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I might need to make a compilation of all the weird things I've written for stories without content. There's a lot of weird things I've written in my fics.

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dissertation writing advice

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Lavandula Spica | An Interview

The fourth chapter of the story! Once I finish the second arc, I'll upload those to this blog!

Word Count: 3,010

It only took a day for the text to arrive asking about the best time Patchouli could arrive for the interview. After some back and forth, the time for the interview was set in place. It was in the afternoon the same day, so Patchouli had the time to figure out how to get there and prepare herself.

Her clergy outfit would make people ask questions, so Patchouli went with the garb she wears when not doing church duties; a light purple button-up shirt with bishop sleeves and pink buttons, a darker purple skirt with lilac-colored eyes embroidered on the bottom, light purple leggings, and pink boots. Relatively modest, but with vibrant colors to make up for said modesty.

Looking over the manila folder Sister Helga gave her, Patchouli took in a deep breath. This is going to be the first time she did an interview, at least when it came to applying for a job. She’s done many things most adults do; gotten a driver’s license, consumed alcohol, graduated from school, but doing an interview for a job is something she’s never done before. It was rather nerve-wracking, but based on the assurances from both the person setting up the interview timeframe and the sisters of the church who had experience, Patchouli knew that the nervousness was normal, even expected.

Putting the folder in her bag, Patchouli walked out of her room in the annex, toward the parking garage right next to it. Being one of the younger and healthier clergy members, her car was parked further away from the entrance to the living quarters. Patchouli didn’t mind that, she liked to stretch her legs after driving.

Her car wasn’t something that stuck out too much, it was a little pink car. Okay, maybe that stands out a bit. It wasn’t the only pink car in the parking garage, so Patchouli’s opinion might be slightly skewed. Opening the car door, Patchouli plopped her bag on the floor of the passenger’s side, putting the key into the ignition and starting it up. Her car wasn’t super fancy, it had no need to be. Just a simple hardy car that can take her to where she needs to be.

Putting the car into drive, Patchouli backed out of the space, driving to the exit of the lot. She put the directions to the agency on her phone, using the text-to-speech to tell her when to turn and how long until the next one is. It didn’t take terribly long to get to the agency, only fifteen minutes from Patchouli’s little part of the greater reaches of the city, but soon she arrived. Parking in a good spot, she put her car in park before getting out, making sure to grab her bag before entering the agency.

The agency was in a building that most wouldn’t assume to be an agency. It seemed… homey if anything. More like a school combined with a house than any kind of company building. The exterior was a dark blue with a pastel yellow trim, emulating a starry night. Walking up to the entrance, Patchouli opened the large doors to enter the agency.

If anyone assumed that the interior would have less personality, they would be so wrong. The entrance rug was patterned beautifully, it looked like a nebula, even. The walls were decorated with shelves and frames with art prints, all of them depicting creatures of mythology. The paint was a welcoming shade of pastel blue, contrasting strongly with the walnut floors.

A specific print caught her eye, of something familiar to Patchouli. Approaching the illustration, she looked at it in more detail. It was of a cat, but it wasn’t one from around these parts. It was one from the region of the deities; her homeland that she had to leave. The cat was commonly called a nebula cat, for their coloring makes them look like the nebulas of space. Her father had one when she was young, Primrose said that she was so protective of Patchouli that she would growl at their mother when she came to do anything with her. The cat ended up being right in their mother being, well, a horrible person. However, not much Patchouli could do.

“Did that print catch your eye? I drew it myself.” A voice spoke from nearby, and Patchouli jumped a bit before turning. The woman who came up was a bit taller than Patchouli, with dark skin and box braids tied in a neat bun by the nape of her neck. She was in business clothes, mostly pink colors. Her eyes, however, were a lilac color, contrasting brightly with the rest of her face.

“I’m Linnea,” the lady brought up her hand, “I’m the one who runs the agency. Most people call me The Chair, but you can just call me Director Linnea. You must be Ms. Gimle, Mrs. Manalo told me all about you.”

Patchouli waved at Director Linnea, “I’m pleased to meet you. Where do we do the interview, by the way?” She went straight to the point, having no desire to waste any time.

Linnea nodded, gesturing Patchouli to follow her, “Follow me, it’s just ahead.”

Patchouli followed the director to a room just a few doors in, labeled the Interrogation Room. Oh dear, that sounds quite ominous.

However, when Linnea opened the door, it wasn’t ominous at all. There were two couches with a round coffee table in between, with even more prints and paintings lining the walls. Patchouli noticed a tissue box in the center of the table, but decided not to mention it.

“Please, have a seat.” Linnea sat down on one of the couches, gesturing over to the opposite couch for Patchouli to sit on.

After sitting on the couch, Patchouli grabbed the manila folder from her bag, placing it on the desk for Linnea to take, “I got my résumé too, just in case you needed it.”

Linnea grabbed the folder from the table, opening it up and glancing over at the documents inside. “Thank you, I’ll look over this later. Now, let’s begin the interview.” She grabbed a notepad and pen from her side of the coffee table.

Linnea leaned forward slightly, tilting her head, “I heard from Manalo and Pappenheim about your abilities. Are you able to describe or demonstrate them for me?”

Patchouli closed her eyes, focusing on the wall behind her. Without much effort, an eye appeared upon the wall. Looking over at the back of her hand, one of the markings turned into an eye. “I’m capable of summoning eyes to observe places that are nearby. They can also be used as portals, or to summon binds or weaponry if need be.”

Writing something down, Linnea observed as Patchouli showed off the back of her palm, an eye moving around. “I assume these eyes show up on you as well.”

“Correct.”

Linnea wrote more down, “I see. Do you have any motivations for coming to this agency? Is there someone you are looking for?”

Patchouli sighed. Guess it’s better to be honest, “I’m planning on trying to find my sister. She helped sneak me out of our home to have me move into the church, since our mother was neglectful of me. She didn’t want me to be raised in such circumstances. She has powers similar to my own.”

Linnea hummed, writing something down before asking another question, “What does your sister look like, perchance? It’s entirely possible that she could be part of the agency already.”

Patchouli doubted the director’s words, but answered nonetheless, “She has dark red hair and purple eyes. She also has purple horns on her head, similar to mine.” She pointed to the top of her head, where her pink horns stood proud.

“Ah, I see. I also have one final question: Would you prefer living accommodations outside the agency, or would you prefer to live in the designated apartment area we have for some of our staff?” Linnea asked, making Patchouli tilt her head.

“Ah, sorry. I should clarify that. My family comes from extreme wealth, it’s what allowed me to pursue making the LPIA. One of the things that made me capable of doing is making a series of apartments within walking distance to here. This is mostly for those who don’t have families of their own, or are coming from a place where they were struggling to afford anything. There is an exception in Mr. Pappenheim, he lives nearby but wants to learn to be independent. You only need to pay for your share of the utilities like water. Electricity isn’t a concern, we have solar panels built into the roof.”

Patchouli considered the offer. The agency-subsidized housing wouldn’t be too different from what she’s used to at the church, but with a higher degree of separation from others.

She decided to ask a question. Well, a few questions, “What are the apartments like, and are there communal spaces in them?”

Linnea smiled, “The apartments are a bit like a small house. They have a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom that can fit a bed for two people. There’s also a room that can be used as an office, and there is a garage for you to store your car. There is a communal space with a few benches and a lot of trees and plants. I couldn’t make a whole closed-in space for communal, but I thought maybe some greenery would help. The apartments are where I live too, after all.”

“Also,” Linnea added, “I should’ve said this earlier, but your starting salary will be 125 thousand a year. Should be high enough for you to get started. If you ever get sick or have an emergency, do not be scared of informing me. If I find out you’re going to work when there’s a personal emergency, I will tell you to go take care of the emergency first.”

Patchouli chuckled. From the conversation she had with Linnea, she seemed like a wonderful person. From what she was told by others, a good person will often be a good employer.

“I accept, and look forward to working with you.” Patchouli smiled.

Linnea grinned, “And I look forward to working with you too. You’ll start in a week, mostly so I can figure out which apartment you’ll be in and so you’ll be fully prepared.”

Both of them got up, shaking hands before walking out of the room after Patchouli grabbed her things. They talked until they reached the front doors, where Linnea waved Patchouli goodbye. After she opened the door, she went to her car to return to the church. Her time at the church might be ending, but now Patchouli has an opportunity to find her older sister.

After Patchouli returned to the church, she parked her car in her spot, grabbing her bag before locking the car and walking into the residental part of the church grounds. She knew that she has a new chapter of life ahead of her, and that requires moving out of the place she’s called home for half of her whole life. Leaving the people who helped raise her. Leaving the people who helped her unlearn the neglect of her abusive mother. Leaving the people who helped her become the person she is now. Patchouli knew it was inevitable, Sister Helga knew that she planned on trying to find her older sister one day, just not when. Fortunately, the clergy was supportive of Patchouli’s decision to move away and start her new job as a member of the LPIA.

“That agency, I looked into it. Apparently it’s funded by the government,” one sister looked up from her laptop, “It has investors from real estate too, from what I researched, the agency often helped them with hauntings of homes.”

Another sister piped up, “I know about that! My cousin’s apartment had a spirit residing in it, apparently it was the ghost of a cat who was a tenant decades ago who just wanted someone to play with. The agent who came played with the ghost, then they were able to move on!”

More members of the clergy piped up with stories about the agency, all of them positive. They all approved of Patchouli’s decision, even if she herself had some hangups over moving away. “Fifteen minutes is pretty far though,” Patchouli put her palm on her cheek, “what if something happens and I can’t be there in time?”

Sister Agatha placed a hand on Patchouli’s shoulder, “Patchouli, I lived in a place where that’s considered very short distance for driving. You’ll be alright, just don’t break the speed limit.”

Patchouli sighed, reassurance received. “Well then, I’ll start packing some of my things. I’ll see all of you later.” She walked out of the common area of the residential annex, walking into her room to begin figuring out what to pack first.

“Hm, what will I not need during the time from now until I move, what can I put in my bag…” Patchouli began muttering to herself, looking over at everything in her room. She knows that she’ll need her clothing, some more decorative items can be put into boxes for moving away, and the jar full of crystalized essence.

Patchouli walked over to the mason jar on the shelf, gently picking it up with both hands. Her species; gods, deities, powerful spirits, whatever people refer to her people as, all produce essence. It’s a physical manifestation of their power, often a colored mist. This essence can be transferred to others to imbue power upon a mortal, or establish a psychic connection.

Crystalized essence, however, is caused by stress. The half-filled jar of the purple and pink crystals is proof of how much stress Patchouli experienced, especially while younger. Those days of rushing to the bathroom, dry heaving until a rush of black goop escaped from her mouth. Using water to wash the liquid away, revealing such purple and pink crystals that Patchouli would later place in the mason jar. It took a few years for it to stop happening on a regular basis, mostly with the help of therapy.

Why was she keeping it anyway? Well, it’s because of something her father told her. Having a mortal consume too much in a short period can lead to them going mad, or end up dying. Because of that, it’s best to either destroy the crystalized essence entirely, or keep it in a secure container. Patchouli wasn’t sure if she had to consume it to destroy it, or figure out how to reabsorb the essence, so she just kept it in a spare mason jar Sister Agatha gave her to put them in.

Placing the jar back on the shelf, Patchouli looked over some of her other possessions, looking over what she can pack now, and what needs to be packed the night before or day of. Taking some notes in her journal, Patchouli looked over everything that needed to be packed. Members of the clergy don’t have much material possessions of their own, especially if they live in the annex. Mostly small trinkets gifted to them and necessities like clothing and stuff related to hygiene. Sometimes, they have hobby-related items like knitting needles and yarn. In Patchouli’s case, she has her journals and stationary.

The door opened, and Sister Agatha walked in with several folded boxes, packing tape, and newspapers to use as cushioning for any fragile items. “Hey Patch!” she placed the things she brought on top of Patchouli’s desk, “Sister Helga had some of this stuff ready beforehand, guess she had a feeling you’d be moving out one day. Do you need any help packing?”

Patchouli shook her head, “I appreciate the offer, but most of the stuff I have I can pack myself.”

Sister Agatha nodded, “Well then, I’ll see you later!” she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

There were five boxes total, big enough to carry all of her things and then some. Starting with the shelf, Patchouli began to pack all of the things she wouldn’t need during the week. When she finished, she took a marker to label the box, putting it in an easily accessible spot for when she moves out.

After some time, Patchouli took a shower and brushed her teeth, using a hair dryer to dry her long hair. It’d take too long to air dry, so she always dried her hair before doing her nightly routine. Her nightly routine? She writes in her journal, something she started doing again when she settled into the church. Sitting down at her desk, Patchouli began to write.

Today was quite a day. I met with Director Linnea of the LPIA for an interview. She hired me on rather quickly after I showed my abilities, telling me that I’d be starting next week. Since I’ll be moving into the agency-provided housing, I’ve started to pack some of my things. It’s going to be hard to transition from my life as a member of the Skuld Church, it really is. However, I think this is my opportunity to find my older sister. If I’m able to find her, maybe, just maybe… I can finally return to our homeland. There’s something that I must do, but I need to make sure that Primrose is alive, or if she’s dead, find her grave to give my respects. This is the second time I’ll be moving, but at least this time it’s for a more positive reason. Hopefully I can befriend some of my new coworkers when the time arrives. For now though, I need to pack my things and prepare to end my duties as a Minister.

Closing the journal and setting her pen in its’ holder, Patchouli stretched her arms and legs before crawling into her bed. The following week is going to be quite busy, but hopefully it will all be worth it. Hopefully, Patchouli will reunite with her older sister.

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Commissions are open!

Hey y'all, I recently opened up my commissions over on Vgen, so y'all can pay me to draw stuff for you!

There are limited slots for these by the way; icons have five slots, and the Transformers plushifications have three.

Please note that this is my first time doing commissions, so I'm very inexperienced. Hope y'all understand!

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How to Write a Character Who Feels Like Throwing Up

When fear, dread, or guilt gets sickening—literally—your character is consumed with a gut-clenching feeling that something is very, very wrong. Here's how to write that emotion using more than the classic "bile rose to the back of their throat".

Start with the Stomach

This isn’t just about discomfort. It’s about a complete rebellion happening inside their body.

Their stomach twists like a knot that keeps pulling tighter

A cold sweat beads on their neck, their palms, their spine

Their insides feel sludgy, like everything they’ve eaten is suddenly unwelcome

They double over, not from pain, but because sitting still feels impossible

Add Sensory Overload

Vomiting isn’t just a stomach reaction—it’s the whole body.

Their mouth goes dry, and then too wet

Their jaw tightens, trying to contain it

A sudden heat blooms in their chest and face, overwhelming

The back of their throat burns—not bile, but the threat of it

Breathing becomes a conscious effort: in, out, shallow, sharp

Emotional Triggers

Nausea doesn’t always need a physical cause. Tie it to emotion for more impact:

Fear: The kind that’s silent and wide-eyed. They’re frozen, too sick to speak.

Guilt: Their hands are cold, but their face is flushed. Every memory plays like a film reel behind their eyes.

Shock: Something just snapped inside. Their body registered it before their brain did.

Ground It in Action

Don’t just describe the nausea—show them reacting to it.

They press a fist to their mouth, pretending it’s a cough

Their knees weaken, and they lean on a wall, pretending it’s just fatigue

They excuse themselves quietly, then collapse in a bathroom stall

They swallow, again and again, like that’ll keep everything down

Let the Consequences Linger

Even if they don’t actually throw up, the aftermath sticks.

A sour taste that won’t leave their mouth.

A pulsing headache

A body that feels hollowed out, shaky, untrustworthy

The shame of nearly losing control in front of someone else

Let Them Be Human

A character feeling like vomiting is vulnerable. It's real. It’s raw. It means they’re overwhelmed in a way they can’t hide. And that makes them relatable. You don’t need melodrama—you need truth. Capture that moment where the world spins, and they don’t know if it’s panic or flu or fear, but all they want is to get out of their own body for a second.

Don't just write the bile. Write the breakdown.

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Oh fuck requests open? Can you do Cyberverse Dead End x Fem Human Reader, where he's taking care of a human who's either really sick or injured (or just experiencing period cramps if that's something you're okay with writing)? Take all the time you need!

I really enjoy your writing you're very cool

HIIIIII I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!!!! I DID NOT FORGET ABOUT YOU!!! This is my first time writing for Dead End, so I hope he fits into character and seems realistic! This was really fun to write. Please enjoy! I’m also sorry it’s on the shorter side, I still hope you like it!

Sick Day

Word Count: 1299

Summary: While you are sick with the flu, your annoyingly clingy Decepticon companion decides to bring you some items to help you out.

You are sick.

  Like, really, really sick.

  All things considered, your doctor told you it isn’t that serious. “Just a small case of the flu,” she said. “Nothing to worry about. Take these antibiotics, and you’ll be okay by next week.”

  Sitting on the couch, however, with a pillow hugged to your chest while your head pounds and you feel every joint in your body ache, you wish you had more to help you. Like a hot tub. Or an infinite amount of tissues. Or a button you could click that magically exterminates the flu.

  “This sucks,” you mutter to yourself. You hate this. You hate not being able to do anything. Your mind wants to move, but your body is just too exhausted to do so. Releasing a painful cough, you sit up slowly and press your back against the couch’s arm rest. A steady drone of mindless murmuring from the television has you wishing you never turned it on. Noise just makes your skull throb.

  Your phone vibrates, drawing your attention. Picking it up, you squint to see who on Earth is calling you right now. When you see the sleek icon of a sharp-faced robotic logo flash across the screen, you don’t bother to withhold your groan.

  “What,” you croak into the speaker as you accept the call.

  “Wow.” The monotone voice of the annoyingly pessimistic mech on the other end speaks back to you. “This is the greeting I get? You humans, always so grumpy.”

  “I’m sick,” you say, sneezing into a tissue. “If you couldn’t already tell. I don’t want to be bothered today. Go be awful to somebody else.”

  “Ouch. And here I am calling you up to help you.”

  “How could you possibly help me? Unless you Decepticons have a miracle cure for the flu, I doubt you’ll be able to do anything.”

  “From what I know, the flu is a viral strain, right?” Dead End chuckles. “The ‘miracle cure’ for those kinds of things usually involves a lot of…squishing, when it comes to the Decepticon side.”

  You blanch. “God, you are awful. Why would you say that when you know I’ve been throwing up?”

  “Have you? Eugh, gross. Nevermind, you aren’t worth squishing. I don’t want to get my pedes dirty with sick organic goop.”

  “I’m hanging up now. Goodbye.” You break off the call and put your phone back on the couch side table. Sighing, you prop a bunch of pillows and fall against them, hoping the slight elevation will help clear your sinuses. There is silence as you stare at the ceiling.

  A knock on your front door has you wanting to punch the nearest wall.

  “Go away!” you yell. “I’m not home!”

  A very familiar voice rumbles outside, just loud enough to reverberate through the living room and cause the air to slightly shake. “Oh really?” Dead End says. “Then who’s talking to me? The other sick little human who is in desperate need of some respite from their sniffles?”

  “It’s not sniffles, it is the flu. And you can’t do anything except annoy the hell out of me!”

  “Stop being so miserable and get out here. I have something that can help you.”

  Grumbling, you force yourself up and shuffle for the door, loosely wrapping yourself up in at least three blankets while doing so. You don’t know why Dead End chooses to keep you as company. You are aware of his status as a Decepticon, and you know his comrades don’t exactly view mankind in a positive light. Yet, he continues to bother you and follow you around like a puppy; a very large, very annoying killer robot puppy who has a bad attitude and sort of hates everything, but a puppy nonetheless. It isn’t strange to see you cruising around town in a sleek red sports car, yelling at the radio while your Cybertronian companion blasts death metal and makes a fool of both himself and you. Though Decepticons are seen as dangerous, and you’ve been told countless times to avoid them, Dead End doesn’t seem to mean any harm. Maybe it’s because you serve as a good laugh for him, or maybe he’s simply sticking around until you get boring. Either way, you’ve grown to tolerate him, and you don’t mind having him around.

  Swinging the front door open, you glower up at the crouched mech with a scowl. He takes in the sight of you and snickers. “You look like a burrito.”

  “I’m cold and sick and very unhappy right now. What could you possibly have that can help me?”

  “Okay, I’m going to be honest with you, I’m not totally sure this is the stuff you need. I took a bunch of things from a pharmacy and-”

  “You took.” you interrupt. “From a pharmacy. Not bought?”

  “Uh, no? Do I look like I know how to use human money? That’s way too frivolous for me.” He rolls his eyes. “Honestly, you humans and your simple systems. They’re so boring. You guys need to be more creative.”

  “I don’t want your stolen goods. You can keep them.” You begin closing the door.

  Dead End moves a hand forward and pokes a digit into your house, stopping you from shutting him out. “Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. After all the trouble I went through to get you these things?” He lowers his other hand and dumps a wide arrangement of obviously swindled items onto your front step. To your surprise though, they are…on point with your current predicament. There are multiple bottles of Ibuprofen and Advil, throat lozenges, and even a brand new heating pad still in the box. You pause, eyes widening. Against your better judgement, you decide to shuffle out and examine what he brought you.

  “This…this is all for me?” you ask.

  “Surprise,” Dead End declares. “From me, to you. Pretty great, huh?”

  “Dead End, I…I don’t know what to say.” You pick up the heating pad and turn it in your arms. The price tag is still stickered onto it. $49.99? Ouch. You wonder how the pharmacy employees reacted to seeing a giant alien robot stealing from their store.

  “You can say thank you. That’s my first suggestion.” Swindle grins. “After that, maaaaybe if you wanna say, I am indebted to you for life-”

  “Don’t get your hopes up.” You gather the painkillers and bring them inside, putting everything on the couch. I cannot wait to use this heating pad later. “But seriously…thank you. I don’t know why you decided to do this for me, but…I really appreciate it.”

  “Eh, it’s nothing. You’re my human. I gotta take care of you, don’t I?” Dead End brings his hand down and beckons for you to climb on. “Come here.”

  You raise an eyebrow. “What am I, a dog? You could at least ask nicely.”

  “Ugh. Please would you come here?” Another eye roll.

  You chuckle. “That’s better.” Walking over, you crawl onto the center of his palm and curl up with your blankets. He raises you carefully, pressing you against his chassis, right over the steady thump-thump-thump of his spark. He’s deliciously warm, and you instinctively melt into his embrace, sighing happily as your shivers die down and your bones ache a little less.

  Dead End rumbles in satisfaction. His thumb trails soothingly up and down your spine. “There you go. See, I can be good. It’s not always big, scary Decepticon all the time.”

  “As if I could ever find you scary.”

  “You should see me in action, then. I can be quite the fright to helpless little organics like yourself.”

  “Uh huh. Sure.” You close your eyes, hiding your smile. “...Hey, Dead End?”

  “Mhm?”

  “When I’m better, you’re paying the pharmacy for everything you stole.”

He groans.

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Marvel Rivals Characters + Reader w/ Endometriosis (Dr. Strange, Iron Fist, Human Torch, Jeff the Land Shark)

Greetings, Marvel Rivals fans of Tumblr. This somewhat comprehensible word soup is based on something I often do when I get invested in something I like enough: Make characters (especially male characters) witness the horrors of endometriosis. I have this condition myself, and these fics are written as a way to both practice my writing and to help bring awareness to this condition.

If you suspect that you or someone you know has endometriosis or a similar condition, please consult an OB/GYN. I am not a medical professional, just some combination college student and Vtuber who has the condition. It's what your blorbo would want.

These can read as either platonic or romantic. Except for Jeff, his is to be read like a cat who knows you're in pain and is barreling into you to give comfort.

DISCLAIMER: This is written under the assumption that these characters are cisgender, and therefore don't have first-hand experience with menstruation.

Warnings: Menstruation, endometriosis

DR. STRANGE

Being a former surgeon, he likely performed a hysterectomy at least once. And likely knows what an endometriosis-ridden body looks like (Look it up on your own risk, it looks… just yikes). Because of this likely experience of his, he knows about the impacts endometriosis has on the body. And he is concerned.

Dr. Strange will likely have you stay at the Sanctum Sanctorum for the time being, so that he can keep a close eye on you.

“I’ve once operated on someone with your affliction,” he places a cup of herbal tea on the table next to you, “I’ve seen how the body is affected. And yet, this is the first time I’ve witnessed someone being affected by it.”

And that wouldn’t be a lie. As he was a surgeon, he rarely saw the symptoms of the patients he operated on. He knew that they were being affected, but only the body. Witnessing you curled up in fetal position, trying your damndest to not audibly sob from the pain, it breaks his heart in a way he never expected it to break.

While Dr. Strange can’t assist medically, he can at least give emotional support. Be there for you. Need menstrual products? He’ll open up a portal to the store to get some for you if you need any. Bats will be there too for extra emotional support. Sometimes, you just need a pet for comfort. Even if the comfort is coming from a ghost dog.

Dr. Strange will keep you with him for at least a day or two. If anyone asks? “They’re suffering, and I cannot in good conscience leave Y/N alone with their pain. Especially when I’ve seen how their condition affects their organs firsthand.”

When you’re recovered enough that he no longer needs to keep a consistent eye, Dr. Strange will try to persuade you to go to a medical professional if you haven’t already. And if you have and they dismissed your concerns? Go to another one. He likely still has some connections to people in the medical field, so he might be able to find an OB/GYN for you.

IRON FIST

When he sees you in pain, he is originally confident in his ability to help. “Don’t worry Y/N, I’m the Immortal Iron Fist. This is nothing!” He says, not knowing what he’s doing at all. Whatsoever.

It’s likely that he didn’t have many people close to him that menstruate, so he’s just floundering around while keeping up a confident facade. Said facade quickly breaks, as he confesses that he genuinely does not know what he’s doing within an hour.

Even though Iron Fist does not know what to do at first, he at least tries to help. Then proceeds to call Luna Snow to ask her about what he should do, because this poor man does not know what to do. He thought he could figure it out by himself, but he quickly realizes that he doesn’t know dick or shit regarding menstruation or endometriosis.

With some pointers from Luna, he gathers stuff that might be able to alleviate the pain or distract from it and proceeds to put you in a blanket burrito to the best of his ability. In reality, he just dumps several blankets on top of you.

Most of Lie’s logic around what he does to help is based on what he knows helps him with his pain, or whenever he got sick when he was younger. Brewing an herbal tea, making you Luo Song Tang (Shanghai-style red vegetable soup) if he has the time, if not just egg drop soup of some variety. Over time he gets better, but for now he’s confused.

Once you’re able to explain your condition, he just frowns. Can he… punch the endometriosis out with his Iron Fist powers? Actually, no, that’s ridiculous. Guess Lin Lie has to settle on helping you every once in a while.

HUMAN TORCH

“Hey sweet stuff, are you ready for sOH GOD WHAT IS GOING ON?” is the first thing that comes out of this twink’s mouth when he sees you. Then he quickly zooms over to you to see whatever’s going on. When he realizes that you’re on your period, he’s going to tilt his head. He’s seen his sister on her period, and she was never in that much pain. Johnny makes the connection that something’s deeply wrong, but he likely says nothing other than “Stay there, oh who am I kidding you’re probably stuck there, I need to call someone.”

Who does he call, you may ask? Sue Storm. He just calls his sister. Who else was he gonna call, Reed? Reed might be his brother-in-law, but he doesn’t have the first-hand experience that Susan does. Susan, for the record, answers all of his questions. Likely secretly proud that her little brother cares enough about someone that he’s seeking advice.

When he gets the advice from his sister, he kicks into high gear to get you whatever you need. Fire may be involved, but he will resist the urge to flame on. Pads? Tampons? Ibuprofen? Blanket hoard? He’s gotchu. He’ll even use his hands as a makeshift heating pad if you’re cool (heh) with it.

He’s gonna call you a ketchup packet, but he does so affectionately. Unlike Moon Knight, who says it like an insult. Fuck you, Marc.

Once you aren’t in bedridden pain, Johnny’s going to barrel a bunch of questions at you. Mostly about what in the world could cause cramps that painful. When he finds out that it’s because of a condition affecting the uterus and other organs, his face scrunches. “Shouldn’t there be a cure for that by now?” he asks, and when you say that there isn’t, he just says, “Bummer. There should be one. Maybe I can ask Reed, he’s smart. He could find one in uh… a month?”

He is being 100% serious with this, by the way. Even if you say that it wouldn’t be necessary, he’s probably gonna do it anyway. First, he’s going to focus on taking care of you. Then he’ll ask his brother-in-law if he can find a cure for endometriosis.

JEFF THE LAND SHARK

He might not be able to speak to you without someone else to translate on his behalf, but the moment he sees you… he knows something is wrong. Jeff is a shark, he knows the smell of blood. This little dude will jump to your side, likely try to use some of his healing powers on you. It doesn’t do much other than make your face wet. Quickly, he realizes that this isn’t something he can heal. So the most he can do is give you emotional support in this very sucky time.

Jeff will approach with a mrrrr, like he usually does, and plop himself on your stomach. Or on your head. Or place himself on your side. If you try to move him away, or if someone tries to coax Jeff to leave you, he’s going to growl. He’s not leaving you unless he absolutely has to.

He even follows you to the bathroom whenever you need to use the toilet or change menstrual products. He even investigates the products by sniffing them if you allow it.

Given enough time, Jeff might be able to tell when you’re about to start your period based on smell alone. When he figures that it’s near, he starts clinging to you more and more, and when it arrives he’s essentially locked at your hip. With the few people he knows can understand him, he likely informs them too. Jeff is just a good boy all around.

~~~

Bluesky | Twitch (on hiatus) | Kofi | Vgen |

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star-lord is polyam in a comic from a few years ago, so there's that

(Context for the ask)

You ended up sending me on a bit of a goose chase, but I figured out the comic. It's Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 9, from the run by Al Ewing. He's also confirmed to be bisexual too.

Proof here in this giant ass image.

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MARVEL RIVALS FANS OF TUMBLR, I BRING FORTH A DEBATE.

Which characters would be most likely to either be in a polyamorous relationship or open to being in one? GIVE ME YOUR JUSTIFICATIONS IN THE COMMENTS, TAGS, AND/OR REBLOGS!

If anyone's curious about where Jeff the Land Shark would be in all of this, he's the polycule's pet/adopted son.

Please reblog for a bigger opinion size :3

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I need to eventually make those fancy section thingies some fic writers here have. Maybe make some involving my OCs to show whose perspective is being shown (like for my TF fics).

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I NEED MORE IRON FIST X READER PLS YALL I AM GOING CRAZY

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if you're posting a whole fanfiction to tumblr you've got to put it under a readmore boss

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A Detective, A Lab Tech, A Minister

It's now time for the 3rd chapter to be uploaded! I just finished making the section break flourish for this arc, so I included that here too. Will be posting chapter four soon.

Warnings: Mentions of abusive parents, mentions of banishment, this is a more light-hearted and solemn chapter.

Word Count: 2,400

It has been a few weeks since the attempted wedding crashing. Fortunately, the authorities were swift in dealing with everything, and the groom’s mother was sent to a mental health hospital to evaluate her for any mental disorders and to help figure out a therapy and treatment plan. They still charged her for tresspassing and assault with a deadly weapon though, crime is still crime. The therapy is Amelia’s sentencing, applied by a judge swifter than she tried to stab Patchouli.

Now, Patchouli is back to her usual routine of cleaning around the church grounds, pondering amongst the patchouli fields, and listening to the churchgoers’ woes and concerns. Some of them are kids concerned about balancing spending time with friends and doing good at school, others are parents worried about their kids, and some are people asking for advice on love. Things Patchouli, the minister of advice, hears plenty of times.

“Friendship can be a fickle thing,” Patchouli explained, hands clasped together, “and it’s even harder to balance certain aspects of life. I can assure you that adults struggle with friendship too.”

The young boy looked up at the minister, “Adults find friendship hard too?”

“Yes. The most important parts of friendship are having a common interest and balancing time spent with them and time spent away from them. You can form your own little study group, and you and your friends can do homework together! Doesn’t have to be in-person either. Just don’t go sneaking out while it’s dark to study with a friend,” Patchouli answered, “make sure your parents know you plan on doing that.”

The boy looked up in awe, “That’s sounds so cool! You do too Sister Patchy, you’re so cool and wise!”

Patchouli shakes her head, leaning forward into the desk, “Little Matthew, I’m only 20 years old. I’ve just acquired a lot of knowledge over the past few years with little else to do with it. That, and the advice I give is based on what situation is given, and how I feel those situations could go.”

Matthew nodded intensely, getting up from the chair that was a bit too big for him. He’s a growing boy though, in a few years he might barely fit it. “Thank you for the advice, Patchy! I’m gonna go tell mom and dad what you told me!” he then zoomed out of the room, speedwalking his little legs as fast as they can take him.

Patchouli sighed, watching the little boy zoom away. He’s not much older than she was when she first arrived. When she saw her sister for the last time. How is she doing, anyway? It’s been so long, how would’ve Primrose changed?

Should she try to find her sister? Start investigating? Consult the internet to see if anyone knows someone matching her description? Her efforts may not bear fruit, but she could try.

A voice cut out through her thoughts, “Sister Patchouli,” the presence entered the office, and Patchouli smiled at it just being Agatha, “There’s two people asking for you at the main lobby. Or someone else with purple hair and pink eyes, but the only one with those traits here is you.”

Chuckling, Patchouli got up from her chair and walked to the door, “I’ll go meet up with them.”

Walking within the silent halls, Patchouli wondered who would be asking for her specifically. Is she being questioned for an investigation again? How many would it be by now? Fifteen, including what happened a few weeks back?

Patchouli stopped at the lobby, seeing two people who looked a bit familiar. One of them was an average-height man with blond hair and tan skin, wearing dark green trousers and a light green button-up. The woman had darker skin with brown-black hair tied up in a bun, wearing warm gray sweatpants and a pink sweater with a cat face embroidered upon the front. The woman waved at Patchouli, and she approached the two.

“Hey! I’m Lily Manalo, this is Fennel Pappenheim. We wanted to ask you some stuff, if that’s okay.” Lily gestured to the blond guy, who waved with a V sign.

This isn’t too unusual of something to be asked, so Patchouli decided to comply. “Of course, follow me, my office is in this hall over here.” she walked back to her office, Lily and Fennel following in tow. When the two entered the office, they took their seats in the chairs, and Patchouli took position in hers.

“So,” Patchouli clapped her hands together, “I think I’ve seen the two of you before. Manalo… Manalo… that family name sounds familiar.”

Lily perked up, “You were the officiant for my brother and my sister-in-law! I think it was your first time properly officiating a marriage by yourself?”

She recalled now. Lily was one of the bridesmaids, and talked a lot with the bride during the wedding. “I recall now! How have they been?”

“They’ve been doing wonderfully! They’re having a kid soon, and my wife has been helping Naliah with setting up everything for the new arrival.” Lily smiled brightly.

Lily has a wife now? Last time she saw her, Patchouli recalls that Lily wasn’t with anyone at the time. Perhaps this was a new development?

“My brother, Leif, says that Lily’s wife looks a lot like you. She has red hair and purple eyes.” Fennel added, baritone voice rumbling through his throat. “Her name’s Dahlia. She’s away on business right now, but we’re not here for that.”

Fennel took out a business card, gently placing it on the desk, “We are part of the Linnea Paranormal Invesitgation Agency, or LPIA for short. Recently, there’s been evidence of paranormal activity back during the wedding between my cousin and Mr. Palla, and it links to you. Don’t panic though, you’re not being taken into custody. We just want to understand those powers, if you are willing to indulge us, that is.”

“Ah, I see. But how did you know I used those abilities? I don’t think anyone else was with me.” Patchouli racked her head to figure out anyone else who was there, excluding the officers.

Lily sighed, “One of Fennel’s baby sisters saw you. Was it Blossom, Fennel? I think it was Blossom?”

“Nope, Shanna.”

“Right. Shanna saw you use those eye portals, and none of us have an ability similar to that on file other than, uhhhh, my wife?” Lily continued, “We were thinking of recruiting you into the agency. Well, I was. You match the description of my wife’s baby sister, and I thought that maybe you might recognize each other?”

Patchouli pondered. She herself is planning on looking for her older sister as well. They are part of an investigation agency, after all. Maybe that could be the help she needs to reunite with Primrose?

“I’ll have to ask the head of the clergy, but I’ll consider it. I’m also trying to look for my own sister. She’s five years older, so around twenty-five now.” Patchouli replied, getting up from the chair, “Excuse me as I go find her.”

It didn’t take long to find Sister Helga, since she’s typically in her office. Given her legs weakened with age, she usually asks the other sisters to retrieve stuff for her, especially during her bad days. Patchouli came by just before it started, and often helped Sister Helga ever since.

Knocking on the door before turning the brass doorknob, Patchouli entered the room. Sister Helga was at her desk, reading a book. When Patchouli entered, she placed her bookmark on where she stopped before looking to address Patchouli. “What is it, Patchouli?” she asked.

“Two people came to talk to me. Apparently, that wedding incident involved someone else witnessing my powers, and now they want to recruit me to LPIA. I think this would be a great opportunity for me to try and find my older sister, but I wanted your approval before I do something so drastic.”

Grabbing her cane, Sister Helga walked up to Patchouli, wrapping her in a warm embrace, “This day was inevitable, you taking initiative to find your sister. I shall give you my blessing. Don’t worry about me, the others have been more than willing to help little old me.” Sister Helga says that despite only being in her fifties, but given her use of mobility aids it makes sense that she feels older.

“You can start packing everything once you made the arrangements. All I ask of you is that you visit once in a while. Got it?”

Patchouli nodded, and Sister Helga returned to her desk. The minister exited the office, closing the door before walking back to her own office.

Returning to her office, Patchouli sat down and looked at the two, “The head approves. I assume I need to schedule an interview? Do I need to provide a résumé?”

Lily nodded, “I’ll explain everything to the chair. You don’t need a résumé by the way, just a demonstration of your own abilities. It would help though. I’m a lab tech there, so you’ll probably have to deal with me a lot when you first arrive. And a lot afterward if it involves something that needs processing in the lab. Basically, you’ll see me a lot!”

Fennel shook his head while smiling, “You’ll also receive combat training by some of the experts here just in case. Osmie is one of the investigators along with Dahlia and I, she’s very chaotic, but she’s a good friend. Dahlia’s quite chill in comparison, but will bug you about hydrating and making sure you’ve eaten.”

“I see. I’ll give both of you my phone number so y’all can tell me when the interview is. Other than that, I’ll see the both of you later.” Patchouli got up from her chair, Fennel and Lily following suit. They both walked out of the office, Lily enthusiastically waving before the two left to the main lobby.

Guess Patchouli should start packing, shouldn’t she? At least after the church closes, she still has her duties as the Minister of Advice. She looked over at the stained glass over the window, six purple eyes that look like flower petals amongst opalescent stained glass. It was a design that always felt nostalgic to Patchouli, even when she first arrived. Possibly since that symbol is on her forehead, hidden with the purple locs that are her bangs.

It wasn’t time for such sentiments, though. Patchouli had work to do, at least for a few more hours. Until then, she sat down at the desk to wait for the next person in need of advice.

The church is now closed, and Patchouli finished her duties for the day. Washing the ceramic plates with a brush and dish soap, she placed them on the drying rack for them to dry. The church did have a dish washer, a more recent addition from a generous donator, but Patchouli preferred cleaning at least some of the dishes by hand. It kept her hands busy, and allowed her to clear her head from the events from the day.

Sister Agatha approached from the table, leaning over the counter, “So, you’re planning on taking that offer and going to try and find your big sis? We all knew the day would come, especially since you’ve always talked so fondly of her.”

Patchouli placed the final plate on the rack, looking over at Sister Agatha after drying her hands and rolling down her sleeves, “I’m glad that you remember. She was the only light of my life until I came here. I hope that I can find her again, or at least check to see if our father is still alive and kicking.”

Agatha winced, “Right. Your mom exiled him, didn’t she? He sounds like a good father, with him doing the best that he could to bring you to us. Hopefully he is alive, it would be a shame if he isn’t.”

“I hope so too, but being exiled from the bulk of the settlements can make it hard to survive. I just hope that the group he’s the leader of is staying strong too.” Patchouli walked out of the kitchen, “I have to wait for that though, the first thing is trying to find my sister.”

“Right, right.” Agatha nodded, “I’ll help you pack too.”

“I need to wait a bit before I start properly packing everything,” Patchouli waved her hands in front of her, “there’s still the whole interview thing beforehand!”

“Oh! I just realized, you’ve never done an actual interview before. I’ve done them before, back before I became a part of the clergy here. Do you need any advice? Help with writing a résumé? I’ve helped a few of the churchgoers with theirs since my old job used to have me look over them.” Agatha asked, “I know I’ve helped you with getting your driver’s license before, mostly because of your anxiety with learning how, but résumés are more of my specialty. Sister Lena’s the better one for driving lessons since she, y’know, also teaches driver’s ed at the school.”

It was true that Sister Lena was a good driver. Many of Patchouli’s classmates were taught by her, including Patchouli herself when she was at the school. The school itself is not connected to the church, but some of the clergy have teaching licenses and teach classes there. Sister Lena, of course, teaches Driver’s Ed, another teaches human geography, one teaches a foreign language, and Sister Helga used to be an assistant principle at the elementary school before she became the head of the church. Even though she would technically be referred to as Mother Helga by tradition, everyone in the clergy refers to her as Sister. In Sister Helga’s eyes, she felt that Mother felt too unapproachable, so she kept referring to herself as Sister Helga.

“I’d appreciate the help, we can do it once all our other duties are complete.” Patchouli answered, stretching her back with her arms raised, careful not to bonk her horns in the process. If she were to do it alone, the concept might make her a bit anxious. However, with the assistance of Sister Agatha, writing the résumé won’t be as hard.

For now though, Patchouli needed to wait for the interview to happen, then she can start packing to start a new chapter of her life.

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its so scary to put yourself out there but a SINGLE message saying "hi i loved what you made it touched me in some way" makes it all worth it 10000%

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Patchouli's Revenge: Lavandula Spica | To Prevent A Ruined Wedding

Guess who forgot to upload this after finishing this like... a month ago. It's me. Also this is like 9 pages long in the doc I wrote this on soooo enjoy :3 (I promise that I'll try to post the 3rd chapter soon since I'm almost done writing the last chapter of this arc)

Warnings: Toxic family members, attempted assault, multiple crimes taking place, just an absolute mess of a situation

Word Count: 3.8K

A few months prior, the Skuld Church was asked to do a wedding. As it’s a service they provided, the church accepted. However, the spouses-to-be had one simple request: keep the groom’s mother away from the wedding.

The couple sat down opposite Patchouli, gentle sunlight highlighting her pink horns. Both of them seemed uneasy, especially for a couple who is soon having their wedding. Patchouli knew that one of their parents wasn’t the best, she had quite the horrid mother herself. That must be why Sister Agnes asked Patchouli to meet with the couple; she has experience with horrible parents, it might reassure them if they have a member of the church they can connect to.

The woman was one of the regular attendees of the church services. Nina Eisner, Patchouli recalls. Nina was one of the first non-clergy members she met, and was always nice to her. However, recently, she hasn’t been attending as often. Maybe the reason is why she and the groom are meeting right now.

“So,” Patchouli put her hands in a steeple, elbows on the wooden desk, “I’m Patchouli Gimle, or just Minister Patchouli. I already know Miss Eisner, she’s a regular attendee of this church. What is your name, sir?”

“I’m Roy Palla, Nina’s fiancé and soon-to-be husband… if my mother tries not to traumatize her again.” The brunet gentleman nodded, looking at Nina in reassurance.

Patchouli tilted her head, “Is it alright for me to inquire why your mother would try to traumatize Miss Eisner? Some kind of grudge, or an assumption that she’s being replaced?”

“She doesn’t like my fianceé,” the man explained, “She’s been harassing her on social media too, it got so bad that she had to private her accounts. My mom genuinely believes that she’s trying to steal me away from her, which isn’t true. I think she has some mental problems that haven’t been addressed.”

Patchouli pursed her lips, looking at Nina. “Can you confirm this, ma’am?” She wanted the bride-to-be’s opinion as well, not just relying on Roy’s words alone. Even if it’s a fact, there should always be a second confirmation.

Nina nodded, “I’ve barely left our home in weeks because of her harassment. I thank the gods that she doesn’t know where we live, if she did she might drive to us and start breaking windows. I want to have a good relationship with her like I do with Roy’s father, but I wonder if she has some sort of mental disorder like early onset dementia or something.”

The words out of her mouth concerned Patchouli. She thought her own mom was crazy, it’s why she ran away, but the things said by the lady raised concerns for her own safety.

“Miss Nina, I am very concerned. How long has this been going on? Have you gotten a restraining order on her, or some kind of court order? I think you might need to get all the evidence you have of her harassing you if this ends up going to court.” Patchouli furrowed her brow, looking at the two.

Nina and Roy shook their heads. “I don’t think it’ll be enough, so far she hasn’t tried anything other than the online harassment.” Roy explained.

“I’d bring it up to the police just in case. Print out the screenshots with timestamps, try to get recordings of any phone calls, and have other people around you provide testimonies. I’ll contact them as well, see if they can send a few officers over in case she tries to enter the wedding without permission. I’ll help as well, there’s a few other members of this church who can officiate the marriage.” Patchouli offered, extending a hand to them.

“You would?” Nina asked, “But how would you be able to do that?”

Patchouli giggled, covering her mouth and winking, “Don’t worry about that, the Eyes of Gimle have sight all around this church.”

Nina nodded, “Ah, I see. I trust that you will take care of this. Do you trust her with keeping an eye out for your mother, Roy?”

Roy nodded in approval, “If Minister Patchouli says so and the clergy approves, then I’m fine with it. ”

“Great!” Patchouli softly clapped her hands together, “I’ll see you two in four months the day of, unless you wish to talk to us again about the wedding. Her name is Amelia Palla, correct? I’ll keep note on anyone named that.”

The couple nodded, getting up from their chairs and walking out the door. Patchouli followed them to their car, making sure that they weren’t going to be jumped, then reentered the church.

According to the couple, they wanted to do a small wedding of roughly twenty people. The groom’s father was invited, but due to the behavior of the groom’s mother, she isn’t. Roughly seven of the attendees are the children of their friends and relatives. Two of those children are in their late teens, so they might not be as startled if the groom’s mother storms into the room the wedding takes place in. The rest of them are tweens and elementary school aged, so they might not take it as well. The church will need to be on guard.

Once Patchouli returned to the office, she took out her journal and her pen to write stuff down. The journal had a leather cover, but that only hid that it was actually a spiral notebook that had some flower designs and a heavy paper weight that took fountain pen ink well. Patchouli wrote several things down.

Things to do for Roy Palla and Nina Eisner’s Wedding

1. Identify all potential entrances and exits the groom’s mother might use to enter the church.

2. Inform Skuld Police Department about the groom’s mother, Amelia Palla. Ask if they can have an officer or two stationed at the church during the wedding’s duration.

3. Figure out how many Eyes of Gimle I can have at once without any showing up on my face.

4. Check for any suspicious people who match Amelia Palla’s physical description.

Once Patchouli wrote everything down, she got up from her chair and stretched. She’s gonna be in for a few long months, but if everything goes smoothly there should be no problems at all with the wedding. For now, it’s four months of waiting and one day of anticipation.

●●●

Today is the day of the wedding. Four months prior, the spouses-to-be mentioned that the groom’s mother might try to crash the wedding and harass the bride, and the church acquired the resources to help prevent that from happening. A few members of the clergy stationed themselves by potential entrances and exits that she might try to use, and there were several officers on the scene in case she actually tried to crash it. Apparently, one of the attendees of the wedding was a cop in the same division. He was one of the groomsmen, and was given the duty of guarding the part of the church the wedding was being held in.

“Are you sure that everything will be okay?” Roy asked, looking around the venue nervously.

Patchouli nodded, “We’ll be alright! All members of the clergy know some form of magic and verbal judo, so we can stall your mother juuuust enough for the police to arrest her if she enters the church.”

Clasping his hands on his chest, Roy nodded vigirously, “Thank you. From the bottom of Nina and I’s hearts, thank you for doing so much for us. I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to repay you for your kindness.”

Patchouli shook her head and waved her hands, “No no no no, no need to thank us! The best you can do to repay us is to make a donation to the church, no matter how small. This is you and Nina’s special day. Besides, the god Gimle does all she can to make sure these ceremonies aren’t ruined, even if it results in spilled blood.” She muttered the last part to herself before turning around. “I’ll keep my eyes out for her! Just relax. If you’re still anxious, think of how your wife will look during the ceremony. You might cry, but there’s a reason we got tissue boxes by the podium.”

Patchouli exited through the grand doors, walking toward the west hall where she was stationed. Was it likely for the mother-in-law to enter through the wing that leads to the annex that the clergy lives? Unfortunately, it’s possible. Sister Helga wanted to take part, but her pain has been getting worse over the years. She now uses a rollator, and all of the younger clergy members insisted that Sister Helga worry about the wedding ceremony. Because of that, she will be the officiant.

She remembers that Sister Helga wanted to have Patchouli do the ceremony. It would’ve been the fifth wedding she officiated herself, but Patchouli, with the powers she has, knew that it made more sense for her to be on the lookout for the groom’s mother given the situation at hand.

Who is that little girl walking around the hallway? Why isn’t she in the venue?

“What are you doing out here, little miss?” Patchouli asked, “The wedding isn’t happening in this hall, it’s somewhere else.”

The little girl looked up at Patchouli, tilting her head. She had blonde hair and brown eyes with an olive skin tone. She answered, “My mom’s using the bathroom, and I wanted a place to walk back and forth.” Ah, so she just needed a place to move around.

She nodded, “I see. Well, when your mom’s done, make sure you get back to the venue. We have a few fidget toys that are quiet if you need to do something with your hands.”

The little girl shook her head, “My big bro gave me a cube thingy. He’s not here though, he’s at work. Do you know him? I think you’re his age, you must’ve gone to school with him. His name’s Fennel, like the plant.”

“Fennel? I haven’t met someone with that name,” Patchouli shook her head, “I did school things here before going to the local high school for my last two years of high school so I could get a diploma. I graduated two years back, actually. How old is your brother?”

The girl closed her eyes, humming a bit before speaking, “No, Fennel graduated four years ago. I don’t think you met him.”

Patchouli nodded before noticing an older woman approaching. “Oh, that must be your mother walking up. Hopefully you have a good time.”

The little girl nodded, waiting for her mother to catch up and walking with her to the main hall. She never caught the girl’s name, but that’s alright with Patchouli. She has a duty to do, and the wedding begins soon. Can’t let that be ruined now, right?

Patchouli walked up and down the hall, using her abilities to check blind spots and other parts of the church while observing for anything out of place. It was relatively quiet, though, with only the echoes of her footsteps being heard.

Until someone opened the door leading to the annex. She was in a frilly white dress, but Patchouli knew that she wasn’t the bride. The bride looks way different. So she’s actually trying to crash the wedding? Such strange people with their strange egos. This must be Amelia Palla, the groom’s mother.

Patchouli walked towards the lady, clad in what is blatantly a wedding dress despite not being the bride, “Showing up to someone else’s wedding in a wedding dress? How disgraceful, an insult to the ritual.” With a flick of her wrist, eyes opened up on the floor and ceiling, summoning chains which kept the woman in place.

“HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME!” Amelia screeched, “I AM ROY’S MOTHER, I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BE AT OUR WEDDING! THAT MONSTER OF HIS GIRLFRIEND DOESN’T DESERVE HIM!”

Patchouli rolled her eyes, tapping the sides of her temple. “Your son doesn’t want you there. Why do you think your ex-husband was invited and you were not? You’ve been harassing him and his now wife constantly. Nina’s been fearing for her life, and Roy has been anxious about you possibly showing up at their house.”

Amelia tried to move against the chains, “TELL ME! TELL ME WHERE THEY LIVE! I WON’T HESITATE TO BRING MY SON BACK TO WHERE HE BELONGS!”

“And that’s why you never got told where they live.” Patchouli rebutted, “You’re controlling your son like he’s an object and not a person with their own thoughts, so he went no contact. He still cares for you, but what you need isn’t your son, you need professional help. There’s plenty of services that can help you, Mrs. Palla. You can have a relationship with your son, but you need to get your act together.”

“I need NO such help! You must be a demon sent to prevent me from seeing him. A DEMON! I rebuke your words. LEAVE!” Amelia kept screeching. This is going nowhere.

Unbenownst to Patchouli, someone witnessed what she did. The figure slinked away before anyone else could notice them.

Footsteps arrived, and a navy-clad officer strolled up to where the two women were, “Alright, wrap it up, ma’am. Amelia Palla, you are under arrest for tresspassing, harassment, and attempted assault.”

Amelia screeched, further trying to release herself from the chains. “YOU ARE NOT ARRESTING ME!” she screeched, “I AM WITHIN MY RIGHTS! BRING ME TO MY SON, I AM SAVING HIM FROM THAT DEVIL!”

The officer sighed, radioing for backup. “Suspect has been located in the west hall, near the patchouli painting. Suspect is beligerent and hostile.”

Even more screeching ensued, as the woman freed herself from the chains and tried to lunge at Patchouli. With a knife. A sharp blade that grazed Patchouli’s cheek as she stepped out of the way.

Black blood seeped from the wound, as Patchouli’s face warped into fury. Her pink eyes began glowing, and eyes began appearing all around the area.

“Assaulting a minister with a knife? How rude of you.” Patchouli stared at the woman, who went to try and stab her again.

Stepping away once again, Patchouli allowed the officer to tackle the woman onto the floor, quickly cuffing her.

He turned on the radio again, “Suspect has a weapon. I repeat, suspect has a weapon! She attempted to stab a member of the clergy!”

Several more officers ran up to the three, stopping as they reached them. One confiscated the knife after putting on some gloves, placing it in an evidence bag.

One of the officers walked up to Patchouli, noticing the blood dribbling off her cheek. “Do you need medical assistance, Miss Gimle?”

Patchouli shook her hands, “Not at all! I’ll just clean the wound once I go to the restroom.”

The officer nodded, writing something down on a note pad, “Understandable. Once the ceremony happens, I’ll ask the people attending to give some testimonies. Go wash the wound, I’ll go into the main hall.”

Patchouli gave the officer a small salute, zooming to the restroom to wash the blood off her face. When she reached it, she grabbed a paper towel and soaked it in water. She used that to wipe the cut, black blood staining the wet paper. The blood began coagulating, given the superficial nature of the wound. If that madwoman cut any deeper, she’d have to visit the hospital to get stitches.

Once Patchouli finished cleaning the cut, she washed and dried her hands before returning to the main hall. It was rather tense in the hall, but that made sense. Someone tresspassed onto the church while a wedding was starting, and now people might start pointing fingers at each other to find out who told the groom’s mother where and when the wedding was taking place.

Fortunately, nobody was starting a conflict. Maybe it was the cops being in the building, but it was rather peaceful. The wedding can go on as intended. Patchouli walked up to the groom by the podium, whispering something in his ear before taking her place behind Sister Helga. It took some time for everyone to get settled down, especially the younger attendees, but soon it was time for the wedding ceremony to begin.

The little girl that Patchouli saw just before Amelia tried to stab her tossed paper flower petals on the aisle, shaking her hand from side-to-side to allow the petals to distribute on the carpet as controlled as her little hands are capable. The petals were yellow with bits of orange and pink, like a sunset within the horizon. When the flower girl finished up near the podium, she sneaked off to the side in wait.

Soon, the doors opened, and Nina ascended up to the podium. Her dress wasn’t extravagant by any means, just a simple coral empire dress that Patchouli remembers her wearing before, but the accessories made all the difference. She had a deep pink corset belt, and a small amethyst pendant that Patchouli recalled Nina wearing four months back. Her hair was tied up in a bun, with a pink rose upon a golden hairpin keeping her tight curls in style. She didn’t wear a full veil, but the two accessories with added yellow tulle created the illusion of one.

Roy looked to be holding back tears. Sister Helga grabbed a tissue from the inside part of the podium, handing it over to Roy. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose before putting it away in the trash bin next to the podium. As Nina walked up to face her soon-to-be husband, both of them smiled.

Sister Helga began her speech, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the bond between Nina Eisner and Roy Palla. Now, I know today got off to a rough start. Someone almost crashed the wedding, and unless we’re gonna be surrounded by puppies and kittens we don’t want that happening, now do we?”

A few chuckles came from the attendees, and from the couple themselves. Sister Helga always knew how to lighten up the mood when need be. Take it from Patchouli, she knows that such ways come with skill. A skill Patchouli admires.

“But now, we are here to honor the marital bond between these two under the watchful gaze of Gimle, god of bonds and sight. Her spirit is within us as so is her power, and in this ceremony we honor her domain as she blesses this marriage between these two as equals.” Sister Helga raised up her arms, palms facing the stained glass fixture above the podium. The stained glass was of the patchouli flower, one of Gimle’s symbols.

Sister Helga lowered her arms, gesturing to the couple, “Now, which one of you wishes to go first in your vows?”

Roy grabbed a piece of paper from his front pocket, unfolding it. Taking a deep breath, he spoke the words he wrote, “When I first met you, I never thought I’d be marrying you one day. All good romances begin with a good friendship, and by the gods you’ve been one good friend of mine. Despite everything, you’ve stayed strong. Even as my mom tried to stop you, you didn’t. I can’t wait to spend so much time with you, Nina. We’ll raise as many cats together as you wish. I…” Roy choked on his words, tears beginning to flow, “I love you so much that this room isn’t enough to contain it. I care about you to infinity, and I can’t wait to be a part of yours for as long as you wish.”

Sister Helga grabbed the box of tissues once again, but Nina grabbed a tissue to wipe Roy’s face before throwing it away.

“I feel the same way as you. I never thought that you were someone I’d end up loving so deeply. Even as your mother tried to break us apart, you refused to let her. You helped me by providing a safe space, a shoulder to cry on, and encouraged me to ask the clergy to help us with her. I know it must be hard for you, but hopefully one day… one day we shall have our families bond together. You’ve been an awesome uncle to my nieces and nephews, and I know that if we have a kid you will be one cool dad. But for now, we can take care of a kitty or two.” Nina recited her vows, looking at Roy with nothing but love within her eyes.

Sister Helga nodded, as a young man around Patchouli’s age walked up with two gold bands upon the purple cushion the church provides for all weddings. His blond hair was pushed back in a braid, with a matching sunset-themed dress shirt and pants. He offered the cushion to the couple, who took the wedding bands and placed them upon each other.

Once the young man walked toward the flower girl, likely his little sister, Sister Helga continued her speech.

“And now, with vows recited and bands exchanged,” she extended her hands forward, taking in a breath, “I now declare both of you married under the watchful gaze of Gimle.”

Nina and Roy tackled each other in a hug, and the room erupted into applause. Attendees from both halves got up to clap, and began talking to one another. Patchouli walked up to the couple, who rushed up to her.

Roy bowed at her, with Nina giving her a gentle hug. “Thank you, Minister, for helping us. I know my mom cut you with a knife, are you okay?” Roy asked.

Patchouli nodded, “Don’t worry about me, sir! I’m just glad that the wedding went on without much problem! My kind is well known for our regenerative capabilities, and us clergy know some minor healing magic. Wouldn’t want to stain the church with blood, wouldn’t I?”

Nina shook her head, “Still though, we thank you from the bottom of our souls. I remember when I first met you that you were scared of newcomers. You’ve grown so much over the past decade, we couldn’t be more proud of you.”

It’s truly been that long since she arrived? The years felt like they’ve flown by for Patchouli, so much so that she forgot how much she grew. Growing past the trauma of her old home, growing to learn to love journaling again, and growing to care for those around her deeply.

Now that Patchouli thinks about it, how is her older sister? Primrose promised to try and reunite with her again one day, and it’s been ten years since then. Should she start trying to find her sister again? It would be difficult to find a starting point, it won’t be easy. Maybe Patchouli should get a social media account or two, even if it’s just to lurk.

For now though, the wedding went on without much issue. Once the attendees clear the church, she plans on helping to clean up the main hall and putting everything away. Until then, she can socialize with the people as much as she wants or as little as she wants.

[skelswritingcorner]

writers, stop apologizing for your genre. fantasy is valid. fanfiction is valid. your self-indulgent coffee shop au? also valid.

[skelswritingcorner]

So close LibreOffice! The word I was looking for was arsenal.

Thanks for the suggestion though.