#ink well foundation kids

[capseycartwright]

I wish you would write a fic where buck and eddie go on a first date as a married couple

It felt silly, to be nervous, but a part of Eddie sort of was. The last few weeks, leading up to their wedding, and honeymoon, and the crash back to reality that had come after all of that, had meant that they hadn’t been on a date, a real date, in quite a while - so, when Buck had proposed they use their free Friday night to go out for a nice, romantic dinner, Eddie had said yes, and promptly, well, sort of freaked out.

Look - in his defence, his last marriage hadn’t worked out well, and the cracks had started to spread from the moment he’d put a ring on Shannon’s finger. He knew, logically, his relationship with Buck was different, built on a steady foundation of trust, and friendship that had slowly (slowly, slowly) blossomed into love - but Eddie couldn’t deny the nerves were still there. 

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Buck said, and the words weren’t accusatory, no - just a comment. 

Eddie looked up from his plate, drinking in the sight of his husband. Buck had grown his hair out a bit, recently, and when they weren’t at work, he didn’t style it so much: the ends soft, and gel free, and curling at the ends. He was wearing that orange shirt of his that Eddie liked so much, rolled to the elbow, just high enough that Eddie could admire the tattoo of their wedding date on Buck’s forearm (Buck liked to see his body as a canvas, a scrapbook of his life, and over the years of their relationship, Eddie had been immortalised in ink in more ways than one - he would never admit just how much it turned him on.) 

They were having dinner at Buck’s favourite Italian place. It was Eddie’s favourite, too, but mostly for the way the string lights on the patio lit Buck up in an ethereal glow, blue eyes bright as they studied Eddie’s face carefully.

“Sorry,” Eddie winced.

“You don’t need to apologise,” Buck’s brow furrowed. “I’m not saying it to pick a fight, Eddie. It just feels like there’s something on your mind, today.” 

Eddie should have known Buck was able to read him like a book - and not a hard book, no, one of those easy-to-read books made of felt that Christopher had been obsessed with as a kid. Eddie might seem brooding and complicated to other people, but Buck wasn’t just any other people. Buck was his husband - the great love of his life. 

“I…” Eddie paused, not sure how to continue. He didn’t want to put the burden of his past hang-ups and anxieties on his brand new husband - not when Buck was thriving in the role of husband. Eddie had long since figured that Buck was the kind of person who was meant to be married, and he was right - Buck would tell anyone willing to listen that he had just gotten married, wedding photos at the ready to share, always to be found twisting the gold band of his wedding ring around his finger with a fond smile on his face.

Buck gave Eddie an encouraging smile, reading across their tiny table to wrap his fingers around Eddie’s, the cool metal of his wedding ring unfamiliar, still, and exciting as it brushed against Eddie’s skin. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know,” Eddie gave his husband a soft, reassuring smile. “I guess this is just the point where everything went wrong - before,” he began to explain. “And even though I know things are going to be different, this time, because you and I are different, and we’re ready to be married, I guess there’s just been this part of my brain that’s started spiralling, wondering if I’m going to lose you too.” 

Buck was quiet, for a second, letting Eddie’s words wash over him. “I - well, here’s the thing, Eddie. I’m under no illusions - I know marriage isn’t always easy, and you and I are very much in the honeymoon phase right now, and eventually, shit’s going to get hard. You know? But I figure - you and I have survived all the hard stuff together already, so why would that change now that I’ve got a ring on my finger and you and I share a name?” 

Eddie couldn’t deny the relief that coursed through his body at Buck’s words. “You, Evan Buckley-Diaz, are a beautiful, brilliant, clever man,” he said, enjoying the bashful look that appeared on Buck’s face, his cheeks pink with delight. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” 

Buck grinned, giving Eddie’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Only all the same things I did to deserve you, my love,” he reassured, lifting Eddie’s hand so he could press a kiss to the palm. “How do you feel about dessert? This place does great tiramisu,” he reminded, and Eddie knew: they’d eaten it to go in Eddie’s truck enough times as a reward for making it through a bad shift. 

Eddie grinned, his eyes sparkling the same way as the string lights were as he replied. “How about we get it to go?”

i wish you would write a fic where....

#911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911fic #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #prompt fill

[21stcenterry]

✺ — what's up, danger?

the unfazed everyman of foundationhq, as penned by DORIAN.

perfect stranger dossier / fhq. task 001

basics

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 Terence "Terry" Okello

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 Aforementioned "Terry" but if you want to save some syllables "Terr" is an option

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌 Daniel Kaluuya

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 Hair styled in short sponge twists and low fade, trimmed stache and beard, and a thousand-mile stare

𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 / 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 A half-arsed one on their wrist from some bloke in bristol that Terry got while three sheets to the wind. Terry can't even make heads or tails out of it. Calls it "the scribble you make when checking if a biro ran out of ink"

𝐀𝐆𝐄 / 𝐃.𝐎.𝐁. 34 / December 21, 1989

𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂 Sagittarius

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 Southwark, London, England

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 Dembe Isabirye (Mum), Solomon Okello (Dad), Julian "Juli" (Younger Brother), Cornelia "Nelie" (Younger Sister)

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 / 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒 Non-binary, they/he

𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 Gray-ace

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 Single

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒 Reserved, easygoing, tolerant

𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒 Indifferent, passive, incurious

𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒 Clicks their tongue at kids, something he picked up from babysitting his younger siblings. Reads magazines and leaves them around after. Midnight cravings for sandwiches. Wired like a night owl. Sleeps through movies at the theatre

𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 Sleeping, staying warm and alive, betting drinks on a round of billiards, rubbing his shitty tattoo when he gets nervous, which is rare

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐒 (𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄) None

the foundation

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄 Junior Security Officer

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍(𝐒) Worked at a lumber mill, car mechanic, small dairy farm, Sainsbury's, various pubs, food cart, janitor, bouncer, overnight stocker, telemarketer, waiter, dog groomer, horse groomer, ferret groomer

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 Guard work at Site-91, turned out a tad dodgy for his fellow mates

𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 / 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 Basic firearm training, keeping calm during security protocols, basic office duties, has a food hygiene certification (expired), able to dissociate on command, can tell the difference between coke and pepsi

extras

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘

TW: divorce, death, dark humor referring to suicide

Terence "Terry" Okello, born in London Town, is an un-special bloke. They'll even tell you that. Low middle-class household, working parents separated rather mythically by the crack of dawn and graveyard shifts, their adolescence jiggered up babysitting a younger brother and a sister as a teen. They whip up chip butties to stretch their food and sit in front of the telly to distract themselves from a life bound to go nowhere. It was what it was, you know? Some people were winners, and some people were Terry.

Their Mum and Dad split up when Terry turned 18, citing irreconcilable differences; their brother went with Dad, their sister went with Mum, and Terry's new girlfriend they met at a trade school broke up with them, so they were really in a pickle by the time they became an adult in the eye of the Law, weren't they. Well, stiff upper lip and all that. Can't cry or complain, relationships are fickle. Love is dead! Carry on! Terry went paycheck to paycheck, job to job, couch to couch, doing God-knows-what to survive and get a cheeky extra for a pint.

No one liked a jack of all trades that much, though. Recruiters and their ilk despised it, actually. Asked Terry questions like why did you only stay for 4 months at Sainsbury's, and what are your foreseeable goals for the future? Sneering at their well-traveled CV, Terry could only get entry-level things because they didn't show enough of that charming Hooray Henry spirit for the white-collar positions, namely a branded suit and tie from Harrods. Terry couldn't give a damn. These interviews were a load of tosh.

So, after bouncing around for a few years, Terry finally stuck to a job. Err, instead, a job stuck to them. It was a security position at a privately owned manor in Rural Yorkshire. The amount of money they listed felt comically scammy, but Terry was racking up a bit of debt. While they weren't the biggest and meanest, they knew how to project their voice and appear threatening. Ish. They filled out a resume, spent a week faffing about, and surprisingly got through the phone interview all right. All the bloke on the phone wanted was someone who could keep mum about the work. Easy enough, Terry said.

Wonderfully, the job was! No shady dealing bosses, watering hole gossip, middle management power trips, and the greatest spooks Terry faced on the job were a couple of drunk teenage vandals. Being able to send Mum cash instead of asking for money for once felt good. So they stayed as a nightshift guard at the Eckhart House for a couple of years.

Little did Terry know their golden goose was hiding a rotten egg. Underneath the manor was a Foundation facility known as Site-91, and Terry found out the hard way when they agreed to trade shifts with another guard, who was a bit too happy to see his daughter's first-grade play recital. While running for their life, Terry realized this was why they avoided chumming it up with coworkers wherever they had worked. Work "friends" made their business your business, and Terry didn't want any business that involved xenobiological specimens and thaumaturgical artifacts. What kind of bonkers story was this? And why did it almost tear Terry's arm off when they waved their flashlight?

Following the traumatic encounter that left even Terry, the one who can't be arsed with even reporting someone hitting their motor, a bit rattled with a broken arm in a plastic cast, they received another call- the recruiter from years ago.

The first thing they asked was, Did you tell anyone?

And Terry said, No? ...Aw. Aw. Fuck, you're gonna kill me, aren't you, mate. Well, can you make it seem like none of my family was involved, at least? I can write a note to add a touch of realism...

Good for Terry; they weren't slated for an abrupt end to their mundane life. Bad for Terry, though, because their simple life was going to change. They were introduced to SCPs and what the Foundation truly was. Terry had thought "The Foundation" was just some kind of marketing ploy, a catchy name for the security business, of words that didn't matter but sounded like a right dream, like Vigilance, Safeguard, and Integrity.  

As they had told the recruiter at the start of the job, Terry kept their head down and, at times, looked slightly off to the right. Just so to not accidentally witness some time travel portal swiping up lab coats left and right. Their job was to guard a single hallway, and fighting some space god was rightfully- thankfully- out of their pay grade. And they'd be fine keeping in line for the next so many years... But some people were nobodies, and some people were Terry. 

The Ethics Committee called, lad. Pack your things and kiss Mum goodbye.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 I like all sorts, but I'd love to write a friendship that contrasts with Terry's no-nonsense demeanor, some work buds grabbing a drink at the end of the shift if we have shifts... someone that Terry drives crazy, vice versa. Honestly, anything.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 / 𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 poster child for unfazed everyman, unlucky everydude, fish out of water, dull surprise, action survivor, weirdness magnet, apathetic clerk, conditioned to accept horror, safety in indifference, terse talker, bystander syndrome, the slacker, closest thing we got, subverted red shirt, sarcasm mode

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 OJ Haywood (Nope), Shaun (Shaun of the Dead), Arthur Dent (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy), Squidward (Spongebob Squarepants), Garfield (Garfield), Charlie Brown (Peanuts), Isaac Clark (Dead Space), Sokka (Avatar the Last Airbender), Winston Zeddemore (Ghostbusters), Conway (Kentucky Route Zero)

𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒

#fhq.task #％

[thirdtidemouse]

if i do anything about that art school au johanna is an illustrator obviously and i cant decide between kaisa specialising in photography or fine art. she would read and write about conceptual art a lot but she would be an analogue photography fanatic so i think photography

i had this idea floating around in my head but i was like no too self indulgent. but then wife's amazing cellularity fic where she got to nerd out about medicine made me realise ohhh i can do what i want that's awesome

its essentially johanna's regular young adulthood probably studying art but now kaisa is there and so is everyone else yaay😁 they're all on their foundation year i think (so 18-19 usually) but it might be different

gerda would do graphic design probably, as well as 3d product & furniture design. edmund spends a lot of time in the print room and is always doused in ink. victoria does experimental film & sculpture.

i cant decide on doing that fun thing where people turn like alfur/raven/tontu/etc into regular people i think i might bc a big cast is fun

oh oh my god ive just realised i could have them be teachers what's wrong with me. then i could have the kids be there too. omg 😭

#kaisa #johanna #sketchbook #art school au #most self indulgent au award #i was genuinely also considerinh a supermarket au too bc like.. writing what you know is so fun. it would be like a sitcom #hilda netflix #hilda the series

[banschivs]

⧖.* 𝙽𝙸𝚇 & 𝙽𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴.

Nix does very well in nature. Not just because the chick needs to breathe for once and not be plagued by the literal faecal matter in the air in order to maybe better herself (such being metaphorical or literal- a breath of fresh air, slowing down, pacing herself, not living under threat etc), but in contrast to her lacking self, she’s got so much life in her. There’s a vibrancy that’s only ever really portrayed by her in the pure chaotic energy she exudes, in the energy she spends fucking things up and, yes, enjoying it— but that’s all just a display of vigour and vitality however you want to look at it. There’s a child-like energy to her, amongst all the mayhem. She loves colour and saturation, her house is decorated like it’s a junglescape, she wears heart-shaped sunglasses, she thrives on the weird and wonderful (and nature’s all just weird and wonderful), she does her best without confines physical or otherwise, and a good chunk of the tattoos she’s inked herself with are nature-related. It is something she finds beautiful and fascinating, whether she realises this or otherwise.

The wild world is built on a foundation of freedom and breathability, that which she can only really emulate to a certain degree. That’s not to say she wants to build a shack in the wilderness and live off the land, she doesn’t and she couldn’t, she is who she is, but with her constant want for further freedom and/or exploration (in herself, the world around her, her family, the kids, all things), the natural world brings her some peace while also enthralling her somewhat. Anywhere Nix is eventually begins to feel like a cage, because she herself has been caged and locked in a room for most of her life, literally. Open doors in any context are such a thrill for her, and the world is wide and vast and unstoppable, which she actually relates to. Or wants to.

This is one of the few reasons why travel for Nix is so important. The new and the open just inspires her to exist, really. Without it her view of the physical world is so small and, frankly, dank given that it's Gotham of all places, that without the gift of travel typically encouraged and given her by her husband, she'd be at a loss.

Irene was very much the adventurer with big dreams and a sense of independence and strength that was not rivalled around her. It’s part of what made Grant fall head over heels for her in the first place. She was a storm, and ever-moving. Playing off that the idea that Irene was one of those quasi-hippy-sorts only adds to the notion that Nix herself (she’s already very set on the kids choosing everything for themselves, being whatever they need to be at the time, absolute freedom to live and learn kumbaya kumbaya) kind of looks to similar methods of liberation, though in smaller ways so far.

As children she and Wilder climbed a mountain or two, fell out of a few trees and learned not to again etc. That lack of shelter and unending freedom would’ve made Nix the perfect candidate for living on the go for the rest of her days. However early incarceration from thirteen and, y’know, the murders, swiftly quashed that possibility. That and how her own self was stolen from her so young. She’s still new to Nix, if that makes sense. She’s still getting to know herself. It’s a long and painful and achingly lonely venture, but she’s doing it, and she doesn’t realise how similar to her mother she is. Both wanted to see and experience all and everything that’s possible.

#☠ abt. ⋙ 𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠. #turns out so many of my hcs are oldddddd #we're still in general psych #this is a long road

[sakurachan7734]

Where are you?

Rewrite

Chapter 1: where did you go?

Writer note: before we start the story, I like to say that my version of SCP 096 was a female to male trans person before they turn into a monster



Jackson:* walks into the house* I’m home!

Sarah:* Grabs Jackson’s arm* story story!!

Jackson: whoa, whoa Sarah slow down are mom and dad home

Sarah: no

Jackson: ok ok I will read you a story but you don’t need to drag me by my arm

Sarah: sorry

Jackson:* picks up Sarah and start walking up the stairs* do you want me to read something from scary stories or something different?

Sarah: scary stories!!

Jackson:* puts Sarah in her bed and sits down in a chair next to the bed* which store do you want me to read? 

Sarah: scarecrow!!

Jackson:* picks up the book* you like that character

Sarah: yes!!

Jackson: ok I will read you that chapter

Meanwhile, with agent nea and Jane 

Agent nea: are you sure if it’s the right place? It looks abandoned.

Agent Jane: yes everybody at the bottom of the mountain has been saying that anyone that goes up there they never come back

Agent nea: let’s just go check it out and get out of here

Jane and nea enter of the cabin

Jane: oh my this place is a disaster

Nea: yeah, let’s just go find these guys

Meanwhile, with Jackson

Jackson:* mind* sh!t I think those guys are here that mom and dad keep talking about

Sarah: Jakson?

Jackson:* picks up Sarah and starts running around to find a place to hide* we have to leave right now

Sarah: why?

Jackson:* trying to break a window* so bad people are here to hurt us

Nea:* from downstairs* they are upstairs!!

Jackson:*breaks the window and jumps out* no time to explain

Jackson starts running and agent Jane notices it 

Jane: the entity is getting away!!

Nea:* talking to the walkie-talkie* we need more MTF

Jackson:* Starts running* it looks like we may not be able to come back home 

Sarah; why?

Jackson: I don’t think most people are gonna leave until they catch us 

Sarah:* starts crying* I want mama and dada!

Jackson: I know but mom and dad are busy somewhere else

Nea and Jane start chasing Jackson. Jackson finds a river and it got a idea

Jackson: Sarah, we’re gonna go for a little swim

Jackson pov 

I jumped into the river, took off my jacket and take Sarah‘s helmet off I was trying to make it look like we both drowned and hopefully they will leave us alone. I jumped out of the water and started running again hopefully they didn’t see us 

Nea continues chasing Jackson and shoots it in the leg Jackson goes falling to the snow bleeding

Nea: get the truck agent Jake

Jake: on it

Jackson:* hugging Sarah close* what…… what do you want from us? 

Nea:* points her gun at Jackson* you too, of course

Jackson: why?

Nea: you are two dangerous for this world you need to be contained both of you, your brother, and your parents

Jackson: how….. how did you know I have a brother?

Nea:* pulls out a family photo* because of this, of course you know the tall pale man and the dead man covered In ink?

Jackson: oh course those are my parents

agent. Jake: I told you!!

Nea: shut it Jake!

Jane: just get them in the car 

Jake and Dwight put Sarah and Jackson into the car

Dwight: now we have to find the other three

Claudette: we’ve tried our best. We can’t find them

Jane: we will just keep trying and talk to the 05 about this

Claudette starts driving the truck to the foundation

Sarah:* crying* jakson where are you?!

Jackson:* picks up Sarah and hugs her* I’m right here

A few hours later they arrive at the foundation and Jackson gets put in a cell and agent, Jane goes to the 05

05-1: did you capture SCP 096 and SCP 106?

Jane: no but we found out something interesting

05-3: which is what?

Jane: well we found out that SCP 096 and SCP 106 reproduced three times

05-2: SCP 096 and SCP 106?

Jane: yes

05-5: how are both confirmed to be male?

Jane: yes

05-4: they had three kids?

Jane: yes we have now clue how that happened but we only caught two of them we don’t know where the third one is 

05-1: which ones did we get?

Jane: we got the oldest son who appears to be about 16 or 17 years old and they youngest daughter who appears to be 2 years old and we found a family photo of all of them the third child appears to be a 12 year old boy 

05-7: well we got to figure out what to do with the first two 

Jane: very well 

Meanwhile with Jackson and Sarah

Sarah:* crying* I wat go home

Jackson:* hugs Sarah* I know i will figure out a plan to get out

Meanwhile, with Max, lanky and Larry

Larry: max have you seen Jackson and Sarah anywhere?

Max: no why?

Larry: because it looks at the house is broken into and Jackson and sister are nowhere to be found

Max: no maybe it ran away, and took Sarah with it

Lanky: no I don’t think Jackson would run away

Larry: Well let’s just go out and look for them

Max: hopefully everything bad happened to them

End of chapter





#scp foundation #scp #scp containment breach #scp fan child #scp 096 #scp 106

[nerves-nebula]

what made your first year of college so much worse than the second?

godddd where do i even start. Complaining goes under the cut cuz it’s too damn long.

8 hour studios 3 times a week that start at 8 AM and only break for lunch. one of the professors expected us to stand the entire time we were drawing and only sit when we went on break. plus homework for those studios, because each studio was a different foundational class. and on the days when you dont have those studios you got other foundational classes like art history and literature or something. you've got homework for all of these classes too and tests and everything.

and each studio being a different class is a huge issue and really frustrating as well. the classes are drawing, design and, like, basically a 3D class, right? where you use power tools and carve stuff and all that. But imagine you go to this school for painting or to make clothes, then the three foundational classes might just really bore and frustrate you. because you don't really feel like they're helping you gain any skills in your preferred major.

so you have all these artistic kids who want to do their best, being forced to do things they hate and being told it's to make us "more well rounded." (which dont get me wrong i understand, but that doesnt make it suck any less)

so all the art you make is painful to create, and you don't even like the result. but we knew what we signed up for, and the point is to last past first year so you can get into your major. thats the point for me, at least. so you just get what you can done, but i cant imagine what I would've done if i'd fallen behind even once.

And then my own personal hell- being in a new place and not knowing what to do or who to talk to or how to communicate ! So i was constantly stressed out in like a social way. idk if i vented about this here but i fell over in a fit of anxiety and hyperventilation in class multiple times first year. I straight up fell over at least twice and i had crying fits multiple times (with varying degrees of how quiet I was being, sometimes they don't even notice :D)

I was incredibly emotionally isolated and cried myself to sleep like every night. my only social interactions were at work because I'm very bad at socializing properly and making friends in class, and i was always too tired to go to any events. LUCKY for me I met a really cool friend while doing some student work and it was really nice and chill.

ANYWAY BACK TO THE STRESS. to give an example of the situation: our first homework for drawing class was to make this big ink master copy of a van gogh sketch, and it didn't have to be perfect, or even GOOD tbh, but regardless it took forever. and i spilled my ink on it which nearly led to a breakdown but instead i just laughed cause otherwise I'd go insane. the amount of podcasts and audiobooks i burned through that year just to keep myself sane was mind-numbing. i listened to, no joke, ALL of Well There's Your Problem, and i went back and listened to a lot of them more than once.

i was really lucky though, cause some other students had first projects that were like "bring in 50 drawings by next class" or "make a chair out of only cardboard that you can sit on without it collapsing" or something. and i never had a teacher that bad.

actually, my second semester design professor was really REALLY chill. He let me sleep in class if i finished the work so I spent a few hours in his class just chilling and sleeping fitfully (as in I was so stressed i would gasp and mutter myself awake, which really alarmed my classmates but i never got close enough to them to explain myself soooo they prolly just think something is wrong with me. which it is! oh well)

i can only speak for myself but i was basically working any moment i wasn't sleeping, eating, shitting, or showering. somehow other people made time to befriend each other and hang out and like, go to parties??? i dont know how. Frankly I don't even remember how i did what i did either, specifically I reached out to my college's mental health services and got on some medication for anxiety. I also somehow managed to write an essay for our student published thingy about how I wanted to kms and felt unsupported by mental health professionals lmao.

I have NO IDEA how i did any of that because this year i kept falling asleep for five hours in the middle of the day. my theory is that I got more done because I physically HAD TO STAY AWAKE. I COULD NOT ALLOW MYSELF TO FAIL.

I was so stressed out the first year that I often couldn't sleep without hugging my giant elephant stuffed animal or using it as a comforting weight on top of me. one morning i woke up hyperventilating and went to go cut a huge role of paper at like 6 AM because i was so worried about forgetting to cut the paper before i left before class at 8 AM.

so yeah, my theory is that since second year wasn't that insanely stressful, all those hours i spent eking out any artistic joy possible (making owl house comics, writing that essay, and painting my clothing) just to make sure i didn't kms were replaced instead with me just falling asleep at inopportune times, because I wasn't as scared that I wouldn't have time for my work.

OH MY GOD AND FIRST YEAR I GOT PUT IN TWO CONSECUTIVE GROUP PROJECTS WITH THIS ABSOLUTE MONSTER- but that could be its entire own post. suffice it to say that he had been reported multiple times for various things and one of my classmates recognized who i was talking about just from me vaguely complaining about how much i hated him.

anyway im sure there's even more that i forgot about but to be honest i think i've explained enough.

#nnstuff #ask #art college

[canpokemonwritebooks]

Can Glaceon write books?

No, with a 67 on the Pokémon writing scale.

Part of the Eeveelution special requested by @bazingalikethehahafunnyshow    

Is this Pokémon physically capable of writing?

Not really. Glaceon can’t grip a pen in its paws but it could type with them or write with its mouth. The appendages on its head aren’t prehensile so it couldn’t write with those. It is known for being able to freeze its hairs so it could probably dip those in ink but it would still have a hard time writing with them.

7/10

Does this Pokémon know what a book is?

Yes. Glaceon often live with humans so it would see its trainer or owners with books and figure out what they are used for.

9/10

Can this Pokémon read?

Yes. Glaceon likely learned as an Eevee. It is also an intelligent Pokémon that lives closely alongside humans. It doesn’t stand out compared to other Eevee evolutions though.

8/10

Would this Pokémon have access to the materials needed to write a book?

Yes. If Glaceon lives with a trainer, it would have access to these materials but it would need to ask its trainer, which it may have a hard time doing. In the wild, Glaceon lives in icy areas away from humans so it wouldn’t be able to find any paper or computers it could use.

5/10

Does this Pokémon have enough basic education to write well?

Yes. Glaceon evolves from Eevee, which would’ve spent a lot of its life around young kids or in a lab. It has the foundation to write and it’s only grown smarter as it's grown older.

8/10

Would this Pokémon be good at writing?

Yes. Glaceon is a patient Pokémon and would take its time writing. It understands writing well enough to write beyond a basic level. Its intellect and curiosity aren’t particularly notable though so it doesn’t stand out compared to other Pokémon.

7/10

Does this Pokémon have anything to write about?

Yes. A Glaceon with a trainer would have seen a good amount of the world and have many battles or contests to speak of. It is also a fairly friendly Pokémon so it would meet many people and Pokémon it could base characters off of. However, again, nothing about it stands out compared to other Pokémon. How imaginative and creative Glaceon depends on the individual Glaceon.

7/10

Would this Pokémon be able to get their writing into a book?

Yes. Glaceon would have some trouble but it’d probably be able to. Its trainer would notice and give it some help.

7/10

Would this Pokémon want to write a book?

Maybe. It would depend on the Glaceon. Glaceon is content in its life and doesn’t really feel the need to have another outlet but it wouldn’t dislike writing either.

6/10

Does this Pokémon have any other redeeming qualities?

Not really. Glaceon is friendly and often found around humans but its quadrupedal body and Ice typing don’t help it any. None of its unique skills would help it write a book.

3/10

Results

No, Glaceon cannot write with a 67 on the Pokémon writing scale.

Note: This was the last of the Eevee evolutions and Glaceon doesn’t particularly stand out compared to the others so there may be a bias affecting its results because I am thinking in the context of/ in comparison to similar Pokémon rather than judging Glaceon independently. 

#glaceon #pokemon #eevee #eeveelution #eevee evolutions #gen 4 pokemon #sinnoh #pokemon analysis

[hinumay]

I've always been averse towards conflict since I was young I've never really fought back whenever I was confronted or bullied.. I just ran away.. I lived at a time of peace I was cuddled and comforted beyond imagine.. we were the next generation my father always said and it never really hurt to be spoon fed everything I needed.. that's what I thought.. I don't necessarily blame my parents, I don't blame the survivors for making up to their kids what they didn't had when they were young , they lived through death sorrow and suffering I can never imagine.. they lived through a time where Whitestone was soaked in blood and shrouded by malice..

A new generation and age slowly shone however.. it wasn't an easy transition but we managed. I grew up playing in the streets draped by the sounds of construction and carpentry and joyous music.. I woke up in the smell of ink and parchment helping my mother announce pamphlets of celebration and festivities. I saw my community thrive.

It was such a great time, however the ghosts of the past are never easy to leave behind.. I was in my early teens when we noticed a change to the pale guard.. it didn't matter how better the situation is now.. our haunting past resurfaced some still in grief but not all in a way of death and shadow.. but in an urge to create.. the pent up fear and insecurity led the guard to grow.. it felt like they were making up for lost time, like they want to burn these trivial beautiful things into their clothing  they shed down most of their plates and trimmed the sharp edges of their shape.. I was on my way to our market stall when I witnessed them first wore hats lined with the colors of the sun with feathers bright greens, purples, red's and blues clipped to it's side.. with their plates stored, thy instead were draped by gambeson with loose sleeves colored and striped in de Rolo purples and the warm Sun Tree yellows. They wear trousers and boots in Parchwood colors tied and trimmed with the roof tile reds.. their buttons were made of polished brass, their cloth embroidered in age old traditional whitestone designs as well as chiseled in whatever plates they retained now lacquered in white. But in memory of  those lost their foundation and forebears, they still bear their dark grey cloaks lined In pale yellow.

.

[manonamora-if-reviews]

Virtue by Oliver Revolta

============= Links

Play the game (IFComp) See other reviews of the game

============= Synopsis

Middle-aged Gloria knows she’s made it: finally she has it all—kids at a posh school, a house in a posh town, and her confidence, shaky for so long, in a place that befits her new upper-middle-class lifestyle. Unfortunately, the universe has other ideas than letting her settle. When she’s out walking her beautiful Border Collie pup Clio along the equally-beautiful canal, she stumbles on an incident that tests her new-found composure and sends her on a self-righteous path of utterly ludicrous foundations. (“Someone has been caught doing what now on the canal !?”). She’s quick to blame the easy targets, and equally as slow to scrutinise her own family. You’ve seen and read superhero origin stories. This is an off-beat origin story of a shameful MP.

============= Other Info

Virtue is a Ink(Inklewriter) game, submitted to the 2023 Edition of the IFComp.

Status: Completed Genre: Satire

CW: discussion of sexual themes - added by me: mention of and implied assault, xenophobic comments

============= Playthrough

Played: 8-Oct-2023 Playtime: around 30min [one ending] Rating: - [IFComp vote] Thoughts: Left a sour taste in my mouth...

============= Review

Virtue is a short-ish linear entry, where you follow Gloria, a newly middle-class woman on a self-righteous path to prove her standing in her new community. It is meant as a satire about the origin story of a conservative member of parliament in Britain. It should be noted that while the blurb sort of spoils the gist of the game, the original content warnings are not clear enough on the actual content of the entry. Please note that there are mention of an assault, as well as xenophobic comments.

Spoilers ahead. It is recommended to play the game first. The review is based on my understanding/reading of the story.

Honestly, I am incredibly conflicted about this entry, because it is clear what the author was trying to make fun of, but the results is undermined by issues (see last point). A shame the ending is spoiled in the blurb, it would have made the revelation stronger...

On the surface, the entry does a decent job at make a jab at those conservative pundits, how they got where they are now, how conservative talking points are sometimes hypocritical, or downright dangerous, or how comically easy people can fall into extremism. It touches on what you'd expect, and makes clear who you are supposed to like or not.

But when you dig deeper, the entry feels a bit shallow. While meant to be off-putting and shocking, the text barely dives into the tory-ism and more extreme talking points. I was expecting Gloria's decent into her "moralistic" path to be more explicit in both her views and her spoken words, but she barely go further than what you'd see a light "Karen" do*. She is much too restraint to make the satire work in that regard (even with the British "politeness" coming into play). *sorry for all the decent Karens out there...

Speaking of Gloria, it is obvious from the start she is not meant to be liked. She is a vapid busy-body woman who has nothing better to do than keep up with appearances. Like your usual stereotypical middle-class stay-at-home mother, she berates her husband to no end, disregard her daughter (which I felt she even envied), and, in some sort of Oedipal concept, puts her son on a small pedestal... that is when she actually pay attention to her family. She seems more interested in her little dog than anyone else. To further the point of how sad and empty this woman's live actually is, the game shows a clear lack of hobbies and passion by the end of the game.

With Gloria putting so much importance in appearance and status, coupled with her lack of personal life, it is no wonder she'd end up where she did. And it works for the game! Who doesn't like a comically evil (or maybe stupid) character.

Finally, a bit of the elephant in the room. [Mention of assault moving forward] The whole tragic backstory of Gloria having been assaulted in her childhood, used later on as an angle for moral and sexual purity, was not just uncomfortable to read (especially the implication that it helped pushing her down that path), but downright unnecessary and unimaginative. There are enough content out there using the rape trope as a backstory, and coupled with the "self-indulgence" satire, it leaves a bad taste in the mouth. The whole 'you're dirty' angle played almost for laugh is genuinely upsetting, as the need of wanting to be clean is an actual trauma response following an assault. The carelessness in this, especially when the content warnings are lacking in that regard, really sours the game.

And there were other directions the author could have taken to use the whole clean/dirty bit. Gloria came from council houses, aka poverty, aka was a dirty poor. But now, she lives in a middle class house. She is not dirty anymore, she is a proper not-poor person. She has worth. She turns her back on where she comes from because that's shameful and dirty, and she is a proud and clean woman.

And that's it. No need for the cheap assault trick. Instead of undermining the point of the satire, it pushes the hypocrisy angle of conservative points.

#Virtue #Oliver Revolta #interactive fiction #complete #2023 #review #ifcomp #satire #tw - assault

[agnesmontague]

Let's hear em!!!

WOW OKAY A LOT OF YOU WANT TO HEAR MY THOUGHTS

short answer: fnaf poisoned the well twice. first inadvertently and second unironically

long answer: nearly every indie horror game of what i'll call the "kiddie genre" as shorthand has been, for the most part, fnaf inspired. first there was the wave of near identical "locked in a small space (in some kid-oriented setting) while fending off horrors" riffs that just lifted the most iconic part of fnaf, ie the gameplay. those tended not to be well-received bc they were such obvious clones as to merit the title of ripoffs, and fnaf had such a distinctive mechanic for indie horror games at the time that most other parody/clone games generally paled in comparison, if not feeling like absolutely shameless youtube bait games

but when fnaf itself started to move gradually away from that mechanic with its most recent games (esp security breach) it became open season for indie horror games to revert back to their more traditional item-hunting building-exploring flashlight-waving roots while not having to deviate from the other foundation fnaf had laid: the lore. im not a fnaf veteran by any means but i am fully aware that it set the stage for the type of lore and worldbuilding that very few of the modern "kiddie genre horror games" have actually deviated from, ie "these kid-friendly things are, quite literally, possessed by the spirits of whoever was wronged at the time of their genesis." the bite of '87 (or whatever it was called; like i said im not actually a fnaf veteran) was the blueprint for this, in no small part thanks to the extensive coverage from channels like game theory, and the only real big-name kiddie genre game that i can think of that didn't follow this formula is baldi's basics (which does not even have any lore to speak of). just about any other game that got propelled into the public eye in recent years--bendy and the ink machine, andy's apple farm, poppy playtime--has all fallen to various degrees under this same trite umbrella, eventually decaying to various degrees of shameless fucking moneygrabbing based off this same formula that worked once for fnaf.

and mind you, i don't have anything against fnaf at all other than scott cawthon being a homophobic twat, or even think that this phenomenon is in itself some new blight on the indie horror scene. if a huge new game makes a splash, there will be derivatives that ensue for years on end--we saw it with the endless hyperrealistic PT clones, the Slender spinoffs and SCP games of the mid-2010s, and arguably even the "traditional" item-hunting note-collecting mechanic i mentioned above could be the long-lasting influence of amnesia: the dark descent. what really fucks me up with the kiddie genre though is that it's becoming more and more directly marketed AT KIDS instead of being the nostalgic horror intended for adults that it originally was. again, not a bad thing in itself--kids love horror after all--but when combined with the merchandising and blatant greed some of these companies have displayed upon realizing that kids are an easy market it actually kind of turns my stomach a little. it makes for shittier games AND more predatory attempts to scam kids. it's been kind of exhausting to watch this evolution happening in real time bc the indie scene already has so many issues with unoriginality, with so many unethical devs getting away with slapping fancy graphics on top of a boring unworkshopped idea, and i can’t help but feel like this is just another example of that.

#hello neighbor is arguably another deviation from this formula but that one flopped so hard it's pathetic #it's also its own entire can of worms that i won't get into bc i was never really invested in it #rambles #long post #also fuck. i posted this too early

[starry-teacup]

An entirely indulgent statement I wrote for fun. Me and my friend have a little self insert into the tma world that takes place at the Usher Foundation, and is therefore technically canon compliant. This is one of the statements I wrote for it. It’s below the cut if you want to read it.

TRIGGER WARNING// Insanity, character death, suicide, mental illness, I guess you could call a bit of it gaslighting???

[CLICK]

CHARLIE (ARCHIVAL ASSISTANT)

Statement #0190411, given by one Zoë McKendrick, concerning a trip to the museum with her cousin. Recorded by Charlotte Renhan, archival assistant to Daniel Rodrey, the head archivist. Originally given at the Magnus Institute, London, and currently on loan by its sister organization, the Usher Foundation. Statement begins.

{Statement}

Alright, first of all, I swear to God this isn’t a hazing. I know, I know how it looks. A teenager dressed in scene walks into a well established academic place that takes the statement of any random person off the street. It’s obviously a prank. Except that’s not what’s happening. I promise. I need you guys to believe me. God, I just need someone to believe me, anyone! I’m not crazy. I know I’m not. No matter what people say, no matter what those damned tapes show, I am not a liar, I am not just a kid with a hyperactive imagination, and I am not insane. I refuse to believe I am. That’s how it gets you. That’s how it got Amanda. And I refuse to be next. I won’t be next, do you hear me? I am not just a thing for them to take.

God, I’m rambling. I’m sorry, I’m not in the best state of mind right now. Even though a couple weeks have passed, this feeling still won’t go away. I can’t stop seeing the colors- they fill the space behind my eyes whenever I close them, and if I go too long without blinking to avoid it, they bleed into my vision like ink stains on a carpet. I wasn’t built to see those colors. No one was. But I saw them, and now they won’t leave me alone, and they make me feel like I’m going in-

No. I can’t say that. I won’t. 

[sighs]

This is probably making zero sense to you. I need to back up. I live in Bournemouth. It’s mostly a resort and vacation town, but there are a couple of normal neighborhoods if you squint really hard and ignore all of the rich tourists. I live in Springbourne. A lot of families live there, because there are a lot of schools nearby. 

The schools are all fine, I guess, but they’re a bit lacking in the field trip department. All of the interesting places in the area are either casinos, resorts, or ridiculously overcharged shops because of all of the senators vacationing there. There’s one exception, though. In the middle of all of those fancy hotels is an old Victorian mansion that somebody turned into a museum. It’s pretty much the only educational location within a two hour radius. 

Because of this, pretty much every field trip from year 1 to year 13 goes to that weird mansion. It’s called the Russell Cotes Art Gallery and Museum, and it was interesting enough the first two or three visits, but it got old fast. It mostly houses old portraits and statues with muted hues and sensible poses. It never gets new art, and it never renovates. I have seen every exhibit what feels like hundreds of times, and I know that place like the back of my hand.

This summer, my cousin Amanda was coming to stay with us. She’s from the States, so she has the summer off, and my parents said it was okay if she lived with us for a couple weeks even though I still had school. She’s about my age, maybe a year or two older, so my mum and dad assumed we’d instantly bond and start painting each other’s nails or braiding each other’s hair or something. I think my parents might’ve hoped she’d be a good influence on me, maybe get me to wear a little less black. And it’s not like we hated each other or anything, we just …didn’t really talk. We’d never been close, and neither of us particularly felt like building that relationship now. 

My mum blamed it on me. Said I was being antisocial or something. She suggested that I show Amanda around Bournemouth, as some sort of bonding activity. I figured I might as well show her the old museum. There was nothing much else to show, not anything that I could afford.  My dad agreed to take us, and we were awkwardly silent most of the way there. Amanda had her headphones in, and I decided I didn’t have the energy to try and pretend we were friends, so I took out my phone and scrolled on my Tumblr feed.

When we arrived, something felt…different. There was something off about the place that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. If anyone who hadn’t been raised on this museum had seen it, they would have had no idea what I was talking about. But I had seen this place a thousand times, and there was something about it that just felt wrong. Like the saturation had been turned up zero point four notches, and all the angles had been made one degree sharper. It was unsettling- I could’ve sworn it wasn’t like this last time I was here. But a little voice was whispering in the back of my head that I was remembering it wrong, it had always been like this, and why would I even think it had changed?

I shook off my unease and figured I must have misremembered. When we went into the museum, the place was almost deserted. There was barely anyone there outside of the security guards. That wasn’t wholly unusual, though. Most people who came to Bournemouth didn’t come for the museums. I let Amanda take the lead. She seemed to enjoy wandering around, and I had seen everything this place had to offer.

Almost everything that this place had to offer. But as we went down a familiar hallway, it branched suddenly to the left where it should have opened into the Greco-Roman exhibit. I felt the knowledge that that turn should not have been there like a stone in the pit of my stomach- it was impossible. It didn’t make sense. The blank wall in front of me seemed to mock me for my denial. I couldn’t help but think that if that wall had a mouth, it would be laughing at me for trying to deny the existence of what was so clearly in front of my face. 

I guess I might be wrong. I might be filling spaces of memory with what I know now, coloring it in with my current dread. But no, I don’t think that’s it. I saw Amanda hesitate uneasily before she continued on, and I saw undiguised fear in her eyes as she decided to walk forward. That’s how wrong that wall was- Amanda had never been here before, and yet she could still tell- this wasn’t supposed to be here. But she walked onward anyways, and I wasn’t about to tell her that I was scared of a turn in a hallway, so I followed nervously behind. 

At the end of this new hallway was a room. It was small and dimly lit, and there weren’t any windows. If this building used to be a mansion, then this had definitely been a closet. On the wall opposite us was a sketch on a canvas. The lines were so sharp that I marveled that the canvas wasn’t cut by them. I tried to figure out what it was a sketch of. It seemed like I was missing something obvious- like it was a word on the tip of my tongue, like I almost had it. I stared at the framed drawing, trying to see what it was depicting- all the lines twisted and bent and seemed to make a picture, but every time I thought I made out what it was a drawing of, I realized that the lines kept going on ever so slightly past where I thought they had ended. It was hypnotic- I couldn’t tear my eyes away, couldn’t stop trying to see what the art was showing, even though it made my eyes ring and my ears hear stars. In retrospect, I think those lines went on forever. I think I could have stared and stared and stared, and I never would have figured out what it meant. It didn’t have a meaning- but it beckoned people to try and spend their life finding it anyway.

I don’t know how long I stared at it- it felt like decades, a lifetime, trying to interpret something that didn’t make sense- that couldn’t make sense. But I know my reverie was broken when Amanda began to walk towards the canvas. She had seen something I had been too absorbed in the colors and lines to notice- the painting was hung up wrong. The whole thing was tilted 45 degrees to the left. Amanda lifted her arms up slowly and shakily, and gently placed them on the edges of the frame. For a moment, time was frozen, Amanda’s hands trembling on the edges of the painting while I stared. 

In one swift and steady motion, Amanda righted the sketch.

Immediately I was released from the spell. I turned to run out the door- but it was gone. There was simply another wall there taunting me where the exit used to be. 

Wait, what do I mean, used to be? No, there was never an exit there. It had always been a wall. I turned back to Amanda and the painting. The lines of graphite had finally cut clean through the canvas, shredding it. Nothing changed about the sketch. No colors appeared, strange and acidic and not meant for human eyes. I didn’t scream as my eyes began to bleed at the sight of the hues that weren’t there and never had been. Nothing was anything here. Not anymore. Had anything ever been? I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t remember. My brain was throbbing and aching. I couldn’t think. I could barely see with the blood sliding down my cheeks like tears. I tried desperately to understand what was happening, but trying to comprehend it only made it hurt worse.

Amanda stood by the sketch, frozen. The colors that weren’t spilled out of the ravaged canvas like blood out of a wound and did not begin to pool and spread on the floor. I knew, I knew, that no matter what happened, we shouldn’t touch the growing pool that wasn’t. I seized Amanda’s arm and yanked her away as hard as I could. She went stumbling backwards and fell onto the concrete floor. Hadn’t it used to be wooden? No, I was remembering wrong, it had always been concrete. It must have been. 

I backed against the wall opposite the bleeding canvas, and Amanda stumbled to her feet beside me. Her shoe had fallen off when she fell over. The pool of colors didn’t reach the shoe and lap at its edges hungrily. The shoe didn’t begin to warp and twist and invert until it was something that was barely recognizable. It didn’t begin screaming with an impossible mouth that wasn’t there, and the sound didn’t give me a headache that still hasn’t completely left. The shoe wasn’t. And it looked painful.

I started banging at the wall, screaming and crying for help. I don’t know what I hoped to achieve. Even if someone had heard me, they couldn’t very well have broken through solid concrete- wait, plaster now- and I doubt anyone could hear me. I hit the wall and no sound was made. My screams turned to bubbles the moment they left my mouth, and floated away until they landed on those nonexistent colors and burst with horrendous chromatic vibrancy. 

Even though I hadn’t touched it yet, I could feel everything that wasn’t there seeping into the room and saturating it, like a tea bag steeping. The dim light, the air, Amanda, me- everything was being instilled with a horrible, inescapable wrongness. I choked down a sob as I thought about it: I would be locked in this room forever, slowly becoming warped and twisted until I was nothing I ever was or should have been able to be. I felt like I was going crazy- nothing here was possible. Nothing here was anything. All of my senses must have been lying to me- malfunctioning, showing me things that weren’t there. Everything here was soaked in that vague, hazy wrongness, like a dream gone wrong, except my brain would never have been able to create anything like this on its own.

Amanda seemed to think that too.

“It’s…it’s like a dream. It’s all like a dream.” Her voice was gleaming and dewy. When she looked at me, something in her eyes scared me almost more than that impossible room. Something black and tenuous, like thin ice, already starting to crack. “Maybe…maybe if we apply dream logic, we can escape?” She seemed as though she was talking more to herself than to me. I didn’t think that was a good idea. This place seemed to me the antithesis of all logic or pattern. Trying to make sense of it in any way would only make things much, much worse. I told her so. 

Sometimes I wonder if I should have done that. I’m now certain that her dream logic solution wouldn’t have worked, but my words seemed to be the last straw. The thin, fragile thing in her eyes seemed to break, and a nervous, unhinged chuckle left her lips. It echoed and danced unnaturally around us, like the room was gloating over a victory.

 “So that’s it, then?” She asked me, her voice dangerous and hazy in the dark light. “I’m just crazy?” 

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. What was I supposed to have done? Told her everything was going to be okay? Told her that no, she wasn’t crazy, there was a logical explanation to this obvious impossibility? I think a lot about what I could’ve said. I don’t think there was anything that could’ve saved her. It was too late for that.

At my silence, Amanda started laughing again, a horrid thing that morphed into a sob, then a scream, then back again. I just stood there, frozen. Amanda finally calmed herself down, but what she did next scared me more than screaming. She smiled pleasantly at me, like there was nothing at all wrong in the world. She briskly brushed off her clothes, which had been made messy by the dirt wall we had been fruitlessly pounding on.

Finally, she sighed contentedly, then looked at me and said, “Well, there’s no use delaying it, then.” Amanda turned on her heel and walked directly into the pool of not-colors. She dissolved into-

CHARLIE {Pauses the statement}

I, uh- I can’t read this. It…looks like words? Maybe? But…uh…this handwriting isn’t readable. Not like it’s sorta messy, it’s…wow. I can’t even tell if this is the English lettering system. 

[Avery pauses] Actually, I think it isn’t. And did she bring colored pens in? This ink definitely isn’t black.

…wait, is it?

[Avery pauses again to examine] …I think it is. It looks colorful but it isn’t. I can tell it’s written in black ink. That’s…huh. I’ll take it up with Daniel later. Maybe he’ll be able to read it. It resumes two pages later.

CHARLIE {continues statement}

After that, the room was gone. No, that’s not right, it couldn’t have been gone. In order for something to be gone, it has to have been there in the first place. I was standing in the Greco-Roman exhibit, the place that hallway should’ve led me to. The place I must have been the entire time. Without hesitation, I turned and left.

Mom says there’s never been an Allison in our family. She says her sister never had kids, that I don’t have any cousins, especially not in America. When I mention her, my mom and dad exchange these worried glances. They’re scared, I can see it. At first, when I got home and started yelling about a nonexistent cousin, they thought I was messing with them. When I started hyperventilating, though, they began to see it was something more. They took me back to the museum, asked me to show them which hallway it was. When I saw it, I started shaking. I don’t remember much after that, but apparently I had a breakdown in the middle of the museum and started screaming about the colors. They sent me to a shrink after that. I don’t tell her the truth. I can hear what my parents say when they think I’m not paying attention, but they’re wrong. I’m not schizophrenic. I’m not crazy. But I take it that telling her about colors that aren’t there and Amanda’s voice in my ear whenever I’m alone, telling me that she made the right decision, isn’t going to help my case. 

I still see them, you know. More and more often, they seep into my vision and the cracks of my mind and refuse to leave. Even now, I can see them. Can’t you? A blotch of them hovers over the paper, angrily lapping at the ink. It’s difficult to see what I’m writing when they cover everything. It’s difficult to think, too. Amanda tells me that I should’ve listened to her. She says the only thing better than seeing the colors is being them. 

She’s wrong. She whispers to me that I can’t really know unless I join her. I don’t know how I would even go about doing that, but I have no intention of doing so. I’m not like her, I am perfectly sane. My parents and the shrink can go screw themselves, because however much doubt they put in my mind, I still know. I-I’m sane. I’m not crazy. I have to be, right?

AVERY

Statement ends.

Follow up on this one is difficult, because it would appear that, no matter what our young statement giver claimed, this was, indeed, a prank. According to our records, and the records of everyone I have checked with, there has never been a Zoë McKendrick. While there is a couple in the area Zoë mentioned with the same last name who happen to have family in America, they do not, nor have ever had, a daughter.

Zoë mentioned at the beginning of her statement that the museum she visited has video tapes that went against her claim. Merideth went to that check out and found that she was correct, and there was no evidence corroborating a left turn in any hallway where there should not have been. 

She did find, though, that a few weeks before this statement was given, there were tapes of two unidentified teenage girls entering the museum. After a few minutes of looking around, they went down a hallway, and entered the Greco-Roman exhibit. They stood there motionless, and for around two hours, the tapes continued on with no visible change. For one moment, though, the tapes broadcasted an unfamiliar room with a single work of art hung on the wall. Then the feed cut back to what was broadcasted before, except only one girl remained. She turned and left, and didn’t return until a few hours later, when she brought in two adults and visibly had a breakdown before leaving again. That is all the evidence supporting this statement. 

When confronted with this, the McKendricks firmly stated that they had no memory of either person, or the visit to the museum.

To be honest, this statement can be one of two things. A teenager may have seen a malfunction in the tapes, and thought it would be funny to tell this to the Magnus Institute as a prank. That is the more likely scenario. 

On the other hand…perhaps, Zoë was unable to believe in her sanity as firmly as she needed to.

End recording.

[CLICK]

#Tma #magnus archives #the magnus archives #the usher foundation #Usher foundation #Fan statement #Statement #the spiral #I you daw any typos- no you didn’t

[dongiovannaswife]

sperare

Masterlist. 

cw: sickness, mentions to meds, pregnancy mentions, mentions to past childhood trauma. 

collab with the lovely @softlimefluff​!! ty for your patience and care, aribaby uwu

Knocking on the studio door, Ari doesn't wait for a response and walks right in, phone clutched tightly in her palm. Rohan sighs in frustration, pulling his pen away from the panel he’s inking and glares over. Frowning, Ari waits by the door, cheeks puffy and eyes red.

 “I hate to barge in, Han, but there’s an emergency.”

Taking his glasses off, Rohan rubs his hands over his face, pushing his headband up.

“What. What’s wrong?”

“The. Twins...” 

Ari grips her phone tight again, sniffing back her runny nose. “They’re starting to go through the stand virus. Lena and Gio asked if Dr. Louis would be willing to come consult, but...” 

Taking a few steps forward, Ari sits on the floor next to her husband, slumping up against his desk and looking up at him. “I think we need to be there. We would want the same thing if…” She looks towards the studio door into the hallway. “When Ellie goes through it too.”

Rohan puts a hand on top of her head, petting gently. “Is it that bad?”

She nods, looking back at him. “They’re feverish. Not waking up much.” Ari pauses, tears welling up. “Lena’s really worried about them. So am I…” Small, warm tears finally fall down her cheeks and Rohan catches one with his finger, rubbing over her cheek. 

“Alright. I’ll check in with Izumi and see if I can get time off. I already have two weeks in advance prepared since I got time off for Ellie’s birth. I can use those, and if GioGio and Lena have a desk I could work there.”

“Can you ask for time off? Please... We can do research there or something, but I think you should leave work at home for a few weeks.”

Rohan balks at first, ready to protest and list all the reasons he could keep working and that it’s important to set a good example, before Ari interrupts his thoughts.

“You rarely ask for it. No one would blame you since it’s an emergency. And I’ll still be getting paid for working with the Foundation. I’m sure Gio will accommodate us too. We haven’t had a vacation for a while.”

Sighing, Rohan nods. “Alright. You win, Ari.” Lifting his arms up in a stretch, Rohan’s stomach peeks out, then disappears back under the fabric. “I’ll get everything settled with the manga then get packing. Any word on tickets?”

“I’ll call the main SPW branch and let them know about the situation. See if I can get permission for leave and tickets for us. I’ll have to make sure our branch has everything set before we leave.”

Rohan chuckles. “I forget how much we’re part of this town until we have to leave…”

Ari smiles back. “You’re right. Easy to take for granted.” Standing, she leans down to steal a kiss and wraps her arms around his neck. “We’ll have to get Ellie ready too. Her first big trip.”

“I didn’t even think of that. We missed the comic convention in France and traveling for Christmas last year… Big girl.”

“At least she has a passport already!”

“She does. We’ll have to make sure she’s dressed comfy for the flight. And bring chimera-san. She cries without him.”

“I’ll make sure, babe. Maybe we should bring our Halloween stuff just in case we stay a while?? When the boys are better all the kids could wear their costumes together.”

Looking at the date on his smart watch, Rohan nodded. “I know Tomoko wanted to take her out with us, but we can always do something when we get back.”

“Right. I’ll get started.” Stealing one more kiss, Ari finds Sunnie’s number on her phone, starting a call to get everything rolling.

***

Golden rays filtering through the window in the hall and reflecting the window's frame in the floor of the twins bedroom, silence and sunset come together. 

The Giovanna household remains quiet, haunted by tension and waves of distortion in the environment —halls that stretch like rubber, doors that double their size, gardens that become mazes— as the first twenty-four hours of stand fever go by, keeping the two little boys in bed. 

Standing from the chair at the other side of the room, Dr. Bocelli Enzo sighs, feeling his bones hurt and his spine scream for rest: still, holding onto his cane, he makes his way over slower than usual, eyes glued to the floor. 

Reaching Jovi's side, his hand reaches out, softly landing on the skin of his forehead. There, the temperature he can feel seems the same as a few hours ago: and pressing his lips, he finally looks up into the monitor, feeling his heart sink inside his chest. 

Reaching out to Dante, he repeats the motion —and after getting the same result, he sighs again, closing his eyes as he speaks out loud, intending to let the boys' parents know of the critical situation. “I'm afraid we haven't had any significant process.”

When silence is all he gets, Bocelli's eyes snap open and his heart races —looking back, the couple remains sitting in the couch: Giorno's arm still behind her shoulders and her head laying against his chest, but now Giorno's head is thrown back against the backrest and Lena's hiding into his chest, both asleep. 

Overlooking the sight, Bocelli presses his lips, turning to one of Type O Negative's nurses. The small green being shrugs but does point back at the monitor. 

Eyes scanning over the vitals displayed there, Bocelli hums after a moment, whispering to himself. “Heart rate normal—” he then turns back to the nurse, “Any signs of organ failure, shock…?”

Forming an 'x' with its little arms, the nurse shakes its head. Seeing this, Bocelli opens his mouth to reply when someone stands by the door. 

“Dr. Bocelli, Arroyo from the SPW Guadalajara branch sent someone.” The gunslinger Guido Mista shifts his weight from one foot to another, sealing his mouth with a gesture once he realizes of the sleeping couple. With big eyes, he stands there, watching Bocelli while he thinks, nodding after a moment. 

“Lena asked for support. Where are they?” 

“Uhm,” scratching the back of his head, Mista smiles nervously. “Akashi's a bit paranoid, he doesn't want to let them in unless the bosses or you are there.” 

A grunt resounds through the silence. Shifting, Giorno's neck cracks right as he straightens his position, moving from under Lena's body and, after he's sure she's comfortable, he rises to his full height, turning to Mista. 

“Let’s go.” 

Nodding, Mista turns around, waiting for him in the hall. Coming to a stop beside him, Giorno reaches out, setting his hand on Bocelli's shoulder. “She asked for someone to help you with this. We know you need rest, so… I'll make sure to bring them over as soon as possible.” 

Bocelli smiles —a smile so soft and tired it might be his soul the one smiling at Giorno. His face, though full of wrinkles and liver spots, keeps that peaceful aura Bocelli Enzo carries with himself. “Don't worry, son.” 

Giorno's lips curl up into a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes nor makes his dimples stand out.

Leaving the room, he trails behind Mista, who keeps his guard up as they walk downstairs and cross the main garden that leads to the main doors —huge and imposing, the two doors remain closed before the SPW truck outside. There, two men wait, furrowed eyebrows and confused looks thrown his way. 

Stopping beside Akashi, and knowing this is the Speedwagon Foundation waiting to be let in, Giorno looks back at the pink haired man, eyes hard and cold as stone —a silent question, demanding and equally annoyed.  

Akashi looks back, a grin spreading through his features. Shrugging, the hand that had been resting against his katana raises up to show the keys, “I get it, I get it, let them in.” 

Walking forward, Akashi fiddles with the keys for a moment —then, as he holds one of the doors open, Dr. Joshua López comes in, approaching Giorno. 

“Good evening, Don Giovanna. Director Arroyo sent me here to help with your sons' case. I was not informed of all the details, but I'm grateful for your trust.” offering a handshake, Dr. López smiles, all formality and politics —the trembling of his hand doesn't go unnoticed by Giorno, who takes his hand in a firm handshake. 

“Yes, Dr. Bocelli will give you the details.” 

Nodding, Giorno looks back at Mista. “Take Dr. López there,” then, turning to the SPW foundation worker, Giorno motions forward. “Need a break?” 

The man shakes his head, retrieving the truck keys from his cargo pants, “I’m okay. I was ordered to wait until he was allowed to come in.” 

Waiting until the engine starts and the truck leaves, Giorno gestures back at Akashi. As the swordsman closes the doors and goes back to his position Giorno turns around, looking back over his shoulder: “Don't make me come here again. You know your orders. Next time someone comes in, ask Fugo. He's in charge for a reason.” 

Coming back into the mansion followed by Westwood, Giorno's thoughts drift to the report about Dr. López: born in Mexico City, he completed his medical degree in the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, joining the SPW Foundation right after. His motives were still a mystery, but according to Fugo, he had a vast experience. 

If his wife trusted Director Arroyo and Fugo had already confirmed he could be helpful, then all Giorno could do was trust and hope. 

***

The sun dies in the horizon, bringing the moon and the stars along —as the dark skies settle down for the night, Giorno stands up from the couch, glance lost somewhere in the garden outside. 

Setting his eyes on Akashi and Abel as they keep their positions by the front doors, the Don doesn't look back: only a whisper leaves his lips. “Lena, you should go to bed. It's getting late.” 

Looking back, Lena shakes her head softly even if Giorno's not looking, eyes closing slowly, fighting back the sleep —running a hand through Jovi's hair, she finally mumbles back. “I can't go to sleep knowing they're… Like this.” 

Watching the muscles of his back tense upon her words, she hums, slowly standing up and walking up to him, her arms slide around his middle. As she leans her head between his shoulder blades and presses a kiss there, Giorno relaxes, hands coming to rest on his wife's arms. 

“I know.” he whispers, “But… I won't move from this room. I will make sure they're safe.” 

She steps back and he sighs upon the loss of her warmth —circling him, Lena stops before her husband, soft eyes and pink cheeks. “I know," she quotes him, smiling oh so exhausted, “I know you are the type of man to set the world on fire for us. But… I'm just so worried.” 

Reaching a hand out, his palm cups her jaw, letting his thumb rub over the tattoo on her neck, “They will make it, love. They need time, like we all do.” 

Leaning into his touch, she twists her head to kiss his palm, watching in delight how his eyes light up. “Just like you need time to rest.” 

“Well,” he smiles, a smile so small that doesn't light up his whole face, but does show the tiniest of peace. “You're the one pregnant. You need the sleep more than I do.” 

Shaking her head with a soft chuckle, she finally gives in: “Alright, but promise you will take a nap in the morning.” 

Nodding, Giorno chuckles, soft and deep —laced with hope. Hope for a better morning where the sun shines and his sons start running around the house again, painting the walls and doodling on his books. 

“Of course, Lena.” 

Leaning down to receive her kiss, he sighs against her lips, letting her wrap him up in her arms and sway him from side to side. When she leaves and he sits in the bed, his hand reaches out to Dante, letting his palm cup the infant's face. 

The door opens —and the steps that resound through the silent and dark room make him look back, tense and ready to move. 

“Uhm, sorry Don Giovanna. I need to take their vitals.” Standing by the door, clutching his aneroid sphygmomanometer and stethoscope, Dr. López gulps down forcefully. 

Nodding, Giorno stands up, crossing his arms under his chest. As Dr. López comes in, he watches over his movements —the trembling of his hands does not go unnoticed by him: in the end, he knows why. Víctor Arroyo had met Lena back when she was still a student: back then, the rumors of their relationship had spread like a wildfire. 

He could assume Arroyo had warned Dr. López about him and, counting down Akashi's behavior, the poor man must be scared. 

Leaning against the wall by the window, Giorno overlooks the room, letting his words flow out slowly and calmly. “Whatever Arroyo said back there, will not happen, Dr. López.” 

The man tenses, and through rushed handwriting, he finishes his notes turning to him with big eyes and his glasses sliding down his nose. “I'm sorry, Don Giovanna. I was, uh, I… Guess I was jumping to conclusions.”

Humming, he barely smirks, “Let me guess, stereotypes?” 

Dr. López chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess.” 

Nodding, Giorno looks aside, hearing someone's footsteps down the hall. “That's what I thought.” 

The door opens and Agosto 'Westwood' Carvelli comes in, holding two cups of coffee. Giving a nod to Dr. López as he leaves, Hysteria's user comes in, swiftly closing the door with his foot. “Lena said you're not sleeping, so… Here,” passing one cup, Westwood sits down. “I'm keeping you company.” 

Taking the cup from him, Giorno chuckles, shaking his head: “Did she ask you for this?” 

Nodding, West takes his mask off, rubbing his temples. “She's worried about you and the boys, you know?” 

Taking a sip, Giorno nods. Feeling the warm liquid down his throat. “I know. But I can't let her stay here in her state.” 

Chuckling, Westwood leans back against the couch. “Well, love's weird.” 

“You're the one cosplaying Kato on a daily basis.” raising his cup, Giorno takes another swing of his coffee, watching in delight Westwood's frown, followed by: 

“God, I promised her I would stay the night here. With you.” 

Shrugging, Giorno grins. “Others would kill to be in your position, Carvelli.” 

“I will pretend I didn't hear that, Giovanna.” 

After a moment of silence, Giorno's smile vanishes —and Westwood, sensing his worry and sadness, takes a sip from his coffee, runs his tongue over his lips and finally, he mumbles: “Every member of the Joestar family I've met so far has proven their strength,” Giorno looks back, and Westwood keeps going, confident. 

“Dante and Jovi will make it, Gio. They're your sons, after all.” 

October 13, 7:37 AM.

 “Giogio,” Guido Mista calls as he opens the door, head poking from the small gape. “The Kishibes are here.” 

Blinking slowly, Giorno looks back —bloodshot and dark circles under his eyes, furrowed eyebrows and dry lips— and with a small nod, he seems to take a little bit longer to process Mista's words before nodding and, standing up, he stands there, squeezing his eyes shut for a second when dizziness kicks in; then, he looks back, a hand rubbing at his temple, voice low and awfully tired. “Give me five and I'll be there.” 

Mista nods, shutting the door again, leaving the Don and Westwood alone for the time being. Walking back downstairs, patterns of light dance on the staircase as sunlight glimmers through the stained glass rose window above the front door. Mista joins Fugo and Akashi at the front entrance, welcoming the Kishibe family in and letting them know Giorno will be there presently.

Bundled up for the weather, Ellie tosses her cat-shaped beanie onto the ground, giggling. Rohan sighs, picking it up and keeping it in his arms, giving her a little frown. “Eliana, we’re guests. We can’t throw our clothes on the ground. I’m going to keep this…”

Wrinkling up her face, she lets out a tiny cry, sniffling as Ari sets her down on the ground and kneels down to talk. “I know it’s a little scary being in a new place, but it’ll be okay. You’re going to see Auntie Lena and you did so well on the long plane ride…”

Ellie keeps sniffling, letting out big crocodile tears and quiet sobs. “Ahhh, sweetheart, it’s been a big day… I know you’re hungry. I know” Ari hugs her close, standing again and rocking her gently, finally noticing Giorno at the top of the stairs.

Tucking Ellie’s hat into his pocket, Rohan walks to meet the Don, greeting him with a firm handshake and a hug. Both of them have dark circles under their eyes, Giorno’s clearly more noticeable. 

“You look like crap, Giovanna.”

“Nice to see you too, Kishibe.”

They both laugh warmly, walking over to Ari and Ellie. Having calmed a bit, Ellie peeks up at Giogio, then hides into Ari’s shoulder, shy.

“And how is my favorite girl, hmmm?? Other than Lena, of course~”

Ari laughs, patting her back gently. “She’s tired from a long flight or she would be asking everyone to pick her up. It’s good to see you again, Giogio. Is Lena around?”

“Yes, of course, she went to bed last night while I watched the boys, so she is likely getting ready. Westwood is still up there keeping watch.”

Fugo interjects, looking outside. “Can we get your luggage? Your rooms are already prepared. Is Dr. Louis with you?”

“She needed a bit more time to gather supplies for the twins, but she should be here soon.”

“Very well. Akashi? With me.” The two exit to the car, Mista keeping watch over the entrance as they work.

“Ah, Ellie fell asleep again…” Ari glances over at Rohan, eyes soft and tired. “She needs to eat, but I know she didn’t sleep very much on the flight.”

Walking over, Rohan kisses Ellie on the head, putting his hand over Ari’s. “I’m sure the Giovannas will let us clean up and rest a little before we help keep watch.”

“Oh, that’s not neces–” Giorno starts, but gets interrupted.

“We’re here.” Rohan says firmly. “Ari reminded me… We would want the same if. Or when Ellie gets sick. We’re here as your support.”

The Don’s shoulders finally relax, letting out a deep sigh. “I am grateful. Other than my team, you know there’s no one we trust more with our family.”

Thinking back to their conflict earlier in the year, Rohan knows without a doubt that his words are sincere. “I do know… Now. Breakfast? Then maybe a nap for you and Ellie.”

Gesturing vaguely, Gio shakes his head, blinking slowly. “Sorry, I'm not hungry.” 

Someone else's voice comes from the top of the stairs, “Oh no, mister. You are having breakfast.”  

Turning around, Gio chuckles, seeing his wife there. Smiling softly, she walks down slowly —her dress follows her movement, flowing along until she stops by the end of the staircase, taking Giorno's hand to finally reunite with her friends.

There, Lena's gaze lands on Ari, eyes softening as she smiles, approaching her friend. 

”Ariiii,” wrapping her arms around Ari, she's careful with the way she does so, pulling back after a few seconds. 

Glancing down at Ellie, Lena hums, grinning now. “Hi, Ellie,” and looking back, she nods, “She's so pretty, just like her mom~” Turning to Han, she reaches out, pulling him in for a short, friendly hug. 

Now, standing before the couple, Lena nods, hands resting around the baby bump. “Thank you for being here, it means a lot.” 

“I said this before,” Rohan nods in Giorno's direction, then looks back at Lena. “But we would want the same when the time comes… For Ellie.” 

“We'll be there.” with a firm nod, Lena gestures aside in the kitchen's direction. “Breakfast should be ready, please make yourself at home.” 

“Thank you.” Rohan bows while Ari nods, both close their eyes in a signal of gratitude.

As they walk into the kitchen, followed by Giorno and Lena, the table lays ready, displaying a variety of ricotta pancakes, cannoli, brioche, fruit and coffee. 

The chef nods, giving one last salute before he leaves, walking past Giorno with a quiet nod —which Giorno replies with a simple “Thank you, Giuseppe.”

By the time Giuseppe has left and Ariel and Rohan sit by the table, Giorno turns back to them, lending a hand to help Lena sit down. “We usually cook breakfast ourselves, but… As you can see, food hasn't been our priority.” 

“It’s alright, we understand… Can I take Ellie to the bathroom first?”

“Do you remember where it is from the party?”

She smiles, nodding. “Yes. We’ll be right back.”

Finding the espresso machine on the counter, Rohan gestures to it, glancing over at Gio. “Care to show me how it works, Giovanna?~”

“My pleasure~” 

Lena watches as the boys use the machine, chatting idly, reminding her of better days. 

If only this visit had come under better circumstances… 

She reaches a hand to her stomach, rubbing gently to calm herself and gasping as she feels a faint kick meet where her hand is pressing. It’s earlier than with the twins, but exactly the same feeling. 

“Giobaby.”

The Don glances over his shoulder at his wife. “Hm?”

“She’s moving.”

His tired eyes light up instantly and he’s already walking over, leaving Rohan to customize his coffee how he likes. Kneeling down, the Don lays his palm on the bump, resting his head on his wife’s arm.

Rohan notes the use of she for the little one, but keeps to himself, turning to let the Giovanna’s have their private moment. In a second, Ari pops around the corner with a less-bundled up Ellie, who is finally walking by herself now that she’s more awake.

“Papa!” Running forward, Ellie grabs onto his leg, holding tight and hiding her face into the fabric of his pants. He chuckles, leaning down to scoop her up and cover her small round face with kisses, getting a bevy of giggles from her as she holds her tiny palms up to his face. “Papaaaa!!! Noooooo!!!” 

He grins, giving her one last smooch on the cheek and turns back to the coffee. “Ari, do you want some? Gio taught me how to work the machine.”

“Yes, please.” Giving him a kiss on the cheek, she turns to Lena, leaving Ellie content in Rohan’s arms. Seeing Giorno kneeling next to Helena, Ari pauses, her mouth falling open. 

“Is it…?”

Lena nods. “She’s kicking around. First time we could feel her.”

“IT’S A GIRL???”

Grinning, Lena nods. “We were going to tell you soon, but this is as good a time as any.”

“Ahhhh!!!!” Putting her hands up to her face, Ari’s eyes sparkle, her whole face lighting up. “So exciting!! Congrats!!”

Cheeks warming up, Lena nods, laughing quietly. “Thank you, Ari.”

Standing up, Giorno turns to Ellie, gesturing at her to get her attention. “Guess what, Ellie? You'll have a friend soon.” 

Tilting her face to the side, Ellie looks back at her dad, then back at Gio. The Don chuckles, adding: 

“Her name will be Esmeralda, Ellie.”  

“Oh?” Setting his cup on the table, Rohan sits down with Ellie in his arms, smiling as Ari sits beside him. “Esmeralda…?”

Lena hums, “It means emerald in Spanish and Portuguese, it comes from a Greek word.” feeling her cheeks warm up further, she grins, barely hiding her flushed expression behind her hand, “I've always liked that name so, here we are.” 

Sitting beside his wife, Giorno hums, extending a hand out to rub her back as Ari speaks up.

“Esme. It's such a beautiful name.” Looking back at Ellie and Rohan, she laughs softly. “I can definitely see the girls being best friends.” 

“Right.” Giorno reaches out to his cup, raising it to his lips to take a sip from his coffee and hiding a smile. ”Please make yourself at home, eat all you want.” 

Taking a cannoli, Lena pauses midway, looking back at her friends with kind, soft eyes. “Thank you for being here, really.” 

Reaching out, Ari sets her hand on top of Lena's free hand, squeezing gently. “It's okay, Lena. Really. We wanted to be here. For you. For everyone.” 

Tears welling up in her eyes, Lena chuckles, nodding. “I mean, yeah… But you left your home,” she looks back at Rohan, blinking and finally letting a single tear stream down her face. “Your work and life for us. I'm just…” setting the cannoli down, she reaches up to wipe away her tears, leaving back an angry trail over her skin. 

“I'm really grateful for your support.”

Eyes softening, Rohan nods, deciding that maybe, accepting her words will make her feel better: with a silent hum and a bow, Rohan looks over at his wife, who seems to think the same. Imitating her husband, Ari bows, giving one last smile and reaching for a plate of pancakes to cut up for Ellie.

Breakfast goes by through silence and a few moments of conversation —catching up on Ellie's milestones, Rohan's work, Ariel's work at the Foundation, Giorno's law firm and Helena's foundation: by the end, Ari stands up with Ellie asleep in her arms, taking her to their bedroom. 

Rohan stays back, finishing his coffee, before Westwood guides him to the twins' room (not without turning around and reminding Giorno to take a nap with the most dangerous expression he can put on –the gesture makes Giorno laugh wholeheartedly for the first time in hours, though it hides an ounce of pain).

As Rohan leaves and Giorno's laughter fades into silence, Lena looks through the window, sensing something, the type of omen that makes her stomach turn with excitement and her heart to fill with joy and hope for a new day.

But the second Giorno calls for her, it all blends back to confusion and worry.

“Lena.” 

Turning to face him, her breath gets caught in her windpipe upon the realization of his true state: from his bloodshot eyes, dry lips, disheveled hair, his tie hanging around his neck undone and his shirt tucked out his pants to the absolute and raw desperation behind his eyes, barely held back by his will. 

How —when— did it end up like this? A few seconds ago he was laughing and joking with Rohan. And now his mood had shifted instantly.

His question cuts off the silence. “Do you think… Do you think this is a punishment?” 

Lena blinks once, twice, three times in a row before a quiet whisper leaves her lips. “What?” 

Giorno leans back against the kitchen island, water bottle tightly held in his massive hand: rephrasing his question. “Like, karma. Is this some kind of karma? For what we did to the Dallas Board? Have we brought pain upon Dan and JoJo just for the sake of my pride and ego?” 

Slowly standing up and walking around the island, Lena gets closer, standing on her tiptoes to reach a hand out to him. When he leans into her touch, lip trembling and green eyes clouded by pain, she mumbles out: “Baby, no. This is not about karma or… Divine retribution.” Affirming her hold on his face, she presses herself against him, trying to ground him somehow, anyhow —any possible way. 

Slowly, she speaks up, giving him time to process her words, “We're born stand users. Our genes carry the virus. This is just biology; statistics.” 

A tear rolls down his cheek, “But,” a sigh, broken and tired, eyes closed. “I can't stand seeing them in pain.” Opening his eyes, Lena's lips tremble, feeling her own eyes start to sting. “If I could I would swipe places —If I could endure their pain I would.” 

Voice tiny, Lena shakes her head, “We can't. No matter how much we try, Giogio —we can't do that. We can only wait.” 

“Wait and bleed,” a chuckle escapes him, both deep and broken as his arms circle her. Leaning his chin into the top of her head, Giorno mumbles. “You're right.” 

Rubbing over his back, Lena twists her head to lay a kiss against the place his heart beats, “Get a nap, Giobaby. You need it.”

Humming, his arms let go slowly, reluctantly, reaching out to wipe his tears. “If something happens, wake me up.” 

“I will. Rest, honey.” 

Tilting her face up with a finger on her chin, Giorno mumbles, tired. “I'm serious, Helena. We're together on this, hm? Wake me up if something happens.” 

Nodding, she sets her hands on his arm, squeezing back as her eyes bore into his, “I will.” 

Leaning down without letting go of her face, Giorno presses his lips against the tip of her nose, her cheeks, forehead and lastly, lips, sealing his promise with the quietest of signs: a stare, hopeful and full of trust on his wife.

Staring back, Lena's lips curl up into a smile after a moment, relaxed and calmer now: “Goodnight, Giogio.” 

Giorno chuckles, shaking his head as he leaves the kitchen, turning around at the last moment to blow her a kiss —one she catches and keeps close to her heart. 

Standing alone in the middle of the kitchen, Lena sighs, dropping her hand to rest on her stomach. 

“M'Lady,” Abel Agreste clears his throat as his stand, Blinding lights, allows him to materialize by Lena's side, earning a gasp from her and making him chuckle, nervous.

“Sorry, Donna. Didn't know you were having a moment.” 

Rubbing the back of his head, Rome's Capo gestures forward, “Dr. Rebecca Louis is here. Akashi brought her here without incidents.”

Sighing, Lena nods, “First off: don't do that again. Second: don't scare me like that. Third: why did you let Akashi do that?” 

“Eh,” Abel scratches the back of his head, looking up into the ceiling. “He was bored.” 

“He's always bored.” 

Sighing, Abel drops his hands at each side of his body, “I mean, yeah, but I wanted to make sure our surroundings were truly safe. Their stands are messing up with the systems, Fugo couldn't access the cameras for a while.” 

Pressing her lips into a tight line, Lena sighs. “I'll talk to Fugo later. Where is Dr. Louis?” 

“In the living room.” Abel gestures forward, intending to let her walk before him.  

***

Coming into the twins' room, Giorno stops in the doorway, pausing to feel the soft, warm and smooth sensation of Ares' tail as the cat walks between his legs and into the boys' room. 

“Ares.” He calls in a whisper, leaning down to pick him up and pointing a finger at the twins, “They can't play with you right now, hm? But there,” he then points at Rohan, who had been sitting in silence watching over the interaction. “There 's Rohan-sensei, hm? You might want to give him ideas for his manga.” 

Rohan chuckles, shaking his head —raising a hand to comb his hair and fix his headband, his voice comes out tired, but equally enthusiastic: “An enemy with cat-like abilities?” Taking a close look, he hums, noticing how much Ares has grown both according to his age and breed, “And maybe a giant.” 

“See? Told you.” Coming into the room, Giorno smiles and sets Ares down, letting him climb on Jovi's bed — and, trying to keep his eyes open forcefully, he takes a seat on the little one's bed, leaning to press a soft kiss to his forehead, mumbling a few words Rohan can't figure out.

Then, Gio repeats the motion with Dante, mumbling the same words: by the end when he's standing in the middle of the room he looks back and straight into Rohan's eyes. 

“Thank you, Han.” 

“No need to thank me. Get some rest.”

“Yes, yes, everyone’s telling me that.”

“Then I won’t say it again… But.” Rohan looks up at the twins, looking at their feverish expressions and exhausted faces. “Do I have your permission to use Heaven’s Door on the twins if necessary? I know Dr. Louis will be here soon. If I can help with any diagnostic work, I want to.”

“Just don’t write anything in them without both me and Lena here, Kishibe. I trust you, but I don’t want you making any rash decisions that will affect them permanently.”

“You have my word, Giovanna. Now, sleep. You’re going to fall over soon if you don’t rest.”

Walking to the doorway, he muttered something like “going, going, I’m going,” leaving Rohan and Ares behind with the boys.

***

“Mrs. Giovanna, it’s a pleasure.” Dr. Louis removes her glove, extending a warm hand in greeting. Helena grasps it firmly, giving her a welcoming smile. 

“We’re glad you’ve made it here safely. May I take you upstairs to see Dante and Jovi?.”

She nods, gesturing to the packages in Mista’s arms. “Yes, of course. I made a supply run when I got here, so we should have what’s necessary to begin treatment of the stand fever.”

“Walk with me.” Lena heads for the stairs, chatting as they make their way up. “I’ve heard your specialty is stands, children of stand users, and the stand fever?”

“That’s right. I used to be a part of the main Dallas SPW branch… I had seen too many unexplained things in my life–spirits, ghosts, call it what you like. But when I was the victim of a stand attack, representatives from the Speedwagon Foundation had to step in. That’s when I learned all about the world of stand users.”

Intrigued, Lena listens carefully, walking down the hallway. 

“I had no idea what that meant at first, or that you could be born with one… I had a daughter at 18. Single mom, already a year into pre-med, but I was always ahead of the curve when it came to academics. Turns out it was my stand helping. I don’t have a manifested form for mine, but I’m still a stand user. And that transferred down into my daughter as well…”

Waiting outside the door, they stop to finish the story. 

“Did she go through the stand fever?”

Dr. Louis nods, “I was already in residency when it happened. The Foundation had taken me under their wing as a stand user and helped fund my education… I had to take a leave of absence to help care for Rosie, but they continued supporting me. Back in undergrad, I had specialized in biochemistry and had always kept up to date with new research. My special interest, I suppose. So when the Foundation told me that they thought it was the result of her stand awakening, I partnered with their research team to find out what cells activated during the process and how to make that transition slower…”

Lena’s eyebrows raise, hopeful. 

“We were able to slow the process and make it more manageable for her body. Her stand is similar to mine, in that it doesn’t have a physical form, but that’s often easier on her… I’m rambling, forgive me.”

“Not at all.” Lena smiles, glad for the companionship of another stand user parent. “We would do anything for our children.”

Dr. Louis smiles in return, taking a deep breath. “We’ve been keeping an eye on Ellie in Morioh. When the new position there opened up with the research opportunity of two arrow user parents, I couldn’t resist… It’s such an unexplored field. Being a pioneer into new scientific discoveries is something everyone in the medical field dreams of.”

“I agree.” Lena reaches for her hand, squeezing it in affirmation. “My background is medical, so I understand the feeling.”

“Is there anyone else responsible for their medical care already here?”

“Yes, Dr. Enzo Boccelli is here, part of our Naples branch with his stand Type O Negative. You’ll meet them soon. We also have a representative here from the SPW Guadalajara branch, Dr. Joshua López. My husband, Giorno, is taking a nap, as he was up all night and about to pass out. Kishibe-sensei should be in the room now as well. Our guards Mista, Fugo, Abel, and Akashi will all be around in shifts, should you need anything.”

“I’m Mista.” The voice from behind them pipes up. “And while I’m riveted by your story, these boxes are heavy. Can I put them in the room, boss?”

“Ah, yes. Our apologies. Go ahead.”

Kicking his foot on the door to knock, Mista waits for the door to open, a surprised Rohan staring out. 

“‘Scuse me Kishibe, we got some supplies.” 

Rohan nods and walks to the windows, watching things unfold quietly as Lena and Dr. Louis enter the room as well. 

Setting the boxes down by the desk beside Jovi's bed, Mista groans upon the sound of his bones cracking —rolling his shoulders, the gunslinger excuses himself quietly, leaving the room with a faint, pained look at the twins. 

“Dr. López?” Lena calls, noticing the lights from the bathroom turn off and the door slowly opening: there stands Dr. López, rubbing his temples and fixing his glasses but quickly nodding and composing himself once he notices the Donna there.

“Excuse me, I needed to freshen up.” 

With a small nod, Lena smiles, brushing it off with her hand.  “Dr. Louis from the Morioh branch will be helping —maybe you both can set shifts and take breaks? There's a room for each of you.”

Blinking, Dr. López looks aside, quickly finding Dr. Louis by Lena's side, standing there with the same smile he's known for years now. Slowly, his lips curl up until he's grinning, bright eyes and all. “Becca? How long has it been?” 

“A year, maybe? Last time we saw each other was back at that convention.” Stepping forward, Dr. Louis gives him a small, welcoming hug, pulling away from the embrace then looking towards the boys. “Care to update me with everything you know, Josh?”

He smiles slightly, grabbing up a notebook from nearby. “I’ve been recording symptoms and side effects of the stand virus as they occur, trading off with Doctor Boccelli in our observations.” Flipping through the pages, he reads off different entries to her, “We've been monitoring the fever without changes,” Josh pauses, taking a look at Rebecca: “We haven't been able to make it decrease from 102°F.” with a sigh and pushing his glasses up his nose, he goes back to his notes, “There are no signs of shock or organ failure, we've been monitoring blood pressure, diuresis, shock signals and… we were thinking of running some tests, to make sure infections aren't making their way into their systems.” 

Dr. Louis nods, thinking of the information received —and taking a look at the twins, her brow furrows, noting their pained expressions. Though the picture brings back memories of her own daughter, she still hums, turning to ask; “What treatments have you administered so far?” 

Putting the notebook aside, Dr. López looks back at the boys. “Acetaminophen, we've been giving them doses every six hours. Nutrition has been given by Type O Negative, Dr. Bocelli's stand.” 

“I see..” Rebecca steps back, turning around to take a look inside of the top box in the desk.  “Then we need to make sure infections and bacteria aren't making it harder. We should also consider swapping over to ibuprofen and giving them extra doses of vitamins and minerals.”

Dr. Louis holds up IV bags of specially mixed medications, the ones she had acquired just before her arrival. “The stand virus doesn’t respond to usual medications –it’s literally changing and activating their DNA, enabling the genes that create Stands. It’s too late to slow the process down, but we can help them fight. We have to monitor them until it reaches its end point and give them enough bodily resources to draw on to complete the transformation. Our priority is the protection of organs and vital functions.” 

Dr. López steps up, holding one of the bags in his hand. “Hopefully that will happen soon, the environment has been shifting a lot.” 

Rebecca stops, looks back and blinks twice in confusion. “Shifting? What do you mean?” she turns to Lena, who's now sitting by Dante's bed. “How long has this been happening, Mrs. Giovanna?” 

Looking back, Lena presses her lips together, thinking of her response for a minute: “Around an hour after it started. When it happens, clocks stop or your environment morphs. It's like your perception is getting twisted for a second, and then goes back. It's pretty, well, weird and extremely powerful: it made two grown men kneel and gasp for air.”

Rohan stands up, eyes the size of dinner plates —amazed and horrified at once, but mostly curious. “...Who?” 

Lena looks back, lips tightly pressed into a line for a moment before her lips part and her reply comes out in a whisper. “Gio and West.” 

Gasping, Rohan turns to look at the boys, thinking back to the prophecy: cautious, he eyes Lena through the corner of his eye. “Does Dr. Louis know about that, Helena?” 

Closing her eyes and shaking her head softly, Lena turns back to Rebecca, gesturing her over and out of the room. As they stand back in the hall, the Donna guides her towards Giorno’s studio. 

Letting Dr. Louis first, Lena comes in after, letting the door open for Westwood to stand under the doorway. “Excuse me, Dr. Louis. I forgot about that. Please have a seat.” 

Doing as she was told, Dr. Louis sits down before the desk, eyebrow raised in both confusion and wonder. “What’s the matter, Donna?” 

Leaning both hands against the cool wood, Lena sighs, taking a deep breath before she starts. “Did you read the report on the first soul extraction, Dr. Louis?” 

 Dr. Rebecca Louis nods. 

“Then you might already know what happened. My stand extracted the patient’s soul, his stand, technically. The source of his sickness was his stand, which was actively attacking its own user.” 

“You mean Chrono Trigger.” 

“Exactly,” pulling her phone out, Lena keeps talking while she seems to look for something in the device. “Chrono is under my command. It gave us a prophecy back then. About the twins and this exact moment.” Sliding her phone across the table and before Dr. Louis, Lena’s eyes hold a strange haze, one between worry and calm. 

Taking the phone from her, Rebecca takes her time reading over it —and when she’s done and her eyebrows arch, amazement, horror, and wonder blend back into a second glance, then a third and a fourth: there she looks back, big eyes full of questions: “Mrs. Giovanna, do you realize the real meaning behind this?” 

“Their stands are far too powerful, yes.” 

“I mean,” giving the phone back, Dr. Louis looks aside, as if trying to see through the walls and into the twins’ room. “The magnitude of their strength affects the stand awakening process. The virus… It must be aggressive. If that’s what their powers will be then…”

She takes a moment to compose her thoughts, silently musing over everything, then replies again. “We haven't had cases like these before, at least not documented: you’re both born stand users with requiem stands. Yours came after, but Don Giovanna has had his for a while now, which adds to their predisposition for strong stands… The cellular mutation they’re going through is taking a toll on their bodies because it’s such a sweeping alteration of the genetic structure. We have no other explanation.” 

“Right.” Sighing, Lena rubs her temples, letting her phone aside. “I know this should take two or three days, but… At the moment, I can’t imagine it will ever end.” 

Eyes softening, Dr. Louis reaches out, laying a warm palm over Lena’s cold hand. “I understand, Helena. No mother wants to see their child hurt. Now that I’m here, I’ll make sure to provide the best care possible.” 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Westwood speaks up, slow but calm. “Donna, Dr. Bocelli is here.”

Looking up from the desk and back at the door where Westwood stands, Lena nods. “Let him in, Dr. Louis needs Dan and Jojo’s patient history.” 

Standing aside to let him in, Westwood waits until Dr. Bocelli walks in and sits by Dr. Louis’ side, setting his cane between his legs so he can offer a handshake. 

“Good morning, Dr. Louis. It’s a pleasure.” 

Taking his hand, Dr. Louis smiles gently, “I’m glad to finally meet you, Dr. Bocelli. Your paper on the stand fever was truly amazing.” 

“Oh, thank you. May I give you the details?” 

Standing up and taking her phone, she makes her way to the door, stopping by Westwood’s side and turning to them, adding: “I’ll let you have your meeting, okay? I need to see how everything is going in our surroundings.”

“Of course, Lena.” Dr. Bocelli nods, a warm smile her way. “Don’t tire yourself out, okay?” 

She hums and, as she walks down the hall, Westwood gestures at Akashi, who’s quick to follow her. 

***

Pannacotta Fugo has been awake longer than this. For him and his insomnia, more than twenty four hours up is not a big issue. 

But this time is different. The twins don’t show signs of recovery, their parents are too worried to care for their own needs: he’s used to seeing them strong and imposing, nothing has ever had this effect on them before. 

Leaning back against his chair, a sigh passes his lips right as his next thought crosses his mind and his eyes scan over the security cameras, watching Abel and Paolo take turns to have breakfast.

Giorno and Helena are strong. Together they’re undefeatable. But the twins are their kids and everything that happens to them will always worry and stop their whole world, because that’s how parents are supposed to feel. Just because his parents didn’t, doesnt mean others’ parents can't or don’t feel that way. 

Parents, what had happened to his? 

Were they still alive, wealthy and equally judgmental? 

What about his butler, the one who used to bring him snacks during his late night study sessions? Had anything changed or was it still a broken and empty home? Were the halls of that house haunted by his suffering? Had they moved out after that incident…?

The truth was he didn’t miss them —his father did not deserve to be called that, and his mother was not someone who should be missed in the first place. After all, their treatment had killed his ambitions and passions for years until he settled down with the new Passione… And only there, under Giorno’s command, had things started to change for him. His will to live instead of just surviving had emerged finally in the shape of his passion for science and occultism, something he refused to let go, holding onto it through his toughest challenges.

The door opens and he, startled, almost knocks over his coffee cup. Lena’s voice brings him out of his daydream when she calls out to him, gently, like she always does: a gentle soul. “Good morning, Panni. Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Lena.” Standing up, he quickly offers his seat to her, insisting until she gives in. Only there he rubs the back of his neck, holding his coffee mug with the other. “I’ve had coffee. I’m not, uh, hungry.” 

Turning around, Lena smiles, revealing the cannoli wrapped up in a napkin that she holds carefully, almost like she’s afraid of dropping it. “I thought so. Please have this, and make sure you eat something later.” 

With a nod, he takes the pastry, sitting on the couch at the other side of the desk, pondering on his question for a while —from time to time, his eyes fall on the Donna, who’s busy looking at the different cameras displayed around the mansion. 

His voice surprises him when it comes out, taking him off guard. “Helena.” 

She hums, giving him a short, curious look. 

Clearing his throat, Fugo asks: “I…” He hesitates, swallowing hard, then tries again. “Will they be okay?” 

Her lips seal into a line: looking around his dark office, the Donna thinks about his question for a while, only stopping when the room around them becomes bigger: the walls grow like trees in a haunted forest and the computers are suddenly tiny little objects in the desk: the distortion lasts a second before it goes back with a thump. 

Lena then looks back at him, a smile grazing her lips. “I think so. I want to believe they will make it.” She looks back at the cameras, watching Abel and Paolo freak out after switching places during the distortion. 

“It’s just that you and Giogio are always so calm and collected… I think this is the first time I’ve seen you two so worried. Not even back when you took over the Dallas Board.” 

“That was a different situation, yes. We never thought this would happen so soon.” 

Fugo hums, looking at the monitor where the boys lie sleeping, faces feverish, but hands reaching towards each other, drawn subconsciously together even now… Throwing the napkin into the trashcan and taking a bite from the cannoli, he listens to Lena while she walks out. “Even so… I can assure you, Panni, the sun will shine on us again.” 

A warm sensation blooms in his chest right after her words have registered on his brain —hope shines, even if the room goes dark when she closes the door behind her.

***

Laying on his stomach with both hands tucked under his pillow, Giorno stirs awake upon the sound of his phone. The device, set by the bedside table, vibrates and the screen lights up displaying 'fully charged' at the bottom of the screen. After a few seconds, the screen goes black, vibration stops and he's left there, one green eye peeking through the mane of blond hair that fell over his face while he was sleeping.

With a quiet hum, he rolls on his back without moving to the other side of the bed. Running a hand up to get his hair off his face, his free hand carefully pats his side in hopes of finding someone there --however, all he can feel is the mattress and silk sheets under his warm palm.

The twins.

Memories flash behind his eyelids fast: from his wife's worried expression, Westwood driving him home, to Dante and Jovi's feverish expressions. It makes him stir awake completely and as he sits up by the edge of the bed and reaches out to his phone, the darkness around him does not help soothing his mind.

10:39 AM.

“Three hours?” he mumbles to himself, unable to find out how much he slept —but feeling better now.

Standing up and throwing his phone on the bed, he walks up through the familiar bedroom until the pads of his fingers find the light switch, flipping it.

Warm light bathes the room —there, he takes a moment to look around, eyes scanning over the decorations: from his and Lena's CD's collection, to the empty side of the bed, where her sweater lays folded on top of her pillow.

Sighing, he turns around and gets into the bathroom. Stripping off his boxers and getting under the shower head, letting the cold water run down his body. 

Stepping out, a towel wrapped around his waist, Giorno throws his hair back, feeling some water drops run down his back in the process. Coming into the closet, his hand rests above the towel holding it in place while he looks for something to put together a decent outfit. 

Finally dressed in black pants and a black turtleneck shirt, Giorno walks around the closet, looking for his shoes until he finds them by Lena’s side —he’s not sure how they got there— and puts them on, turning to pick his black trench coat from the hanger. Letting it drape over his arm, he comes to a stop by the mirror, making quick work with his hair, simply combing it back loosely, with two stubborn pieces of short hair falling on his forehead and putting on his barrel piercings, rings and the arrowhead hidden beneath the fabric of his shirt. Taking one last look in the mirror, his brow softens as he nods to himself, putting on his trench coat. 

Exiting the bathroom and standing in the middle of the room, his eyes fall on Lena’s sweater atop her pillow: walking up to the bed, he tucks it under his arm, slipping his phone inside his pocket before leaving the room.

The hall is empty, he notes, and the silence in the mansion is something he’s grown unfamiliar with. As he rounds the corner, Akashi comes into view. The swordsman is sitting at the top of the stairs, talking to someone in the lobby.

As he keeps walking, Akashi seems to sense his presence and, turning to him, the pink haired man grins, standing up. “Goooooood morning, boss!” 

“Good morning, Akashi.” Looking down, Abel’s already waving from the lobby, grinning and excusing himself when Mista calls for him from outside. 

Akashi walks before him, gesturing him forward, “C’mon, Lena’s with the boys! Dr. Louis is here, too, and she’s already working to get your mini you’s up and ready to run around!” 

Humming, Giorno follows him, quietly listening to the story he has to share now —Akashi has been alive for about 400 years, and he’s admitted openly how bored he truly is: to Giorno, listening to his stories seems like the best way to help him get rid of his boredom at least for a while. The man is also impatient, intolerant to getting interrupted with a quick mind: and Giorno, ever the patient man, has no problem listening to him. After all, Akashi has been alive through historical moments and always has something to share. 

“Anyway, I’ll tell you about Tesla and Edison later: just keep in mind Tesla was right and Edison was a bitch.” Coming to a stop before the twins’ room, Akashi looks up to declare that right into Giorno’s eyes. The Don, with a nod and a smile, replies: “I’ll remember that, Akashi.” 

“Good.” opening the door, Akashi lets him in, closing it behind his back. 

Four pairs of eyes fall on him as soon as he steps in and the door closes. 

“Well, good morning, Giovanna. You don’t look like crap anymore~” Rohan is the first to greet him, waving from his seat on Dante’s bed, where Dr. López stands holding his clipboard and pen.  

Chuckling, Giorno walks in, patting Rohan’s back a bit too hard, and pressing a kiss to Dante’s forehead. Then, he walks around, kisses Jovi’s forehead and offers a handshake to Dr. Louis. 

“Thank you for being here, Dr. Louis. We’re grateful for your support.” 

“Of course, Don Giovanna.” Dr. Louis nods his way, turning back to check Jovi’s blood pressure and write down notes on his breathing. 

Looking on, he makes eye contact with Lena, a warm smile spreading through his lips when her cheeks turn pink and her smile reaches her eyes: she’s sitting on the couch, overlooking the procedures. Walking up to her, he sits by her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, feeling her nuzzling her face against the side of his face. By her side Ares meows, purring and climbing on her lap to get his attention. 

Pulling back, he reveals the sweater under his arm, laying it gently over her form with a soft whisper of, “Your nose is cold, dear.” 

She smiles, taking the garment from him and pulling it on. “Not as cold now~”

Rohan glances around at the room, filled almost to capacity with visitors. “If it’s alright, I’ll go check in on Ari and Ellie… Now that Giovanna is back.”

“Yes, of course, re-join us when you’re ready.” Giorno offers a warm smile, gesturing to Akashi. “If you’ll show him to the Kishibe’s room??”

Jumping up from his seat, Akashi grins. “I’ve actually been waiting for a chance to talk to you, Kishibe-sensei!” Walking over, the two exit the room, Giorno shaking his head.

“Kishibe may have a hard time getting him to shut up now that he’s started.”

Lena smiles, leaning into his chest. “Rohan can handle it, I’m sure~”

Lowering his voice to a whisper, the Don focuses his gaze on the twins. “How are things going? Did you make any progress?”

Whispering back, Lena replies. “I think so. Dr. Louis has more experience with these kinds of situations, so I have more hope now… More confidence that we have the best team possible here.”

He kisses her forehead, noticing she’s warmer than usual herself. “Have you gotten enough water, baby?”

She shakes her head no, but reaches for a bottle nearby. “We’ve been so busy getting everyone up to speed, I haven’t had time.”

Giorno reaches gently for the bump, resting his hand there. “You have to take care of yourself. For us. And… For Esme.”

She nods, tearing up a little and taking a sip from the bottle. “I know…”

#the Giovanna twins #reborn and rebuilt #AriHan #GioLena #*snv's tesla voice* SCIENCE

[will-they-wont-they-detransition]

My History (he/him to she/her)

My transgender experience and my time tumblr, not all that surprisingly, overlap slightly. At the age of 14 I made my first foray into tumblr and met a number of people and accounts who were hugely formative to my early years on the internet. Outside of tumblr I had a mostly average young-teenage social life, perhaps on the shyer and reserved side but not altogether abnormal.

Keeping in this bubble of normalcy was the school where I went and the town where I lived. It was small and semi-rural, and far out of “big cities.” Because of this, my first real contact and understanding of transgender identities came from the internet, tumblr specifically. Now, for those that swear by the “social contagion” of transness, I know how this must appear, but in retrospect I would not really pin tumblr and it’s communities as an “infection vector.”

Rather, it was the Wachowskis.

Love them or hate them (and, golly, has there been a lot of digital ink spilled on that), no one can deny that to the average 14 year old boy, The Matrix is pretty cool. So combine these inspirational directors with a cool cyberpunk movie, some relatively tamed sexuality, and such intrigues as the character Switch (for those that don’t know, Switch was originally intended as a trans character, “switching” genders when entering and leaving the Matrix) and the very concept of trans people was not something I would accidentally forget the name of.

Of course, there was a whole litany of events and peoples and foundational experiences I could get into, each one contributing to the coming landslide, but I won’t digress about it here. Suffice it to say that I came out as bisexual at 15 and (to a select few) transgender at 16, though I had as yet no notions of transitioning either hormonally or socially.

I was the only trans kid there. At least, as far as I know, and blending into the crowd (no matter the personal discomfort) seemed the path of least resistance for a shy, awkward boy-girl. 

I played around with names and makeup and skirts for a while. The first few times made my heart pound hard and my throat to go dry. It was a mixture of excitement and dread of the wrong person walking in at the wrong time. My friend group, by and large, were supportive though they themselves only ranged from “LGBT Ally” and “maybe bi-curious.” Life was mostly good, though I was quick to notice that clothes and faceful of makeup did little to alter my gangly arms, my nervous twitches, the leg hair that stood out very dark against my pale skin.

When I had first applied the concept of being transgender to myself I saw it as more, well, magical. That I would see my awkward puberty (already be a few years late in coming) be stripped away and that I would simply transfigure into a perfect female form. Of course I knew, rationally, that was not how the process worked but in my daydreams and short stories it was always as simple as that.

As I have learned these last five years, living openly as a trans girl, it was much more difficult. That is not to say I was tricked into it! I was always cognizant of the fact that my dreams were one thing and that to be an out and proud trans woman was very different. What I did think (and this is the concept that I am having second guesses on), was that it was better than testosterone-fueled puberty.

Looking back, I’d say that I am beyond a doubt happy with the life I lived and that living as transgender has given me a perspective on gender and sexuality that I could not have gotten anywhere else. Yet here we are five years later, I’m approaching my mid-20s and it’s probably about time I start HRT, right?

Well, I’m still terrified by the aging effects of testosterone: wrinkles, body hair, male pattern baldness, etc, I came upon a surprise that I think even you Detransitioners and Gender Criticals would be interested to hear: I’ve found that, for this moment, I am happy with my body.

Now -- I still dress feminine, I throw on makeup whenever my face is splotchy, I keep my hair long because it frames my (admittedly) long face rather well. And, as said before, I think I would rather lose this right arm of mine than get a receding hairline.

When I look at myself in the mirror, however, what I see is (pardon the language) a cute, effeminate twink -- and I’m happy with what I see (for now, not all of us are forever young, right?). Now, looking at myself in the mirror and telling myself I am looking at a girl I see a number of flaws: forehead, shoulders, chest, etc., the usual dysphoric candidates, but last night something amazing happened:

I looked at my reflection and asked myself: what if this was the image of a guy I’m trying to date? Someone who actually doesn’t mind showing off their broad shoulders and flat chest? It sounds droll but it’s true, I fell in love with myself. Well, maybe not in the Narcissus way, but I found myself loving the fact that I looked like a kind of boy!

So that leads me to today. Ever since the revelation I find that my brain seems to be changing beyond my control. Womanhood? Femininity? Whatever you want to call it, just didn’t seem as important anymore -- it seemed to be leaking out of me bit by bit. All that remains is this sense of masculinity, not the traditional kind, but something male, something boy-ish even, and basking in it gave me more euphoria than ever before.

Going forward, I want to engage with detrans literature, I want to hear the stories of detransistioners and transgender people and everyone in between. I know somewhere out there, my experience can be related to and I hope to find the answer soon -- should I detransition or not?

#transgender #transgender story #detrans #mtf detrans #detransition #gender critical #terf #mtf #mtftm #me

[starlight-time-machine]

Week in Review

03/02/2024 – 03/09/2024

Sunday

Week 4 of missing Cipher Academy.

So they’ve gone the realistic route with Girl Meets Rock, huh? I can dig it – as a female tenor I can relate to Hatocchi having a more unique voice. I imagine they’ll grab guitar guy to complete their band, which would be interesting because I’ve never really seen a co-ed band for this kind of story. There’s also the possibility that guitar guy will dump the girl he’s currently dating and she’ll quit his band and join this one as some way of getting revenge on him, but I don’t remember what instrument she plays so who knows. Her design was just too distinct to not take note of.

Undead Unluck is peak as always, and I’m excited to see what new developments can come out of this revelation. It’s cute that Top’s new outfit looks so tokusatsu.

It’s so wonderful to see RuriDragon return. Like everyone else, I was compelled by its down-to-earth writing and lovely dimensional inking, so I’ve been patiently waiting for its return for almost two years now. I’m glad to hear that the mangaka is doing better, and that Jump is giving them the space to do things at their own pace. Story-wise, it still feels like we’re just building up to something, so I don’t have much to say yet.

It’s kind of hilarious watching everyone freak out over Oshi no Ko. Personally, I really don’t think they’ll go there, as Oshi no Ko has the tendency to pull its punches when it counts (having Ruby and Kana resolve their fight almost right away, having the guy taking Kana to his apartment be an actually decent person, undercutting most serious moments with a comedic turn, etc), but it’d be funny and interesting if it does.

Dandadan 142: God I love Mai’s stupid big head turtle design so much, and seeing her fight with Turbo Granny is hilarious.

Magilumiere fine.

Chainsaw Man pretty crazy.

One Piece also getting pretty crazy. It’s nice seeing some old friends again, and Luffy’s Looney Tunes antics are fun. I really hope nothing stops Vegapunk’s message, but I wouldn’t put it past Oda to give us something tantalizing before cutting it off prematurely.

Awww it’s so cute to get a prom chapter from SpyFam. I love seeing everyone in formal wear, and it seems we’re about to get some more Damian/Anya development, which I’m always excited for. Also nice to see that Anya does have other boys interested in her as well.

I did some more reading today, and watched Aqours’ Dreamy Concert as I did so. It was pretty cute but nothing special, just them going through the group number hits. There was a funny moment with Aikyan and Rikako in there, though.

Monday

I read Briar’s Book by Tamora Pierce this morning, and was crying by the end of it. The Circle of Magic series is hands down one of my favourite book series of all time, ever since I first picked it up from my local library as a kid. I love the world and its characters with my entire heart, and it’s been such a balm for the soul to revisit the books over the past year. I’d put off reading Briar’s Book, as it was the last in the quartet where the four kids are still together and I couldn’t bear that time coming to an end, but I’ve been craving something good to read so I finally pulled it off my shelf. Even as a kid this was my favourite book, as it featured my favourite character and the interesting challenge of an epidemic (not so interesting now, due to recent years…parts of the books definitely gave me flashbacks). But I loved reading about how Emelan deals with the crisis, especially in the latter half where Briar and Tris work under Crane (it was so cathartic to see Crane begrudgingly admit their usefulness). And the final scene showcasing the strength of the love between the kids and their mentors was the one that made me cry. There’s just so much warmth and love woven into the very foundations of this book series, and I love love love it. The only downside was how the kids were mostly off doing their own thing in this book – I was hoping for some more cute found family scenes of them all together before they go off on their own adventures in the next books, but I guess seeing them on the roof together one last time was enough.

In another “finally finishing the last instalment of a series” moment, I’ve finished watching Kizumonogatari: Reiketsu. It was pretty good – the fight was fantastic and super kinetic, of course, but I also liked Hanekawa trying to pull Araragi back from the brink and Araragi interrogating his own naivety and contradictions. There’s also something there about how relationships form out of hurting one another, and Kiss-shot’s motivations feel complex and understandable. After everything they’ve gone through together, it’s really hard not to ship Araragi and Hanekawa, but I’m also looking forward to seeing Senjougahara and the others again now that I can continue with the anime series. I hate that Kizumonogatari is split up into three parts because giving each part its own rating feels like splitting hairs (which I’ll have to do for Letterboxd…sigh) but as a whole I’d say I’d give Kizumonogatari a 7/10.

Tuesday

Today’s reading is The Fairy-Tale Detectives by Michael Buckley, yet another series from my childhood that I’m revisiting. It has a strong premise – it’s inherently fun to see familiar fairy tale characters in a modern context, and I think the central conflict that the Everafters have with the Grimms is something that is rife for drama and story. The three main kids all have strong personalities that work well off of each other, and I love how Peter Ferguson’s illustrations evoke that classic fairy tale style while also making everyone look slightly unhinged. This first book’s central mystery was simple but effective, with some twists in there to keep things from being too straightforward. I feel like the action scenes needed some work, though, as well as some of the dialogue (“I did that. And then this. Do you understand? So there.”), but it was a decent read. Not as good as something like The Mysterious Benedict Society, but not as rough as The Century Series either.

I watched Aqours’ 6th Live as I read, and watching it so soon after the Dreamy Concert really hammered home how they kind of stopped dropping new singles for the group (until Genjitsu no Yohane…but we’ll get there when we get there). I don’t know, I like their music, but did we really need to hear Koi ni Naritai Aquarium for the fiftieth time… I didn’t expect them to pull out the winter duo trio songs again, though, I’ll give them that. Misty Frosty Love makes me emotional every time…the way that their gazes never line up…the lyrics hinting at a bittersweet regret and inability to be honest with one’s feelings…the YouRiko of it all… At least we got some solo songs for the other legs of this tour, and Aqours Pirates Desire is always hype (the way Shuka looks in that outfit and with that flag…), but man Aqours needs some new songs (and more subunits songs please). OH MY GOD COTTON CANDY EI  EI OH IS SO SDJFKSLDFJKLDSF I love Dia being the doting older sister/manager/back-up dancer in the background, that’s so cute and funny.

Wednesday

Ah

Thursday

Made instant ramen again for DunMesh Thursday, but only because there’s literally nothing left in the house (we’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow). I did add an egg though, because I realized that if I just crack it in and not stir the pot at all, the broth won’t get gloopy. The episode was pretty solid, with another cool moment for my boy Chilchuck, and it was fun to eat ramen while the gang ate pasta. After that was mostly set-up for the upcoming fight, but I like how it feels like a DND party preparing for a boss battle. Kui’s love for Western RPGs is so palpable in this series (unlike the slew of isekai operating on their vague ideas of fantasy, which boil down to “European town with monsters”). It looks like next episode will be the fight, and then episode 12 will be the aftermath, and I appreciate that they’ve lined things up so that the first half of the cour can actually have a climax and denouement.

Finished the last leg of Aqours’ 6th live tour today, and I wasn’t all that enthused. The solo songs were definitely the highlights: MOTTO-ZUTTO be with you was genuinely beautiful, Paradise Chime was so cute and fun (Shuka’s charisma is unmatched), and Meimei Tantei Yohane was INSAAAAAAAAAAAANE AIKYAN IS SOOOOO GOOD it was a good choice for her to become a center for Genjitsu no Yohane…her ability to go from typical anime girl sopranos to a deep dark alto is genuinely insane, she’s such an amazing performer.

Friday

What an absolutely nothing episode of Drag Race. None of the verses were particularly good to me, the Mhi’ya and Morphine beef just feels off-putting to watch, and I couldn’t make myself care about the lead up to the performance. And then the cherry on top was Plane Jane giving her potion to Nymphia in a move that feels like she’s just trying to buy likeability from the audience, only for it to literally not even matter??? At least the stupid chocolate twist had an actual pay-off at the end – in this season, both potions literally ended up being utterly inconsequential. This was such a weird bad episode, and the preview of next week’s challenge doesn’t give me much hope either.

Saturday

Didn’t do much today, but I want to give a shoutout to harmoe announcing their second album because it makes me so excited that I want to explode.

#week in review #2024

[maguro13-2]

Shattered Hero ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Pt. 10.5 ~

Lord Phanto : Maka, could that be you after all these years?

Maka Albarn : Of course it's me, dad. You finally knew to see your daughter in 15 years.

*flashback*

[Commander's Memories

"15 years prior"

Maka (As an infant) : *wailing*

Kid Moirai : But father. Are you sure sister's power will be at it's full potential?

Lord Phanto : Yes, Moirai. Once she grows up into a powerful warrior, she will ever to reach her full potential. It will grow strong and become an incredible Phantonian, this will make prove useful to be the most being that could ever bring destruction on the forces that goes against in the universe! With our blood within her human blood, we will break free from the curse of Shinra Kusakabe, she's no weapon nor a tool to Shinra's kind, she is a Phantonian. I gave her life, she is a part of us! The foolish Kusakabe will not understand our true purpose of overthrowing the legacy and this is what we preapared to make our domains of the galaxy under the ruling of us, Phantonians! We must keep our pride to ourselves in order to those dare stand against our kind of terraforming the planets. The death of the Kusakabe shall be their fate.

*flashback ends*

[Brief Relief - Jun Senoue]

Lord Phanto : I remember now. That was the day when you were born, your human father was a just an ordinary human being who once lived in Tokyo for a long time before I even met him and your mother. But after humans and witches started conflicted each other because of Shinra's spreading influence, our kind of terraforming earth is not the same and it's all thanks to Shinra, the devil brought Soul World to it's foundation, especially the Albarn that started the whole Soul World thing was none other than me, I was the one the started this family for a long period of time and you would even recgonize to believe in the eyes of truth.

Maka Albarn : I get it, dad--I mean,"Father", I got too carried away and I was being stubborn for not looking into the truth, after the explosion in Japan that I caused. I was wrong to be under the influence of Shinra Kusakabe and they wanted to use me for the sake of Shinra's Kind. We believe in truth too, you know! So the men of his influence has kept truth out of it and they kept it hidden from the public eye and the witches their selves.

Moirai Albarn : So does that mean that the Meisters and the so-called Mabuki have been puppets on a string the entire time or they have been under the influence of him as well, perhaps. So what if anyone falsely led anyone into believing that the evil forces were a diversion set up by demon vibe. Guess we were right about that. So the the mastermind behind the evil forces was Demon Vibe's doing and not just the Kishin that is behind all of this, who knew the Kusakabe were only just fools to think the Soul Eater universe we live in was all just a bunch of a baloney?

Maka Albarn : Please, father. There's something that I should tell you this. I want to prove my innocence that I was not the one who attacked America and the city of Tokyo. I was framed for those reason behind that incident and the Grim Reaper of Mobius had me locked up in his castle for 3 years. Shinra told me that I wanted a world without the despair, and it's all just a baloney. This is story of mine from Soul World absolutely bogus and there's nothing that I am a hero of that story! I wanted to become hero of Soul Eater, I wanted to become hero of the real world! I wanted to wake a dumb fantasy world that it's safe live in a universe without the despair that they had. And did you know where the Despair came from, Sephiroth that one winged piece of crap! I didn't want the world to my show my courage just for the sake of Shinra Kusakabe's intentions!

Moirai Albarn : Even if he did wanted to create the world of SE that is the very foundation, it must be destroyed from it's origin, or it can be erased by expunging one's story. So, you'll promise to let the man go?

Lord Phanto : Hmmm....very well, I'll let them go. If you only prove my daughter's innocence and I will make sure that I am the all might and powerful Phantonian to the hold the blood in our race!

Inky Albarn : Or else what, you masked clown? You got a nice little reunion to your family, Maka Albarn.

[Definition of Insanity - Jun Senoue]

*DBZ SFX : SURPRISE!*

Maka Albarn : It's you! Inky Albarn!

Inky Albarn : You must be the "other" father of Maka Albarn, how nice to see the face of a mask enemy from Subcon. It's only a shame that you finally knew about that it was I who framed her on purpose and took the misdeeds that I caused to avenge my dearly consort.

Lord Phanto : So you are the one who mistaken my daughter for her misjudgement! You are no hero to Soul World, you are the enemy within the lies of Shinra Kusakabe!

Moirai Albarn : I knew it! It was you all along! You got everyone involved of protecting the legacy of Shinra Kusakabe just to overthrow it, didn't you!?

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : Now's my chance! *DBZ SFX : JUMP+LAND*

[Shut up Faker - Jun Senoue]

Maka Albarn : Where did you come from?

Ashley : Hey, 14-year old girl named Maka Albarn! Over here!

Moirai Albarn : Humph! Looks like we got some company to form an alliance with the detectives.

Grim (Metal Sonic) : Majo Detective force. How did they get here so quickly?

Lord Phanto : Who are these people? Are they here to form an alliance? This might be interesting to have a helping hand with humans or witches that make it so easily.

Maka Albarn : It's just you and me, faker. You aren't going to overthrow that legacy!

Inky Albarn : Me? A faker? I think you are the fake around here from around these parts. You a, young girl that is comparing yourself to me as the queen of all Ink Demons? Ha! You're not even good enough to--

Maka Albarn : I'LL MAKE YOU EAT THOSE WORDS, DEMON!

[music stops]

Inky Albarn : Uhh, why did you just cut people off like that? *DBZ SFX : Strong Kick* Gah! (backflips to respond) There's no time to play games, kid. You won't even get the chance.

Maka Albarn : You're not getting away this time, there can only be one Maka! And that is me!

[Music resumes]

"MAKA VS INKY ALBARN"

(Battle begins)

Maka Albarn : Stand aside guys! This fight is mine alone to deal with!

Inky Albarn : Hmph! You have no idea whom your dealing with! Stand aside so that I may teach a lesson!

Maka Albarn : It shall be the one that is teaching you a lesson!

Inky Albarn : Not a bad thing, but I'm the coolest just to beat you!

Maka Albarn : Bring it on! Cause this will be our showdown! Last one standing is a winner! Best 2 out of three!

Inky Albarn : Same to you! Let's the best

(during mid-battle)

Maka Albarn : So...are you giving up yet? Who are you?

Inky Albarn : Just your average queen in the neighborhood, but you picked with the wrong one, fool!

Maka Albarn : So am I!

Inky Albarn : I see, so you're not talk at all! But not bad for a human imposter!

(CLANG!)

Kimial Diehl : Hey! The music stopped! What happened!?

Inky Albarn : What!? Who dares stand in my way!?

Maka Albarn : Tsubaki? Why did you interrupted our battle? What's going on here?

Tsubaki Nakatsukasa : I have something to tell you, Maka. It was all part of Necrodeus' scheme to take over the world in darkness. I, a leader of the Nakatsukasa family, is nothing more than a pawn to Shinra's will. I am the one who believes in the truth. That is why I chose to fight to uncovers the lies from Shinra's influence on whether we are a hero or a devil's spawn!

Maka Albarn : Tsubaki, you believe in truth? What's going on? Why did you ditched the legacy that we were protecting it!? Answer my questions?

"So, the ones that I known and love is no more? I see."

"Everyone that used be the tools of Shinra...are no more."

"The ones that believes in truth is a hero in each of their story."

"And every story has become part of theirs."

"The light in that story will forever be kindled in my heart."

"Continuing to guide me by destiy on my journey."

~ Special Act : Truth or Shinra ~

#super mario bros #super smash bros #warioware #sonic the hedgehog #soul eater #fire force #enen no shouboutai #bendy and the ink machine #nintendo #sega #sonic team #square enix #joey drew studios #crossover #drama #dark comedy #horror #mystery #thriller #supernatural #fantasy #dark fantasy #science fiction #action #adventure #psychological

[makeuptipswithsai]

Hey hey! Look who's back with another blog post! Time to buckle up and get pumped for some exciting stuff!

Quick interruption, but I had to share... I'm jamming out to one of my all-time favorite artists right now! You've gotta give 'em a listen too!

Gather round, beauty lovers! Today's topic is all about those luscious lip tints, bold lipsticks, and mesmerizing eyeshadows! Can we pause for a moment and appreciate how amazing they are? This is the kind of stuff that gets my heart racing!

You haven't heard the best part yet! I have a little surprise in store for you, so hold onto your mascara wands and stay tuned until the end ★✮꩜⋆

Let's kick off with my all-time fave: lip tints!

Lip tints or stains are the cool kids of the lipstick world. They're like a secret weapon that leaves a natural flush of color on your lips, making you look like a goddess! That's why they're called "Lip stains" 💋 They're like a love note from nature to your lips ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Let's get to the fun part! I've got some lip tints that are totally worth raving about ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ

Lately, I've been flirting with YSL's lip tints, and holy moly! But wait, there's more! Their lipsticks are totally next-level! Can't get enough!

Shade: YSL Vinyl Cream Lip Stain, Burgundy Vibes ✧˖°

Shade: YSL Vinyl Cream Lip Stain, Psychedelic Chili ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

To get a closer peek, I decided to play Picasso and swatched those shades right on my wrist!

It's timeeeee!

Lipsticks ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

Ready for some lip-smacking fun? Let's uncover the secrets to choosing the perfect lipstick for your skin tone!

Remember when we played detective with our skin undertones to unlock the secret to our perfect foundation match? Well, the same game applies to lipsticks too!

- If your veins are green and your undertone is warm, go for juicy peaches or rich browns to make your lips pop! 💚 - If your veins are blue and your undertone is cool, reach for cherry reds or cute pinks to make your lips go "wow!" 💙 - If you're a hybrid with neutral undertones, then lucky you! You can slay any hue you please! 💚💙 ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ Of course, this is just one way to discover your lipstick soulmate, and I'm not one to be a gatekeeper. So, check out the linked video for more tips and tricks!

Excuse the grubby bag, it's a birthday treat I'm still cherishing! I had to show you guys my birthday haul...and yeah, it's totally blog-worthy!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*. °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Remember when I confessed my love for Chanel makeup? Well, I simply couldn't keep this beauty a secret any longer! (╥﹏╥) shade: 772 Coco Gloss 💄

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛

Eyeshadow Pallets ✨

૮₍•᷄ ࡇ •᷅₎ა

Get ready to sparkle and shine, my glam squad! It's time to dive into a world of colors and glitter for our eyes! I've been counting down the seconds for this moment! ✩₊˚.⋆

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Let me show off my go-to eyeshadow palette. Don't expect any dull shades here, though! My eyes are all about the bling, so glitter is my jam! I like to keep it simple ˙ᵕ˙

✧˖°.🍒ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🍓₊ ⊹✧

This palette's shades are all about that natural, subtle glow. I'm all for keeping it simple yet sparkling, which is why the Natasha Denona 15-Color Eyeshadow Palette is the one for me! *ੈ✩‧₊₊˚⊹♡

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Guess what? I just got my claws on an ombre eyeshadow palette! Can you believe it was a birthday gift? And to top it off, it's CHANEL! I can't stop going gaga over the gorgeous shades. ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Hey, remember when I teased about a certain eyeshadow that I was hesitant to share? Well, brace yourself, it's finally here! This shade is seriously stunning 🤩, like a unicorn frolicking in a field of rainbows. °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ I took a risk and ordered from a brand I've never tried before, but boy oh boy, it was totally worth it. I'm over the moon 🌑 with this purchase! ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ That's a wrap on today's blog, folks! But, hold up 😲, I've got a surprise for you! Are you ready? 🥳

I'm about to bless your feed with my talented friend's Instagram. Brace yourself for some jaw-dropping makeup artistry, people! Trust me, her skills are next level. 😉

I told you guys!!!

Check out her instagram @kerisa.mua for more !

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

That's all for today, folks! I wish I could spill more tea but let's save that for the next round! Oh, and speaking of next time, what's up for the holidays? Any exciting plans? Can't wait to hear from you guys!

Miso is in the christmas mood ! 🎄🎅

stay safe beauties ∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳) / づ♡