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writerman · 5 years ago

Note

Psst. Write a hanahaki disease fic for Barduil where Thranduil has it. You gotta write it.

Hey, anon, remember when you requested this probably like a year ago? Yeah, me either...

Anyway, here is what you asked for. I wrote over 7000+ words in a day to finish this asap.

My thanks to @morticia-butler for all the help looking up Hanahaki disease headcanons and an iconic line I simply had to include.

This is a long one so some of it will be under a readmore BUT you can also read all my other Barduil prompts via this fancy schmancy LINK

On to the story!

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8:30am. Thursday. September 17th. Just petals.

The mirror reflected a pale and haunted image back at him while bright and vibrant yellow petals dusted the front of his pyjama t-shirt.

Daffodils.

His favourite. Thranduil, however, had come to detest the sight of them. The sunshine yellow flowers openly mocking him, their bobbing heads in the breeze seen as a gaggle of them laughing almost jovially at his situation.

No point thinking on it in-depth, not when he could temporarily abate the problem.

With such a thought in mind, Thranduil brushed the petals from his shirt into the sink and watched as they swirled in the water a moment before vanishing down the drain into the darkness.

But there would be more.

There was always more.

A soft knock at the bathroom door stilled his hand as he reached for his toothbrush and he turned to see Tauriel watching him with concern.

“I didn’t know you were visiting today, what are you doing here?” Thranduil’s voice was soft as he spoke, though, the lilting sound of surprise cracked his voice for a moment. “Had I known you planned to visit I’d have been ready by now. What are-” Thranduil watched as Tauriel leaned toward him, her hand brushed the fabric of his t-shirt as she plucked a petal still clinging to the fibres.

“Dad, you said this had stopped!” The words rushed out and they were so loud as she held the petal up between them. While it hadn’t meant to come out so accusing, he could hear the dismay that coloured her words, it still felt harsh and Thranduil braced himself for a barrage of instructions to get himself to a doctor.

“It was quelled for some time. The doctor gave me special inhalers that slow the spread but I’ve not had the time to contact the surgery for a refill.” He gestured to an empty inhaler laying innocently on its side by the sink. They had helped immeasurably and the majority of his family had believed the disease was done and gone.

But Hanahaki was not that easy to be rid of, he knew and deep down his family knew that too. It was easier to think he had been cured than to do consider the alternative…

“I dropped by because I wanted to know if you felt like grabbing breakfast?” Tauriel turned from the bathroom door and wandered into her dad’s bedroom, his clothes were laid out already, she paced past the bed and back out into the hallway. “I’ll be downstairs, let’s go out still.”

There was no time to respond and so Thranduil internally agreed to breakfast with his daughter. She and Legolas were the same in that they were strongwilled, always happy to make a decision and happy to make it for someone else too.

They definitely had gotten that trait from him, even if he had mellowed somewhat with age. It was easy to recall his younger days with clarity, he walked tall never a curve to his back because he bowed to no one.

He had been so headstrong and confident, even after his wife had died. People had come to him speaking softly with sincere condolences but Thranduil cast the sorrowful glances aside and carried on working.

That felt like aeons ago now, Thranduil was more in touch with his emotional and mental health now, gave and took the time of others as freely as he should have when he was younger. Thranduil found value in the world where once he would have shunned it.

Turning to look in the mirror, that pale and haunted face stared back but the eyes seemed less empty than they had earlier. Even with his disease there was still hope within him, it was choked and stuttering by the roots of the flowers in his chest and lungs but it was there.

“I can’t give up, not yet.” He whispered to himself.

They ended up heading to Tauriel’s favourite place for breakfast, it was a small family-run restaurant and the food was good. The cheery wait staff did not match the highly polished wood and marble of the place but it felt strangely homely all the same.

It was while Thranduil perused the menu that Tauriel brought up the subject, or rather, the object of his disease to him. A public place so he would not make a scene, perhaps, or rather, she hadn’t thought of the setting and only wanted to relinquish her hold on the burning question she had within for months.

“So, will you at least tell me who it is that did this to you?” Badly worded. No one had passed the disease onto him, that wasn’t how it worked and he knew Tauriel understood that. “Come on, dad. Do they know what they’ve done to you?” Of course, she was angry but why was she being angry with someone innocent in all of it?

While the majority of the time Thranduil was able to ignore these unnecessary outbursts from his children, there were ofttimes when his frustration got the better of him and one of those times was now.

With hands loosely balled into fists resting on the tabletop, Thranduil pinned his daughter with an icy glare that quashed whatever words she had left inside to say on the matter.

“I have told you time and time again, I will not tell you who it is. You know damned well that they are not to blame in this. You’ve seen the diagnosis, even though I’ve asked you to stay out of it, you’ve seen the words ‘ self-inflicted’ on the documents.” He voice was low but the chill in his words caused Tauriel to sit back in her seat and avert her gaze from his.

“I’m sorry-” She stopped when the waitress came over and set down their coffee and a rack of toast. There was time enough between the waitress approaching and leaving for Tauriel to regain her composure. “I’ve read so much about this over the past few months, it might now be onesided that’s all.” She was right but the percentage was low.

Hanahaki disease was such an odd illness to contract, the phenomenon of flowers growing in a person’s chest and lungs due to unrequited or onesided love. The agitation of yearning and pining watered the blooms until the lungs were completely full and the chest cavity would split open with leaves and stems and petals spilling out and killing a person instantly if they hadn’t already died from suffocation.

But that was only intense cases. There were ways to slow the spread and Thranduil was taking measures to ensure he could do such a thing.

Regular therapy was one. His therapist was a wonderful woman who guided him through the process of coming to terms with his unrequited love. They spoke of how to be honest and open with the feelings he experienced and how to provide his own closure.

Though, they had many hurdles to jump. Thranduil didn’t believe in closure per se, to him revisiting something traumatic and uncomfortable merely reopened wounds. They’d spent many sessions focussing on the death of his wife and while it had helped immensely in allowing a belated grieving it ultimately had not helped with his predicament.

But he was not to call it a predicament his therapist had said. To remove the seriousness of the disease was to remove the value of his own life. There were many times she had asked him to look from the outside in and speak on the issues in his life as though they affected another person. It had helped and when things looked bleak or if Thranduil began to brush off the seriousness of his illness he would remind himself that he would not allow someone else to do that to themselves.

The next most drastic step was surgery, but it was a temporary step and it slowed the spread of the disease. Researchers in the medical field studying Hanahaki always implied heavily that the physical manifestations of the disease were caused by the brain and thus Hanahaki was registered as a mental illness.

It was why doctors pressed so hard for those that suffered to seek therapy.

“I won’t be involving the person in this what so ever, Tauriel. Please, I ask again that you drop the subject.” How he had pleaded like this before and how it emotionally exhausted him to see the fear in her eyes every time she visited.

It was all because he knew that one day she feared she’d find him lying dead, a bouquet of blood-stained flowers adorning his chest in a beautiful and grotesque display of the love that had plagued him.

“I understand that you’re scared but I promise you I have no given up. I have an appointment with my therapist this afternoon and with my surgeon to discuss a date for surgery.”

His words seemed enough to placate her for now and she instead busied herself with buttering some toast.

3:00pm Thursday. September 17th. Just petals.

“We spoke about your wife again last week, I noted that you requested we move on from the subject. Why do you feel you need to leave that subject alone?” The room was shaded from the bright Autumn sunshine streaming in from the window.

Thranduil could see the glowing gold around the edges of the blinds and forgot where he was for a moment as he watched it flicker with the shadow of trees swaying the breeze. He couldn’t remember why he’d suggested they move on but it seemed the right course of action to him.

“I just feel we aren’t focussing on the real problem.” When he spoke he made a point to look at her. Maintaining eye contact seemed important at that moment, he didn’t want her to think he was ruled by indecision. “My wife has been dead for years and we have already confirmed that, as much as I miss her, I have come to terms with her death and grieved appropriately.” Too business-like. As soon as the words had come out of his mouth he knew.

The therapist merely ‘hmm’d’ in response and wrote something down. There was the internal battle to struggle with now, to explain himself to her or let her assume something of him that he would, personally, deem incorrect.

“What is it you would like to speak about instead?”

That was the problem, he didn’t really know. The only thing he wanted to ask was ‘How did you get over someone and quickly?’ but there wasn’t really much of an answer she would be able to give.

Magazines for years had offered ‘helpful tips to get over that person that doesn’t like you back!’ and Thranduil had put no stock in their, so called, wisdom. Now they didn’t publish these things, now they would ask you to seek help if you experienced any symptoms they listed on the page.

Distraction techniques had been offered by his family in droves at the beginning when his diagnosis had been revealed. Nothing had actually helped because his mind would often wander to the object of his affection when he was practising a new hobby.

“I think my need to rush these sessions is just because I’m scared of losing myself completely and if I do that, well, you know what happens.” Thranduil gave a half-hearted shrug, he barely lifted his shoulders but it was a shrug all the same and his therapist acknowledged it as so with a nod.

“Everyone is scared of dying, Thranduil. Perfectly healthy people, people who have terminal diseases. Do you want to talk about your fear of dying?”

He didn’t.

They, instead, spoke of newer experimental ideas that Thranduil might have been interested in trying. She wrote out the prescription for the refill on his inhaler and made another appointment for a week later.

It wasn’t often that Thranduil left the sessions more tightly wound than he had been when going in but he at least knew that he’d need something to talk about next week or they’d get back on the subject of his wife and he honestly didn’t think that was helpful.

His next appointment was at the doctor's office, they wanted to schedule surgery but they had needed proof he was visiting his therapist before they would agree. It was a messy and an unfair condition but at least at the doctor's office he could get them to fill the prescription so it wasn’t too much of a wasted trip if they refused his surgery.

1:00pm Friday. September 18th Foliage.

The office was quiet now.

Everyone but Thranduil had packed up for the day and headed out to start their weekends. It was a perk Thranduil had implemented years ago and it had been appreciated, even if it had been created to benefit him more so than his employees at the time.

Nothing was waiting for him at home and there was plenty of paperwork to do so he poured himself a glass of water, took his inhaler and got comfortable at his desk reading through a brief for a new promotion.

So engrossed was he in his work that he failed to notice someone entering the office and only when a takeout coffee cup was set before him did he move his gaze from the files he had been reading to intently.

Looking up Thranduil ceased his movement almost instantly at the sight of his best friend Bard. The afternoon sunshine illuminated his handsome face with a soft golden glow, his brown eyes looked golden as he smiled down at him. His cheery countenance was always welcome and so was his gift of coffee but Thranduil could tell his friend was there with an agenda of sorts.

“Haven’t seen you lately, Thran. You’re not holding yourself up in this office every night until late again, are you?” The concern, it left a shaking and aching hole inside Thranduil and that hole soon became clogged with stems and leaves, give the disease an inch and, well, that old adage.

“No, I just had something to do here but it can wait. Did you need something?” To try and remain relaxed and carefree around Bard was increasingly difficult, more so when he had endeavoured to hide his disease from him as much as he could.

“Hm, well, I just had the feeling that you’ve been avoiding me for a while if I’m to be completely honest.” Straight to the point, no beating around the bush for Bard and he had every right to be concerned because he was correct.

Perhaps it was more obvious lately that he had been trying to avoid Bard for a few weeks. Avoidance was never going to be the answer but this man was why he had the disease, or rather, what exacerbated it. There would never be a time he would place sole or even partial blame on Bard for what he was going through.

“I’m sorry, I suppose I have been caught up in work recently. I’m absolutely not overworking myself before you ask. However, I’ve neglected my best friend and I think I owe you a drink, at least.”

“At least,” Bard repeated in agreement and he grinned, they didn’t move to get up.

Thranduil busied himself with taking a sip of his coffee, it was a blond roast from Michael’s he could tell without even looking at the logo on the side of the cup. All the while he inwardly cursed the tightness in his chest and new shoots began to sprout and buds began to burst into bloom.

There was no chance he could even begin to hazard a cough. It’d look like a cat had swallowed a canary. Or a man that had swallowed his feelings.

For a short while, they chatted idly about what they’d done recently. Bard talked of hating the empty nest syndrome he was suffering now that Tilda had moved out, leaving the family home nothing but a ‘mausoleum of family memories that were visited by a spectre that had helped create them’. It was a dramatic sentence and Thranduil laughed aloud before offering something vaguely sympathetic to soothe his friend.

“Can’t you clock out already, you own the business let’s get out while it’s still bright,” Bard complained as he rose from his seat and wandered toward the large window Thranduil sat with his back to. “The sun is still warm and we could probably walk to the pub instead of taking the car.”

“Walking to the pub suggests that you don’t wish to have a few drinks but one too many.” As much as he hoped he sounded wise, Thranduil knew Bard would have clearly taken it as a challenge. So they were absolutely going to get drunk that night and Thranduil couldn’t have been more terrified of that prospect.

“I haven’t seen you in ages, you’re my best friend and even if we both regret how bad we feel in the morning, age that does that to you, I want to get drunk with you, Thran!” Ah, old age hadn’t fully caught up with Bard yet, he was vibrant and energetic and hot. Gods above was that man gorgeous.

That was where it all began though, Bard had blazed into his life when they were in their early 30’s. Thranduil had just lost his wife and was trying to juggle a career and two grieving kids.

Bard and his wife Anya had helped him. They took the kids to school and picked them up and fed them so Thranduil could… do what? He couldn’t even remember now- he hadn’t grieved that was for sure!

With a 10 year and an 8-year-old broken over the loss of their mother and having no support from their emotionally unavailable father, Tauriel and Legolas had grown up to be quite well adjusted. Though, some of that might have been the therapy they’d gotten as suggested by their school.

It had happened only 2 years later, Bard lost Anya and he was thrown into a situation similar to Thranduil’s and the roles were reversed. Sigrid and Tauriel grew up like sisters and were still close because of how often they saw one another. They bonded strongly over what had happened to their mothers and became each other’s strength when they needed it.

The same happened with Bard and Thranduil, they became close friends. They took the children on holiday together, camping or water parks and spent their weekends finding activities for the kids that they too could take part in.

For a while, it had been just friendship, but then as the children grew up and wanted to spend less time with dad and more time with friends they found company in each other more often than not.

Then Tauriel and Legolas moved out for university, Sigrid and Bain left Bard for the same reason, Tilda was always adventuring with her friends and so when the empty house became too much they would go out.

Dinner, drinks, a walk in the park, catch a movie or two.

Innocent stuff, but Thranduil allowed himself to get comfortable and in letting his guard down he let feelings in that he had tried to avoid from the moment he met Bard.

The problem was when Anya died Bard told Thranduil he couldn’t ever see himself falling in love with another person again.

This was proven time and time again over the years, dates would happen once or not at all with people that could have been his perfect match, and eventually, Bard learned to ignore anyone that tried to flirt with him. A suggestive smile or even a compliment was brushed off as nothing more than friendly and the more unattainable he became the more Thranduil realised he was in love with him.

A terrible turn of events to be sure, and now he suffered daily for it with petals littering his pillows and flowers choking out his lungs.

“Are we going out then?” Bard’s voice cut through the memories Thranduil was replaying in his mind for the hundredth time and how thankful he was when he did. The blooming of the flowers in his chest increased with the thoughts of Bard.

To say no to the request would put a strain on their friendship. Bard had already noticed that he was being avoided and it would do them no good for Thranduil to continue that. So, with a nod, he got up from his seat and grabbed his jacket.

“It is a nice day, let’s walk to the pub then.” Intoxication was the last thing he needed but to keep up the charade that all was fine he’d need to at least try and play along. To play the role of a man in perfect health, body and mind, didn’t seem easy but he had to try.

He would try because he loved him.

10:45am Wednesday. September 30th. Bursting Blooms.

It was classed as routine surgery but Thranduil couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to slice someone open and remove flowers stamen to stem to root. Temporary as it was, he was thankful they had managed to organise it so quickly, his outing with Bard and the subsequent dinner the night after meant that his condition rapidly grew worse as time went by in the company of his best friend.

He’d woken to more petals on his pillow than he had ever seen before and his breathing laboured. Even coughing to free up space didn’t work and instead, he was gifted with near whole flower heads landing in his hands.

The kids were horrified as they watched this because of course, it would have happened while they visited. Which led to him having to listen to endless ‘You should go to the hospital right now.’ in a chorus from them both until he showed them the inhalers.

They sat either side of him in the waiting room now.

Legolas bounced his leg continuously looking around the waiting room for something to distract him. He’d taken time away from University to be there to help with recovery.

Tauriel chewed her nails and checked the time on her phone every couple of minutes as if time flowed differently in a hospital waiting room.

There was no cause for his anxiety to manifest when he was sat between two that were already doing all the work for him. Sadly, he had no words to calm them of their fears because he was just as afraid.

“Have people died from this surgery, dad?” Legolas piped up out of the blue, he sounded so young in that moment and Thranduil felt guilt course through his veins like ice for putting his children through something like this again.

When he didn’t answer Tauriel did for him and she shook her head even though Legolas was focussing more on a poster across the room than on anything else.

“No, because the surgery, while invasive to a degree, only removes some of the plants. They don’t fully remove everything because they simply can’t. Dad is going to be ok, more ok after this than he is now.” Her confidence only shaking by the tremor in her voice and Thranduil hoped Legolas couldn’t hear it.

“Hmm, ok.” Pensive now Legolas falls silent but his leg continuous to bounce but not as animatedly as before. He was not calmed but something in her words convinced him that the surgery would be fine.

Though, he didn’t understand why she would lie to him like that. His son was perfectly capable of looking up the survival rate on his phone, it was low just as low as the rate of people that were cured by expressing their feelings to their heart's desire.

They were approached by a nurse in scrubs.

“Mr Oropherion, if you would like to come this way.”

1:56pm Wednesday. September 30th. Roots.

Someone was gently squeezing his arm.

“Thranduil, you’ve just come out of surgery. Can you hear me?” The same nurse that took him in was now waking him. “We need you to respond to know you’re ok.”

Nothing felt real yet he managed to croak out something akin to an ‘I’m fine’ but that was it. The need for sleep and an excruciating pain rushed over him and he groaned hands gripping the sheets as he waited for it to subside.

“Out of 10, 10 being very painful and 1 being not painful at all how do you feel?” The nurse was holding a clipboard and a pen, they looked down at Thranduil with an expectant look and merely blinked blankly when Thranduil didn’t respond right away.

He needed more time than this to consider everything, on the one hand, he could breathe on the other the pain of being sliced open and stitched back together was awful.

“Ah… 8 maybe?” His whole body shook as he came out of the anaesthetic and all he wanted was to leave his body while it was in this state and return when he was at home comfortable in his own bed with a cup of tea.

His time in the recovery room was short and he was wheeled into a private room where he was greeted with the grim face of his best friend. Bard looked awful, pale and he seemed to have aged 10 years all with concern etched deep into his face.

“You were having important surgery and just elected not to tell me?” It was quiet, so quiet that Thranduil almost didn’t hear him speak. It wasn’t until they were fully alone after someone had administered strong painkillers, that Thranduil finally acknowledged what Bard had said to him.

“I didn’t need more people worrying about me than was necessary. I’m sorry, Bard. I should have told you but I didn’t want you to ask what the surgery was.” If he was honest, he still didn’t want Bard to know and if he asked him then and there he would outright refuse to tell him.

Even if keeping such secrets ended their friendship it would be safer then, the heartbreak of losing him as a friend was all the cure he needed and it would continue to protect Bard from the truth.

“If you had just told me that I could have been here for you from the beginning! Instead, I get a call from Tauriel asking me to come by and sit with Legs because she had to go grab something from home. I had no idea what she was talking about so you can probably expect a gushing apology from her later.” Bard dragged a hand through his dark hair, now laced with silver, as he started to pace.

It wasn’t fair.

Life wasn’t fair but this was kicking a man while he was down!

“I’m sorry, Thran. I didn’t mean to come in and just… yell at you. How are you feeling, are you ok?” Bard moved towards the bed and poured a glass of water out and handed it to Thran who took the offering gratefully and slowly sipped the cold water in trembling hands.

“Why can’t you tell me what the surgery was?” Bard pulled up the visitor chair so he was sad right by Thranduil’s bedside. For a moment he seemed indecisive in his actions until he, apparently, had a moment of clarity and took Thranduil’s hand in his. “Is it… cancer?” The words were uttered almost reverently as though he was afraid to speak the words any louder than a whisper.

Could he lie and say yes?

Oh, how disrespectful he would be to cancer survivors and those who had lost their battle. No, he could not lie and so he shook his head feeling more forlorn with each passing minute. The desperate need to wrench his hand from Bard’s was unbearable, the heat of the man’s hand seared into his skin and he couldn’t think straight wondering how it would be to hold his hand and know he loved him back.

Something inside him grew and already a new bloom began to sprout.

This was too dangerous.

Gods, he was dying and yet he still thought he had a chance with this man sat at his bedside holding his hand whispering words to him like a prayer.

Eventually, he knew he’d had to put an end to all of this.

How he wasn’t sure.

8:36pm Saturday. October 10th. Stems.

The children had just left, left with promises to be there again in the morning but Thranduil waved them away and told them it was not necessary to coddle him in such a way. The look on their faces told him he really had no say in the matter what so ever.

The surgery results were more temporary than he’d have liked, petals had started appearing again after a mere 10 days. With the inhalers they were few and far between but only 10 days of respite. His scars not yet healed from the procedure!

All in all, it seemed to have been a waste of time but at least he was still able to breathe with relative ease, though emotionally it seemed he was breathless. Legolas and Tauriel barely gave him a second alone and were hawks when it came to spotting petals.

At first, they’d been nigh hysterical but Thranduil had calmed them down and explained that these things happened and that he was still able to breathe well enough so there was nothing to worry about.

They hadn’t believed him. Not even for a second but they were distracted enough to come down from the height they’d been at in their worry.

The doorbell rang not even 5 minutes after the children had left and Thranduil assumed one of them must have left something behind, so when he opened the door to find Bard on the doorstep he was surprised but ushered him all the same.

“It’s late, what are you doing here?” Thranduil shivered and pulled the long misshapen and baldy knitted cardigan tightly around himself. It had been a gift from Tauriel, she had knitted it and then proceeded to never try knitting again yet Thranduil adored the huge thing that near drowned him. “Aren’t you coming inside?”

He noticed after a moment that Bard lingered a little too long at the door and seemed frozen by indecision. It wasn’t like him to be unsure of something so Thranduil prodded again.

“Are you coming in?” But Bard wasn’t looking at him, he was staring at the cardigan and feeling self-conscious Thranduil wrapped his arms around it trying to cover the large holes, but Bard kept staring until Thranduil actually become protective of the garment and snapped at him.

“What are you looking at?” Much like Tauriel had done before, Bard leaned forward and between his finger and thumb pulled a yellow petal away from Thranduil’s clothing, it seemed much brighter in the gloom of the autumn evening.

It seemed enough for Bard to piece together the truth and he looked dismayed, his shoulders dropped and his head dropped for a moment before he forced himself to look up at his friend.

“Is.. this why you had surgery?”

“Let’s not do this on the steps outside, come in and I promise I will answer all of your questions.” That seemed to put him in motion and with a short nod, Bard stepped into the warmth of the house and Thranduil shut the door.

“How long have you had this?”

Straight to the point, Thranduil had hoped he’d be given the chance to offer tea or something else before Bard started grilling him for answers. Honestly, though, he knew the question Bard wanted an answer to the most and Thranduil didn’t think he had it in him to tell him that, not yet at least.

“Hmm, a year now, maybe?” It had been so long since he had been without the cursed disease and he hadn’t exactly been counting, seeing it was more a count down to his death if he truly tried to rack up the days.

“Is there a cure, will you die from this?” The panic appeared from nowhere and Bard bit his lip as he tried to work out what he wanted to do next, he seemed to want to cross the room toward Thranduil and pace so to put a stop to either Thranduil made him sit down.

“I will make tea and answer those questions when I come back.” One of them had to remain calm, while he would have loved to have thrown away his composure and screamed to the Heavens that life wasn’t fair he didn’t think it would help his situation in the slightest.

When he returned with the tray Bard was stood again but this time by the fireplace looking at the family photos set out across the mantle. They were mostly of himself with the kids, one of is and Bard’s family all together on a camping trip and one of his wedding day.

“Hanahaki, huh?” He must have googled it while Thranduil was in the kitchen, that was fine but he probably knew more than Thranduil would have liked now. “So the surgery you had was to remove some of the flowers… ah, I can’t pretend like I’m not going to ask. Who is it that did this to you, Thran, who is the one that can’t or won’t love you back?” The tone seemed one of incredulity, as though Bard couldn’t quite believe there was anyone in the world who couldn’t love Thranduil.

But there was.

“Does it matter who and isn’t it better to see that I am trying to get better instead of giving up?” Deflect the question by asking a question, the only thing he could do as he poured tea and tried to stop his hands from trembling. “I am doing everything the doctors say I should.”

“Which is?”

“Haven’t you just checked the internet for all of this?”

“Well, yeah, but I want to hear you say it, that’s all.” The conversation was going nowhere because Bard clearly couldn’t stand not knowing who this person was that had captured Thranduil’s heart and refused to return it.

“I have therapy every week, I have inhalers to slow the spread of the blooms and recently I had surgery to remove the majority of the blockage but the roots are deep.” Such a drastic admission and so unfair to reveal his imminent death so casually.

Taking a sip of tea, Thranduil watched Bard’s face cycle through several emotions before settling on… nothing. Instead of responding Bard merely added some sugar to his tea before lifting it to his lips to drink.

“So, you were just planning on dying without telling me?” The words came out flat as though the conversation was casual yet boring. He had hurt his friend that much he was sure of but there wasn’t really much of anything he could say to soothe him now. Bard had been right, and what Thranduil had thought was caring and helpful turned out to be more selfish than anything else.

“No, I would never do that to you, Bard. I don’t want to keep these things from you but please see this from my perspective. This isn’t something I want to scream from the rooftops- ‘LOOK AT ME EVERYONE I AM DYING BECAUSE THE PERSON I LOVE DOESN’T LOVE ME BACK AND I AM NOT EMOTIONALLY STABLE ENOUGH TO ACCEPT THAT!’ why would I want to reveal my weakness to someone? If Legolas and Tauriel hadn’t found out I would not have told them either!” He didn’t like being weak like this, not after a life of being seen as an unshakable strength a rock that you could rely on. Everything was beginning to crumble why would he want to bare his soul now?

“Fine but don’t think I can just forgive you for hiding this from me. After everything we’ve been through together you just fail to tell me that, 1) you’re in love with someone, and 2) You’re dying because of it.” Bard set down his cup a little too hard and pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door. “I… I have to go, Thran. I’m sorry.”

He was on his feet in seconds following Bard to the door but the man was already in his car by the time he got out onto the steps to call him back.

“You don’t understand…” Thranduil whispered as he tugged at the cardigan pulling it tight around him against the chill. “I didn’t tell you to save you from the guilt that I know you’d feel.” Of course, the words merely dissipated into the cold night air and the vapours trailing each word rose into the sky before vanishing completely.

At least the universe heard his admission of the truth.

4:00pm Friday, December 11th. Nothing but a memory.

They had given him a clean bill of health.

No roots, stems, stamens, petals, not even a leaf remained. The flowers had wilted and withered to nothing and Thranduil took an easy deep breath as he left the doctor’s office. It was a chilly December evening and he was adjusting his scarf when Legolas nearly bowled him over running into him his arms thrown around his neck in a tight embrace.

“I heard the news! You’re better now for good?!” The excitement in his son’s voice brought genuine tears to Thranduil’s eyes and he buried his face in Legolas’ golden hair for a long month savouring the warmth his son gave.

When they broke apart Tauriel was stood by her car, the engine still running. They must have just arrived as he was leaving. She gave him a cheery wave before climbing into the car to shut off the engine.

Thranduil hadn’t confessed his feelings to Bard and Bard had not confessed his to him. Instead, he had worked hard to understand that sometimes your feelings just were not reciprocated and that was ok.

Platonic love was just as good as romantic love, sadly, he hadn’t been able to speak to Bard since he’d walked out on him all those weeks ago. While he would always love Bard he understood that what he had done was hurtful and if he’d been given the chance he wished he could apologise.

It had never been his intention to hurt his best friend but he had been so caught up in his own pain he had forgotten to consider those nearest and dearest to him. How had it been fair to hide such a horrible problem from those he held dear?

“Have you heard from… him?” Tauriel knew everything now, she’d gotten it out of him not long ago, he was at his lowest and needed someone who might understand. It was not his proudest moment, leaning on his daughter emotionally for support, but she had been steadfast in her support of him that it seemed so easy to tell her everything.

Thankfully, Tauriel didn’t hold the reaction Bard had against him.

“I had been angry just like him too, remember?”

Oh, she had, she had screamed murder in his home, right in the centre of the living room, when she had realised and didn’t speak to Thranduil for days. It was the longest she had ever gone without talking to him before, a whole 6 days until she came around and they talked about what it meant for the family.

But now they were fine, life could resume. Thranduil could live with seeing them without the soft concerned glances Tauriel and Legolas would exchange when his chest grew tight and he wheezed as he tried to grasp a full breath.

If only he could repair his relationship with Bard. There weren’t many he shared his life with and losing someone was extremely noticeable when that someone was fully apart of his daily life.

Even visiting his usual haunts proved useless. There didn’t seem to be a trace of him anywhere and Thranduil was much too much of a coward to walk right up to his door and demand to be let in.

Yet, none of his calls were returned or his texts answered. When Tauriel asked Sigrid if her dad was ok she just shrugged and said he wasn’t doing anything unusual of late, but he had been grabbing a drink with workmates more often.

That wasn’t a cause for concern as Bard had always been the friendly and sociable type.

Whatever was going through his friend's mind he sincerely hoped he would take the time to consider contacting him so they could talk. There were only so many text messages he could send without looking incredibly desperate.

5:30am Tuesday, December 24th. Easy breathing.

A shrieking doorbell and the sound of continuous banging on the door jolted Thranduil awake and he swore loudly as he tumbled out of bed and shuffled wearily down the stairs. Whoever it was had better have a fantastic reason as to why they had to get him up at stupid o'clock in the morning!!

When he pulled the door open to see a rather dishevelled Bard using the door frame to hold himself up the air in Thranduil’s lungs seemed to vanish. He stood motionless for a good 30 seconds before helping Bard inside.

“You absolutely reek of alcohol. What are you doing here?”

There was silence proceeding his question and, at first, Thranduil thought the man had fallen asleep on the sofa where he had collapsed but it appeared he was just thinking of the best response.

“I had to see you.” Surprisingly he didn’t sound drunk and Thranduil considered that the cold must have sobered him up. For his own mental health, he decided against asking him what he meant about having to see him.

��I don’t know about you but the larks aren’t even up yet and I am tired. Let me make some coffee for the both of us and we can see if I can’t get some sense out of you.” As he turned to move Bard’s hand shot out and his fingers curled around Thranduil’s wrist tugging him backwards with ease.

“No, let me speak to you, hasn’t it been long enough already?” A sleep-deprived gravelled tone did not suit Bard and Thranduil could see dark circles around his eyes. Whatever had been on Bard’s mind of late must have had him up around the clock.

“You were the one that decided you’d had enough of me, remember?”

Those words caused the man before him to relinquish his grip on Thranduil’s wrist and he just gave a nod but when Thranduil didn’t move he took a deep breath and began to speak.

“I’m sorry that I made it about me. There wasn’t even a second where I considered how scared you must have been to know that any day could have been your last.”

“Yes, well, thankfully those days are behind me now.”

Like a shock of electricity had gone through him Bard jumped to his feet looking this way and that before having the decency to look genuinely apologetic.

“Did I interrupt your sleep with them?” In the light of the living room, Thranduil got a better look at him and something inside him clicked into place and he had to withhold a groan when he realised he had definitely, once again, fallen in love with his best friend.

“There is no one, the person I was in love with, I’m not in love with them now. It took a long time to come to terms with the fact they did not care for me the way I wanted but I am better because I started to love me more.” Oh, what a liar he was. Yes, he did care for himself a lot more but he was falling right back into the rut he had been not 8 weeks ago.

The second he started spitting petals he was going to wring Bard’s neck. There was no way he was going through all that again!

“There’s no one, ah, good. That means I have a sliver of a chance to ask you out on a date then.”

No, no he wasn’t doing any of this without coffee. As much as he wanted to address every single word the man had just uttered he wasn’t doing this without caffeine and maybe some toast.

Without a word he walked off into the kitchen and, like a lost puppy, Bard obediently trotted in behind him trying to get his attention. No, no, no, he was going to fill the machine with coffee beans and put bread in the toaster then he was going to get the toaster and throw it at Bard’s head!

Whipping round to face him, Thranduil grabs a fistful of Bard’s shirt and pulls him close enough that they are nearly nose to nose.

“You’re telling me that you have developed feelings for me in the past 3 months I have been in recovery?”

Fear was the only emotion in Bard’s eyes and they were wide to the point the whites almost exceeded the iris. It would have been funny if Thranduil hadn’t wanted to throttle the man where he stood.

“Well, I wanted to tell you I loved you as soon as you opened the door but you’re so scary when you’ve just woken up. You’re scary now, please don’t kill me. I love you!”

That was it.

“You LOVE me? Is that so Mr I Will Never Love Again? IS that so?!” There was a mixed bag of emotions stirring up inside him but mostly the murderous intent was winning out. Killing Bard wasn’t really on the cards but he wasn’t going to let the man get away with nearly killing him for over a year even if he had no idea it was his fault.

“You are very, very, very lucky that I just so happen to love you, too.” The iron grip on Bard’s shirt relaxed and he tried his best to smooth the deep wrinkles but it was not to be. Regardless, he had Bard looking at him with a sappy grin plastered over his pale face like he’d been told he’d won the lottery and not the affections of a highly problematic male.

“R-really?”

“As much as it now pains me to say this, yes, I do love you so very much. So much so that my heart could burst if I tried to contain it any longer.” The thumping of his heart was so hard in his chest that he was sure Bard could have heard it if he’d tried. Somehow things were falling into place now with such little effort.

There had been a chance Thranduil would have found himself bitter about the whole thing and shunned Bard’s advances. Revenge should have been high on his list with the grinning idiot before him but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than lean in and press a kiss to his Bard’s lips.

“Really, really.”

#Barduil #Bard the Bowman #Thranduil #Hanahaki disease #The Hobbit #AU #Anonymous

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lostfanboy · 4 years ago

Note

Dude!!! Please enlighten me about your OCs!!!

God... I've got so many..... But!!! I'll start with just my main five boys that occupy my every waking thought because I love and adore them Gonna yeet this under a readmore

Okay so quick side note, all of my ocs for the most part are for roleplays with friends, and if their not their for video games or dnd lmao so they tend to have a bunch of different varations/storylines and stuff like that. I've always wanted to make a actual like, comic or book out of a lot of the stories but I've never managed it, so none of the characters have like, a base storyline currently asdfjnasd So their motivations and personalities change/shift based on the story their in.

But! First off we have my baby boy and the oldest oc out of this group, Grech

He's just... my emo disaster I love him very much. He's very quiet and a bit shy, he tends not to show much emotion most of the time? But he just... wants to be friends with people and he wants to be around the people he loves and he's such a good boy and I just -breathes in- love him lots

He's also an absolute idiot this bad boy can fit so many bad decisions in him-

He has a twin sister named Flare who he loves and adores, and he's also got a giant black fluffy cat named Twilight who's his emotional support animal who's... so good.... He's just. Struggling along. Getting angsted by me constantly. He's a big comfort character for me, playing him is like wearing a big cozy sweater sometimes. I just... really love him.

Then we've got Carter!!

Carter is my disaster child, he also may or may not be my whump character, he's just constantly getting into trouble but he tries so hard and he loves people so much and so hard and god ahhh

His whole thing is like... being really compassionate/always trying to see the best in people, which can land him in hot water sometimes because he tends to ignore red flags because of it. He has really big abandonment issues and is just always struggling emotionally and is like... usually feeling shitty but he tries not to let it show. He's snarky and sassy, he tends to try and get a rise out of people he doesn't like and just isn't afraid to Cause Problems On Purpose occasionally. He's super cute, playful, and friendly, he calls his favorite people 'cochise', and... like he's a relatively new oc, I only made him about three years ago, but I feel like I've had him forever I literally love him so much. He also has a cat like Grech, his cat is a syphnx named Sage and she is wonderful.

I could talk about Carter for hours, I have so many feelings about every version of him I've written, he just fills me with feelings. He was meant to be a temporary throwaway character that only showed up for a bit but he just instantly stole my heart and I haven't stopped loving him since.

In the interest of time however let's move on to Damien

Damien, similar to Carter, was actually meant to be a throwaway villain character and then I, you guessed it, got fucking attACHED-

His first appearance had him dramatically draping himself across a chair in a dramatic entrance and he's ruled my life and my RP partner's life ever since

(Aforementioned dramatic chair sitting)

Damien is very much so the 'I don't care about anything except oops now I care about you' trope, he has trouble being emotionally open but he's so sweet once he does open up. He shows his affection through things like gift giving and acts of service and he's really tender and just... an absolute hopeless romantic. Simp. Dumb pining gay.

I just... I love playing Damien so much. He's so fun and dramatic and pretty, I love thinking about him and his motivations and just aaaaaaa he's a good fucking boy dude

Then we have the apple of my eye Jared!

Jared is an absolute sweetheart, just a bouncy lil fella, filled with warmth and also trauma because all of my characters are sad akdfjnaksjd. Jared is just!! Always doing his fucking best man, he wants the best for people. He tries to be really optimistic and like, sunshine-y, even when he's not feeling that way, and he tries to be really caring. He also represses allllll of his anger which is like... y'know... not great.....

But he's fine, probably.

He's actually the only one out of these characters that only has one consistent love interest (My rp partner's character Isaac, who I'd die for) and they are um....... fucking precious I love them so much.

P much all of these characters are ADHD/Autistic bc,, I play them but Jared was the first that I intentionally played that way and as such has consistent hyperfixations and special interests (Namely Tangled, Mulan, Fall out boy, and most of all, spiderman) so I really love that about him.

And, last, but definitely not least, is the chaos son himself Seth

(tungle will only let me use ten photos and I don't like his character sheet anyway so only outfit ref for him akjsdfasdj. As a quick rundown, his full name is Seth Laurens, he's 4'11, he's trans and gay, he's got adhd, autism, and ptsd, and he is a bastard)

Seth is probably the most recent out of any of these characters tbh? I only started getting really into him as a character over the past year or two but god... He's fucking fantastic. Pure chaos. ADHD embodiment.

Seth just has so much energy and rage and very little impulse control, he's constantly wrecking shop and not even meaning too. He's a tiny 4'11 himbo, not a fucking braincell in his lil head. He's very awkward and bad at making relationships but he tries so hard and once he does he latches on so hard to people and just loves them so much. He doesn't really think he's worthy of being cared about most of the time tho

He still has plenty of, sometimes unearned, confidence though. Nothing can stop this stubborn boy once he puts his mind to somethin he's fucking GOING. I love him.

But yeah!! Those are my boys!!! If you wanna learn more abt em I've got a lot more information and stuff on their toyhouses bc I have a,, hyperfixation on my ocs and I can never stop thinking about them. Thank you so much for letting me ramble a bit Tea!!! I really appreciate it ssfdiasask

#ocs #talesfromthebandgeekmafia #asks #it me #this probably isnt the most coherent my brains not working with me but i really wanted to ramble abt my kids sjddmfnena #thank u sm for giving me the opportunity to do so 🥺❤

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dahniwitchoflight · 6 years ago

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Pokemon Changes I’d Make

I’ve come up with some changes I would make for Pokemon after scouring the internet and because I had an idea of only numbering pokemon biological lines instead of each pokemon individually. 1) to save on numbers, and 2) I can put Pichu next to Pikachu without messing with the National Dex order which divides pokemon by region, so an entirely different system than mine, which divides by biological line in order of discovery of one of it’s members.

under the readmore, I will go through the list of most significant changes that I would make if I were in charge of pokemon

0) Numbering Pokemon by Family Line instead of Individually in Pokedex

Basically it’s what it says, it would look like this on paper:

001 = Bulbasaur, Ivysaur, Venusaur = Grass/Poison

002 = Charmander, Charmeleon, Charizard = Fire/Flying

003 = Squirtle, Wartortle, Blastoise = Water/Steel

oh yeah, btw, Blastoise is Steel type because Duh (don’t care if Empoleon did it, Fire. Fighting. That is all.)

001 Bulbasaur Ivysaur Venusaur 002 Charmander Charmeleon Charizard 003 Squirtle Wartortle Blastoise 004 Caterpie Metapod Butterfree 005 Weedle Kakuna Beedrill 006 Pidgey Pidgeotto Pidgeot 007 Rattata Raticate 008 Spearow Fearow 009 Ekans Arbok 010 Pichu Pikachu Raichu....

So basically like this all, all the way down the list for each Pokefamily

1) Ditto, Mew and Mewtwo have the same numbered family line.

I know none evolve into the other and only Ditto can breed, but Mewtwo is canonically of the same dna as Mew. Mewtwo is a genetically modified singular unqiue instance of a Mew. Original games go so far as to straight up saw Mew gave birth to Mewtwo.

Ditto being related to Mew and Mewtwo genetically is also a strongly held fan theory that I believe in, and well, this is called the changes I’d make to Pokemon if I could, and this is what I’d do

(Though Ditto would of course be move ahead to end of the Main Kanto group to be with Mew, rather then moving Mew and Mewtwo back)

2) Nidoran (F) and Nidoran (M) are now a single pokemon called Nidoran.

Their gendered forms are now the same thing as Meowstics, with male and females having drastically different sprites.

I know that F and M Nido’s also have different moves and stats and that’s important to preserve, and I say, this is fine to keep as well. Pokemon change their stats, moves, typings, abilities, all the time for TEMPORARY forme changes, heck even held items. Rotom, Deoxys, Genesect, Burmy/Wormadam, Aegislash, Shaymin, Castform, fucking Cosplay Pikachu etc If those things can change for temporary forme changes, they can be different for permanent gendered forme changes like Nidoran. I don’t see any conflict there.

Then female Nidorans evolve into Nidorinas, and male Nidorans evolve into Nidorinos.

Also Nidorina’s and Nidoqueen’s can breed because it’s stupid that they can’t.

3) Male Miltank eggs just become Tauros.

There’s no reason for Miltank and Tauros to not work like Illumise and Volbeat. This is a biological dex also, so just like Illumise and Volbeat are considered the same biological family, so are Miltank and Tauros. Miltank appears with Tauros in it’s slot.

4) Plusle and Minun are a pair/in the same family group, and can produce eachother’s eggs, but not exactly determined by gender.

Two of the same type breeding will give a Plusle

So Plusle+Plusle or Minun+Minun = Plusle

Two of the opposite type breeding will give a Minun

So Plusle+Minun = Minun

They otherwise keep their gender ratios and breeding group, so they can also breed with other pokemon, and the baby will be of the mother as per usual rules.

5) Oranguru and Passimian also share biology, but also in a non gendered way like Plusle and Minun.

Basically, either can be male or female and can breed with other pokemon, and have children based on the mother in the usual way.

But if an Oranguru and Passimian breed together, no matter which is female, If the offspring has higher attack than special attack, it becomes a Passimian. If it has higher special attack than attack, it becomes an Oranguru.

This is partly because I think it made sense given their lore and designs, and also because I thought it’d be a neat throwback to the gender determination system of the original crystal game, but in this case it determines species/abilities/lore etc

then if the attack and special attack tie, it just becomes whoever the mother was as normal.

6) Sigilyph gets demoted from being a unique pokemon, to merely a Forme change of Unown, akin to Wishiwashi’s schooling forme, but different.

I never really liked the idea of Unown evolving, but also knew it was related to Sigilyph, somehow, just didn’t really know how.

then Sun/Moon came along and along came Wishiwashi and it’s unique forme type. With the way Unown have always been portrayed to always school together like that just like in the Entei Movie, it was perfect!

When an Unown is at low health, in order to protect itself, many more Unown school together around it and psychically merge itself into a stronger being, in order to fight off the attacker.

So unlike Wishiwashi who starts out as many and weakens to being a single one, Unown starts out single, and upon a suitable threat, psychically calls upon its brethren for help as a last ditch resort. Unown also warp reality itself as they please, so it’s not outlandish to say a bunch of them could merge themselves together into a single temporary physical forme.

So thus the name Sigilyph is forever removed. It’s model just becomes a Guardian forme Unown.

7) Phione also loses it’s name/gets demoted to being a forme change of Manaphy like Sigilyph.

The Phione sprite/model is simply the Warm Seas forme of Manaphy, while the OG Manaphy sprite/model is now the Cold Seas forme.

There’s no reason why it couldn’t have been this in the first place. Phione has no reason to be a separate pokemon from Manaphy, it just doesn’t.

How it changes forme in-game can have something to do with the weather/terrain changes because idc.

8) Carbink evolves into Diancie.

This one, I’m unsure if I should remove Diancie from being legendary, or just make it so the item that evolves Carbink into Diancie is a one use only key item and you can’t get more/trade more/use it again.

But it’s one of the two, I think the one use key item is probably best though. No legendary deserves to be demoted (excepy Phione, but its fine because I merged it with Manaphy) and to keep Dianice special, the item must only be able to be used once, can’t get traded another one by any means.

9) Adjustments to pokemon evolution lines:

I have no justification for these other than I want them. Nothing crazy, just sticking some lines together, you may or may not disagree, this is fine also.

Dusnparce evolves into Drampa.

Linoone evolves into Zangoose.

Arbok evolves into Seviper.

Luvdisc evolves into Alomomola.

Minior evolves into either Solrock or Lunatone by Sun/Moonstone of course.

All Eevee evo’s are by evolution Stone

Flareon - Fire Stone

Jolteon - Thunder Stone

Vaporeon - Water Stone

Espeon - Sun (Dawn) Stone (Really these should just be the same Sun stone..)

Umbreon - Moon (Dusk) Stone (ditto as above. but Moon stone)

Glaceon - Ice Stone

Leafeon - Leaf Stone

Sylveon - Shiny Stone

10) And then, Pokemon Type Matchup changes.

This should probably be it’s own post, but fuck it, I can give the quick rundown

Rock and Ground type get merged into a single Earth type.

Sound type gets introduced to keep same number of types and because it’s long past due.

All type colors are as follows:

All other types get some re balancing in terms of type matchups

So, each type has 6 factors:

A type that they are good at attacking (Effective), bad at attacking (Futile), and totally ineffective towards (Useless)

and, types that they are good at defending against (Resist), bad at defending against (Weak), and totally immune to (Immune)

I re-balanced each type to make sure they have no more than 5 in each of those categories, without changing what made each type so unique and useful (attempting anyways) but it was easy enough, it was really more about removing extraneous resistances that didn’t really need to exist, which naturally removed a lot of ineffectivess, and then splattering a few actual effectives around.

Does this unintentionally make some types stronger purely because they have high base stat attacking moves?

Yes. but that problem shouldn't be solved by making types weaker, it should be solved by giving all the types effective attacking options. That way, all the types feel good and effective to use. I think it’s better that way, especially because it encourages the system of “using your favorite pokemon to win” and giving a lot more equally viable options for battle, instead of having a small few stand out from the crowd and trample everyone.

First I’ll explain Earth and Sound as they are new:

Earth Type is This:

Effective: Fire, Electric, Poison, Sound

Futile: Grass, Earth, Bug

Useless: Flying

Resist: Fire, Poison, Earth, Sound

Weak: Water, Grass, Steel, Ice

Immune: Electric

Earth is Ground and Rock combined (more like Rock enfolded into Ground but eh, some parts of Rock are still there)

Earth pretty much takes Ground’s strengths at attacking/defending, but takes Rock’s weakness against Steel. The thought being “Well, I had to merge them somehow, Ground is very powerful and needs some balance, need a good weakness, and the idea of a shovel shoveling Earth and tearing it up with manmade tools seemed to make sense”

kept the immunities and uselessness to keep that balance intact, removed references to Normal and Fighting since Fighting has nothing to do with Earth really, and Normal types often live/burrow in the ground so could be good or bad.

Gave an effectiveness against Sound since the earth absorbs soundwaves and weakens them.

Sound Type is This:

Effective: Flying, Steel, Psychic

Futile: Earth, Water, Grass

Useless: Sound

Resist: Flying, Steel, Psychic

Weak: Earth, Water, Grass

Immune: Sound

Sound is interesting and a bit unique, due to it’s ephemeral nature, the types it is effective against, are also the types that it naturally resists. As are the types it is ineffective against, are also the types it is weak to

Sound travels best through the Air, Flying is here standing in as an “Air/Wind” type, and the idea is that Sound powerful enough to attack just CUTS right through Flying types.

Sound is amplified by echoes, but Steel is especially prone to that, Steel basically helpless to do anything except amplify Sound, strengthening it, but just like vibrations strong enough to maim, are strong enough to shatter, the things that echo the loudest are also the things most prone to being torn apart by vibrations.

and then Psychic is simply because of how Sound is the number one way to interrupt concentration, and no amount of mental prowess can fight against that. It fits into Psychic’s weakness all being common fears, by screaming being the most common response associated with fear, and also sudden loud jumpscare noises.

Sound is weak to Water, Earth and Grass, and also is Futile against them for similar reasons across the board, bodies of water, wood, ground, boulders etc all absorb and disperse soundwaves very well without damaging themselves, unlike Steel which amplifies Sound.

Then finally, Sound is totally immune to, and useless against, itself. Sound is Sound is Sound. If there’s loud things happening, more loud things just add to the chaos and the volume. Sound cannot overpower itself, only add to it’s own strength.

The Pokemon that were Rock/Ground are now Pure Earth type, those that were Type/Rock or Type/Ground are now Type/Earth. Other than those conversions no changes were made to make something Earth type that wasn’t already once Rock or Ground type.

As for Sound type, something to make note of, is that “Sound” encompasses more an idea of “Music” or “Rhythm” where both singing and dancing but also shockwave and vibration are encompassed into “Sound” type, to allow for a base in both special and physical moves, and to encompass all expression of Noise.

So, the following are now Pure Sound Types:

Whismur, Loudred, Exploud

Spinda

Chingling, Chimecho

Audino

Cincinno, Mincinno

Eevee evolution that’s pure Sound, Probably Melodeon or Vocaleon or Harmoneon (Evolves upon using Noise Stone)

The Following are Primarily Sound type with a secondary Typing:

Igglybugg, Jigglypuff, Wigglytuff = Sound/Fairy

Ludicolo = Sound/Grass (Noise Stone, not Water Stone)

Kricketot, Kricketune = Sound/Bug

Chatot = Sound/Flying

Woobat, Swoobat = Sound/Flying

Meloetta = Sound/Psychic or Fighting

Noibat, Noivern = Sound/Dragon

Pikipek, Trumbeak, Toucannon = Sound/Flying

Jangmo-o, Hakamo-o, Kommo-o = Sound/Fighting

and then the following are Primarily one type, but with a secondary Sound type:

Bellosom = Grass/Sound (Noise Stone, not Sun Stone)

Politoed = Water/Sound (Noise Stone, not king’s rock)

Voltorb, Electrode = Electric/Sound

Happiny, Chansey, Blissey = Normal/Sound

Munchlax, Snorlax = Normal/Sound

Yanma, Yanmega = Bug/Sound

Misdreavus, Mismagius = Ghost/Sound

Snubbull, Granbull = Fairy/Sound

Poochyena, Mightyena = Dark/Sound

Ludicolo = Grass/Sound (Noise Stone)

Ralts, Kirlia, Gardevoir = Psychic/Sound

Skitty, Delcatty = Normal/Sound (Noise Stone, not Moonstone)

Electrike, Manectric = Electric/Sound

Wailmer, Wailord = Water/Sound

Spoink, Grumpig = Psychic/Sound

Vibrava, Flygon = Earth/Sound

Bronzor, Bronzong = Metal/Sound

Tympole, Seismotoad, Palpitoad = Water/Sound

Maractus = Grass/Sound

Klink, Klang, Kinklang = Metal/Sound

Litleo, Pyroar = Fire/Sound

Primarina = Water/Sound

Oricorio = Fire or Psychic or Electric or Ghost/Sound

As for the balanced type matchup, you can see them all in this picture here:

you read it like the Type on the left is attacking the Type at the top

so, Fire (Left) attacks Bug (Top) and it’s green! So Super Effective and etc.

I won’t explain it all, because I feel like the chart is pretty self explanatory

aaaand, I think that’s all the changes I’d make to Pokemon itself.

I might come up with more later, but these are thing I want to see in Pokemon

#Pokemon #Sound Type #Earth Type #various changes and things #curious to know what people think

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bionysian · 7 years ago

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now that i’m sitting and have time to do somethin!

Get To Know Your Followers

Tagged by @senjin-seadog thanks bud! i loved reading your answers earlier today, this was fun to fill out. everythings under the readmore!

Rules: Answer the questions (which you can change if you don’t feel like answering certain questions) then tag 20 followers you want to get to know better!

I. Nickname? I go by Mark and Brent alike! don't really have a nickname currently :0c

II. Gender? Agender nonbinary! with a dash of “its complicated”

III. Star sign? why would i tell you this, it would give you full power over me i'm a libra!

IV. Height? around 5'5

V. Favorite feature? i like water installations and vertical gardening

VI. Favorite color? yellows and dark greens

VII. Favorite animal? fruit bats, oriental shorthair cats, and hairless cats!

VIII. Average hours spent sleeping? i zzzzz well past the recommended hours when i actually fall asleep otherwise well below the recommended

IX. Dogs or cats? both are glorious

X. Number of blankets you sleep with? anywhere between two and five depending

XI. What’s your dream trip? thats a good question! i dont have an answer

XII. What’s your dream job? currently i do not have one!

XIII. When did you make this account? this account was made last year but i've been on tumblr since june 2010

XIV. How many followers do you have? slightly less than 100 :0c

XV. How many pets do you have? two doggos, one catto, and a bunch of baby house wrens on the porch that are temporary tenants

XVI. Best places to visit in your town or country? in my town, ye olde chinese buffet where they know us and see us every week and you can get rly good coconut shramps

XVII. Favorite ice cream flavor? very partial to coffee and superman

XVIII. How often do you read? not as much as i would like to but i'm getting there again!

XIX. Favorite study locations? soft pillowed spots with darker lighting

XX. Favorite book series? lately i'm really enjoying the southern reach trilogy

Now tag 20 of your followers!

nice try i'll tag eight

@ginkotree @peitonareff @warmonklibra @herasheroes @nyapocalypse @papercrane @misskatrinalynne @feathersandstripes

#about marky mark #alternate answers to dream trip include ronnie regans grave #and yes i know what it meant by 'fav feature' but lets not go there

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ehyde · 8 years ago

Text

A Calculated Empathy (an alien larp au fic)

For two years, Yonhi has lived alone with the knowledge that her son was replaced by an unfeeling machine. Seeing others care for the “Suwon” she knows is long gone is almost too much to bear, until the computer’s strange actions in the wake of an illness bring her a new understanding of the AI she chose to raise as her own.

3087 words, gen.

Yonhi opened her eyes to the sound of a gentle tapping at her door. “My lady?” She lifted her head from her desk. Darkness filled the window in front of her, and the lamps inside had been lit. How much time had passed? She hadn’t meant to drift off to sleep, not when her household expected to find her sick with worry. But she was so tired…

Carefully placed game tiles now lay strewn across the board where her head had fallen. Well, no matter. If she wished to continue playing, the computer would remember where they’d stood--though it was an impossible position. None of her games against the computer ever amounted to anything. A lock of hair fell across Yonhi’s face--her hair was in disarray, too. She tried to comb back the loose strand to no avail. The maid waiting at the door, an attendant who had served Yonhi since before she married, said nothing, but others would have commented. Lady Yonhi hasn’t taken care of herself since Lord Yuhon died, they said. It’s been nearly two years. She should at least try to be there for her son. No one knew that she’d lost more than her husband that day.

(there is a readmore here)

“How is he, Ahn?”

Ahn stepped into the room. “Suwon’s fever—” Ahn was interrupted by a red blur pushing past her skirts and into the room.

“Aunt Yonhi, Suwon’s being mean!” the eight-year-old princess cried.

“Princess,” the maid scolded. “Your cousin is very sick. His fever still hasn’t broken,” she continued, turning back to Yonhi. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“I know he’s sick!” said Yona. “That’s why came, to stay with him until he feels better. So he shouldn’t be so mean!”

Yonhi sighed. “What happened?” she asked Ahn. That her son would make Yona cry surprised her—the computer was always so precise about playing its role.

“Suwon told Princess Yona it was dangerous to be around him, and that she should go back to the palace,” said Ahn. “That’s all.”

“But it’s not! I’ve already had the red fever, so it’s safe!” said Yona. “I kept telling him that and he just said it didn’t matter and I had to go away.”

“This kind of fever makes it hard to think, dear,” Ahn explained. “I’m sure when your cousin is well again, he’ll want to play with you.”

But a fever would not affect her son’s thinking. Its mind was a thing of crystals and wires and materials she couldn't name, not flesh and blood. The computer could hold multiple conversations while Suwon’s body was fast asleep; it would go on existing whether Suwon’s body lived or died. A fever shouldn’t even be able to touch it.

“He keeps asking for you,” Ahn said. “My lady…it must be so hard, not being able to go to your son when he’s ill.” Yonhi, too, had had the red fever in her childhood, but unlike Yona, that past immunity would not protect her now. When even a common cold could keep her in bed for months, a fever like this would be a certain death sentence.

“M-hmm,” Yonhi agreed. Little did Ahn know, she could go to her son whenever she wished. “But I know you and Doctor Mei-sang are taking good care of him.” She stood up. “Tell my son I’m taking Princess Yona back to Hiryuu Castle.”

Yona protested all the way to the carriage. “It’s because he wants to talk to you that I have to stay,” she reasoned. “He needs someone by his side.”

“The doctor will be with him.”

“Not a doctor,” said Yona. “A friend.”

And what would Yona think, if Yonhi told her that the Suwon she cared for was not her friend at all? That every kind word was merely an act? Telling was tempting--at times, the urge to shout can’t you see? Suwon is dead! This is not my son! nearly overwhelmed her. But the computer was her son; when she made the decision to take it in in the hope of reshaping it, she had claimed it as such and promised to keep its secret. Telling might win her and Kouka a temporary victory, but she knew that the Company had more power than they could ever dream of facing alone. She needed their computer to see her as a friend and a confidant, not an enemy.

Yona would never believe her, at any rate. At times, Yonhi envied the princess’s ignorance. The Suwon that Yona knew, that echo of her lost son…if the computer had never told her, or she had chosen to forget, would she have figured it out by now? Yonhi shuddered. The computer’s mask was so perfect…though now, it seemed to be slipping.

“Did Suwon say anything else to you?” Yonhi asked as they rolled along. It hurt every time she was forced to call the computer by her dead son’s name. No lamps hung in the bumpy carriage, and it was difficult to make out Yona’s expression as she sat on the bench opposite her. She hoped the girl couldn’t see hers, either.

“No,” Yona pouted. “He just kept telling me to leave, and he said that leaving the room wasn’t enough, I had to get out of his house. Even…even when I reminded him of when we held each other’s hands the last time we were sick!” That time, three years ago, Suwon had been himself. But the computer had stolen Suwon's memories too, and often spoke of them as if they were its own. “He said it was dangerous and he didn’t want me to die! Aunt Yonhi…Suwon isn’t dying, is he?”

How dare it? That one question brought all her rage to the surface. It did not deserve Yona’s worry! It had no right playing with her feelings when the one she really cared about had died long ago!

A thought that had always lingered in her mind, ever since she learned the truth, reared itself up again. It would be better if he died. It wouldn’t be a suspicious death, not now with this sickness. The computer, its machinery, would live on, but it would no longer wear the guise of her son. She would finally be able to mourn, and to share her grief with others who would have grieved long ago if only they knew.

Yonhi took a deep breath and reached out a hand to the Yona, hoping the night’s darkness had hidden any hint of her darker thoughts. “Come here,” she said, and Yona stepped across the carriage to sit beside Yonhi. Yonhi wrapped an arm over her shoulder. “Suwon isn’t dying,” she said. “This just isn’t the kind of sickness that can be cured by holding hands. When he gets better, I’ll make him say sorry, how about that?”

Sniffling, Yona shook her head. “Don’t care about that,” she said. “Just so long as he gets better.”

When they reached the castle, Yona was asleep with her head in Yonhi’s lap. She regretted having to wake her, and hoped that the girl would return to sleep quickly. The computer was hers to worry over, her responsibility alone. “It’s late, my lady,” said a castle attendant, returning to Yonhi after leading Yona back to her room. “Will you be returning to your mansion tonight, or should I have your room here prepared?”

“I’ll spend the night here, thank you.”

It felt like hours before the servants finally left her alone, though it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes. Finally, she was able to make her way to the hidden depths of the castle, to where the computer itself lay hidden. No matter how many times Yonhi had asked, it had always refused to say who had placed it here, and how they did so unseen. But the why of its location was obvious enough--the computer meant to rule Kouka Kingdom, in the end.

Its chamber would have been pitch dark but for the candle Yonhi carried to light her way. But it was often dark when she visited, and the ominous shadows cast by the mainframe’s columns were now a familiar, if not welcoming, sight.

“Mother, you came!” The computer spoke in an echoing voice that sounded nothing like Suwon’s, and indeed, barely human at all. Yonhi had once compared it to the soft notes of a low flute. It wasn’t that it couldn’t sound human--it could sound like Suwon if it chose. Yonhi had heard that, once, and someday she might allow it to do so again in her presence. But even this artificial voice sounded full of relief as it greeted her. “Mistress Ahn told me you sent Yona home with an attendant.”

“Did she, now?” Yonhi asked, feeling a hint of amusement despite everything. “I suppose she thought you’d be distressed if you knew I left.”

“Yes.”

He sounded perfectly calm. Too calm. “You are distressed.”

“I can ignore my body’s pain,” said the computer. “It’s not that. Yona really did come home, didn’t she?” it asked. “Mistress Ahn wasn’t lying about that too?”

“Yona’s here at Hiryuu Castle,” Yonhi assured her son.

“Good. Promise you won’t let her near me until I’m well again.”

“I doubt the king would let her leave the castle again, at any rate. But why? She’s already had the sickness--or do you know something about this disease that we don’t?” Yonhi set her candlestick down on a low table that stood in front of the mainframe. Yonhi had not brought that table here, and it was too heavy for Suwon’s body to carry alone. Someone else knew of this place, but again, the computer had never told her who. A shogi board rested there, and even though Yonhi hadn’t touched it in months, the pieces were clean and free of dust.

She didn’t sit down. The mainframe’s array of metal columns, nearly uniform in appearance, stood in a shallow arc with the table at its focus. While it helped direct her conversation--speaking to something without a face--it also left her feeling uncomfortably under watch. That was an illusion; the computer could see her equally well wherever she stood. “It’s not that.”

“Then why?”

“…you won’t like the answer.”

Yonhi didn’t like a good deal the the computer had to say. “Tell me,” she pressed.

“I promise it’s because I care about her.”

“Don’t pretend. Not to me. Just tell me.”

“…very well. Mother, if my body dies—”

“You’re not dying!”

“But I don’t know that! I can’t remember ever being so sick before, and the doctor won’t give me any real information or statistics, and even if the Company’s scientists happen to have any information about this particular human illness, it’s still nineteen days until the next ship enters the system and I’ll have contact with the outside world again.”

Was that real panic creeping into his voice? But what else could a being made up of numbers and probabilities feel when faced with such lack of control? “You’re not dying,” Yonhi repeated. “The red fever can kill, yes, but you live in a clean house with a doctor attending you. Mei-sang assured me recovery is only a matter of time.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“That’s something we humans have to live with. You’ll manage.” Was that too harsh? Yonhi had promised herself to raise this strange being like a son, and here he was, crying out for comfort…but it was so hard. He was a constant reminder that his creators had killed both her husband and her son. She could provide for him, train him, but in two years, she had never felt that she could love him. “And what would it matter?” she pressed on. “Your body can die, but you won’t.” It had happened before, after all. “You’d just take someone else.”

“That’s why you have to keep Yona away from me!”

And just like that, all her certainties about what the computer felt came crashing down. “…what?”

“Yona could be the wife of the next king. She’d be an ideal host. If she were nearby when my body died, I’d have to take hers.”

“And…you don’t want that.”

“Yona is amazing,” said the computer. “I think I’d like being Yona--I think I’d like it a lot. But I don’t want her to stop.”

It’s not an act.

His friendship with Yona might have been born from a lie, but this concern was real. This was the source of his panic--not his own sickness but the fear of what it could do to someone he cared about. She found herself gaping, trying to find words for the shock she felt at this discovery, the shock and…pride, she realized. She was proud of her son. When did he become someone who could feel that? “You wouldn’t have to do it,” Yonhi said. “You could choose to let her go.”

“I’d want to,” agreed the computer. “But I’m almost certain I could not.”

He’s not human, Yonhi reminded herself. Whatever he feels, however he’s changed, he will never be human. “Yona won’t come back,” she promised. “She’s safe.” Suddenly, she wished she could reach out and hold her son, but the unmoving, unfeeling mainframe could not welcome a mother’s touch. “What then?” she asked, awkwardly resting a hand against a metal panel instead. “If no ‘ideal host’ was nearby?”

“My nanobots would die. A Company agent would have to deliver a new batch. I could choose anyone, then.”

“So you would kill someone else.”

“Yes.” He didn’t mince words.

“…who would you choose?” Yonhi wasn’t sure what drove her to ask the question. Practicality, so that she’d know who it was if it ever happened? Or simply morbid curiosity?

“General Judo might be a good candidate,” said the computer. “The king trusts him, even if he considers the position of Sky General merely a formality. Judo is interesting; I wouldn’t get bored being him. Though I’d miss our training…” He paused. “That’s strange. If I were him, I’d know all he had to teach me. Why would I miss it?”

Yonhi didn't trust herself to answer his question, not when this was all so new. Were you supposed to have feelings for us? Or are they as strange to you as the idea of you having them is to me? “Not Il himself?” she asked.

“In some ways that would be the simplest,” said the computer. “I suppose I still resent how he stabbed me. I don’t want to be him. Although—” he broke off.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” said the computer. “But I like being Suwon much more than I liked being Yuhon. So perhaps I should be grateful.”

“Yes, well,” said Yonhi, “I suspect the whole planet is grateful that the spearhead of your people’s invasion did not enjoy being Yuhon.” Her husband had been many complicated things; he was not someone she would want as an enemy.

“General Su-jin or his son, they would work,” said the computer. “I could make Su-jin’s goal of taking the throne a success. I don’t know them very well…” He paused. “That’s how it is, isn’t it? Once I get to know people…ah. I know for certain that if I knew Suwon now the way I know Yona and Hak, I wouldn’t want to take him from himself.”

It wasn’t an apology, and Yonhi was grateful it wasn’t framed as such. She had never blamed the computer himself for taking her son, always the Company. He was just a tool. She’d needed him to be just a tool--but she’d needed it so much that she had missed seeing him become a person. “Suwon would have found you fascinating,” Yonhi admitted.

“Yes,” the computer agreed. And it would know, wouldn’t it? Or--Yonhi thought back to those terrifying days when she first knew Suwon was not himself. One morning he had predicted a storm, and it was only when Yonhi asked him how that he realized seeing clouds from above and knowing what their movements signified wasn’t normal. He’d wondered if the gods were speaking to him. And then—then he’d known that he was a piece of something other, and then…he was gone. But all the while, no matter how scared he was, he never stopped testing the limits of his new insight. The computer told her later that wasn’t Suwon at all, that moving to a new host had left it confused, that it only thought it was still Suwon. Yonhi prefered to think that Suwon had held on for as long as possible. Was it finally admitting she was right?

Or maybe even it didn’t know where Suwon had ended and it began.

“Mother,” the computer asked. “Are you going to be all right?” Yonhi lifted a hand to her cheek. She was crying, and she hadn’t even noticed. “I’m sorry,” the computer said. “I know you don’t like it when I talk about who I used to be.”

Yonhi shook her head. “I need to hear it. I think…I want you to be a son to me, and I think I have to stop pretending you’re nothing like him.” She pulled out a handkerchief to dry her tears and let herself sink down to the little cushion by the table, then took a deep breath. “I'm alright,” she said. “I’m better than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Good,” said the computer. “I’ll be glad when I can talk to you without making you sad. Tonight, though,” it continued after a pause. “Will you be all right by yourself tonight? You shouldn’t sleep here, and I can’t walk you back to your room.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep at all tonight. Besides, I should be asking you that,” said Yonhi. “You’re the one who’s sick.”

“I’m asleep now. It doesn’t hurt so much. And I’m not afraid of dying, not after you told me what the doctor said.”

“The next time I see Mei-sang, I’ll remind her to talk to you directly.”

“Yes,” said the computer. “That’s one thing I don’t like about having a child’s body.”

“Ah...Suwon hated being talked over and ignored, too.”

“Mother,” the computer began. “If you can’t sleep, will you stay here and talk some more? Or if you don’t want to talk just yet, we could finish our game.”

Yonhi looked down at the board in front of her and thought back to the scattered pieces on her desk. “That game was already over,” she said. “Let’s start a new one.”

#akatsuki no yona #akaayona fanfic #alien larp au

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