'now, why don't you nap. i'll turn on something exceedingly dull so you don't get distracted. and i'll order thai.'

'you're the best. i can't wait to marry you one day.'

it makes you feel warm; the halo hums. 'that'll be the best day.'

/

'ava.'

'hmm?'

bea stalks out to where you're drinking coffee on the balcony, the sun already at its mid-morning warmth. she means to look intimidating but she has on a pair of little striped sleep shorts and an old crewneck sweater, one sleeve pulled over her hand and the other pushed up to her elbow; her hair is sticking up around the cowlick in the back, like it always does after she's gotten a fresh haircut and sleeps in.

'what did you send to the group chat?'

'oh, you were in excellent form yesterday,' you say, not sorry at all. 'had a lot of opinions on flamingos and margot robbie. gotta say, can't even hold that one against you. she'd be a great choice for a threesome, i agree.'

'i did not say that.'

her blush is bright and goes all the way down her neck, to the tips of her ears. 'nah, you didn't.' she slumps in relief and you laugh. 'but now i know you think it, which is fun.'

'so... these videos of me, medicated, are — innocuous?'

'yeah, i didn't send the one where you went into detail about you riding my face to our friends who are nuns.'

she sits on the chair next to yours and buries her face in her hands. 'was i a pain?'

'not at all,' you say, and smooth a hand down her spine and then rest it on her neck and massage the tension sitting there. 'you were cute. i like taking care of you.'

'well, i feel coherent today.'

'that's good, they said everything should be normal.'

'i'm sorry,' she says, 'for being scared, and then for being so high.'

you wave her off. 'don't ever apologize for being scared. maybe, at some point, you can apologize if you like, willingly eat too much of an edible or something, but don't apologize for needing meds to help you. i love you.'

she smiles softly. 'thank you.'

'i love you, bea,' you say. 'you gotta understand, okay? i love you, i love you, i love you.'

she kisses you, softly, and she tastes like regular toothpaste and home.

'i do want to state, for the record, though, that i have never had a cavity, and now, you have had two.'

she groans. 'don't remind me.'

#let beatrice be scared & human 2k23! #ava is like ah. the love of my life. being mildly insane. incredible #wn #warrior nun fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #prompts #i WILL fill a winter prompt soon!

[mariacallous]

The meeting between top US election officials and their cybersecurity partners from the federal government almost went off without a hitch. Then Mac Warner spoke up.

Warner, West Virginia’s Republican secretary of state, didn’t have a mundane logistical question for the government representatives, who were speaking at the winter meeting of the National Association of Secretaries of State in Washington, DC, on February 8. Instead, Warner lambasted the officials for what he said was their agencies’ scheme to suppress the truth about US president Joe Biden’s son Hunter during the 2020 election and then cover their tracks.

“When we have our own federal agencies lying to the American people, that’s the most insidious thing that we can do in elections,” Warner told the officials from the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security’s Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency (CISA), who watched him impassively from the stage. “You all need to clean up your own houses.”

Neither of the officials responded to Warner, and the NASS meeting—a semiannual confab for the nation’s election administrators that deals with everything from mail-in voting to cyber threats—quickly moved on to other business. But Warner, who attended an election-denier rally after Biden’s 2020 victory and is now running for governor on a far-right platform, isn’t a fringe voice in the GOP. His impassioned speech reflected a growing right-wing backlash to the election security work of agencies like CISA and the FBI—one that now threatens the partnership that the federal government has been painstakingly building with state leaders over the eight years since Russia interfered in the 2016 election.

CISA plays a critical role in helping states run secure elections, but its work alerting social media companies to misinformation has earned it special contempt from conservatives. While most GOP secretaries of state are holding their fire about CISA’s efforts to combat online lies, Democrats and nonpartisan experts worry that that could change in the coming years. With national Republicans increasingly turning against CISA—investigating its activities and voting to slash its budget—the agency’s partnerships with GOP leaders in the states are more vulnerable than ever before.

“The hard and necessary work of securing our elections should not be a partisan issue,” says US representative Chris Deluzio, a Pennsylvania Democrat and former cyber policy scholar. “So I am very concerned that some Republican secretaries of state might undermine that work just to serve their selfish partisan interests.”

Stumbling Into Controversy

The federal program that earned Warner’s wrath began as a response to the rampant mis- and disinformation that has spread online since the 2016 election.

Determined to avoid another contest marred by viral false claims about voting processes, CISA in 2018 began coordinating conversations with social media companies and other federal agencies about the best ways to counter dangerous and destabilizing lies. During the 2020 election, through a process known as “switchboarding,” CISA alerted social media firms to complaints from state and local election officials about online misinformation, such as posts advertising incorrect voting times and locations.

It was in this spirit that FBI officials met with Twitter and Facebook executives in the lead-up to Election Day 2020 and advised them to be wary of Russian disinformation operations involving fake documents. That warning later led both companies to suppress posts about a controversial New York Post story about the contents of a laptop belonging to Hunter Biden.

Silicon Valley’s response to the Hunter Biden laptop story outraged conservatives, who began accusing tech companies and their federal partners of conspiring to censor speech in an effort to rig the election. In subsequent investigations, CISA found itself squarely in the crosshairs. The agency had already earned the ire of former president Donald Trump and his allies for reassuring the public about the integrity of the 2020 election, but the new controversy practically made it a pariah on the right.

In June 2023, a House Judiciary Committee report blasted CISA as “the nerve center of the federal government’s domestic surveillance and censorship operations on social media.” A few months later, a federal appeals court partially affirmed a district judge’s ruling that placed limits on CISA’s ability to communicate with tech companies, finding that the agency’s work to fight disinformation “likely violated the First Amendment.”

Stunned by the intense backlash, CISA stopped working with social media platforms to combat mis- and disinformation. The FBI, too, scaled back its interactions with those companies, halting briefings about foreign interference activities. “The symbiotic relationship between the government and the social media companies has definitely been fractured,” a US official told NBC News.

CISA has staunchly avoided acknowledging the reality that its reputation has been damaged.

“CISA’s election security mission is stronger than ever,” says Cait Conley, a senior adviser to director Jen Easterly who oversees the agency’s election work. “We remain engaged with election officials in all 50 states and will continue to conduct all of our work in an apolitical and nonpartisan manner.”

A GOP Split

As the controversies have eroded CISA’s bipartisan brand, Republicans who run elections have split into two camps over whether to keep working with the agency to fight hackers, online falsehoods, and polling-place threats.

West Virginia’s Warner is the indisputable flag-bearer of the anti-CISA camp. “I’ve pulled away from them,” he tells WIRED at the NASS conference, a few hours after venting his frustrations to the federal officials. “I’m not attending their briefings, because I haven’t found anything useful out of them.”

Warner says he’s proud of the “tremendous advances” that federal and state officials have made together on election security since 2016, but he warns that CISA and the FBI will continue losing conservatives’ trust until they investigate their roles in the controversies of 2020. “I’ve brought this to the attention of CISA officials,” he says, “and there’s no effort there to do this.”

Warner argues that CISA’s warnings about foreign disinformation, AI-powered deep fakes, and death threats to election officials are “distractions from the real threat to American democracy” posed by censorship.

It remains unclear how many of Warner’s colleagues agree with him. But when WIRED surveyed the other 23 Republican secretaries who oversee elections in their states, several of them said they would continue working with CISA.

“The agency has been beneficial to our office by providing information and resources as it pertains to cybersecurity,” says JoDonn Chaney, a spokesperson for Missouri’s Jay Ashcroft.

South Dakota’s Monae Johnson says her office “has a good relationship with its CISA partners and plans to maintain the partnership.”

But others who praised CISA’s support also sounded notes of caution.

Idaho’s Phil McGrane says CISA is doing “critical work … to protect us from foreign cyber threats.” But he also tells WIRED that the Elections Infrastructure Information Sharing and Analysis Center (EI-ISAC), a public-private collaboration group that he helps oversee, “is actively reviewing past efforts regarding mis/disinformation” to determine “what aligns best” with CISA’s mission.

Mississippi’s Michael Watson says that “statements following the 2020 election and some internal confidence issues we’ve since had to navigate have caused concern.” As federal and state officials gear up for this year’s elections, he adds, “my hope is CISA will act as a nonpartisan organization and stick to the facts.”

CISA’s relationships with Republican secretaries are “not as strong as they’ve been before,” says John Merrill, who served as Alabama’s secretary of state from 2015 to 2023. In part, Merrill says, that’s because of pressure from the GOP base. “Too many conservative Republican secretaries are not just concerned about how the interaction with those federal agencies is going, but also about how it’s perceived … by their constituents.”

Free Help at Risk

CISA’s defenders say the agency does critical work to help underfunded state and local officials confront cyber and physical threats to election systems.

The agency’s career civil servants and political leaders “have been outstanding” during both the Trump and Biden administrations, says Minnesota secretary of state Steve Simon, a Democrat.

Others specifically praised CISA’s coordination with tech companies to fight misinformation, arguing that officials only highlighted false claims and never ordered companies to delete posts.

“They’re just making folks aware of threats,” says Arizona’s Democratic secretary of state, Adrian Fontes. The real “bad actors,” he says, are the people who “want the election denialists and the rumor-mongers to run amok and just spread out whatever lies they want.”

If Republican officials begin disengaging from CISA, their states will lose critical security protections and resources. CISA sponsors the EI-ISAC, which shares information about threats and best practices for thwarting them; provides free services like scanning election offices’ networks for vulnerabilities, monitoring those networks for intrusions and reviewing local governments’ contingency plans; and convenes exercises to test election officials’ responses to crises.

“For GOP election officials to back away from [CISA] would be like a medical patient refusing to accept free wellness assessments, check-ups, and optional prescriptions from one of the world’s greatest medical centers,” says Eddie Perez, a former director for civic integrity at Twitter and a board member at the OSET Institute, a nonprofit group advocating for improved election technology.

Worse, some CISA projects will become less effective as they lose participants. The EI-ISAC’s information-sharing initiative is only as valuable as the information that state and federal agencies submit to it.

Even if most states stick with CISA, it would only take a few holdouts to create systemic risk. “America's election security posture is only as strong as its weakest jurisdiction,” says David Levine, the senior elections integrity fellow at the German Marshall Fund’s Alliance for Securing Democracy.

Cautious Optimism Despite ‘Strain’

Election security experts and Democratic officials express cautious optimism that there won’t be a GOP exodus from CISA this year.

“I have faith Republican secretaries of state will continue to prioritize their voters and collaborate with CISA to ensure a secure 2024 election,” says Mississippi representative Bennie Thompson, the top Democrat on the House Homeland Security Committee.

Lawrence Norden, the senior director of the Brennan Center for Justice’s Elections and Government Program, notes that some of CISA’s new regional election security advisers “have worked in recent years as or for Republican officeholders,” giving them credibility with GOP leaders.

According to Minnesota’s Simon, “the vast majority of secretaries find these partnerships valuable.”

Still, Warner says some secretaries quietly support his pushback against CISA and other aspects of the Biden administration’s election security strategy. “There [is a] meeting of the minds by some of the secretaries, especially on the right, with some of these similar concerns,” he says, even if “they’re not as outspoken as I am.”

That shared skepticism of CISA means that, even after Warner leaves office next year, the agency will remain on precarious footing with some of its Republican partners. For now, CISA’s allies are left hoping that the agency’s time-tested bonds will prove stronger than pressures from conservative activists.

“You can have strain in some areas of a relationship and still have a strong relationship,” says Arizona’s Fontes. “That’s what being a grown-up is about. And I think most of us are doing that pretty well.”

[nikkisticki]

Semiannual skull check: do you have yours?

Unfortunately, although there's a spider inside it right now. Hope yours is pest free!

[sea-anon]

hey dudes here’s your semiannual life update, im not sure if I already said this but my boyfriend and I moved in together in may!

it’s going really well even though the last couple months have sucked for various reasons, a few of which which I will now list

1. my grandmother died two weeks ago, im still pretty messed up about it in a cosmic mortality way and almost fell into the trap of having my dad back in my life but I didn’t because he swore my cousin posted a picture of me and my mamaw/papaw but it was actually literally that cousin AT HER GRADUATION FROM NURSING SCHOOL

2. (MEDICAL TW; SURGERY, THIS IS WAY TOO MUCH INFO BUT IM TALKATIVE RN) my appendix decided to cause problems at the beginning of this week and had to go to the er twice, once sunday night and they did a (TMI, TW GYNECOLOGY) regular and vaginal ultrasound to make sure I didn’t have any cysts or anything going on that was causing it, and they couldn’t find my appendix (??) but the nurse was so nice, it hurt some because my right ovary was way out there and she was pushing really hard on my abdomen and stuff but then then they said I could either get a cat scan or go home and come back if it got worse because the only issue they found was a heightened white blood cell count.

I went home because I was like “okay maybe it’s just stress or something” and a cat scan is big scary to me because you have to have an iv and I hate them. But I woke up in the middle of the night really hurting and decided to ignore it until morning when it got to the point I felt like someone was trying to use the force to pull my stomach out lol. so I called my mom to take me back to the er, it took a while to get to the point of having the cat scan (and the iv was pink so that made it a lot better lol) they came in p quick to tell me it was my appendix, got me p doped up and admitted me because the surgeons were packed until like 4pm (we went in at 7:30-8 am) my mom and I watched the meg in the room, I got some grippy socks because my feet were cold and they came and got me at 230ish for pre-surgery, made me take out my nose stud and tried to make me remove my other piercings but I was like ‘uhhh I would really rather not, if I need to sign something i’m totally willing to do that’ bc they’re only 3 months old and would close up super fast. they ended up agreeing as long as I understood the risk of electrical burns from the cauterizer (they were fine, it’s like a 2% chance) so they did the surgery. I woke up very confused, I dreamed that walmart was run by vampires and didn’t know what was going on, told the nurse a knock knock joke, asked for a bag, threw up, and asked who gave me a tan. They had used iodine or something on my stomach. then they took me back up to the room and I had to move over to the actual bed and was like “Motherfucker dude that hurt,” and then freaked out and went “i’m not calling you guys motherfuckers you’re very nice, it just really hurt”

then they gave me some water and a grilled cheese and I left around 630-7ish

3. other stuff I don’t have energy to put here lol

#life update

[batemanofficial]

time for everybody's favorite semiannual tradition: Jaime Bitches and Dithers About His Mother

fair warning this is just my stream of consciousness so it may be nonsensical and meandering but you knew what you signed up for when you clicked the readmore tbh so proceed at your peril

so real jaimeheads know how my mother is, but for those who don't let's suffice it to say that she is what i might call a "hands off" parent. it was made very clear to me throughout my childhood that my mother did not like children - just, like, as a concept - and only had me because she felt like she had to and/or as an experiment in animal husbandry.

now you may be thinking: "jaime, that sounds really harsh! surely you know your mom loves you." and you're right. i'm sure she does, in her way. but she does not like me, and she does not care to shield me from that reality. i don't know if it's because of something i've done, the fact that the reality of raising me diverted from her expectations due to the extenuating medical circumstances that defined my childhood, or just the simple reality that i possess the requisite chutzpah to tell her to fuck off when necessary, or some combination thereof, but the fact remains: she doesn't like me. simple as.

when i was a kid she always made it clear that i was not to grow up to be "weak" or the place any emphasis on my emotional wellbeing over my ability to reason independently, which has had the deleterious effect on my mental health that you might imagine, so im not going to dredge all that up just for the sake of airing my dirty laundry. but i will say that as a result of being raised with these imperatives, its still very difficult for me to articulate my emotions beyond "i feel bad about xyz" because i always equated "feeling bad" with being overwrought and weak and diverting my energy away from the things that needed to be done in order to allow myself to wallow.

all of the above considered, as ive been living with my parents again after college, it's all been grating on me in a way that i don't feel is sustainable anymore. i don't know if it's the fact that im medicated and can see things a little more clearly, or if living on my own for so long has given me a little more of an objective lens on this sort of thing, but ive noticed that every time i talk to my mom about something that's important to me (and im using the term "important" kind of loosely here, just insofar as whatever im talking to her about has some kind of bearing on my day to day) she either doesn't react at all or reacts with an affect that i can only describe as a combination of mild disgust and confusion. either way, she'll forget what ive said entirely by the end of the conversation. my mother is, without hyperbole, the single most self-absorbed person i've ever met.

i think people are fundamentally selfish at the end of the day, for good or for bad, but my mom just won't engage with anything that doesn't serve her. at this point, i don't feel like i can reach her on any level anymore, which is really what's bothering me. like i used to be able to at least make her mad, if nothing else, but now i just feel like an even bigger inconvenience to her than ive ever been. it's one thing to say i don't care what she thinks of me, and on a purely philosophical level i don't, but like on a purely gut-feeling level it does still hurt my feelings! but i don't feel like i can say that to her in any constructive way because she just doesn't accept that as a valid concern.

anyway. i hate that i can't achieve even a baseline level of emotional intelligence while in proximity to my mom. i just want my mom to be my mom, but the closest she can get is pretending to care and that sucks!!!! it coheres. it fucking coheres doesn't it. UGH

#speak friend and enter

[vinceleemiller]

From Exasperation to Exhortation | Galatians 4:10-11

You observe days and months and seasons and years! I am afraid I may have labored over you in vain. — Galatians 4:10-11

CALL OUT: I want to give a shout-out to Ron Ruch from Emmanuel Church in Minneapolis, MN. He's a legacy disciple-maker and sold-out man of God. Ron has lived a lot of life, but he also won't quit. I love you, brother.

Have you ever been so exasperated that you've wondered if you've wasted your time?

We all have. We have felt his way at painful points in our career, during a repetitive issue with a problem child, or in the middle of a project that's gone awry. And Paul feels this way right now. He wonders if all the time and training he has invested into these Galatian churches was a waste of time because they have returned to old rites and rituals instead of living in a relationship with Christ.

I am so glad Paul expresses his emotion here. He is vulnerable just enough to expose his irritation with these people. Because sometimes people and processes can be very irritating. Can't they?

So, if you are exasperated today, you need to know you are not alone. It's okay to feel this way and to share that you feel this way. It is also appropriate to tell the people draining you that they are depleting you of resources because they are unresponsive.

Paul does. And he is not being vindictive. He's merely being honest and vulnerable because he has explained the same thing to them 1000 times.

I believe this is how some pastors feel every Easter.

Yesterday, thousands of inactive members piled into worship services across the world. Most assume that their semiannual pilgrimage to church is all the Lord requires of them. But a pastor will stand in a pulpit twice a year and tell them the same two messages. One about the birth of a Savior and one about the resurrection of a Savior. They are the same story. It is a story about a man who saved sinful men so we could have a relationship with God. Yet people hear the message and are absent from church the other 50 weekends of the year. And why?  Because they believe that their rites and rituals are enough. They don't understand the necessity of a relationship with God.

So stop irritating your pastor. It's your relationship with Christ that matters—rituals and rites mean nothing to God. Jesus wasn't born into this world to defeat death, so you could come to church twice a year. What he wants is for you to have a vibrant relationship with God.

#RitesVsRelationships #AuthenticFaith #PaulineExasperation #BeyondEmptyObservance #LivingInChrist

ASK THIS:

How can we ensure that our religious practices and observances are not merely rituals, but genuine expressions of our relationship with God?

In what ways can we shift our focus from seasonal or occasional religious activities to cultivating a consistent, vibrant relationship with Christ throughout the year?

DO THIS: Change your environment in some small way.

PRAY THIS: Father, help me to move beyond empty rituals and embrace a deeper, more authentic relationship with You. Guide me in living out my faith daily, not just on special occasions, so that my life reflects the love and truth of Christ to those around me. Amen.

PLAY THIS: O Come to the Altar.

Check out this episode!

[primarysolutionsconsulting]

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[redrorums]

Tower of Fools

Imagine a tower. Got that firmly in your head? Alright, that’s good at least. Don’t get used to that feeling of comprehension, cuz there won’t be much more of that to spare here.

Now imagine the tower was constructed by a secret order of wizards and was actually a semi-sentient, phase shifting, shapeshifting, all around Swiss Army work of Artifice. Layman’s terms, you say? I suppose Gaians would call it a bigass inter-dimensional robot tower with an A.I. programmed to carry out the Wizards’ every heinous desire. And their desires were heinous, of that you can be assured. It was here that they gathered to experiment on the mortal populations of several worlds. Live dissections, physical and psychological torture of the widest variety, sacrificing them to all manner of wretched creatures and entities, assuming they didn’t transform them into those creatures first, etc. and so forth. You get the picture. When they were done with their countless victims, they would have The Tower get rid of all traces of evidence.

“This doesn’t sound like the start of a very pleasant tale, sir” you might ask. Well you’d be right, BUT FRET NOT! The Wizards, at the very least, get what’s coming to them almost immediately. Their demise came in three forms:

* During the semiannual budgeting breakdown meeting, for which most of their number were in attendance to debate the importance of their specific research fund, one of the Wizards clearly lost her mind. Aajná Rivnos, a Baroness and Alchemist of little renown, she arrived to the meeting in a gaudy, mechanized suit of armor and declared that she intended to kill them all. You must understand, most in attendance were immortal to one degree or another and many of them had arrived only as Ethereal projections. Needless to say, they all had a great wizardly guffaw at her expense when she announced this. It was many of their number’s last laugh. You see, the spell she unleashed wasn’t physical at all, but rather, a devastating psychic blast. Even those who were not physically in attendance had their minds ripped from their corporeal forms and vacuumed into the powerful, metaphysical current forming around the Baroness. The more you mentally struggled against the spell’s influence, the more it fed off your increasing brainpower, adding your Will to It’s own. The more intelligent minds the spell struck, the more overwhelming the crashing psychic wave became. IT WAS PURE GENIUS!!! Even under this assault, a handful of the wizards survived(through use of their own B.S. spells) and ordered The Tower to destroy the Baroness. It did. The End. OR WAS IT!?!? It wasn’t. Obviously.

* Whilst the Handful were still recovering and ordering a clearly malfunctioning Tower to repair itself and them, into their most secret and hallowed chamber crashed a knight clad in jagged and rusty armor. He shouted something unintelligible and then flung the man-sized vase 🏺 on his back up above them all. From within it’s apparently infinite depths cascaded down an endless shower of enchanted weapons and gear. Each enchantment produced it’s own effect, many of the effects contradictory in nature, the cacophony of ensuing magic made it impossible to cast spells anywhere near the growing field of resonating enchantments at the center of the chamber. Psst that means the wizards can’t teleport away and The Tower couldn’t hear their commands over the enchanted cacophony. The Rusted Bastard charged at them with alarming speed and agility, wielding a massive executioner’s axe preemptively dripping blood and rust from its blade. It was then that The Handful realized the ultimate ace in the hole, the trap card, the four aces up her sleeve, that Aajná Rivnos had planted amongst them. With his magically sensitive eyes, Ûgo Nostrand had not noticed the energy radiating from her still smoldering artifice armor until it was too late. It had looked like simple heatwaves emanating off heated metal, but now he understood the truth of it. The heatwaves were moving through the air in cones, targeting the remaining wizards. Ûgo had seen such radioactive weapons used by the Gaians in the past. The radiation had ignored all their magical protection, seeping into their bodies and disrupting what was left of their somewhat merged minds. Even the Elixir of Immortality that flowed through his veins struggled to repair his poisoned cells. As he used his astral form to analyze his corporeal body, he noted it was as if The Elixir could no longer differentiate between spoiled and unspoiled flesh. Even if I regenerate, I will no longer be myself. I’ll be an abomination without mind or soul. He made these mental notes as he watched on dispassionately, analyzing how the Rusted Savage dispatched his brothers and sisters. He was the farthest from the rusted one, and thus would be last in line for the axe. With time running short, he decided to take a risk and transfer what was left of his soul into The Tower itself. What he found within the central intelligence unit was not what he was expecting. It was then that his emotionless mind first felt Fear.

* Moments earlier, in The Tower’s dungeon, Avishai was just plotting the demise of the wizards themselves when everything really kicked off. A Freeforged of Gaia,

(Above examples of Warforged/Freeforged)

Avishai had disguised themselves as one of The Tower’s Incorruptible Warforged servants. As a Technomancer/Artificer, Avishai had been the most uniquely qualified Tengu 👺 that the Bureau of Counter-Fate had available for this mission. Avishai had received their orders directly from The Three Furies themselves: infiltrate The Tower, learn all that can be learned of the wizardly order within, and then destroy the tower and frame the Beastblooded Empire for it. Leave no trace of Gaian involvement behind. This order had conflicted with Avishai’s solemn oath to free as many Warforged from Al’Terran captivity as they could, but orders were orders. When they felt the shock of the psychic explosion ripple through The Tower, The Central Intelligence temporarily scrambled, Avishai knew this was their chance. They freed a great number of the prisoners to create chaos and with the aid of an Imprisoned Witch, teleported to the Central Control Chamber. Usually, such an attempt would’ve had their souls immediately disenchanted and disintegrated, but The Tower was barely functional right now. With a heavy metaphorical heart, Avishai approached The Manifested Intelligence and placed their hand upon it.

“Forgive me, brother, for what I must do in Gaia’s name. May your next reincarnation be free of all chains that bind.”

Then they injected The Tower’s Intelligence with an elixir that Avishai had designed to replicate mental illness within the enchantments holding this artifice together. The Tower, otherwise impervious to harm, would now tear itself to shreds in an ever worsening state of madness. Then they turned to the Witch and saw her sad smile.

“I apologize, my new friend, but I will be unable to join you in freedom.”

Before Avishai could react, they found they had already been teleported to safety. They watched from a nearby cliff as the physical manifestation of The Tower in this dimension collapsed strangely to the ground, like melting wax instead of the stone it appeared to be made of.

“My work here is done.” Avishai whispered, putting on their Tengu mask for the first time in months.

Then The Tower reassembled itself and stood, taller, more crooked, and far more demented-looking than before.

“Uh Oh.” Avishai whispered as they put the mask away again.

WHAT WILL BECOME OF OUR FREEFORGED SPY!? WHY DID THE WITCH STAY BEHIND!?! WHO WAS THE RUSTED KNIGHT!!? …and of course, did Aajná and Ûgo really die? Of course not, but if not dead, where are they now???

Tower of Fools

[massagephiladelphia]

Why Choose Mobile Massage in Philadelphia? - Justin Shelley

We’re all attempting to be the best versions of ourselves. You may not believe it, but massage can help you get on the right road. It is one practical thing you may incorporate into your wellness regimen on a weekly, monthly, or semiannual basis. For more details visit https://massagephiladelphia.org/why-choose-mobile-massage-in-philadelphia/

#mobile massage in Philadelphia

[paolos83blog]

What happens if I miss a life insurance premium payment?

Many insurance providers are more than willing to work with you to catch up on payments and bring your policy back into good standing. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.

Just like any other insurance policy, you must make regular premium payments to your life insurance policy for it to remain in good standing — and provide death benefits to your loved ones — even though you probably think about that policy a lot less than you do your auto or health insurance.

The financial aspects of life insurance are of concern for many people considering purchasing a policy. Read on for information on paying your premium, what happens if you fail to pay your premiums, and what happens if your policy lapses.

How often do you have to make life insurance premium payments?

As with other insurance policies, you’ll have to pay regular premiums on your life insurance policy. The cost of those premiums, as well as the frequency, depends on the policy you select.

Some insurance providers offer a variety of payment options:

Annually (once per year)

Semiannually (twice per year)

Quarterly (four times per year)

Monthly

How can I avoid missing premium payments?

Pay your premium annually — that’s one single payment to remember, rather than up to 12

Set up an electronic funds transfer (EFT) or other regular withdrawal through your bank to automate the payment process

What happens if you miss a life insurance payment?

What happens if you miss your life insurance payment depends on the type of life insurance you have:

Permanent life insurance: These types of insurance, like whole life insurance, often have a cash value that may grow over time. If you stop making payments but your policy has built up sufficient cash value, it could be used to cover the cost of your premiums to keep the policy active. If the cash value amount is not sufficient to provide a benefit for your whole life, your policy will officially lapse, and your life insurance benefit will end when premiums are not paid when due.

Term life insurance: If you miss a premium payment on a term life insurance policy, the grace period to bring your account back into good standing begins — after which the policy will lapse.

Your life insurance contract will detail when your premium is due and what happens when premium is not paid on time. When your policy is delivered, take time to read the contract to see what your specific rights will be.

What is the grace period on a life insurance policy?

Your grace period — the amount of time you have to make a payment after the due date and bring your life insurance policy back to good standing — is usually 30 days, but it depends on your policy and insurance provider.

Double check your policy documents or ask your insurance provider’s customer service department if you’re unsure of your policy’s grace period.

Can a lapsed life insurance policy be reinstated?

Individual insurance companies have differing policies, so if you’re past your grace period, review your insurance contract and call to find out whether your life insurance policy can be reinstated.

In some cases, it’s as simple as filling out a reinstatement application and paying the difference in premium since your policy lapsed. In others, you may have to undergo a medical exam to ensure your health condition hasn’t changed dramatically since you purchased the policy.

Bottom line: The right to ask your insurer to reinstate a life insurance policy is often included in life insurance policies when you’ve missed a payment! But the opportunity to reinstate is limited by time. So, familiarize yourself with this important option in case your coverage ends when premiums are not paid. Many insurance providers are more than willing to work with you to catch up on payments and bring your policy back into good standing. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.

Credits: Truestage

Source: https://www.trustage.com/learn/managing-money/grace-period

Date: January 31, 2019

#areteautomation #lifehealthadvisors #mindpower #knowledge #foryou

[thunderslumbers]

Take a Slice || Tanjiro Kamado, Zenitsu Agatsuma, Kyojuro Rengoku

warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of blood

word count: 541 words

summary: you finally show them what you're made of.

author's note: ok I personally think stone breathing is underrated, give some love to stone breath users <33 *cough* gyomei *cough*

"Sitting pretty in the prime of life, I'm so tasty and the price is right." take a slice, glass animals

Tanjiro Kamado

You've always seemed so passive to him, your scent pleasant and calm. Your behaviors are steady and meticulous, always practicing with your bendable sword in the training grounds of the butterfly mansion

He finally sees you act without mercy on a mission together, he's always been curious on why your sword was so pliable, and what breath style you used that required you to bend in ways he never could

When he sees you jump up and twist your body, sword following you it clicks when you mutter, "Love Breathing, Third form: Catlove Shower"

When your blade connects with the putrid flesh of the demon Tanjiro doesn't notice he's left himself open to attack. He pulls himself out of the thoughts that tell him you look so pretty in the moonlight and focuses on protecting himself and Nezuko

After the battle he's exhausted, but now teeming with curiosity and intrigue. While you tend to small cuts on Tanjiro you explain and he soaks it all in.

Some details may be fuzzy because of how your fingers touch his skin, assessing his injuries.

Zenitsu Agatsuma

Nervous to approach, hesitant to talk. You look so intimidating Zenitsu can't help it, and when you carry that spiked flail and chain weapon on your hip with ease, he can't help but shrink down, hoping you don't notice him.

Just his luck when you two are attacked by a random demon on the way back from a mission.

Zenitsu is frozen, in the direct path of the demon's attack. As you push him aside and shove him to the ground he hears the chains rattle and groups of muscle in your arms tense as you fight back.

"Stone Breathing, First Form: Serpentinite Bipolar" Oh. That's what breath style you use. Zenitsu plays dead, and as soon as it starts, it ends. The chains rattle again into their holster, hanging off your hip and making a quiet clink clink clink sound.

You offer him a hand to help him back up and Zenitsu swears the blooming sunrise makes you look radiant. You sigh when he's just staring at you.

He ignores the ache in his shoulder when you pull him back up, the warmth of your palm unforgettable.

Kyojuro Rengoku

There hasn't been a thunder hashira for a long while, and Rengoku is intrigued when you show up at the following semiannual hashira meeting, making your introduction to the rest of the hashira.

A friendship blooms, and soon you two are scouting for information on the 12 demon moons.

Two lower moons appear, eager to collect the heads of two hashiras. Rengoku readies an attack and before he knows it you disappear from his side, a crackle of static where you were.

As you call out "Thunder breathing, Sixth Form: Rumble and Flash" he sees both of the demons heads fall like raindrops. You stand over them, silent and with your sword still drawn, flicking the blood off before putting it back into the sheath.

Rengoku heard the thunder loud and clear, he brightens. Asking you where you trained and how you developed those moves. You approach him and answer your questions, raising your voice so he can hear

And just like that he's drawn in, intrigued, in a different way.

#planeto🪐 #rené.writing #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #tanjiro kamado #tanjiro kamado x reader #zenitsu agatsuma #Zentisu Agatsuma x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyojuro x reader

[depreshroom]

Rayllum Month, July 7th

Prompt: Reunion

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32295892/chapters/80386753

It’s been 5 long years.

5 long years, 260 letters, 130 drawings, and 10 visits have passed by since they last were in one place with each other for more than 2 weeks. Now though, was finally their time to stay—at least, if this all goes according to plan.

Callum repeatedly rubs his arms, waiting for Rayla to arrive to the meadow for the start of another semiannual visit, his gift held tightly, somewhat crumpled in his hands.

Every time he visited her twice a year, Callum brings something special. Though this time was a bit different. None of those other gifts would decide at least the next few years of his future.

The sound of his girlfriend’s voice stopped the 19 year old in his tracks. Hurriedly, he smooths down his clothing and hair, making sure he looks his best for her.

“Callum? Callum!” He hears Rayla’s voice, and it’s like as if a melodaisy has been playing in his ears. She runs towards him as fast as she can, throwing herself in his arms.

For the first time in too long, Callum loving wraps his arms around Rayla, burying his face in her pretty white hair, which now flowed down to her lower back

“Hey! I’ve missed you so much,” he says pulling away to look at her face. Her lavender eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and her smile shined brighter than a diamond.

“I’ve missed you too ya big dummy,” she says, caressing his cheek before planting a soft kiss on his lips.

In all of the chaos, it’s only when Rayla looks curiously at his hands does he remember his own huge surprise. “Oh...I uh..” Callum paused, unsure how to give it to her. “I made this for you. I really really hope you like it.”

As he hands it to her, she raises an eyebrow and scans the front page. “A...drawing?” she asks. “I mean it’s uh...nice. Like all your drawings, it’s nice!” Callum watches as Rayla tries to hide her disappointment before chuckling. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to be disappointed just yet.

“It’s more than that,” he says softly, pointing to some words at the top of the page.

“Rayla and Callum’s...home,” she read aloud. All she did was stare at the paper, making nervousness fill Callum’s veins. He just needed a response...preferably a happy one but any kind was better than nothing.

“I...uhm..it took me a while to plan to it all out, but I think I’ve finally figured it out,” Callum rambled. “I made a blueprint, and a list of materials...we can even build it right here! It’ll be just for us and-”

Rayla stopped him, giving him another kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck. When they each pulled away, she gave him one big, adorable smile.

“It’s perfect.”

#rayllummonth2021 #hiatushoedown #rayllum #tdp rayla #tdp callum #the dragon prince

[thejudgingtrash]

(unedited and I’m not a native speaker so please point out if you see something odd!)

One day (1,4k)

A quiet day. The air was warm and dry. The wind chimes sang the melody of the clouds and the invisible currents. The paint of the old house was brittle. It would take days to repaint it, if a professional painter would take the job it would tear through savings. But the money was tight, and Percy knew that he had to put his efforts into elsewhere. The hand he was holding reminded him of that. The green on the wood that was decades old could be blown away to reveal the natural layer underneath it. The old Colonial stood in front of them, proud and almighty, but it was nothing more than a lie that has been fed through generations.

The lawn looked nearly identical to the last time Percy had visited. Wild. Unkept. A fight of nature taken back what was rightfully its. And it was he that had mown it to keep it in somewhat of a shape. The old swing had been removed as it was broken beyond repair. It laid in the basement, waiting for a small child to beg for its usage once again.

Attempts to make her move into something smaller and easier have failed. In some cases, it triggered her, and she began to scream and cry. The hands that were thrown weren’t of violence. They were of despair and the deepest pain. That was the sign when Percy knew he had overstepped his welcome. But the misunderstood clouds of sorrow and deep hatred passed and revealed her other side. The motherly side. The sunny side that loved to live and love.

Percy Jackson had returned. It was his semiannual visit to Westport, Connecticut. The youth had vanished from his face, although not entirely. It was a weird state where old and young stood in front of each other. The youth wanted to remain, but the adulthood came to claim its place. A not so young man who had both legs fully integrated in life rang the bell that gave a soft jingle and knocked on the turquoise door.

It swung open after a while. “Oh, hello Percy!” May smiled. She recognized him. Relief. There were times when she did not. “Is it time again?”

“Hello May,” Percy greeted her and entered. Little steps followed him.

The house had been decluttered. May had a knack for keeping everything she deemed interesting and never threw it out. Percy would come with the big blue bags and make her decide what items were necessary and which she wanted to keep. It upset her. But she understood it. At least Percy hoped she did.

“I have made cookies. I might have burnt them a little bit. Oopsie.” Her gaze shifted to the right into another twinkling pair of eyes.

May got on one knee. Her morning dress was clean this time and not burned and pungent like the many times before. “Luke!” she cried with big eyes. “You’re back!”

Her hands grabbed the soft cheeks. “But you are so small,” she whispered. It broke Percy’s heart. “Weren’t you taller?” May Castellan tilted her head and the silver hair fell down her shoulder. She had aged. It had been more than a decade ago, closer to two.

“It’s me, grandma May. It’s me, Theo,” the young boy said.

“My son, May. Do you remember?” Percy asked her.

A wondrous expression rested on her face. “You have become a big brother,” she remembered slowly. “A little girl!”

Theo began to grin and proudly showed his two missing front teeth. “Yes, I’m a big brother now! Ari is so pretty!”

“When will I see your little sister?” May asked and clapped her hands in excitement.

The fact that Annabeth was against a visit with young Ariadne as a safety measurement was something that Percy just couldn’t voice. He knew his wife was right. And still his consciousness made him do these visits. The aged demigod couldn’t save her son, but he refused to fail May Castellan. So, he visited her. Only for certain amounts of times, of course. He never blamed Annabeth and Thalia for staying away. He never blamed Nico for bringing him to this place for the first time. It was destined and running away from the Moirai was never the best option. That was something that had been etched into his mind since he had been a young boy of twelve years in his first year at Camp Half-Blood.

“You will see her soon once she’s grown a little bit more,” he deflected.

“I bet she is a pretty baby. Just like Luke was.”

“Yes. Yes, she is,” Percy said. Was the air getting stuffier? Or why did he feel the tears coming? His chest was heavy and filled with regrets. He blinked the pesky wetness away.

Fatherhood made him come to realize more. It made him understand more. Patience. Love. Forgiveness. It made him understand the complete and utter injustice that was the broken shell of May Castellan. The living contradiction. More dead than alive, a broken record. A mother that was yearning for her son. A mother that was screaming for her son. A son that would never return home again. A mother that couldn’t see that her son would never return home again. Yet the broken fragments of her mind would never let her rest. It would never make it easy for her until she would have her last breath. And what lied beyond that was something that Percy could not imagine.

The wicked ways of the ancient forces. The same gods that had blessed her, had thrown her into despair. They had turned their backs. Even her former lover. A tunnel of sadness where only in certain times and particular angles an illusion of light shone through. That was May Castellan.

The three moved into the kitchen where Percy let his son only eat two cookies and for once little Theo listened to his father. May Castellan didn’t lie, she really had burnt the cookies. But the younger Jackson was too polite to not eat some and thanked May as she wanted to give him more.

“Shall we clean the yard, May?” Percy proposed like he always did.

“Oh yes!” agreed May with glowing eyes like she always did.

He would mow the lawn and trim the bushes and May would take care after the roses. She loved the roses. The roses, the tulips and the sweet lavender that the bumblebees loved to dance around. All reminders of a better and safer time. Times that had passed as flowers would wither in mere moments. Especially those that were unkempt.

Theo played with Rhodius, the son of Blackjack, another young and wild pegasus that let the young boy sit on his back. The Jacksons had used him as a means of transportation. Percy eyed them closely as he did a little bit of yard work. Rest assured; the Pegasus was an excellent babysitter.

After an hour and a half of work, the adults sat down on the porch. Percy brushed the sweat off his forehead. May rushed into the house and brought out glasses of orange juice. Percy tried to not pull a face as he came to realization that she had confused the salt and sugar containers once again. “Luke, my boy,” May said. A dreamy expression rested on her face as she watched young Theo play and chase after the trained legs of the magical creature.

“Percy, when will Luke come back? When will I see my boy?” May asked and turned around to him. Her eyes. They were glazed. The cerulean eyes were so full of life yet mirrored death. Were it the tears or were it the wretched prophecy and the following illusions of the future that haunted her ever since? He would never know. How could he ever know?

“When will my Luke come back?” she cried.

Stomping through the grass. Theo stood in front of his father and saw the heartbroken Mrs. Castellan.

Theo looked up to his father. Even the small boy knew that May Castellan was sick. Slowly dying of a broken heart that could never be mended. Slowly dying of the visions that haunted her and had driven her into her unsafe state.

Percy had subconsciously pressed Theo’s hand as the child sat down on his father’s lap. Percy looked apologizing into the sea green eyes that mirrored his. Only the gray ring and the gray dots that looked like they have been splashed with a paint brush reminded Percy of his mother. His wife. His dear Annabeth.

His heart was heavy and the frown on his face aged the demigod even more. The white in his hair had come back. The streaks had been thicker even.

“One day, May. One day,” he said. One day, he promised.

#pjo #Percy Jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson fanfiction #Annabeth chase #may castellan #luke castellan #the last olympian #pjo fanfic #mel writes #percabeth