#It's nowhere near as bad as it used to get. The medicine IS working. But it still kinda sucks.

[eilooxara]

Go away health problem I've had enough health problems lately

[bloodywankers]

Trigger Warning! Yandere! Implied Non-Con! Forced Marriage! Forced Cultural Assimilation! Power Imbalance! Royalty AU!

Yandere Blue Lock | Yandere Michael Kaiser | 5.4k words | unedited

Michael Kaiser was arrogant, and surpassed all reason with his gall. As if it had not been your people who had fed and clothed his own when their ship sank near the coast of your island.

Provided them with shelter and welcomed them with open arms when they had nowhere to go in the vast ocean.

Whether it was gold or medicine, you wasted no expense to extend your generous hand towards them, ensuring your guests stayed comfortably while within the confines of your island.

Their culture was strange to you who had grown up in a matriarchy, surrounded by warriors and women admirable in both strength and intelligence. In fact, it was the opposite of your own. Men were the ones who held most of the power in their country, no wonder they looked so flabbergasted when there were no other men on the island beside themselves, surrounded by well built women tanned under the scorching sun, beyond anything they were used to as they had said many times.

They weren’t as bad as many stories told, they shared whatever was spared from the ocean on their ship, blankets, food that you had never come across and strange trinkets you still couldn’t fully understand.

Kaiser was strange even when you first met him, commanding those around him so naturally unlike you who was egalitarian in the making. Treating everyone with equal consideration and respect. Conceit lining his every action, as if he looked down on all those that surrounded him.

Had it not been for them not having anywhere else to go, you wouldn’t have let them near your people, especially not when it was evident he looked down on you.

“Your ‘country’ is run solely by women?” He seemed almost indignant when presented with this information. Despite this, you still bid them farewell with a smile on your face and nothing but prayers of good fortune for the journey that lies ahead of them.

So imagine your surprise when you receive a letter, a threat, the familiar arrogance dripping from each sentence written in the paper. ‘Surrender or else.’ That was basically what he was saying, that bastard. Acting as if your people hadn’t done all they did for his own.

But yours was a country of warriors, you’d fight them even if it cost your lives.

Or so you had thought, but the enemy never came. Instead, your numbers fell from within, one after another, all those around you fell ill, weakened until they could barely stand. You had barely managed to contain the infection when he came, that coward.

“You don’t seem to be doing very well.” He taunted, grinning from ear to ear as he looked down on you.

“A country run by women… isolated from the world. I was wondering for how long that’d work out for you.” He said as he walked circling around you, as a hyena would to its prey. He spared a few glances towards your surroundings, examining the sickly state many, including you were in. A rather cruel idea came to mind as he looked into your eyes, that defiance, sheer hatred that lined them, he wondered if he could crush it, like taming a wild animal in a sense.

“You’ll all die at this rate, why not come with me? The old geezer’s been pestering me lately to get married and I think you'd do nicely [name]. What do you say?” Even as he suggested something as serious as marriage, he had a certain playfulness in his tone, as if he was just mocking you, waiting for you to say yes just to laugh in your face.

“Even at a time like this you seem to spare no opportunity to mock us.” You spat back at him, not having braced yourself for the bruising hold on your jaw he now had.

“I’m sorry, I think I should rephrase that, I made it sound like I almost gave you a choice.” And with that, he released your aching jaw and walked out, you could overhear him ordering one of the men that came with him and while you didn't understand their language, you could assume it had something to do with you.

….

While most of the girls were against it, they understood you had no choice unless they were willing to face off against those strange men in their current condition. So it was decided, in exchange for treatment and protection from other invaders with similar intentions to Kaiser’s, you’d go with him. It felt dehumanising, to be traded like livestock but you didn’t want to think of what would happen had you opposed the idea as vehemently as you planned to.

Instead you focused on what to do once you reached his home country, it was a long journey, turns out that his men had settled on the just a few days on boat away from your island. His true home country, the one you learnt he would rule over was much further, a climate noticeably colder and duller than what you were used to.

“I expect you to be on your best behaviour once we get there, we wouldn’t want them to think you’re an uneducated savage, would we?” You despised how he spoke to you, slower, in a simpler way and overwhelmingly patronising, as one would to a child.

“I’m aware.” You replied.

He made you learn his country's language during the journey, so while he read government papers and complex books, he forced you to read children’s books out loud. Laughing at how you’d pronounce certain words, chuckle as you tried your best to differentiate between one sound and another and ensure you were thoroughly embarrassed before explaining anything you didn't understand.

He let you wear your own clothes at least, but even this, he assured, was only until you reached land, until he could have a tailor skilled enough to make something befitting of his future wife.

You couldn’t help but curse him under your breath every single day, pray he’d come down with sickness or fall overboard, pray he’d die, a slow painful death. But even this had to be done in secrecy, not because of how ill you wished him but because he forbade anything that held any semblance to your culture.

It was foolish to think he’d lose interest once you returned to his homeland, surrounded by enough women and shiny things to forget about you, men were fickle, or so the older women always told you. But not Kaiser to your dismay, instead he seemed even more invested in finding ways to make your life more difficult, from dance instructors to history and politics. Each day felt daunting as you missed your small island home, wanting for nothing more than to return to your home and your true family.

With what little you spoke of their language you could tell you weren’t the most welcome of guests, the maids’ glances towards you weren’t exactly overflowing in kindness and the older men that visited Kaiser seemed equally troubled by your presence.

“Who would dare say anything to my kaiserin.” There it was, the new nickname he had picked for you among a myriad of others, some more insulting than others. Not that Kaiser cared, he seemed to pay no mind to what you thought. Instead he seemed to be much more focused on your untouched plate.

“You’re not eating. I can’t have you looking like a corpse at our wedding, darling.” You just continued to stare down at your plate, its contents didn’t seem fit to be called food to you, not with how tasteless they were, even prisoners ate better in your homeland. You furrowed your brows as you took a bite, trying to chew as little as possible as to not taste any of it.

“I’m sure you’ve been taught better table manners than that, dear.” You didn’t like the way he looked at you, it’s as if he was looking at something lesser than him, lesser than human in his eyes.

“The food…I don’t like how it tastes.” You muttered under your breath in what little German you spoke.

“I suppose it’ll take time to develop an appreciation for high class food, I understand, especially after you’ve been eating garbage most of your life. No wonder you were so weak back then.” He never seemed to miss a chance to insult your culture. You were sure whatever garbage you had eaten before was much more filling than these scraps.

…

You had always enjoyed running around freely in the past, taking in the beauty of nature, but here, it would be rare to find any nature at all among the concrete jungle. And whatever little greenery there was was hidden by the accursed weather. Dull and gloomy, much like the country itself.

And god forbid your handmaidens let you out without hiding you among layers over layers of fabric, weighing you down just enough to make sure you would tire yourself out to not suggest going out for another few days.

But even that seems like a privilege to you now as you look out the large window in your room. He had come to visit earlier, drunk— clearly as seen from the pink in his cheeks and the unmistakable stench of alcohol coming from him.

“You’ll look so nice in a wedding dress, my precious kaiserin. I can’t wait to see you in white.” He said as he got closer than you’d have allowed, draping his arms around you as he sunk into the crook of your neck. You couldn’t help but scrunch your nose as he took in your scent. For an emperor as great as he claimed he was, he seemed to act a bit too depraved.

That’s when he went for it, tried to remove your dress. Your heartbeat racing as a mix of anxiety and dread overflowed from your thoughts as they clouded your judgement. In the midst of the moment, you shoved him away, ending in him being pushed onto your bed while you were now on the floor.

“What…?” He seemed angry, really, really angry. You didn't want to know what he would do so you just spewed whatever came to mind in hopes of something convincing enough to at least reduce whatever punishment he would give you now.

“The… The wedding! You have to wait. We should only do this after marriage. That’s what the priest said, we cannot do this unless we’re husband and wife!” You exclaimed as Kaiser simply looked at you, now having regained his composure.

You hoped this would buy you some time, at least enough to think of a way out without endangering the lives of your people. Your wedding was still a few months away, this would be enough time to do whatever was necessary.

Or so you had thought.

“Your highness, we cannot allow you to go out like this! Please understand, we’re under strict orders from the emperor. You must focus on your bridal studies. The tailor will also be coming today with the finalised dress.” The maid said, or rather pleased, she didn’t look any more pleased with the current arrangements as you were. That bastard, he moved your wedding from a few months to just weeks away after that. No wonder he had been so quiet lately. Everyone had begged that he rethink it but he paid them no mind, simply ordering that they prepare everything by the end of the month, sending everyone inside and outside the palace into a frenzy.

He didn’t forget to reprimand you for pushing him away either, forbidding anyone from allowing you outside the walls unless he himself allows it himself. Leaving you confined to your room most of the time, preparing for your wedding. Your stomach dropped at the mere thought of it.

…

Despite what he made you think, Kaiser was just as busy with wedding preparations as you were. Only the most grand event would be worthy of him and his precious wife. You used to be so aggressive when you first came, refusing to speak the language, firing insults at him every time he spoke. He found it adorable how you stuttered this time around. He did have to punish you for pushing him away, that was unacceptable, but the way you tried to reason with him, that desperate look in your eyes made him want to devour you right then and there.

It was rewarding to see the fruit of his labour.

It brought a smile to his face just to think about you.

“Have you heard? Apparently the empress is so beautiful that the emperor keeps her in a separate palace, he doesn’t allow any male servants near her so they aren’t seduced by your beauty.” A younger man, probably the son of a noble, seeing as how ignorant he was, said. The other men around him simply added more fuel to the fire as they continued to gossip amongst themselves.

The male couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle. Would they have said the same thing had they seen you as you were back in your little island? Ragged and sickly, so ready to jump anyone that came too close to you as a string of curse words left your mouth. So unladylike, he was sure they wouldn’t.

None of them would have seen your potential like you did, he was the one who polished you into the gem that you were today so it’s only right he’s the only one to enjoy the benefits of it.

He’ll have to make sure you don’t have to interact with these scum too much during the wedding, Kaiser thought as he held himself back from ripping their tongues out right then and there, there were better, quieter ways to deal with people like that. No point in causing a commotion, especially when your wedding was so close, when you would finally have to resign yourself to your fate, sealed in his hands and his alone.

“Your highness please keep your arms up so that the tailor can fit the dress.” One of the maids said as a few others rustled around you, trying to fit the dress on you, ensure that it was safely fastened so as to avoid any accidents during your actual wedding.

“I hope you don't mind me intruding on your fitting session, my precious kaiserin.” Kaiser said as he invited himself in, his eyes set on you and the dress that just made you all the more alluring. Jewels that were worn by women of his family for centuries before this splayed all around the room as the maids tried to agree on the most fitting one and a dress made by the most prestigious tailor in the continent, all to represent his country, the mother of his nation.

…

The servants had all long gone now, leaving you alone with Kaiser. They giggled amongst themselves as they left, you had heard many talk about the lovely relationship between you two, oh how you wished to deny it all.

“You didn’t have to come.” You said, still insistent on avoiding eye contact with Kaiser.

“I can’t help but notice darling, you never seem to say my name. We’re to be wed soon, wouldn’t it be better for you to refer to your husband-to-be by his name?” You couldn’t understand why he seemed so intent in closing the distance between you two, as if to keep you from running off— not that there were any places where you could seek shelter from him and his overbearing presence.

Discomfort was evident in you as you tried to pry him away. It’d be hard to believe that you were the same person capable of taking out his men with relative ease. Kaiser, however, paid it no mind, instead leaning in closer as he took a hold of your chin, barely any distance left between you two, your breath hitching as you tried your best to divert the topic on to anything else.

“Come now, how hard can it be to say Michael, you’ve pronounced harder words darling, this should be easy for you.” He said leaning in even more. His lips practically on yours at this point, your efforts to pull away being left in vain as you hit the back of the sofa you were on.

“Michael, I said it, now please stop this!” You pleaded, but it would be difficult to reason with him now. Something about the way you said his name just felt so attractive to him. Maybe it was your accent, despite your best attempts, it was still hard to conceal it.

“Say it again.”

“W..what?” He looked like he was in a trance, no sign of his usual shit eating grin, a blank expression on his face as he stared back into your eyes, waiting for the words to leave your mouth.

“Michael.” You knitted your brows as your cheeks went red from embarrassment. It felt strange, demeaning almost. As if he were watching a child say its first words.

“Again.” Was he serious? You thought to yourself.

…

Hate Kaiser as you will, at the moment, he was the only one that could allow you to go out so in some messed up way, you had started to look forward to his visits. And with only a few days until your wedding, you couldn’t help but grow anxious so as insufferable as he was, at least you could enjoy a breath of fresh air, away from the stuffy palace in his presence.

You couldn’t help but take in the scenery, the same that seemed so lacking compared to your homeland just a few months ago

“That dress you wore earlier today suits you well, darling.” He said, eyes still focused on the freshly bloomed flowers.

“I’m sure it did, seeing how they had to practically starve me so that I could fit in it.” Your German had improved a lot lately, you could even use complex sentences now, not as insistent on using your mother tongue as you used to be, it brought him pride every time he heard you speak it.

“Stuffing your face like an uncivilised beast would be unbecoming of a lady of your standing regardless of whether there is a dress to fit into or not, my dear.“ Some part of you was convinced he did this so you wouldn’t have the energy to escape.

“I wasn’t aware basic human needs had become uncivilised in your glorious empire.”

“You’ve been behaving well lately, it’s in your best interest to keep that up, darling.” It had been ages since you last acted up, Kaiser had thought he had crushed your rebellious spirit by now. He could forgive this, maybe it was just you getting antsy because of your wedding.

…

You’d received many congratulatory gifts before your wedding, most from people you had never before met. Foreign emissaries, nobles and others, all filled with congratulations and well wishes but you spared them no attention, instead focusing on the letter sent to you by your friends and family back home, your real home. During the time it took for the letter to get to you it was already quite dated but you still read it over and over again, written in your home tongue and filled with words of encouragement. Details you feared you had forgotten, people who you couldn’t picture in your head anymore but longed for each passing day. Kaiser didn’t allow letters most of the time, especially not when they were written in your home tongue, a reminder of your unruly past as he saw it.

This one was a wedding gift, a final goodbye to your friends and family before you became someone even you couldn’t recognize.

You read it over and over again. Tears formed in your eyes as you realised just how much you had forgotten, turning into a sobbing mess before you even realised.

“Had I known this is how you’d act, I'd have thought twice before giving you that letter.” There he was again, so eager to interrupt any thoughts of your home.

“I- I’m sorry.” You managed to say between sobs, trying to compose yourself before he said anything else, carefully tucking the letter away into your study drawer.

“May I write back to them?” You asked, practically pleaded considering the pathetic state you were in.

“We’ve talked about this before, dear. You know I dislike repeating myself.”

“Only once please—! I won’t ask again, Michael please just this once—!”

He seemed displeased with your request but instead of saying anything, he merely got up and approached your desk. However, to your surprise, he simply walked past you, instead kneeling in front of your drawers, taking the letter out and before you could react, he ripped it to shreds, right in front of you. Not even sparing the remains, opting to throw them into the lit fireplace, making sure they were burnt to a crisp before facing you again.

He took out a piece of paper from his pocket, leaving it on the desk.

“W-what’s this?” It was hard to talk to him after what he had just done, you wanted nothing more than to curse him.

“A list of names I’ve narrowed down, choose the one you like most by tonight, otherwise I’ll choose the one I like most.” He said nonchalantly.

“Names…? Why would you need me to choose a name?”

He merely looked at you disdained.

“You’ve not been baptised yet, I can’t be marrying a heretic, dear.”

“Is it really necessary to change my name though?”

He slammed his hand on your desk.

“You were behaving so well up until yesterday, so you seemed to have forgotten under whose jurisdiction that beloved island of yours is, my dear.” And with that, he stole a small kiss from your lips and left.

None of the names on the list felt pleasant to your tongue, they all sounded so foreign so Kaiser ended up choosing for you, he seemed happy to do so anyway. Things moved fast from there, in under a week so much had happened. Everyone around you seemed so overjoyed, everyone except you who was intent on ignoring your reality. Repeating over and over again the words you had read in that letter as a desperate attempt to remember your homeland. With even your name now replaced, nothing besides fickle memories was left but even those seemed to fade so fast.

…

Time moved fast when you were trying to hold on to it, hours turned into mere seconds. It became hard to grasp something so intangible as you walked down an aisle surrounded by strangers, in a building equally as unfamiliar.

Ironically, the only thing that wasn’t foreign was Kaiser, the man that had dragged you out so far across the map in the first place.

As the priest had you decide words you couldn’t fully comprehend and as hundreds of eyes peered onto you, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. Seeking what little comfort there was in them.

“All hail his highness the kaiser and kaiserin. May god bless their reign!” The man exclaimed as a string of cheers echoed through the large chapel, flower petals gently falling as the light from the stained glass windows of all colours seeped through.

Your breath hitching all of a sudden as you felt Kaiser’s hand on your waist.

“Nothing will save you today my darling bride.” He whispered into your ear with his usual devilish grin, his eyes still facing the guests.

You dreaded what was to come, his mere presence brought shivers to your spine. How were you supposed to spend the rest of your life with a man like that?

In the large ballroom, one after another, the guests greeted you, paying respects, asking if you remember them and their wedding gifs, each trying to outdo the last. But even in all the commotion, with the music drowning the room in even more noise, even then, your mind could only dread what awaited you once the music stopped and you were guided away.

…

You could feel it, his heartbeat. The constant thumping, mechanical like a clockwork in a sense. It wasn’t as erratic as yours, fast paced yes but you were sure the wine he downed earlier had something to do with that.

Reflexively moving away as he tried to inch closer, only to be met with a bruising grip, one fully intent on keeping you in place.

“Not today, my kaiserin, no. Today, I’ll enjoy all you have to offer and so will you. All you have to do is be good.” He said, barely audible as he looked at you with something between drunken stupor and sheer lust. Burying his head in the crook of your neck, taking a moment to breathe in your scent before his teeth sink in, you let out a hiss, trying your best to push him away or to at least have him stop but to no avail.

He took your home, your name—identity and that night, he took your body as well, leaving you with nothing at all.

He took all you had to offer and in turn left you with child, his child.

You only found out months later, as the sickness seemed to become too much to excuse as just a cold or upset stomach. As your dresses became increasingly difficult to fit into. And as if to add insult to injury, the physician thought it to be more important to inform Kaiser before he did you.

As if it wasn’t you who would carry this child for months to come.

“You’re the mother of my empire and now of my child as well, my kaiserin. You’ve brought me nothing but joy.” He said as he brought you into an embrace as the physician left.

But while Kaiser spewed affirmations of love and joy, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. Not when the first thought in your mind had been to compare his—your child to a parasite, like its father it would take and take from you.

Even beasts loved their kin, what a monster you had become to think that of your own child.

“Ahh.” You couldn’t help but wail. You didn’t want to bring such a child into the world, what a cruel mother you were. Uncontrollable sobs echoed through the room as you tried to cover your face, block out the man whose head up until mere moments ago laid on your lap, now looking at you with an unfamiliar expression of surprise. But it was quick to contort into something more akin to hurt and anger.

“…Why are you crying?” He whispered, the lack of his usual confidence and playfulness putting you off. His hands now firmly holding your face in place, leaving your tear stricken face with no choice but to face his.

“My first thought when I heard of the child…” You paused as more tears streamed down your face.

“I wished it’d die!” You exclaimed. “H-How can someone like me be a mother?”

“What have I become? What have you turned me into?!” You broke down once again, unable to see the sheer disgust in Kaiser’s expression, not until he forced your face up again.

“You’re carrying my child, the heir to my empire. You’d best act like it, my dear.” He scared you at times like these, when the familiar playfully hint in his eyes got replaced with a cruel look, one you would give your enemy, or someone you saw as less than human.

There was only one thing you hated more than that, it was when he acted like nothing happened the day after.

As he embraced you and his child, a smile wider than any you had seen before, acting as if you hadn't said what you did. As if you didn’t wilt away every day before your son's birth. He looked like him, like Kaiser. The same eyes, same hair, even his face held more semblance to him than you.

…

You sat in the shade, sheltered from the pathetic rays of sun if they could even be called that. Tea and other snacks set on the small table in front of you. Looking out the garden to see three young boys running around.

They laughed and chased after one and another, wooden swords and whatever the garden could provide turned into toys.

“I’m the emperor so I get to take all your land!” The eldest proclaimed.

“That’s not fair, you were emperor last time! This is my land, you can take Wilhelm land instead!” The youngest retorted, pointing towards his older brother.

“No! That’s not fair, you’re both cheating! Mother, tell them to stop, it’s my turn to be the hero!” Your second son, Wilhelm said, insisting you tell the other two off for cheating.

An airy buckle leaving your lips as you looked at the small boys, little, all three of them holding little if any resemblance to you.

“You two all got your turns, let’s let Wilhelm be emperor today, hmm?” The boys both let out a whine before they resumed their game, still equally as loud as before.

It was hard to face your children at times when you were reminded of when you first found out about your pregnancy. But you’ve learnt to bury those memories now. Between official duties and your children, there was little time for such thoughts in your day. Perhaps that was why you had forgotten all else.

You used to have a home but you remembered nothing of it, not what it looked like nor where you lived, maybe, if you tried really hard, you could recall its name.

There used to be people in your life before Kaiser but now, even if they were in front of you you doubted you would recognize them. It’s hard to hold onto memories when they’re so fleeting regardless of how hard you try. Not when even recalling them is an offence worth punishing in your husband’s eyes.

“Father!” Speak of the devil. The children screamed in unison, running towards Kaiser who had already opened his arms, welcoming them all for a hug.

They looked so innocent, unaware of the true nature of their father. Of course they would be when he stopped you from teaching them a single word in your home tongue, to utter a single word of your past would not be easily forgiven.

“My, if it isn’t my little princes.” He said between chuckles as the children tried to tackle him to the ground.

“Where’s your mother?”

“Mother is over there!” The youngest said, pointing his finger towards you. Kaiser giving you his classic grin. Taking the two youngest boys by the hand as he walked towards you.

As they walked side by side it was easier than ever to tell how much they resemble their father. Everything, from how they looked to even their names was foreign to you.

A chaste kiss on the cheek waking you from your trance as you looked behind you to find your husband and children, all smiling and laughing amongst themselves,

“What were you thinking to be so deep in thought?” He asked, receiving a simple ‘Nothing much.’ As a reply, interrupted by one of the children who seemed eager to jump on your lap and reach for sweets from the small table.

You doubt you’ll ever come to accept this life as your own, you’ll forever look into the mirror and try to recognize the stranger that you had become. But there was no home to return now, Kaiser had made sure of that, tearing it apart piece by piece, no people left on what was once your entire world, not when they all left for better opportunities to neighbouring countries. Nor did you have any pride, not when he tore it apart bit by bit.

Now you could only hope to be content, to one day entirely forget what you had known. To forget the pain of forgetting and to truly live in the present. Even if it’s with the man responsible for putting you through such pain.

Masterlist

[clarencethemouse]

Shuri Udaku Relationship Headcanons

I saw Wakanda Forever Saturday and had an awakening. There are painfully few fics of her on this site, so I’m contributing to the nonsense. 

just a warning some of these I remembered from other writers and was like “huh, you could literally be no more right”

so maybe I just love the thought of this woman staring deeply into my eyes, but that’s what she does

when she’s not neck deep in her technology and sorting out the minute’s latest problem, her eyes are on yours

miss girl could and would hold eye contact for a solid ten minutes without falter, especially if it meant getting your flustered 

loves getting your flustered and giggly, it’s literally the highlight of her day

you have to seek Ramonda and T’Challa’s aid a lot when it comes to understanding her at the beginning of your relationship

if you have to travel out of the country for a while, she’s tracking your location 24/7

not to be weird but after everything she feels that if she doesn’t have a constant eye on your existence something will happen the millisecond she distracts herself

but then doesn’t let her work slack while she’s worrying

and feels immense guilt

cause what if she’s not worrying enough? Do good girlfriends let their minds focus on work for just a few hours??? Or would they have left the country with you???

girl I promise you’re standing up to the quota don’t worry

does get jealous easily 

she knows she can bury herself in her work often and becomes harsh when all the pressures are weighing on her shoulders

there is not an inch of your body she hasn’t kissed in one setting or another

if you display a certain interest in something she will research all about it and woo you with her shared knowledge and romantic nerd bonding stuff

it’s not hard to be shorter than her (if you are a female), and she will use your head as a chin rest. No exceptions

will totally take you on late night jet rides out of the country just for the sake of it

if you are nowhere near as book smart as she, may it just not be how your brain works, she has to constantly remind herself to be very patient with you

not everyone is as quick as she. Some people need extra explaining

you get your own pair of Kimoyo beads equipped with everything you may possibly dream of needing on hand at any time

I literally had thoughts about this cause it seems to sweet

but like I have severe asthma. I need medicine on hand after good jogs, or just having to rush up 5 flights of stairs cause we got late to something or another. And my lungs occasionally decide to stop being lungs

so I imagine Shuri’s S/O having a similar problem and she created a small inhaler thing that fits inside one of the beads for when you’re in desperate need. Or some other way to administer breathing aid

and since we know she’ll make a little gadget for every little problem, a second bracelet will be made. And then some earrings, and maybe a few necklaces. And maybe an anklet and rings and septum piercing and-

if you’re an avid reader she’ll sometimes ask you to read a chapter or two out loud before bed. It’s good to help the both of you calm down

---

I have it down bad for this woman none of you understand

Robin

[sicknessbysalem]

Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day Eight

@monthofsick

i have just accepted being a day behind the prompts at this point. but hopefully this weekend i’ll be able to catch up!

feel free to send any questions, comments, requests, or concerns.

we are back in the normal timeline of novak’s career, but i’m willing to keep bouncing around as i get an idea that seems fit.

*do note that day nine: persistent illness will be a follow-up, continuing of this*

tw emeto (small), migraine, hypersensitivity, character seizure

Novak Daskalov was very smart, really. At least, on paper he was.

He graduated high school in the top ten of his class, even after only attending that specific high school of at least 900 kids, if not more, for only three years. He graduated university, not only with a double major but in three years instead of four. Academically, Novak was certainly quite smart. On paper.

But, as it's early October and Novak is getting ready in his hotel room in Portland, only to find somehow he managed to forget both his migraine medication and his seizure medication, all while knowing Marina is in France for a gallery and Yuliya is babysitting Elya, Novak was well aware that he was remarkably stupid.

Sure, Novak could theorietically go home and get them. He only lived half an hour away.

But that half an hour easily turned into an hour on gameday. And it was Saturday. Everyone was going everywhere. The game started at one. They had to be at the stadium no later than noon. And even though it was a home game, they couldn't slack on that. It would be rude.

Novak stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection with a furrowed brow. The telltale signs of an impending migraine were already creeping in—the pulsating ache behind his eyes, the tingling sensation at the base of his skull. His neck was stiff. He knew what was coming, and it wasn't going to be pretty.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to push aside the rising panic. He couldn't afford to let this get to him, not today. The team was counting on him, his players were counting on him. He already had to abandon them on the field as their linebacker. He couldn't continue playing. So he definitely felt like he simply couldn't bail now.

With shaky hands, he rummaged through his toiletry bag, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, he had some voer the counter medicine tucked away somewhere. But of course, luck wasn't on his side today. The bottle of migraine medication, prescription or otherwise, was nowhere to be found.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling up inside him.

And the lack of migraine medicine wouldn'tm be so bad on its own. But not having the seizure medication either was... terrifying.

Bracing himself against the sink, Novak closed his eyes and tried to block out the throbbing pain in his head. He could do this. He had to do this. He just needed to make it through the game, and then he could deal with everything else later.

Novak took a moment to gather himself, mentally bracing against the impending storm in his head. He couldn't afford to let his team down, not now, not ever.

With a deep inhale, he pushed aside the nagging ache in his skull and focused on the task at hand.

Quickly dressing in his coaching attire, Novak grabbed his clipboard and headed out of the hotel room. As he made his way down the hallway towards the elevator, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at him. He was used to battling opponents on the field, but this internal struggle felt different, more personal.

He just hoped it would work out. Just until the game was over.

-

Making his way to the team bus, Novak took a seat near the front, trying to block out the noise and chaos around him. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, trying to find a moment of calm amidst the storm raging inside his head.

As the bus pulled out of the hotel parking lot and headed towards the stadium, Novak couldn't help but wonder how he was going to make it through the game. But deep down, he knew there was no other option.

He was a Maverick, through and through, and Mavericks didn't back down from a challenge, no matter how daunting.

With a steely resolve, Novak squared his shoulders and prepared himself for the battle ahead. Today, he wasn't just coaching a football game—he was fighting for his team, his pride, and his very identity. And nothing was going to stop him.

As the team bus arrived at the stadium, Novak stepped off and was immediately enveloped by a cacophony of sounds—the roar of the crowd, the blaring music over the speakers, the chatter of players and coaches. Each noise seemed to pierce through his skull like a dagger, intensifying the throbbing ache behind his eyes.

Novak winced, his head pounding in protest against the onslaught of sensory overload. He struggled to focus, to block out the overwhelming barrage of sound assaulting his senses. But he knew he couldn't afford to let it get to him, not now.

Novak pushed through the discomfort, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He joined the team on the field for warm-ups, trying to drown out the noise and concentrate on the drills. But every movement sent a sharp jolt of pain shooting through his head, threatening to derail his concentration.

He gritted his teeth and soldiered on, refusing to let his team see any sign of weakness. He couldn't afford to let them down, not now, not when they needed him the most. And definitely not when he wasn't able to be on field with them.

As the warm-up session drew to a close, Novak felt a wave of relief wash over him. He knew the real challenge lay ahead—the game itself—but he also knew he couldn't let his migraine get the best of him.

With a deep breath, Novak straightened his shoulders and plastered on a confident smile. He was still the Mavericks' defensive coach, and he was determined to lead his team to victory, no matter what obstacles stood in his way.

-

As the first quarter kicked off, Novak found himself engulfed in a whirlwind of chaos. The sounds of the game—the clashing of helmets, the roar of the crowd, the referee's whistle—seemed amplified to an unbearable level, assaulting his senses with relentless force.

Novak gritted his teeth against the onslaught, his head pounding with every passing moment. He struggled to focus on the action unfolding on the field, his vision swimming as waves of pain washed over him.

But despite the overwhelming sensory overload, Novak refused to let it defeat him. He dug deep, drawing upon every ounce of inner strength he possessed, determined to push through the agony and fulfill his duties as defensive coach.

With each play, Novak forced himself to analyze the game strategy, shouting out instructions to his players despite the searing pain in his head. He knew he couldn't afford to falter, not when the outcome of the game hung in the balance.

As the clock ticked down towards the end of the first quarter, Novak felt a sense of relief wash over him. He had made it through the opening minutes of the game, despite the odds stacked against him. But he also knew that the battle was far from over.

As the second quarter began, Novak's symptoms intensified with alarming speed. The relentless pounding in his head morphed into a throbbing ache that seemed to pulse in time with his racing heartbeat. Waves of nausea washed over him, threatening to send his breakfast spilling onto the sidelines.

Novak clenched his jaw, fighting against the overwhelming urge to succumb to the agony pulsating through his skull. Every sound—the cheers of the crowd, the shouts of the players, the blare of the referee's whistle—felt like a knife twisting in his already battered brain.

But despite the mounting discomfort, Novak refused to yield. He gritted his teeth and soldiered on, determined to see his team through to victory no matter the cost. The Mavericks were counting on him, and he wouldn't let them down.

With each passing minute, Novak's vision blurred and his limbs felt heavy with exhaustion. But still, he pushed himself to focus on the game, to rally his players with words of encouragement and strategic advice.

As the second quarter wore on, Novak's resolve was put to the ultimate test. The pain threatened to consume him, to drag him down into a swirling abyss of darkness and despair. But still, he fought on, clinging to the hope that somehow, someway, he would make it through.

As the halftime whistle blew, Novak staggered off the field, his head spinning and his stomach churning. But despite the agony coursing through his veins, there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes. He had made it through another quarter, against all odds.

During halftime, as the stadium buzzed with activity and the players retreated to the locker room, Novak's migraine symptoms reached a peak. The pounding in his head became unbearable, and waves of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

With a grimace, Novak doubled over, clutching his stomach as bile rose in his throat. He ducked into the trainer’s office.

Novak didn’t want to be sick. He really didn’t. He hated being sick. But… he had no choice. He grabbed the trash by the door and threw up. Not even thinking. Not even registering someone was there.

"Novak, are you okay?" Willow asked, her voice laced with worry. "You look like you're in agony."

Novak forced a nod, attempting to downplay the severity of his condition. "I'm fine, Willow. Just a little headache, that's all."

But Willow wasn't convinced. She could see the pain etched into every line of Novak's face, the pallor of his skin ashen with discomfort.

"You don’t get ‘little headaches’, Novak," Willow insisted, gently guiding him towards a nearby bench. "Let me take a look at you. Something's not right."

"I can't," Novak whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible over the din of the halftime chaos. "I have to finish the game. The team needs me."

Willow sighed, her gaze softening with understanding. She knew how fiercely dedicated Novak was to his team, how much he had sacrificed to be here today. But she also knew that pushing himself to the brink of collapse wasn't the answer.

“Do you at least have that medicine that helps your seizures so you could…” Willow trailed off, seeing Novak shift uncomfortably.

"Alright, fine, listen to me," Willow said, her tone gentle but firm. "I know how much this game means to you, but your health is more important. You need to take care of yourself."

“I’ll be fine,” Novak said, shrugging, “I have to head back out… okay?”

-

As the third quarter began, Novak felt like he was wading through a sea of noise and chaos. Every sound—the roar of the crowd, the clash of helmets, the shouts of the players—seemed magnified to an excruciating degree, assaulting his senses with overwhelming force.

Novak clenched his jaw, trying to block out the cacophony around him, but it was like trying to hold back a tidal wave with his bare hands. The migraine had turned into a relentless beast, gnawing at his insides with vicious intent.

Despite the overwhelming overstimulation, Novak refused to yield. He gritted his teeth and soldiered on, his determination burning bright even in the face of adversity. The Mavericks were counting on him, and he wouldn't let them down—not now, not ever.

With each passing minute, the noise seemed to grow louder, more deafening, until it felt like his head might explode from the sheer intensity of it all. But still, Novak pressed forward.

As the game raged on, Novak's symptoms only intensified. His vision blurred, his head spun, and a wave of dizziness threatened to send him sprawling to the ground. But still, he refused to give in. He couldn't afford to let his team down, not when victory hung in the balance.

As the third quarter drew to a close, Novak felt a sense of pride swell within him. He had made it through another quarter, against all odds.

He was so close. He could do it.

-

Willow paced anxiously, her mind consumed with worry for Novak. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong, and her heart ached at the thought of him suffering alone out there on the field.

Vanessa approached her with a furrowed brow, concern etched into every line of her face. "Willow, what's going on? You look like you're about to jump out of your skin."

Taking a deep breath, Willow tried to compose herself, her hands trembling with anxiety. "It's Novak," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm really worried about him. He's been struggling all game, and I don't think he's doing well."

Vanessa's expression softened with sympathy, and she reached out to gently squeeze Willow's hand. "I understand, babe. But we have to trust that Novak knows his limits. He's a tough guy—he'll make it through."

But Willow couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gnawed at her insides. She knew Novak better than anyone, and she could sense that something was seriously wrong. She just needed to find a way to convince Vanessa to help her get him off the field before it was too late.

As they continued to talk, Willow's phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket, startling her out of her thoughts. With trembling hands, she pulled it out and glanced at the notification that flashed across the screen.

Her heart sank as she read the words: "High risk for seizure detected."

Panic surged through Willow's veins, and she turned to Vanessa with wide eyes. "We need to get to Novak, now," she urged, her voice trembling with urgency. "He's in danger, Vanessa. We have to help him."

Vanessa's eyes widened in alarm as she took in Willow's panicked expression. Without hesitation, she nodded, determination shining in her gaze. "Let's go," she said, her voice steady and resolute.

-

Novak stumbled on the sidelines, his senses overwhelmed by the relentless assault of noise and pain. The stadium seemed to pulse and throb around him, the crowd's cheers reverberating through his skull like thunderclaps. Each clatter of helmets, each shrill whistle of the referee, felt like a stab to his already battered brain.

His head spun with dizziness, and his vision blurred as he struggled to focus on the game unfolding before him. The migraine that had been gnawing at his insides now raged with ferocious intensity, a searing fire that consumed his every thought and sensation.

But amidst the chaos and confusion, another sensation began to creep in—a dull, pulsating ache that radiated from the depths of his being. Novak's limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, as if he were wading through molasses with every step.

With each passing moment, the warning signs became impossible to ignore. A tingling sensation danced along the edges of his consciousness, sending shivers down his spine.

But still, Novak pressed on, his determination unwavering even in the face of impending danger. He tried to push aside the mounting panic, the gnawing fear that threatened to consume him whole. He couldn't afford to give in—not now, not when victory was within reach.

Hands grabbed him from behind. Willow and Vanessa had found him, their faces etched with concern as they guided him towards the athletic trainer's room.

"Novak, you need to rest," Willow said, her voice firm but gentle. "You're in no condition to keep going. Let us help you."

Novak wanted to protest, to argue that he could still make it through the fourth quarter. But deep down, he knew they were right. He couldn't ignore the warning signs any longer, couldn't risk putting himself in harm's way.

With a weary sigh, Novak allowed himself to be led away, his body trembling with exhaustion and relief.

Willow guided Novak gently to the floor of the training room, her movements steady and deliberate despite the urgency of the situation. Vanessa hovered nearby, her expression calm and composed as she monitored Novak's vital signs.

"Easy now, Novak," Willow said soothingly, her voice a comforting presence in the otherwise silent room. "Just lie back and try to relax. We're here with you."

Novak nodded weakly, his breathing labored as he struggled to find a comfortable position on the hard linoleum floor. The quiet of the room was a sharp contrast to the chaos of the stadium, a welcome respite from the overwhelming cacophony that had threatened to consume him moments before.

Willow knelt beside Novak, her hand resting gently on his shoulder as she spoke to him in a soft, reassuring tone. "Novak, can you hear me? Can you tell me how you're feeling?"

Novak blinked slowly, his gaze unfocused as he tried to muster a response. "I... I feel... not great," he murmured, his words slurred and disjointed.

Vanessa knelt on the other side of Novak, her trained eyes scanning his face for any signs of distress. She grabbed his wrist, tilting his watch to get a better look at it.

“He spiked, Wills,” Vanessa said, “Almost 175…”

“Oh… so this… this is happening,” Willow nodded.

“Novak, can you tell me what day it is?" she asked calmly, her voice steady and reassuring.

Novak furrowed his brow, his confusion evident as he struggled to process the question. He couldn’t form the right words, so alo he could do was shake his head.

Willow exchanged a concerned glance with Vanessa, silently communicating their shared apprehension. Novak's symptoms were worsening by the moment, and they knew they had to act quickly to keep him safe.

Suddenly, without warning, Novak's body stiffened, his muscles locking into place as a low, guttural groan escaped his lips. Willow and Vanessa sprang into action, their training kicking in as they moved to protect Novak from harm.

"Seizure," Willow said calmly, her voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. "Hold him steady, Vanessa. We need to keep him safe until it passes."

Vanessa nodded, her hands gentle but firm as she supported Novak's head and neck, ensuring that he wouldn't injure himself during the seizure. Willow knelt beside them, her presence a comforting anchor in the midst of the storm. Making sure that in the midst of it, Novak wouldn’t end up on his back.

As the seizure ran its course, Novak's body convulsed with violent spasms, his breathing ragged and labored. But Willow and Vanessa remained steadfast at his side, their calm demeanor a beacon of hope in the darkness.

Finally, as the seizure subsided and Novak's breathing began to steady, Willow and Vanessa exchanged a silent glance of relief.

As Novak slowly emerged from the haze of the seizure, he felt disoriented and drained, his body aching with exhaustion. The pain in his head still pulsed with a relentless intensity, and he struggled to catch his breath, his throat raw and scratchy from the saliva and acid that had pooled there during the seizure.

Vanessa sat by his head, watching him, petting his hair, just trying to simply be there.

“Wills, call Yuliya,” Vanessa said, progressing to patting Novak’s breath.

Willow dialed Yuliya's number, her voice calm but urgent as she explained the situation.

"Yuliya, it's Willow," she said, her tone steady despite the underlying tension. "We need you to come to the stadium right away. Novak had a seizure, and he needs to get home."

Yuliya's voice crackled through the phone, "I'm on my way," she replied, her words tinged with urgency, there was no hesitation in her voice. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

With a sigh of relief, Willow ended the call and turned her attention back to Novak. Vanessa remained by his side, offering words of comfort and gentle reassurance as she progressed to patting Novak’s back.

"It's okay, Novak," Vanessa said soothingly, her voice a soft murmur in the quiet room. "You're safe now. Just focus on your breathing, okay? Try to cough up whatever's bothering you."

Novak nodded weakly, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. He wanted to speak, to ask a million questions about what had just happened, but his throat felt like it was filled with cotton, his words trapped beneath the weight of his exhaustion.

With Vanessa's gentle encouragement, Novak forced himself to cough, the action painful but necessary as he expelled the saliva and acid that had been choking him. Each breath came easier than the last, and slowly but surely, he began to regain a sense of control over his own body.

Vanessa and Willow both stayed close. Close enough to catch him if a rebound happened. Close enough that Vanessa pulled back his hair. Close enough that Willow patted his back and occasionally took his vitals how she could.

As Novak continued to recover from the seizure, waves of nausea washed over him, leaving him feeling hot and clammy. His head throbbed with a dull ache, and his limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. Despite the efforts of Vanessa and Willow to help him, he couldn't shake the feeling of overwhelming malaise that gripped him like a vice.

Vanessa remained by Novak's side, her presence a calming presence in the midst of the chaos. She continued to offer words of encouragement and gentle reassurance, her hand resting lightly on his back as she tried to soothe his discomfort.

"Easy now, Novak," Vanessa murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "Just focus on your breathing. You're doing great."

With each coughing spell, Novak felt a surge of relief as he expelled the saliva and acid that had been choking him. The action was painful and exhausting, but it also brought a sense of clarity and release, as if each cough was a step towards reclaiming control over his own body.

Willow knelt beside Novak, her expression grave as she monitored his vital signs. She could see the toll that the seizure had taken on him, the way he trembled with exhaustion and pain. But she also knew that with time and rest, he would recover.

"Take it easy, Novak," Willow said gently, her voice a steady anchor in the midst of the storm. "You're safe now. Just focus on resting and letting your body recover."

Novak coughed, spitting onto the towel Willow put close by. Spitting made him gasp, like he was coming up for air after swimming.

As Yuliya rushed into the training room, her eyes widened with concern at the sight of Novak lying on the floor, pale and exhausted. She hurried to his side, her hands gentle as she brushed his hair back from his forehead.

"Novak, oh my god, are you okay?" Yuliya asked, her voice laced with worry. "What happened? Why didn't you call me sooner?"

Novak struggled to find the right words. "I'm... I'm sorry, Yuliya. It happened so fast... I didn't want to worry you."

Yuliya's expression softened with understanding, and she reached out to squeeze Novak's hand in reassurance. "It's okay, Novak. You don't have to apologize. I'm just glad you're okay."

“It was like… a minute, the actual seizing,” Vanessa said, “His watch alerted Willow…”

“I programmed it,” Willow said, “I can do the same for you…”

Novak’s breathing was shaky, punctuated by tiny whines every so often. He was still trying to catch his breath, to handle his senses.

"Let's get you home, Novak," Yuliya said gently. "You need rest and quiet, away from all this chaos."

Novak nodded wearily.

“Can we move him?” Yuliya asked.

It took… longer than Novak wanted to acknowledge. He leaned heavily on Yuliya for support as they made their way out of the training room and towards the exit. Vanessa and Willow also took positions to help him outside.

The migraine that had been gnawing at his insides now raged with renewed intensity, a relentless drumbeat of pain that seemed to echo in every fiber of his being.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Novak couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him.

“You’re such a remarkable idiot, you know?” Yuliya asked.

“That’s not fair, you can’t harass me when I just had a seizure…” Novak mumbled, leaning back against the seat, ready to crash at any second.

“Fine, I’ll harass you when we get home.” Yuliya said pointedly, taking Novak’s hand in her own before she started to drive.

[naraven]

In Sickness and Health

The correct thing to do when you're sick is to write a sick fic with the worst ever. that wont stop me from simping over the best actor in genshin, so please enjoy this al-haitham fic i wrote while coughing up my entire left lung!

cw / sickness, i dont know what else to put let me know if i should add something

You barely hear the knocking on the door before you hear a key click it open and close, hearing the lock click back. You hear footsteps echo heavier and heavier as it approaches your door, eventually stopping and creaking open to your bedroom.

You already know who it is, there’s only three other people who know where you keep your spare key hidden and it’s your parents and your closest hoe friend, Al-Haitham. You hesitantly open your eyes, nose still stuffy and throat still sore. Your fever prevents you from sitting up, so the best you could do was tilt your neck towards the Scribe who broke into your house. 

You blink at him as he narrows his eyes, looking almost annoyed. At this point, you're not even sure what you did. It’s not like you could do anything to piss him off, you were sick in bed for the past two days.

“Are you okay?”

Hmm, or maybe he’s not annoyed. His voice is quiet, as if to prevent you from hearing his voice. You could barely hear him. You sniffle and sit up slowly, watching him take a seat at your desk. 

“What, miss me? I caught a cold but I don’t know who I got it from.”

“You weren’t at Puspa Cafe the past couple days, I got bored at lunch. I never thought eating alone would be so lonely.”

You yawn, head pounding. Oh yeah, you kind of forgot you ditched him. But it’s not like you could tell him about how you got sick. Your mother brought you some medicine, which has only been mildly helping. Your fever had gone down significantly yet your body temperature was still higher than normal. You switched out your blankets with thinner ones because you were sweating so much. 

“Honestly, I thought you had forgotten about eating lunch so I checked the library to see if you were still working. You were nowhere to be seen.”

You yawn again, pushing aside your blanket, “Well, did you not think to come to my house afterwards? Why wait another day? Besides, my parents were nice enough to bring me food the past few days."

He takes out… a drink? He hands it to you and you realize it’s your coffee order from Puspa. You retract your hand from the cup before taking it, the unexpected warmth of the coffee caught you off guard.

You take a sip, sighing after you taste the bitter drink. Yeah it’s kinda weird how he took this out from behind him but you weren’t going to question it. 

“How are you feeling now?” Al-Haitham watches as you take bigger and bigger sips. You set the coffee down on your desk. 

“Still pretty bad, I just hope I don’t miss too many classes. I’m lucky I got sick near the end of the week.” “You are very lucky. Do you need anything else? Something else other than coffee to drink?”

You think for a second. Maybe some soup would be nice? If you were going to trouble anyone you would rather it be Al-Haitham than your mother. 

“Something warm to eat? As long as it’s soft I should be able to swallow it down. Mom brought me lunch but an early dinner wouldn't hurt." Al-Haitham nods. He gets up to leave, standing up, but suddenly stops and turns to face you. You stare back confused. Al-Haitham blinks and looks down between you. You do the same and realize you grabbed the back of his robe-coat.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to.” You pull away immediately, glad that your fever would cover up any other reason for your face to blush, “I don’t know why I did that, sorry again.” Al-Haitham, unknown to you, smirks at your action. You turn around and huff.

“Ugh, you smug asshole, I know what you're thinking! Shut up, go buy some soup or something.” 

Al-Haitham could get used to sick, feverish you. You yawn again, still embarrassed by the humiliating display of clinginess you didn’t know you had in you. 

“Well, since it’s clear you want me here, I’ll stay a little bit longer. Wouldn’t want you to get so lonely without me here, right? Besides, even you said the food could wait."

“Ugh, you!” 

You hit Al-Haitham square in the chest trying to aim for his shoulder. Contact with his pectoral makes you hold your hand, why are his boobs so tough?? “Feeble Scholar” your ass, you're pretty sure he could take down a couple hilichurl camps on his own. Honestly, you're surprised he was even stopped by you grabbing his half coat. 

“Maybe we can finish our discussion before you got sick. Where were we?” He sits back down, moving his chair closer to your bed. 

“I can't quite remember. I'm not talking to you more while I'm sick, I'd rather ask you about your weird way of dressing." You sniff, laying back down, "Why on earth are you wearing those gloves? Also do you wear a coat or a robe or what? I've always wanted to ask you."

Before Al-Haitham could reply, you cough and continue, "Also for an Akademiyan Scribe why do you carry a sword everywhere? Are you always in so much trouble that you're at risk of being attacked?"

Your rant continues, “Also I hate your gloves. I need to talk about this again. Why are two and a half of both hands covered? Just wear fully covered or fingerless gloves. And your coat. Or robe. Why is it always never on? Wear it. Or don’t. It’s not like it ever gets that cold right now.”

You stop to stare at Al-Haitham. Maybe the fever is making you delirious, but right now you had questions that need answers. 

“Ok, maybe you do need more rest. Close your eyes, maybe if you stay awake enough you can hear my response to such… interesting questions.”

“No! I have to hear why, rest can wait.” “Really? Then maybe I’ll use my sword to knock you out and force you to sleep.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He pulls it out and you relent, laying back and stare at him in defiance.

“Ok fine sorry, I’ll rest. Archons, can you please put the sword away?”

It blinks and reappears on his back. You pull up your blankets, getting comfortable in your sheets.

“I wear half written gloves so I don’t smudge ink and get it on my hands. I tend to write quicker than most people, meaning ink smudges more when I write. My other two fingers are open because…”

His annoying, smug, vexing, ugly… exacerbating voice did a quick job of making you sleepy quickly. Al-Haitham watches as you fall deeper into sleep, chest rising with each slow breath in and out. He pulls the covers over a bit more to cover your body a bit more warmly. 

Hopefully the sickness doesn’t last too long. He would never outright admit it, but the past two lunches alone in Puspa Cafe have been lonely. Even lonelier than when he would be at home with Kaveh out doing whatever he does. He takes the empty cup of coffee off your desk and throws it away outside your house.

He watches the sun set slowly on the horizon. He was sure you would wake up soon to find a cooling plate of pita pockets. They didn’t look amazing, but a quick second of reheating would make it enough to eat for dinner. 

Al-Haitham returned home, Kaveh on the couch finishing the rest of the wine in a bottle. He seemed busy with… something. He wasn’t sure, but he announced his “I’m home” before Kaveh quickly turned his head to see him there. 

“Oh, you’re home. What time is it?” Kaveh squints at the clock, seeing it just hit 7 o’clock, “Also, wasn’t today your only free day of the week? Where were you this entire time?”

“Grabbing some coffee and talking to friends. Why, were you lonely without me?”

“Of course not. Like anyone would miss you.”

Al-Haitham turns his head and smirks, knowing that someone did indeed miss him.

Somewhere, you sneeze yourself awake and smell the scent of warm meat and flour.

[notgonnaedit]

Healer's Hands

Chapter 3: The Deserter

Summary: When 16 y/o Althea Aaun's home is lost to the Clone War, she must find her way in a squad of rejected clones

Pairing: Bad Batch x Teen!OFC (clones being good brothers/dads)

Chapter summary: After crashing on Saleucami, Althea and the Batch must make peace with the farmers there

Warnings: Depictions of grief, Crosshair being an ass, Hunter trying his best, cameos (If I miss a tag LMK)

Master list

Althea froze at the sight of the woman. She had the rifle aimed directly at Hunter, who didn't flinch. Wrecker stood near the ramp, unsure of what to do. Tech looked up from his work, and Crosshair glared at the woman.

"I won't ask again." She said in a thick accent. "Who are you?"

Hunter put his hands up, as if he was calming a wild animal. "We're not here to hurt you, ma'am. Our ship crashed and we're trying to repair it."

The woman shifted the rifle in her hands. "You are clones?"

"Technically," Said Tech. "Although our genetic mutations–"

"I don't care." She said. She put the rifle down, but ready to shoot at a moment's notice. "I don't want you on my land. Be gone as quickly as possible." She turned and left, disappearing into the brush.

"That went well." Said Crosshair. Althea could never tell if he was being sarcastic or not. Hunter turned around to address them.

"She obviously doesn't want us on her land, so we better get to work. Wrecker," Hunter turned to the taller clone. "I want you to help Tech with any heavy lifting. Crosshair, be on guard. We don't know who that woman was, or how long is too long. I'm going to try and contact the Republic to update them on our mission."

He began to walk up the ramp, and Althea looked up at him. "Is there anything you want me to do?" Anything to find her brother.

Hunter faltered. "Uh, no. Try and rest up. You're still injured, so take it easy." He walked up last her and into the ship.

Althea leaned her head on her hands, her elbows on her knees. She needed to do something to help. Maybe Tech could use some? No, she didn't know very much about mechanics, so she would probably only slow him down. And with her bad leg, she couldn't help Wrecker with the heavy lifting. Maybe she could keep watch with Crosshair? But he seemed so cold and distant, Althea wondered if he would shove her off the top of the Marauder from where he sat.

She figured Hunter was right, there was nothing she could do to help. He seemed so in charge. He must be the leader of their squad.

With nothing to do, Althea became bored quickly. She rummaged through her bag to find any past times. Besides medicine, bandages, and a lot of salves, all she had was her journal and pens. But it was only for herbs. An idea popped into her head. Maybe she could wander around and see if she found any herbs. Surely Tech could help her identify them if she needed him to. Plus, she wouldn't wander far, just around the Marauder.

Having made her decision, Althea stood and walked into the bushes. She walked until a plant or bug caught her eye. A small insect zipped past her face and landed on a flower. Althea stopped to get a good look at it. It was shiny blue, with four, paper thin wings that caught the golden light. Althea took out her journal and pen and began to sketch it, making sure to capture the delicate wings.

She wasn't halfway done when the bug flew off, but she just closed her journal and walked after it. She wanted to draw it, then see if any of the Bad Batch had any information about it. She chased after until it landed again, this time staying still long enough for her to finish her sketch.

Althea added the final details on her art, then closed her journal. She looked up to see where she was, but the Marauder was nowhere in sight. Panic rose inside of her. She was on a strange planet, lost and alone.

Althea took a breath. Surely if she just walked in the direction she came from she would get back to the Marauder. Making her decision, she began to walk through the path the plowed through the bushes.

            •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Hunter walked down the ramp and back outside. "I was able to contact the Republic, but they won't be able to send any help."

"Figures." Crosshair scoffed from above.

"Every time." Wrecker groaned. "They never send help."

Hunter sighed. Often times the Bad Batch was considering a sort of "suicide squad". Handling the missions no one else could. But it seemed that the Republic thought that because of their success rate, they didn't need help. "This isn't anything new. Let's just repair the ship and complete the mission." He looked around and realized someone was missing. "Where's the kid?"

Tech adjusted his goggles. "I have not seen her for some time."

"I thought she was with you." Wrecker shrugged.

Hunter looked up at Crosshair. The sniper kept his eyes on the fields. "I was watching for clankers, not little girls."

This was bad. "We need to find her." Said Hunter.

"Why?" Crosshair jumped down from the Marauder, landing next to Hunter. "We should just leave her here. That woman will probably find her."

Tech brushed his hands off. "She is injured, Crosshair. She wouldn't last long. This is a foreign planet to her."

"Yeah, we can't leave her here." Wrecker added.

Hunter nodded. He wouldn't let Althea get eaten by some beast. He grabbed his helmet. "Wrecker, with me. Let's go find her."

Wrecker nodded, donning his own helmet and following Hunter. The sergeant used his heightened senses to track Althea. He noticed the broken twigs from where she brushes against the plants. Her uneven footsteps from her limp. He twisted and turned, wondering what even made her go out this far. He rounded one more bend before finding her, her black hair contrasting heavily against the golden flora.

"There you.are, kid!" Exclaimed Wrecker. "We've been looking forever!"

Althea didn't respond. Hunter grabbed her shoulder. "Kid–"

She held up her hand, signaling for them to be quiet. She pointed subtly in front of her, and the soldiers looked.

It seemed they were at the end of the field, and in front of them was a clearing. In that clearing was a house, a barn, and a few small farm animals. But what was the most interesting, was a man working. He wore a simple green tunic, but his face was one Hunter had seen a thousand times.

He was a clone.

"Is that a clone?" Wrecker whispered.

Hunter nodded. "Looks like."

But the clone wasn't the only person in the clearing. From the house, came the woman from before, and behind her were two Twi'lek kids. A boy and girl. They ran outside and began to play with their ball, tossing it back and forth. That was until, the boy threw it over the girl's head, and it bounced over, right at Althea's feet.

The girl ran to fetch her ball, but stopped short when she saw the strange trio. Althea picked up the ball, offering it to the little girl. She looked wary, and the woman from before noticed. She craned her neck to see what was happening, and a dispute scowl played across her face when she saw them.

She turned to the clone and said something, making him approach them. He was on guard. Hunter figured he could either present himself as peaceful, or half to possibly fight off the clone. He chose the former. He stepped out of the field, his hands raised in surrender. He motioned for Althea and Wrecker to do the same.

Hunter slowly took off his helmet, and the clone seemed to be confused. "We don't want to hurt you." Said Hunter. "Our ship crashed not far from here, and one of us wandered off."

Altea winced, but Hunter didn't say anything about it. Thanks clone lowered his guard, but only slightly. "Why don't you come inside? We can talk more there."

               •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

It felt good to sit down after walking for so long on a bad leg. Althea, Hunter, and Wrecker sat at a table inside. The clone, Cut, began to tell them his story. "Shortly after the Battle of Geonosis," He explained. "Our troop transport got caught between two Separatist gunships. They fired at us with everything they had. We crashed. Most of us were either dead or severely injured. So when they started working their way through the wounded, killing us off, I knew there was no hope. I ran. It still haunts me."

Hunter nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that. We weren't sent to come find you."

Wrecker nodded. "Yeah. Our ship crashed just over there."

Cut hummed in thought. "I can help you with your ship, but only of you swear not to report me."

Hunter nodded. After all, what could he gain from reporting a clone long thought dead?

          •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Over the next few days, (turns out the ship was worse than Tech thought) Cut, Tech, and Hunter worked tirelessly to fix the Marauder. Crosshair kept a constant vigil, and Wrecker played the with kids. They'd taken a liking to him. Althea, however, was on strict orders to not walk unless absolutely necessary. Apparently, her walk through the fields ended up causing more swelling in her leg. She sat bored on Cut's porch, her open journal in her lap.

Suu, the Twi'lek woman, walked up next to her. "Bored?" She asked.

Althea nodded. "Tech won't let me do anything with my bad leg."

Suu sat down next to her. "Are these your drawings?" She pointed to the sketches of herbs in her journal.

Althea nodded. "Yeah. My family had been documenting them for years."

Suu looked at the pictures with great interest. "I could teach you some of the herbs around here, if you'd like."

Althea perked up. "That would be great!"

Suu smiled and stood. She walked into the house and returned a few minutes later with a bright yellow flower in her hand. "This is a sundelion." She explained. "When it's made into a stew, it helps heal sickness faster."

Althea nodded, jotting down notes and drawing the golden flower. When she was done, she thought it might have been her best work.

Suu looked over at her art. "You look a bit like a sundelion yourself."

Althea looked at her. "Really?"

She nodded. "Black and yellow, and you both heal. You both seem delicate, but are actually strong."

Althea smiled. She looked out at the yard and saw the kids, Shaeeah and Jek, hanging off Wrecker's arms. It reminded her of herself and her brother when they were little. She needed to find Thao. They were a few days behind now, and who knows what he was thinking on that Separatist ship. He must be so scared.

Suu must have noticed her sadness. "Is something wrong?"

Althea shook her worries off. "No. Thank you for the help."

Suu nodded. "It's my pleasure. We could do more if you like."

Althea smiled, and the two documented herbs until the ​​​Marauder was fixed.

             •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Althea stood outside the Marauder with the Bad Batch. Cut, Suu, and their kids sending them off. "Thank you for your help." Hunter said.

Cut nodded. "As long as you uphold your end of the deal."

Wrecker laughed. "You don't got anything to worry about. Hunter's a man of his word."

They said their goodbyes, and took off into the atmosphere. Tech said that the Separatist ship had left the system, and was now near Rodia. Althea sat back in on of the console chairs. Hunter was across from her.

She thought about the family, and how happy they seemed. "Hunter?" 

The sergeant turned around to look at her. "Yeah, kid?"

"You're not actually gonna report Cut, right?" She twisted her fingers as she spoke.

Hunter stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "Of course not. Kid, Cut is one clone. He wouldn't make any difference in this war. It's best to just let the Republic think he's dead."

"Besides," Tech added from the doorway. "We never follow orders."

Wrecker laughed, and even Crosshair smiled slightly. Althea smiled as well. These clones were good people, and maybe she would be all right with them

<- Previous. Next ->

[moonfurthetemmie]

Untitled.MP4

Previous | Next | First (with warnings)

Part 16

June 30, 20XX_TL_1

Zuli is sitting in front of the camera. There’s a mess of wires and vials before him, off to the side of the camera’s view. He seems shaky, but solemn. Resolve is clear in his voice. There’s no sign of the tears he’d had yesterday.

“We’re blowing up the manor.”

He pauses, working on the device in front of him. 

“Mercury’s infected. We noticed the white patches on his skin as he was working on the cure. Here, in the office. I’m sure I’m infected too. The cure is nowhere near done. If I worked on it, I might make it, but I don’t know anything about how chemicals mix, nevermind medicine. And this sickness advances way too fast; I’d probably only have a few hours at best. We’re not going to make it out of here. The least we can do is make sure this thing doesn’t, either.”

Something clicks into place in the device on the desk.

“Before I was kidnapped by Obsidian, I was training to be part of an elite military force in my universe. During that time, I learned how to make explosives. We’re going to make a dozen or so pipebombs and firebombs, hide them around, lure the Colony in close to the manor, and set them off. We don’t have a lot of time. Mercury helped me make a few, and he’s setting them out now. Still in a hazmat suit; the more spores he breathes in, the faster he’ll go, and we need all the time we can get.

“Some of the failed cures we found did slow the progression of the disease, so I had him take any that weren’t deadly. And some were. He said that’s a common problem when trying to treat fungal diseases, so I’m kind of impressed how many were safe, even if they weren’t ever quite enough.”

Zuli carefully wraps his contraption in gauze and medical tape. He grabs more supplies from off-screen, and gets to work on another.

“We know the Colony has done something to make creating portals impossible. We don’t know how, but we know it has. And we know that it wants to infect everyone before it lets anyone leave. Koroit probably could, but it doesn’t want her to. I don’t know why; with how advanced her case is, she could probably infect a town in just a few hours. But, it sounds like it’ll try to absorb the manor into its own structure once it’s sure the last few people in the manor are infected. So…all we need to do is convince it we’ve been infected. And that won’t be too hard. 

“This is the last video. None of us are going to survive this. The fungus burns easily, and burns fast. Anyone who’s infected will die quickly, if painfully. But as long as we can get the big thing outside, this will also help make sure that there’s nothing infectious here; as long as we can get the whole place to burn. Mercury thinks we can. I hope he’s right. If this thing gets out…”

He shakes his head, and finally looks right at the camera.

“Peridot, whoever you are, and whatever it is you do, we’ve dropped a pretty big weight on your shoulders, and I’m sorry. If you’re in a position to do something directly, do it. If you can’t do anything, send these to someone who can. Anyone who might know what to do.

“If someone needs to investigate here, they need to wear good hazmat suits. And they need to make sure they have a way to decontaminate their suits before they leave. We’ve been using strong hydrogen peroxide, but Mercury says that it’s a bad idea for use long-term, so hopefully whoever comes knows something better. 

“We’ve taken more pictures, as many as we could, and we’re sending them with the videos. Pictures of everyone. Mercury’s current symptoms. The mold and fungus on the walls and floor. The…the thing outside. Anything to help you–or whoever you might have to send these to–know what to look for.”

Zuli finally takes a breath. He turns back to the unassembled bomb on the desk, and begins working.

“This is the last one I have to make. Once I’ve placed them, I’m…I’m going to go see Jade.”

His voice cracks.

“I should’ve killed him when he asked me to. It would’ve been so much less painful than this. And I think the fungus will have covered him too much for me to cut him out and give him an easier way out before the bombs go off, and the fire spreads. At least if I’m near him without a suit, it won’t take long for the spores to get to me. I just need to last long enough to be able to set off the bombs when the Colony closes in.”

Zuli slowly reaches forwards. There’s tears in his eyes.

“Peridot. You are our only chance. I’m sorry this has been pushed on you, and I know that this being sent from people who live with Obsidian–one of whom works for him–is going to make you wary of helping. But this isn’t about Obsidian. This disease, wherever it came from, is a much bigger threat than Obsidian could ever hope to be. Unintelligent life suffocates from the mushrooms. Humans–and maybe monsters–are made living agents of infection, who live only to serve the Colony and spread it’s reach. It’s alive. It’s sentient. It can be multiple places at once. And it makes anyone it comes into contact with willing conspirators. Obsidian is an agonized mass of fungus and mold because of this thing. 

“You can’t save us now, but you can save others. Don’t let what happened here spread.”

The video ends.

[noxexistant]

Having more Delancey Thoughts so naturally I bring them to you:

(I'm in the "Morris is older" camp so feel free to substitute this with Oscar should you choose)

Jack doesn't like stealing, but he'll do it if any of his boys needs something and they can't get it any other way. Usually he doesn't get caught.

Until Morris catches him. Morris, whose pockets are also crammed with stolen food and a bottle of medicine from the apothecary.

Neither knows what to say. It's too awkward a situation.

"You gonna call a cop on me?" Jack asks.

Morris can't. He doesn't like the newsies, none of them, but he knows the struggle of trying to care for your younger sibling. Because Oscar hasn't had a decent meal in six days and he's been in pain all over for twice as many. And Morris doesn't care what he's got to do to make sure his brother gets what he needs.

"...We keep this 'tween us." Morris offers, "I don't like you, Kelly. But I know what bein' a big brother's like."

Jack doesn't know how to respond. The Delanceys don't show charity like this to anyone.

"You go home, you feed your brothers. You forget you saw me here, you don't mention it tomorrow at work."

Jack can't bring himself to ever thank a Delancey. Morris doesn't want to be thanked.

as always, i am eating your delancey thoughts eagerly. i am personally so deep in younger morris camp that i could not crawl out if i tried, BUT may i offer you:

jack and morris near collide with each other in the back aisle of a general store, far enough away from the lodging house that the clerk don’t watch them like the ones closer that know them do. jack’s got a couple combs stuffed into the waist of his trousers, a few pairs of socks stuffed down his shirt, toothbrushes, a specific kind of soap ‘cause buttons is allergic to the one they got, and one of them little sewing kits in a tin ‘cause there’s too many holes in all the boys’ clothes and they been out of anything to fix ‘em for way too long. winter’s setting in, jack’s stocking up.

morris don’t hardly look like he’s stocking up. he’s only got one thing, clutched tight in one hand - tight enough that jack can see the colour washing from his bruised knuckles. it must sting, but morris don’t seem to mind. his focus is single-minded, though he seems startled now. scared. reminds jack of when he knocks one of his boys out of a bad dream.

morris seems to get like that a lot. daydreaming. he’s been worse with it lately, while oscar’s been nowhere jack could ever see him. he has half a mind to ask where oscar’s been, but asking if morris is gonna snitch seems like a better question. and morris don’t say no - don’t say anything - but he at least sure don’t look like he’s gonna call the bulls. he looks awful, hair in tangled curls beneath his hat pulled low, eyes all sunk like he ain’t been sleeping, hands shaking. he’s glancing at the door, restless, squeezing one trembling hand around the little bottle in his palm.

medicine, jack realises suddenly.

something os won’t take, morris knows. he won’t take any medicine, swears it’s what took pa, and morris don’t often try to push the issue but oscar’s been bad, especially the last few days. can’t even get out of bed now. wiesel’s getting mad, and morris is tired, hungry, scared. he wants oscar better. wishes he knew what to do. almost wishes he could ask kelly - he’s got a lot of brothers, always seems like he knows what to do, surely must know what to do if any of his boys get sick - but morris can’t do that any more than he can ask the chemist he stole from.

jack’s talking more, morris thinks. he ain’t listening, can’t process a bit of it. it’s like he’s in another room.

“you gon’ call th’bulls on me?” morris finally manages to ask, stilted, cutting off jack mid-word without even realising. he doesn’t care anyway. he doesn’t like jack. he just wants to leave, wants to get back to oscar.

and jack ain’t stupid, despite what plenty people might think. he’s got brains enough to put together the puzzle of oscar delancey disappearing and morris delancey stealing medicine. and brains enough to understand and take advantage of morris clearly not caring about the stuff clearly shoved in jack’s pockets.

“you go get your brother better,” jack tells him, “i still got scores to settle with ‘im.”

morris needs no more encouragement. he disappears out the door, head bowed, back hunched.

it’s weeks later that jack sees oscar. it’s a different store - jack ain’t stupid enough to target the same place twice in a row. and maybe oscar got told by morris which store he used last time, because he’s here now too and this time it’s oscar with his pockets stuffed. his trouser pockets and the pockets of his woollen work coat are swollen with food, he looks like he’s got some socks or something stuffed up his sleeve. jack wonders if maybe he’s got some medicine too, because this time jack does - it’s all he’s got this time. sniper’s been hacking and wheezing.

“fancy seein’ you here,” jack says, just to be obnoxious. oscar bares his teeth, snarling like a dog, but he’s quiet and still.

“we’se even,” oscar tells him lowly. he only elaborates when jack gives him a confused look. “las’ time. mo told me ‘bout your little run-in. you kept it quiet then. so don’ squeal now either an’ we won’t have no issues.”

“what, we got a deal?” jack huffs, laughing, looking around the apparent no man’s land of the general store. an innocuous space where the delanceys won’t be themselves for once. “this a truce?”

oscar don’t laugh.

“i know what it’s like to be a big brother,” he forces out. jack stops laughing too, the bottle of medicine suddenly feeling heavier in his hand. “so you go home, an’ you get your brothers better. an’ i’ll get mine fed. an’ we both forget we saw each other here.”

oscar glances pointedly at jack’s pockets like his own ain’t filled to bursting, but jack supposes it makes sense when it’d been the reverse the last time. morris’d probably exaggerated it too, made it sound like jack was robbing the place blind.

“i don’ like you,” jack tells him. “an’ your brother neither.”

“i’on like you,” oscar says right back. “so we’se even. an’ hopefully we won’ never see each other again outside a’ work.”

jack knows there are only so many stores within their very specific radius to steal from.

“see you at work,” he says instead of saying that, bidding oscar off with a two-finger salute and a grin. oscar glares and goes, straightening himself up and walking with the intent to scare.

jack glances at the medicine in his pocket once he’s gone. the same kind - near enough - as morris’d been stealing that night. must be decent stuff, if it got oscar back to this.

jack takes it.

[acaciusbride]

Unconditionally: Joel Miller x OC (Part 2/10)

Summary: Lucy loves Joel Miller unconditionally. A cross country trip to escort an immune, bad mouthed teenager to safety might just prove it.

CWs: canon typical violence / unsafe sex / age gap / language / spoilers (if anyone cares) / canon divergence / mentions of attempted sexual assault / themes of previous suicidal tendencies

Note: this work is intended for adult audiences only. It is not strictly canon compliant, and was originally posted to A03 when I first ventured into the fandom.

Chapter Index: 1 /

Lucy kicks at a stone as she walks along the row of abandoned vehicles, jerry can in her left hand, swinging slightly.

As far as days go, it’s a nice one. Clear sky, a slight breeze. No people, no infected, just her and Joel and Ellie in Bill’s old truck, pulled over at a rest stop for gas.

It just doesn’t last as long as it used to. Twenty years has watered it down. It’s still usable, but nowhere near what it once was.

Ellie’s gone inside to use the bathroom, to try and loot anything that might still be useful. It’s possible; they’re in the middle of nowhere, it’s likely there’s still some decent loot in there. Lucy doesn’t bother to check. She’s got her backpack full of bullets, MREs, and a change of clothes. A couple boxes of tampons. Some tylenol. She’s set, as far as she’s concerned.

Her new rifle is slung over one shoulder, her handgun at her hip. Oh, and she can still feel the heat of Joel’s mouth on hers as he fucked her like the world was ending, whenever she takes a moment to close her eyes, even though it’s been days. Yeah. It’s a good fucking day.

Lucy crouches down by the fuel tank of an old wagon, pops the cap, and inserts the drip hose. The whole process takes about ten minutes, but the result is a full jerry can. She has to resist the urge to whistle as she practically saunters back to where Joel is crouching, draining the remnants of another vehicle.

“Got some gas.” She drops her bounty carefully. “Where’s Ellie?”

“Waiting in the truck. She found some god awful pun book.” Joel sighs, as he straightens up. “Good thing you found gas too. This shit isn’t gonna last like it used to.”

“We’ll make do.” Lucy bends to pick up her own can, then gives him a fleeting smile. “We’ve got this.”

“Since when were you such a damn optimist?” He asks, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Who knows? It’s a mystery. Maybe my entire outlook has changed.” Lucy laughs, leans up and presses a light, brief kiss to his lips.

They can’t get distracted, not here, not now, but it’s just a soft affirmation that she’s there, that she sees him, that she cares. He tastes like gasoline, but she doesn’t care.

“Yeah? Can’t say I mind.” Joel takes her can from her, leads her back to the truck, a small smile on his face as he fills the tank with the contents of one, placing the other in the back for later use. “Fair warning, Ellie’s pun book might kill that.”

Lucy laughs as she swings herself into the passenger seat.

“We’ll see.”

Joel just shakes his head and starts the engine, leaving Lucy to ride shotgun and keep an eye on the road.

She remembers the first handful of times she ever met him; the way she’d been the middle man for those in the QZ who needed medicine, the one doing the brokering, until Joel kept bringing back the wrong drugs. Not on purpose, of course, but he wasn’t a pharmaceutical expert, he didn’t understand that one sort of antibiotic may not be the right kind.

So Lucy had bartered her own ration cards, her own resources, for him to take her with him out of the QZ to collect the drugs herself. He’d been stoic and grouchy about it at first, until he’d seen her shoot.

They’d done a handful of runs like that, where she’d paid him to take her out, to watch her back. On the maybe seventh time, he’d just shown up at her door and asked if she was coming. No payment exchanged. No mention of it ever again. They’d just slid into an easy routine, Joel smuggling in whatever he was paid for, Lucy bringing in medication for the poor of the QZ, watching each other’s backs whenever they ventured out together.

She never asked about his relationship with Tess; they worked together, they were close, that was all she knew. All she wanted to know. She’d gotten along well enough with the older woman, but they’d never clicked the way she and Joel had.

Lucy almost felt guilty that she had lived, that she was the one making this journey, that Tess hadn’t made it, but she knew it was in no way her fault. She found herself wondering whether Joel wished it had been the other way round, even with their newfound intimacy. That wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on, knowing it would overwhelm her if she allowed herself to think on it too much.

She and Joel had ventured out of the QZ together, fought together, protected each other. When a man in the streets of the QZ had threatened her, Joel had beaten him within an inch of his life; that desperate, primal need to protect taking over. Lucy thought she might have been attracted to him before, but that moment had been the defining moment for her, the moment she knew she was desperately in love with the older man. The moment he’d cradled her in his arms, knuckles bruised and bloody from his vengeance on her attacker.

She could still hear his voice as he carried her home.

“I got him for you, darling. He’s not gonna hurt you. Nobody’s gonna hurt you ever again.”

How could she not love him?

She took a deep breath. Then another. Opened her eyes. They were still on the open, abandoned road, the late afternoon sun fading slowly into what promised to be another chilly night. She turned her gaze to Joel, her eyes taking in his side profile, a small smile on her face.

“Want me to drive for a bit?” Lucy offers, forcing herself to look back to the road. She could have looked at him for much longer, but she knows it’s silly; she’s too old to be lovesick, but Joel drags it out of her.

“Nah, we’re stopping soon.” Joel nods to the forest on their right, before he makes a turn into the field, cutting across it to get to the forest.

“Making camp for the night?” Ellie leans forward from the back seat, “Cool.”

“Put your seatbelt back on.” Joel grumbles, drawing a groan from Ellie and another small smile from Lucy.

He drives them into the thicket of trees, keeps going for a few miles before he finally pulls the truck to a stop.

“This will do.”

Joel grabs his rifle and slides from the truck, beginning to unload a few supplies from the back. Lucy stares after him for a moment before Ellie thumps the back of her seat.

“God, you two are fucking gross. Quit staring so we can eat.”

Lucy hates that she blushes as she slides out of her seat, leaves her rifle in the cab but checks her handgun at her hip.

“Shut up.” She manages as a retort, before she moves to help, leaving Ellie snorting with laughter behind.

The trio sit around the portable camp cooker, tin plates of canned ravioli on their laps. Ellie eats like she’s never seen food before, like she’s not sure where the next meal will come from.

Lucy can’t say she blames the kid, honestly. She knows what it’s like to be hungry.

“Slow down.” Joel admonishes, looking up from his own plate to stare at Ellie.

“This is slow.” Ellie retorts. “What am I even eating anyway?”

“This is uh, 20 year old chef boyardee ravioli.” Joel pokes at the food.

“That guy was good.” Ellie enthuses.

“I actually have to agree.” Joel admits; many a night when he couldn’t be assed cooking were saved by the canned meals. Not the best in terms of health, but hey, it tasted alright.

Lucy smiles, picking at her own plate.

“Personally, I preferred the beef stew.”

“Bet that’s hard to find now.” Ellie sighs, wraps her coat around herself. “Can we make a fire?”

“Now why am I gonna tell you no?” Joel asks, not with any heat to it, more in the sense of a father teaching his daughter a lesson.

“Cause it’ll attract infected?” Ellie hazards a guess.

“Nah.” Lucy says.

“Fungus ain’t that smart. Besides, we’re too far out for infected. It’s people you gotta worry about out here.” Joel scrapes the remnants of dinner from his plate, grimaces at the thought.

“People? Why? They gonna rob us?” Ellie sounds somewhat amused, “You guys have big guns.”

“They’d do more than rob us.” Lucy says, exchanging a dark look with Joel. She knows he’s thinking of that night in the QZ once more, of the man who had attacked her.

Ellie takes the hint, her expression dropping into one of concern before she masks it behind cool teenage indifference.

“No fires, then.” She seized a sleeping bag from next to them, unrolled it and sniffed. “Huh, this actually smells good.”

“You got Frank’s, then.” Joel quips, surprising both of his companions with his humour.

“Yeah, yeah. You two can share, right?”

“Don’t see why not.” Joel’s expression betrays nothing, even when Ellie stares at them, her expression loaded.

She’s almost disappointed she doesn’t get a reaction, huffs, settles into her sleeping bag, rolls with her back to the adults. Lucy assumes it’s their ward’s way of giving them some privacy.

Out here, in the woods, there’s no chance of taking off shoes, of sneaking any sort of true intimacy. Lucy double knots her bootlaces before she slides into the sleeping bag, and, even more enticingly, Joel’s waiting arms.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected; perhaps him to pretend nothing had happened, in spite of his promises. She’s glad to have been wrong, rests her head on his chest, inhaling the gasoline gunpowder sweat scent of him.

“Hey, Joel?” Ellie calls from a few feet away.

“Yeah?” He’s instantly alert, tense against her at the call.

“Those people… there’s no way anyone’s gonna find us out here, right?” Ellie asks, trying so hard to be nonchalant, but her anxiety is peeking through in her tone.

“Nobody’s gonna find us.” Joel affirms, and Ellie sighs in relief.

“Cool. Cool.” She flops back down into her sleeping bag, rolls over again.

Joel sighs, still tense. Lucy immediately understands his plan.

“Wanna take turns keeping watch?” She whispers.

“No, you get your sleep. I might need you to drive tomorrow, okay?” He presses a soft kiss to her lips, then her forehead.

“Okay.” Lucy nods, tries not to look too pathetic as Joel slips from her embrace and wriggles from the sleeping bag, getting to his feet and collecting his rifle.

She wants to stay awake, truly she does, but it’s easy to fall asleep knowing the man she loves is watching over her, knowing he’d never let anything happen to her or their ward.

And so sleep she does, whilst Joel keeps vigil over both woman and child, a one man army against the silence and still of the night.

——

Joel’s exhausted, but he tries not to let it show as he packs up the truck the next morning, waiting for his coffee to brew. Lucy wakes first, sits up, crawls out of the sleeping bag. Her expression is one of half awake, regretful alertness as she surveys their surroundings, rolls up the sleeping bag and crosses to dump it in the truck bed.

“Did you get any sleep at all?” She asks, her eyes roaming over him.

Her concern might have once irritated him, but now? It’s endearing.

“Not really.” It’s a half truth - he gave up any hope of sleep and spent the night on guard.

“Joel…” she reprimands, might have gone further in telling him off if he doesn’t have other plans; he leans in to kiss her instead of talking.

Instantly she melts into his touch, leans in closer, her hand cupping his cheek.

“Don’t worry too much, baby.” He says softly, “I’d rather you were both safe. Besides. There’s coffee.”

The smell of the brewing coffee wakes Ellie; the young girl shuffles over to the camping stove still in her sleeping bag, gingerly sniffs the coffee pot before opening it and swiftly recoiling.

“What the FUCK is that?” She exclaims.

“What? You don’t like coffee?” Joel asks, straight faced.

Ellie pulls a face in response, complains about the smell the entire time they load up the truck, even when the coffee is poured into a sealed thermos.

“Is that really what those Starbucks in the QZ used to sell?” Ellie asks once they’re on the road, Lucy in the back this time.

“Well, it was fresher than the stuff Bill hoarded, but yeah. That’s what they sold.” Joel nods, glancing over at the map on Ellie’s lap.

“Smells like… burnt shit.” Ellie comments, nodding in satisfaction at her own assessment.

Joel’s response is to give her the side eye and loudly gulp from his thermos, leaving Lucy shaking with silent laughter in the back seat.

“Just read the goddamn map.” He says finally, somewhat unsettled by how normal this all feels, how easily they’ve settled into an almost family unit type feeling.

He doesn’t dislike it, but he dislikes having something - someone - to lose.

——

Lucy’s never been to Kansas City before, never planned on going, let alone planned on crouching in an old abandoned building, hiding from a full blown militia whilst Joel shows Ellie the correct way to hold the gun she took from Bill and Frank’s place.

The gun she fired to save Joel’s life, when Lucy had been powerless to help him, trapped six feet away. She owes the teen a life debt, in her eyes. They’ve had close calls before, but nothing like this. She never, ever wants to be so powerless to help him ever again. Turns out he’s not the only one with a deeply protective streak.

“What’s the plan?” Ellie says finally.

“Head for that big apartment building. Get a good view of the city, try and spot a way out.” Joel answers.

Lucy looks at him briefly, the way his hair is mussed, the small blood spatter across his face from where he’d put that young man out of his misery. It hadn’t been comfortable to watch, to watch a man barely above a child beg for his life, but Lucy can’t say she isn’t used to Joel being violent. It’s what he does; he has a violent, feral side to him that comes out when the people he cares about are threatened, and somehow, somehow, she and Ellie have made that extremely minuscule list.

“Cross the city, with those guys out on the street?” Ellie stares at him in disbelief.

“We’ll wait them out, then sneak through. It’ll be fine on foot.” Joel assured her, shifts his backpack onto his back.

They’ve lost a fair amount of supplies with the loss of the truck, but thankfully they were all smart enough to heavily stock their backpacks, just in case. The damn things are heavy, but at least they have a few basics to get them through.

“If you say so.” Ellie shrugs, then, “it’s gone quiet out there.”

“Time to make a move.” Lucy says, checking the ammunition clip for her rifle.

“Absolutely.” Joel turns to Ellie, “put your gun in your pack.”

As they move out, Ellie slips her handgun into the pocket of her sweater instead.

——

“C’mon, get up, you lazy ass.” Ellie sticks her hand out to Joel, who’s sitting slumped against the wall of their pilfered apartment.

“Lazy ass? I’m fifty six years old, you little shit.” Joel grumbles, but nonetheless takes the teenagers hand and allows her to haul him to his feet. Lucy returns from her sweep of the apartment, lowering her gun when she reaches them.

“All clear.”

Thirty three floors up, and his legs are killing him. His legs, and his lower back.

“Fifty six? No fucking way.” Ellie snorts, then turns to Lucy, “are you that old too?”

“Do I look that old?” Lucy asks, without rancour.

“No, I’m just fucking with you. How old are you, anyway?”

“Thirty six.” Lucy admits, as the trio cross into the living room, pull cushions off the couches to sleep on. Makeshift beds will do just fine.

“Fuck, still ancient.” Ellie snorts, throwing herself down onto her makeshift bed whilst Joel spreads broken glass onto the carpet by the entryway.

Lucy doesn’t argue; she can imagine how old she must seem, to a fourteen year old. Remembers how old grown adults seemed to her at that age. The only thing that prickles her is the reminder of the age difference between herself and Joel; twenty years separate them, even if they don’t acknowledge it. In this new world, it doesn’t seem to matter too much, but she still doesn’t like to think on it too much. In case it reminds him, and he decides he’d prefer someone older and wiser.

She had always worried he’d prefer Tess, but that seems like an unfair fear; he chose her, after all, and she doesn’t want to compete with a dead woman. That isn’t fair.

“Hey, Joel? Are you gonna hear if anyone comes in?” Ellie asks as Joel flops himself down beside Lucy, draping his arm around her waist.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Noticed you don’t hear so good out your right ear.” Ellie shrugs.

“I’ll hear it just fine.” Joel frowns, turns away from her, makes a big show of laying on his other side. Lucy takes the opportunity to rest her head against his back, wrap her arm around him. It’s nice to be the big spoon for once.

There’s silence for a few minutes, then…

“Hey guys?” Ellie’s voice fills the silence.

“Yeah?” Both adults respond immediately.

“Did you know diarrhea is hereditary?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. It runs in your jeans.” Ellie says, deadpan, then cracks up laughing. It takes a moment, then Lucy joins her.

Joel can’t help it, he starts laughing too.

“That is so goddamn stupid.”

“You laughed, motherfucker.” Ellie says between laughs of her own.

“Yeah…” Joel admits, still laughing, “guess I’m losing it.”

“You’re absolutely losing it.” Ellie agrees.

“Shut up and go to sleep.” Joel grumbles, but he’s still laughing; Lucy can feel his body shaking slightly against her, buries her own smile in the back of his shirt.

It’ll be nice for them all to grab some sleep, considering Joel went without last time.

Secure in the knowledge of weapons within arms reach, being thirty three floors up, and the glass on the floor, the trio settle in for the night, exhausted and desperately in need of rest.

——

The makeshift bed made from couch cushions is soft, and Lucy’s body heat is warm and comfortable against him; it’s no wonder Joel manages to get a decent sleep, the best sleep he’s had since they crashed at Bill and Frank’s place. At some point, he must have rolled over, to face Lucy and Ellie. Almost subconsciously wanting to be closer to them, to not turn his back.

Unfortunately, Ellie’s observation had been right; he can’t hear shit from his right ear. Which leads to him sleeping through the intrusion, right up until…

“Joel… JOEL!”

He jolts awake, sees Ellie knelt across from him with a gun to her head. Sees the kid standing over him, gun aimed at his chest.

“Don’t.” Lucy’s voice is ice beside him. “Don’t point that fucking thing at him. Point it at me.”

The kid ignores her, glances to the young man who has a gun trained on Ellie.

“Don’t move. Don’t reach for your weapons.” He instructs. “You don’t hurt us, we won’t hurt you. You good?”

Joel just glares. Ellie rolls her eyes. Lucy doesn’t move, but her gaze is murderous.

“Be cool.”

“Oh, yeah, this is great.” Joel snaps, “totally fine.”

The kid - he’s barely older than Ellie, to Joel - keeps his gun up.

“Dude!” Ellie turns her head slightly to face the older kid, “he just has an asshole voice. It’s cool.”

The kid lowers his gun, then frowns.

“You guys got food?”

Lucy feels a little better the moment there’s not two raised guns in the room, but she probably still would have been explosively angry had the kid not asked that question; she’s venomously defensive of Joel, that’s a plain fact, but the question throws her off, really makes her look at the two boys - because that’s all they are, kids - who have taken them by surprise. The younger boy would barely be ten. The older of the duo, maybe nineteen or twenty, tops.

“We have a little to spare.” She says finally.

It’s not the weirdest situation Joel has ever found himself in, but it comes sort of close; him, Lucy, and three kids sitting around a lantern, passing round food.

“I’m Ellie, by the way.”

“I’m Henry. This is Sam.” The elder of the brothers introduces them both, as his younger brother points to himself and signs his name.

Ellie nudges Joel with her foot.

“I’m Joel, this is Lucy.” Joel considers for a moment, then passes another food package over to Sam. It’s almost unconscious, the way he treats kids that he comes across. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it, the paternal instinct is still enormously high in him, just buried.

——

“So that’s your genius plan?” Joel raises an eyebrow at Henry, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed.

“No, that’s my dicey as fuck plan, but it’s all we got, so.”

Lucy smiles in spite of the situation; she has to hand it to the kid, he’s got guts.

“I think we should go with it. Henry’s right, it’s all we got.” She offers, giving Joel her best reassuring look.

She knows it’s difficult for him to trust anyone; she’s much the same, but in this scenario? It’s probably best the five of them stick together.

“Yeah, alright.” Joel relents, hoists his backpack onto his shoulder. “Better get going, then.”

——

As Henry predicted, the tunnel is empty.

“See; what did I tell you?”

“We literally just got down here.” Joel says, exasperated, before turning to Ellie. “Get your gun out.”

Ellie nodded, pulling her weapon from the pocket of her hoodie. Joel stared at her; he was absolutely certain he had told her to put it in her backpack. Oh well. What’s the point in arguing about it.

“Keep your eyes open and your mouths shut. We don’t know for sure that it’s empty down here.” Joel said finally, taking the lead.

“Man, your dad’s such a pessimist.” Henry said, looking to Ellie.

“He’s not my dad.” Ellie responded, at the same time as Joel affirming the same thing.

“Huh.”

“Guys, look at this.” Lucy nodded to the walls, painted by children as they walked further into the tunnels.

“There were people down here?” Ellie stared as the group headed towards the door.

“Once, yeah.” Joel frowned, then threw out an arm to stop Sam from heading through the door first. “Absolutely not.”

“I’ve got it.” Lucy stepped in front, pushed the door open, gun raised.

The room beyond was clear; it had once been what looked like a school room, with paintings and posters and children’s activities still lying around.

“Can we stay here for a bit?” Ellie asked, watching Sam head for the drawing table.

Joel almost said no. Almost. But there was something about letting the two kids just… have a moment to be kids… that appealed to him. Give them a moment. Let them be free of the burden of this world for a moment.

“Yeah, alright. May as well wait it out until it gets dark, get some cover.” He flopped down into a chair, fine with being beaten for once.

——

The group emerged onto a darkened street, completely deserted. No people, no infected. Just quiet. Too quiet, for Joel’s liking.

“Not much further.” Henry said, “we just go across the river embankment, then we’re out.”

“Where are you guys gonna go? We’re going to Wyoming.” Ellie said, ignoring the look of irritation from Joel. “What? Wyoming’s got room for two more people, surely.”

Joel just shook his head.

“He’ll change his mind.” Ellie informed the two boys, “he always does. First he’s all, Ellie, no, not ever ever ever gonna happen.” She mimicked Joel’s gruff tone, “but then I just ask him like… a million more times and - SHIT!”

A bullet went whizzing past her head.

“Get down!” Joel dragged both Ellie and Lucy behind the nearest stationary car.

“Sniper.” Lucy peeked over the hood of the car. “One, coming from over there.”

“Thinking what I’m thinking?” Joel’s voice was grim, “we sneak round the back and take him out. Clear the way for these three.”

Lucy nodded.

“Wait; hang on. You can’t go out there, you’re gonna get killed!” Ellie protested.

Joel scoffed. “It’s dark and his aim is shit, he’s not gonna kill me.”

“Then he’ll kill us!”

He sighed. “You trust me?”

After a moment, Ellie nodded.

“Okay. Then stay here, with Henry and Sam. We got this. I’m not gonna let anyone hit you, ok?”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Lucy, let’s go.” Still crouched, the adults crept away, behind cars, dodging errant bullets as they went.

It was relatively easy to find the house, to creep up the stairs and find the sniper who was laying siege to them.

Lucy hadn’t expected an old man. She hadn’t expected him not to surrender. It was almost with great regret that Joel shot him in the head, before taking up the sniper rifle.

“Hold them in position! We’re almost there!” Came through the radio beside the fallen enemy.

Joel and Lucy exchanged panicked looks, peering out the window to see the approaching convoy.

“RUN! RUN!”

All hell broke loose.

——

Lucy was still shaking as they crossed the river; she had seen infected before. Plenty of infected. But one like that? That hideous, terrifying giant that had come out of the ground like a beast from hell itself? Yeah, she’d be having nightmares about that one for a while.

Joel, at least, had stopped shaking the moment they’d reunited with the three kids; she was so incredibly proud of him, of how he had silently gotten to work clearing the way, sniping any infected that got close to Ellie.

It was a side to him she had never seen; of course, she had seen him be protective. Been on the receiving end of it, too. But that? That sense of parental urgency to protect one’s child? She could only imagine that was how he had once been with Sarah, and now, reluctantly, Ellie.

Nobody spoke as they left Kansas City behind, finding an old motel a few miles out. As Ellie and Sam made themselves somewhat comfortable in the double bedroom, reading their comic books, Joel, Lucy and Henry checked the windows, barred the door, before finally sinking into chairs and allowing themselves to breathe.

“What an absolute fucking nightmare.” Lucy said finally, leaning her head on Joel’s shoulder.

“Gonna have to agree.” Henry commented, head against the wall, exhaling.

Joel said nothing, just watched Ellie and Sam huddled up together over a book, the latter teaching the former some of the sign language for the words.

“Look, I don’t know how we’re getting to Wyoming. Probably walking. But… if you want…”

The invitation was clear in the words, plain as day, even if Joel didn’t actually say it.

“Yeah. Yeah that’d be cool… it’d be nice for Sam to have a friend.” Henry looked over to the bedroom too, a small smile on his face. “I’ll tell him in the morning. Let them get some sleep first.”

“Good idea… you can tell them it’s bed time then.” Joel managed a small half smile, which Henry returned, getting to his feet.

“May as well get some sleep ourselves.” Lucy said, stretching out onto the floor, tucking her coat under her head. It wasn’t very comfortable, but it would do.

It would be better in the morning, when they could hit the road. Maybe, just maybe, they could be something resembling a family.

——

The comfortable, still, silence was broken by a piercing scream. Joel, Lucy and Henry jolted awake just as the bedroom door burst open, Ellie scrambling out before being tackled by…

“He’s infected…” Lucy’s voice was strained, aghast, as she backed up.

“Joel!!!” Ellie yelled, terror plain in her voice as she tried to wrestle her former friend off her, “help me!”

Henry turned his gun onto Joel as he stepped forward, horror plain in his features; for a moment there was a tense, horrible stand off, Joel and Lucy unable to move to help, Ellie struggling and screaming on the floor.

Almost in a trance, Henry turned the gun on what had once been his brother, and fired.

Ellie screamed again; Joel moved almost on instinct, to move to comfort her.

“Are you alright?” It was a stupid question, and he knew it; before he could get any further, Henry turned the gun on him.

“Whoa. Whoa.” Lucy held her hands up just as Joel did the same.

“Don’t… come on, Henry, give me the gun. It’s okay…” Joel’s tone was strained, but somehow still soothing, still empathetic.

Henry turned his gaze to the growing pool of blood on the floor.

“Sam…” his voice was almost a whisper as he lifted the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

Both Lucy and Ellie screamed together this time as he hit the floor. Joel said nothing, an aghast look across his face.

——

Joel doesn’t bury his dead; it’s not the world he’s used to. It’s harsh, yes, but you leave a comrade where they fall. That’s not the world he wants Ellie to know. It seems too cruel, after everything she’s already been through.

It’s for that reason that they wrap their fallen friends in bed sheets and carry them outside, to the dirt and grass opposite the motel, and dig graves.

It’s a stark contrast to shovelling ashes and dumping bodies into mass fire pits like back in the QZ, but it reminds him that they’re human.

Ellie places Sam’s writing pad on his grave; for some reason, she’s written “I’m sorry” on it. She doesn’t say anything else. Just picks up her backpack and dumps Joel’s at his feet, then starts walking.

“Which way’s west?”

“That way.” Lucy pointed.

“Then let’s go. There’s nothing here for us anymore.” Ellie turned away, not wanting to cry in front of the adults.

Joel sighed, took one last look at the graves, squeezed Lucy’s hand.

“Let’s get going.” He agreed, regret filling his voice as they followed Ellie onto the deserted, open road.

[starlightshore]

1stswagmastere said: Do u have any different lore or backstory for Vlad in your AU?

I'm going to have fun here and cover his FULL backstory lmao. As for canon -we only know what happened from the Accident in college and that's it. Nothin about his family life.

[has alt id]

Vladimir Masters moved to America with his family when he was 9. They moved because his parents divorced and his father had visited the country often for work. He felt it'd be good to get a fresh start.

Vlad himself knew English but hadn't needed it for daily use, and thus struggled in practice. Plus, I'd imagine the cultural differences were a lot to get used to -suddenly living in the middle of nowhere in Arkansas must of been a shock. Even if he's visited the states before, this was a life altering experience.

Vlad always felt like a misfit, even before the move. His older brother was too old to hang out with his Cringe Fail lil bro and his father couldn't relate to him. Something about the kid was just... different, as his father put it. The two never saw eye to eye, having few things in common. None of this was malicious, his father still supported him and did his best to keep food on the table and the family happy.

I like the idea while the family wasn't perfect -the father had a drinking problem but was never abusive. Nothing super dramatic happened in Vlad's home life -notably so he doesn't have any tragic backstory or "justification" for how much of a manipulative bastard he is modern day. (not that there's anything wrong with tragic backstories. go ham if that's your jam!)

Growing up, Alicia and Maddie were Vlad's best friends. Back then, Maddie was more of a "wild child" and did whatever she wanted on impulse. Alicia was a Baby Butch, a tom boy who wasn't aware of her sexuality but knew she was not like other girls. Being in a small church town in the US South, the trio were the regular misfits. (Notably Alicia is a tad older and acted as the groups babysitter just as often as an instigator to adventure)

Jack lived in the small town but wasn't friends with them until high-school. Jack was a Cool Kid Jock, well liked for his jokey personality and his mid-to-bad football playing. Which, while not great, wasn't terrible and that's an improvement to the small town's crappy team.

However, one day Jack came into the school raving about seeing a ghost. It was funny for a few days -but Jack became obsessed and upset over the whole thing. No one believed him and mocked him, Jack took it very personal.

Maddie approached Jack and gave his story a shot. There's a ghost at the lake, he says. While neither Vlad nor Maddie believe him, they give it a shot cause Maddie thought it'd be fun.

Yeah. Ghosts are real. The trio are terrified but become enthralled. That summer they spend it trying to investigate the ghost -try to find her murderer and appease her vengeful spirit. The three cry and piss themselves scared but it's a major life-long bonding experience.

Turns out the ghost isn't a murder victim -she's just a woman who drowned when drunk while fishing. Her unfinished business was to escape the waters, scaring any locals who neared the water under moonlight. Sadly, without a strong tether to the ghost zone, her ghostly form fizzled out. The teens never really learn these truths.

The whole town is sick of their ghost hunting and are happy to see them leave for college lmao. The three have become Besties For Life, set out to become scientists and find an explanation to the supernatural. Vlad focused on mythology/technology, Maddie quantum physics, Jack with biology/medicine.

The accident happens but it's a direct result of BOTH Fentons. I feel it's thematically important if it's both of their faults, to mirror Danny's accident. Vlad's portal is kept on the whole time, after his death he sneaks into the lab and steals it for himself to keep. It speaks to him. Whispering to him of the Hell he's opened up. This is his portal, yet unnamed and characterized cause i spent all my creative energy on Danny's Portal, Liminal Gates. I don't wanna derail the post to those OCs, but essentially think of them as sentient portal ghosts. they're... not exactly that, but that's the gist.

// OK BELOW i get into depth over both Danny and Vlad's cause of deaths, not like, SUPER gorey detail but its implied of some very awful stuff. skip 4 paragraphs if you don't wanna read that

Tangent: Danny's accident is a result of exposed wire within the portal. In my AU, he doesn't touch an "on" button but rather grabs an exposed switch, yanking on a wire that burnt through his rubber glove and shocked him from hand to foot (which then bounced up to the brain). I got the sense from the theme song that the parent's just... forgot they had that switch in the blueprints, so it makes sense to me that it'd be unfinished and left unattended like that.

anyway now for Vlad's accident. I've mentioned before that in my AU that ectoplasm is in itself the opposite of life, and when in high concentration it'll become acidic and burn through organic matter.

That uh, happened directly to Vlad's face. After the initial blast, the ectoplasm congealed with his blood creating a thick barrier between his face and the air. So even after removing the blast's plasm, it was stuck.

Vlad was rushed to the hospital and bled out, the plasm seeping through into his lungs. It wasn't a fast death like Danny's. Miraculously, he "survived" and had his face bandaged and had to have surgeries to fix the damage. Sadly, even with what little skin was left, because the ectoplasm rooted itself into the skin layer it continued to blister with ecto-acny like in the show. It left him in the hospital for years.

Anyway while Vlad is also a Halfa-Paradox like Danny, he needs to consume Actual Literal Blood. (Not necessarily human blood, nor a living host's blood. usually he drinks animal blood in secret. He's a monster, but he's not THAT much of a monster!)

His body is more unstable and requires more blood to repatch itself. Danny's death was instantaneous and a 1 hour time range surrounding it to connect his timelines. For Vlad, it took 1-2 hours to die, so his timelines and time frame are more scrambled and full of various states of decay and gore. He needs to steel that life essence as well replenish his blood loss. Someone who is a Halfa-Paradox is the living embodiment of of those hour (or for Vlad, hours) they died and didn't die. They're a center point of those timeline selves, fused into one person while shifting between different bodies those timeline selves inhabit. Vlad's is incredibly unstable.

Anyway that aside, Vlad's power is blood based. He really is a vampire ghost. I know my AU mainly has been comedy but I do enjoy the darker side of the fandom (not to... the point some of ya'll go lmao) and Vlad focuses a lot more of this side of things. I've been uncertain on how to take his blood power -do I do blood bending? bleed on you until you're uncomfortable power?

Nah i think I'm going to go with a simple "those he's drunk blood from temporarily are mind controlled" or something. Vampires are a drain on society, a metaphor for their hoarding of wealth and feasting on the life force of the common man. Now as an adult, I see how some people can fall into a warped mindset that loves Capitalism even when it's the root of all evil in society. Uh. That's the best I got chief, Vlad's power is propaganda essentially.

He already uses his over-shadow power for a similar effect in canon, it's a very Vlad thing to do. It's just more.. gross and evil this time around.

Back to the Backstory: after the transition, Vlad fell onto desperate times as the hospital bills were enormous. After trying to handle it morally, he ended up resorting to petty theft using his new powers. Same as canon, this escalated to bigger robbery and then political power. Vlad is more subtle about than in canon, never showing his ghost form and learns to explain his wealth through business rather than staged luck.

Once he had some power and influence, he went back to his old friends hoping to prove to them that they did not ruin him but rather gifted him a wonderful life of wealth and success. He wanted to make them jealous and regret ghosting him and hurting him.

Except, they moved on and were forced to take on jobs outside of their ghost hunting interests. Vlad realized he hadn't actually won out here, he missed out on human connection and turned himself into a monster in the process. Now he's motivated in envying their humanity and family, rather than just a sick obsession to get with Maddie.

Vlad is a master 4D chess player, using his power to influence under his thumb. The Fentons actually were just stuck using their degrees for (gasp) more mundane use like medical research and engineering. Vlad masked his anger and played up the hero, becoming Uncle Vladdie and their boss. He funds their paranormal research, they see him as their good ol' college chum who's got everything.

But the Fentons and him don't connect well on a personal connection. Vlad is too distant and far-too-gone in his own world and self-obsession, Maddie and Jack are pleasant but never have free-time so end up blabbing about research or their kids. Not a great fit for reconnection. It's important to note these old friends have the potential to become buddies again, but Vlad feels compelled to plot and play a more distant role to get what he thinks will worm his way into their lives. Instead of, you know, being normal and just Talking Things Through.

So basically: Vlad is a lonely misunderstood kid who is befriended by some country girls and then later become a group of 3 ghost obsessed weirdos in town. Jack and Maddie are his only friends he's ever had since his hospitalization (isolated again) and later becoming obscenely rich that you stop seeing people normally. He's got rich fuckboi disease essentailly.

iirc Alicia doesn't like Jack because she blames him for getting her sister into ghost hunting (OR MAYBE that's fanon idr) but I also like to think she hates Vlad for becoming so slimey and doubling down on enabling their ghost interests. Like in my timeline of events, the Fentons were able to become normal respected scientists. (albeit, obscure) it's HIS fault they're able to do whatever they want now. she fucking HATES him

[a-vampire-culturelover]

Back on my Hawkstar Au Bullshit

YIPPIE I FINALLY HAVE SOME TIME TO DIVE MORE INTO THE AU :3!

While all of the previous shit from This Post happens, Brambleclaw goes into exile, ending up in Shadowclan with his sister Tawnypelt. There he explains to her what happened and why he was exiled, and Tawnypelt feels a bit guilty thinking she could have kept this from happening if she knew sooner what Hawkfrost would try doing. They're both shocked of the news of Hawkfrost becoming leader of Riverclan, realizing his plans had worked. They both decide to try and find a way to expose him, fearing Riverclan will fall more under his manipulation, alongside genuine worry for Mothwing's sake. And with conflict between Windclan and Riverclan getting more and more frequent each and every moon, things might go from bad to worse if nothing is done..

Back in Thunderclan, after Hollykit and Lionkit mysteriously disappear, Leafpool goes into a depression, having lost two of her own kits seemingly out of nowhere. Squirrelflight comforts her throughout this duration, knowing how badly it affected her sister, and was just as wracked with grief with Jaykit being the only one of the litter left intact. They lie about Jaykit being a loner kit just like Hawkfrost, and they both take care of him, Leafpool being a sad but goofy "Aunt" and sometimes spoiling him with things like feathers and flower petals to decorate his pelt.

Squirrelflight meanwhile, is growing more and more suspicious of Ashfur. Nothing had seemed wrong back when Brambleclaw was exiled, but after Holly and Lion went missing, she had scented Thunderclan in the area. She had initially assumed it was her and Leafpool, but upon further investigation she realized the scent was vaguely similar to Ashfur. Knowing it wouldn't be wise to just call him out knowing there was a good chance something could go wrong, she keeps her mouth shut so she can focus on both finding evidence and further investigating, alongside raising Jaykit.

In Riverclan, Mothwing had not succeeded in drawing the ire of Sleekpaw to herbs, but instead Tadpolepaw. Tadpolepaw Trains under Mothwing's guidance, getting alongwell with the much older apprentice Willowpaw. She's confused often by how Mothwing acts happy and pleasant to be out of camp during trips for herb gathering and meeting with the other medicine cats, but paranoid and bitter in camp, especially towards Hawkstar. Tadpolepaw begins to learn from Mothwing about when she was a kit, when their mother Sasha left her and Hawkstar in Riverclan, how her little brother Tadpole, who she had been named after, died, but most importantly how she did not believe in Starclan. After this, she becomes very conflicted on what to do, her own mentor not believing in Starclan, what she had thought her entire kithood was the most important aspect of clan life apart from the code. Through Mothwing, she begins to learn of her father's much darker secrets, but what about her brother Sleekpaw...?

Sleekpaw is trained under Blackclaw, who overall is a good mentor, but behind the scenes Hawkstar does all the work, training him in the Dark Forest alongside Tigerstar. Sleekpaw grows used to the feeling of having his claws out, always having at least a little bit of blood spilled on his claws, and always having scars that healed far before any herbs could be used. Tigerstar and Hawkstar begin to wonder what was so strange about him, before realizing just how powerful his near invincibility in battle. Hawkstar smirked at the thought of using Sleekpaw against whatever threats came to Riverclan, and as tensions rise between Riverclan and Windclan, that time for bloodshed and claws unsheathed may come far sooner than those who don't wish for it..

Smaller less important things about the Hawkstar au: - Birchpaw gets renamed from Birchfall to Birchsmoke by Firestar during his warrior ceremony, after his mentor Ashfur's "Loyalty" from stopping Brambleclaw from murdering him. He's a little more nervous and overwhelmed in the au from Ashfur constantly promising to make him deputy when he becomes leader, making sure Birchsmoke is a cat he can trust and most importantly manipulate when the time comes to lead.

-Tawnypelt names all but Tigerkit the same as normal, renaming him to something like Adderkit, depends on whether or not I stick with that

-Jaykit actually stays a warrior apprentice, becoming Jayflight. He gets the suffix from Squirrelflight since he cares deeply for both of them, and happens to wonder what happened to his other siblings that make his mother and aunt go silent..

-Since Jaypaw never becomes a med apprentice, either Icecloud or Foxleap become one since something does happen to Leafpool at some point in the au...

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Raccoon Ranch - Shaking Hands.

This is technically day 7 but it fits better in the overall story here. There's a couple days that I swapped and you know what you can't stop me lmao.

Raccoon Ranch

TW: bullying, implied kidnapping, implied extortion, beating, destruction of comfort object.

There was a set of three planters on the property, lovingly taken care of by Nik every evening. Mostly herbs and other medicinal plants, along with a spindly but growing blackberry sprig. It was nowhere near bearing fruit - if it ever would - but Nik watered and cared for it just the same. 

It had started as a necessity, really. Before he would have to forage in the wilderness that butted up against the ranch for roots and barks to take the edge off the pain of whippings and beatings. Trying to find the right herbs to soothe a stomach nauseous from bad food (or no food.) But there wasn’t always time after the work was done to go hunting for the right remedy for the anxiety that felt like it was eating away at his bones and sinew. So the next time he found some, Nik replanted and tended to them so they were accessible for him and Hilton. And now Brody, he figured. 

Kneeling by the wooden boxes, he picked at the weeds that had sprouted up and let his mind wander. Brody was still adjusting, still trying to come to grips with this new hand he’d been delt. He was still new enough to believe he was going to leave someday. Nik didn’t have the heart to break that fantasy, not yet anyway. And regardless, Brody was already starting to learn how life on the ranch really worked, unlike Hilton who still didn’t act in his own best interests. 

That boy was going to give Nik a heart attack someday. 

A quiet chitter announced the arrival of the little squirrel Nik had been feeding, climbing up on the boxes to get his attention. And seeds he kept in his pocket. Such a strange one - stark white and not afraid of him in the slightest. 

“Hey bud,” he greeted it quietly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out some of the sunflower seeds he’d been able to find. He barely had time to cup his fingers together before the little creature’s paws were cupped around his fingertips, eagerly looking for the treat. Nik smiled at it and used his free hand to stroke the top of its head with his pointer finger. 

“Are you watching out for me? I’d sure appreciate it.” 

The squirrel paused to look at him for a moment before twitching its nose and scurrying away at the sound of footsteps. Nik was only barely able to bite back the sigh before he stood and turned around. 

Mason and Dylan were coming up the trail, never meaning anything good when they were together. Once closer, the boss held up an envelope. 

“Got something in the mail today,” he started, dangerously casual. Nik didn’t respond. With a glint in his eye, Mason opened the letter and started to read it aloud. 

“Mr. Driver, 

I’m writing again in regards to the Kelmar estate and specifically Nikolas Stewart. We’re asking for another attempt at negotiating a deal for the land deed; one with more reasonable expectations.” 

Dylan snickered and even Mason cracked a smile, all while Nik’s heart was pounding in his throat. 

“There must be some deal we can agree to that promises his safe return. After consideration, we’re offering-” Mason stopped reading, tutting through the rest of the letter. Finally he looked back at Nik and shook his head. 

“It really is a damned shame they just don’t seem to get it. I don’t negotiate. I see what I want, and I get it. So, if words don’t work, let's try blood.” 

“What?” Nik found himself asking, completely caught off guard by the last statement. Dylan strode forward, smile on his face, and delivered a clean, unrepentant blow to Nik’s nose. Dazed and shocked, Nik stumbled backwards with a cry, hand immediately coming up to guard his now gushing nose. He didn’t move out of Dylan's reach however, and the other man had him by a fistful of a hair a moment later. 

The glint of a pocket knife froze Nik in an instant. 

A bit gleeful, Dylan sawed away some of the dark brown hair he was holding, cutting off a careless chunk on the side of his head. Without letting go, he turned to Mason and caught a small white cloth thrown to him, using it to dab up some of the blood and tucking the hair inside it. 

Nik simply let his eyes close and the revulsion to wash over him. It wasn’t enough they had taken him to make his people give over their land - now they took his blood too. Take, take, take. That was all everyone ever did, all they wanted from him. If it wasn’t his literal body it was his time, and his work, and his mind. When Dylan shoved him away he just felt empty inside. Numb. 

“Can, can I at least have the letter?” he asked, aching to hold it. To read the whole thing. Mason shrugged. 

“I would have assumed you’d want the one written to you,” he said, reaching into his jacket to retrieve another envelope. He held it up between his two fingers, eyes locked on Nik’s face. Enjoying this. “Written by a Kia, I believe.” 

Nik reached for it immediately, wanting before but now desperate. “Yes! Please can I have them? Please?” 

Mason looked thoughtful for a moment. “I read it. Don’t think there’s much of importance in there.” He reached into his pocket again, this time retrieving a shiny silver lighter. 

“No!” Nik was kept from jumping forward by Dylan, grabbing around his shoulders. “Please, please don’t burn them. I’ll work more, I’ll uh, I’ll do anything for you not to burn those.” 

The older man clicked his tongue. “But here’s the thing kid - you already do.” 

Nik shrieked when the first flame lick up the side. He struggled and tried to squirm away, but the grip on his arms was bruising. After a few moments, Mason dropped the now engulfed envelope to the ground and clicked is tongue again, signaling Dylan to release him. 

Recklessly Nik threw himself forwards, stamping out the fire with his bare hands. He didn’t pay attention to the pain, paid even less to Mason and Dylan leaving. The letter was singed badly, but not completely charred. It mostly was, to his gut wrenching disappointment, but there was still some left. Still some readable. 

On his knees in the dirt, with shaking hands, Nik tried to read what was left of his only piece of home. 

~~

@looptheloup

[thelediz]

Psssst...given that pokeani has gone completely off the rails, how abt dropping that big rant abt the "Ash assistant coach in Galar battle league" au you shall never write? It's been living rent-free in my head ever since you mentioned it bc I love mentor Ash and I bet you'd do more justice to Galar in bullet points than pokeani did in its whole journeys run :3c

Oh, be careful what you ask for... I have pages of bullet points and half a page of prologue.

For those of you who don't know (or remember a side-comment I wrote in an author's note three years ago - seriously, my dude, wow), at the start of Journeys/end of Alola, I came up with an AU to carry on Ash's story. But it was an idea for a series, not a story, so it sits in my documents untouched.

So the basic deal is this: Galar has a different kind of league to the rest of the Pokemon world. In Galar, trainers compete as teams, rather than individual trainers. Each team does have a captain – the one who is supposed to be the best, and ultimately becomes champion – but it becomes clear over the series that the greatest trainers in Galar are the ones with the best support teams.

The advantage to having a team, instead of just working alone, is that you can have a lot more pokemon on a 'regular' team. And they belong to the group, not just the captain. This allows more flexibility, but as Ash points out to the team, it also means you can’t form as close a bond as more traditional trainers would. (This is potentially the reason why Pikachu can gigantamax safely without a dynamax band - because they have such a close bond)

The team we follow in this series is Team Eight - the eighth team for this year's league.

It's quite a large team, made up of seven team members in total:

The Captain, Victor. Our player character, and essentially the Gary of the series. He’s a natural when it comes to pokemon battle, charming and likeable, but confident to the point of being arrogant. His character arc is learning that natural talent won’t get him by forever, and he needs his team to make it to the top. (Friendship hooray!)

Active Trainer Hop. The current champion’s little brother, Hop was supposed to have so much promise. He was great with pokemon as a kid—they all love him—and Leon had so much faith in his baby brother. But on the battlefield, Hop is average at best. He’s nowhere near Victor’s talent, let alone as amazing as everyone expected. His character arc is learning not to stand in others’ shadows, and to believe in his own quieter power.

Active Trainer Gloria. Our female player character, and a very loud, slightly violent young woman. She’s actually the strongest battler of the team, but is also incredibly lazy when it comes to training. She’s not that interested in the league, mostly using the challenge as a chance to see and explore the world. Throughout the journey, she becomes a protector, often standing with Ash while Victor and Hop run off to gather artefacts or whatever, and discovers her true passion is as a bodyguard and organiser.

Groomer Goh. A blatant attempt to reengage children with Pokemon Go, Goh’s passion is collecting pokemon for the team to use. His goal is to catch one of every kind of pokemon, so that no matter the situation, he will always have the right ‘tool’ to hand. When his pokemon aren’t being used by active trainers, he farms them out to gyms and jobs, earning cash for the team. His arc is learning that pokemon are friends, not tools. (Pet safety, hooray!)

Medic Chloe. Originally just tagging along with Goh because someone needs to keep her childhood friend in line, Chloe discovers a love of cooking and medicine, discovering that she enjoys watching pokemon grow and become stronger.

Coach Kiran. A Dark-Type Trainer with a bad attitude, but a heart of gold. He’s normally a field agent of Chairman Rose’s security division, and it’s a requirement that all agents do at least one season of coaching duty as a kind of community service. He hates it. He brought Ash on to essentially do his job for him, but since Ash doesn’t really know how Galar works, he still has to lead the way and provide exposition. His arc is learning the limits of how far he’s willing to go to protect ‘the good of all’, and that kids aren’t that bad, really.

Assistant Coach Ash. He signed on because he wanted to see Galar, and learn about the different league, but he’s actually really enjoying helping Team Eight discover who they want to be. He battles with the active trainers, accompanies the support team on their trips, and generally enables their journeys. He forms bonds with some of Goh’s pokemon, who eventually become known as 'his' pokemon despite the fact they belong to the team.

Team Eight were supposed to be the real up and comers, but Hop’s lack of skill in a very public moment made them seem very unimpressive, and now no one really expects anything of them. Of course, they work their way up through the ranks, meeting rivals and defeating gym battles, until Victor can eventually challenge Leon.

The idea was that it was going to retain Sun and Moon's group dynamic, fade Ash out of the spotlight while maintaining his status and strength, and make a bit more out of Galar's story. Also play with Leon's relationship with Hop because you know I'm a sucker for family relationships.

But yeah. I'll leave it there for now. Hope it didn't disappoint!

[pearlescent-soda]

✨️//A Third Helping of My Headcanons on the Dragon Daddies (Magic Crafters Edition):

Eldrid:

A well intentioned elder who won't let boundaries such as, morals, laws, or any other silly social constructs stop him from pursuing his goals. This man has broken many laws in his potion making career, if that seems a bit too implausible than ask his cellmate Boldar. Although, unlike his lifelong friend, he knows how to take precautions before working with magic.

The texture of his potions can best be described as 'gello-like' as a lot of his products are salves meant for external use only. The number of customers sending complaints for stomach pains after ingestion has been steadily decreasing as the years go by. 'One gent came in with a purple tongue, and, ancestors forgive me, I laughed in his face'. The instructions are on the back, but, hey, the customers always right, except when they're wrong, then they come back and complain.

Spyro can hardly keep his eyes open during Eldrid's 'enthralling' lectures. He holds out for his favorite part of the visit, the 'taste test', Eldrid dips his spoon in the cauldron and hands it to Spyro. If he guesses the right flavor, he gets to take a prize from his 'prize box', which is basically a box of junk he hasn't thrown out yet, but if the boy wants necklace carved from a unicorn horn, he can take it.

He's got severe back pain, if his horrible posture didn't give it away, and it's been getting worse year after year. He'll wear a back brace every now and then, when he feels like it, but most the time he'll take medicine for the pain and move on with his day. He'll make one of the boys put some homemade numbing ointment on his back and that stuff smells like stale mint and rotten eggs.

Him and Boldar go way back, he's got both of their mugshots hanging in his shop from the 'good the good ol' days'. That can't be good for business, but look at how happy they look, aw. He made copies for Boldar to carry with him during his travels and he wrote on them, 'To my dearest, and most wondrous, friend, Boulder'. That's no error, that's legitimately how he believes his lifelong friend's name is spelled.

Only twenty-five percent of his scribbles are illegible, the rest are complex recipes for whatever experiment he's working on. His terrible penmanship is a result of Eldrid trying to write with his tail, behind his back where he can't see, instead of just using his hands. 'It makes perfect sense to me. Hmm, maybe you need bifocals, young one'.

The horns are his head are actually sprinklers connected to his goggles. There's a fire in his laboratory daily, so to combat such a regular occurrence Lucas gifted the geezer a pair of safety goggles. 'Ah, Lu-Lu was always the generous type'. Yes, bottles still explode, except, this time, the kitchen is still functional afterward. Soggy, but functional.

Kelvin:

A know-it-all drama queen who thinks he's got the answers to all of life's mysteries. While his temperament is nowhere near as bad as Cosmos', he can be just as haughty and standoffish. Surprisingly, he's much easier to befriend than his leader. His insults are unintentional, he hates to sugarcoat his words, so when he gives advice, wanted or otherwise, it's blunt and to the point. Never EVER argue with him on anything, it doesn't matter who's right, he'll drag it out till he feels like the conversation is over.

He's NOT the 'Master of Wind', that is a title he despises with a passion. 'I'm the 'Master of Air', Lord Kelvin. The 'Master of Wind' was my father, and he was a dirty, treacherous, THIEF!!!' Never mention this to him, but he possesses the exact same abilities as his father such as creating sizeable storms, whirlwinds, and increasing windspeeds, something he very much likes to do to dispose of Thieves.

Spyro nearly died on his way to the library, and it wasn't due to the windspeeds, but a famished Beast who blocked his path. That was an interesting day to say the least, he met a Peace Keeper he'd never seen before, and Kelvin was actually nice to him for once. Spyro and Sparx took note of the usual Magic Crafter dislike for the Peace Keepers, but the way that Kelvin spoke to the dragon was as if his very presence was a bad omen.

His 'Vortex of Doom' surrounding the Alpine Ridge library was implemented after an incident regarding a Druid break-in. That's why Magic Crafters use alternate routes and 'short cuts' to reach the building, because the windspeeds near the eye are well over one hundred miles per hour, and no, he can't control it anymore. 'It's out of my hands now. My advice to you is never cast an angry spell, they're impossible to reason with'.

The key hanging off his neck is for 'travel'. To where? 'Wherever I please, so stop pestering me'. A key for every door? Sounds kind of intrusive, but he's not the type to pry into other people's lives. It's just one of the many, many, many ways that Magic Crafters are able to travel around the world. Don't be surprised if there's a keyhole in the wall, all that means is that Kelvin has arrived... So, bring earplugs.

The orb often pondered about by passersby is the remedy to a nasty cursed inflicted by a Cat Witch rumored to have been a 'close friend' of his prior to their falling out. 'Samantha was a heartless wench, if you ever plan on settling dow- I mean acquiring a roommate, make sure they're truly loyal to you.' What happens when the orb is removed, er... It's too embarrassing to share. Just know that it includes endless singing and lots of feathers.

He's read every book in Magic Crafters and Artisans, right now he's focusing his energy on getting Dream Weaver literature, which was easy... At first. Dream Weavers don't exactly share information through the written word, and any literary works found don't go over two thousand words. 'Ugh, it's all bedtime stories, lullabies, and dream journals. It's so juvenile, I swear, I'm never getting those precious hours back!!-' He continues on like that for a while before finally giving in to attend to his duties or whenever his listener decides they've had enough and bails.

Zander:

Within the Alpine Ridge quartet, he could be identified as a stand in for the 'straight man'. For starters, he's the most 'normal' one there, he's polite and open, but he's not above cutting corners to get the desired results. He's definitely business oriented, anytime he senses a potential sale, he starts pushing his wares like his life depends in it.

Enchanted items, enchanted items galore! He's the 'Master of Transmogrification and Magic Infusion' for good reason. Peace Keepers wanting enhanced weapons, Beast Makers wanting a perfectly balanced pot, or even Artisans needing a permanently sharpened pencil are all welcome in his shop.

He shows the boys secret tunnels and passages used by the Magic Crafters. There was one tunnel that wasn't in the Dragon Realms, it was chilly there, the leaves were a stunning red orange, but the portals lead to unfamiliar realms. Zander was oddly nervous at his little 'slip up' and quickly tried to usher them back home. Anytime Spyro tried to inquire about what they'd just seen; Zander would change the subject and try to distract him with something else. 'I don't want dumb book, uncle!! I want to know what Zephyr'

He had normal wings in his youth, when asked why or how they became crystalline, he'll reply with 'I wouldn't try anything on a customer if I didn't try it on myself'. It's true, he is more than capable of altering physical appearances, but he likes to avoid talking about his own appearance, especially if too many people are present.

The late Peace Keeper General would frequent his store for upgrades to his axe, increased durability, a lightweight grip, and his personal favorite, a blade sharp enough to cut through stone. 'He was gallant knight and a lovely friend. His passing was a great loss for us all'.

He was going to be a travelling merchant, but he wasn't able to tame a Beast and get it to pull his wagon. 'The domestic life suits me better anyway. But, if you want to look at some of my wares, I'd be more than happy to share'. He figured that the business would be good for Alpine Ridge as a whole if he stayed, so now all the wagon does is collect dust in the backroom.

'Dark Gems?... Aw, yes... Did I ever tell you about the time I was evil for a day?' He got an order from a robed figure long ago to make a staff adorned with Dark Gems, but when the staff was completed, the figure turned his own creation against him and embedded a shard into his chest. Zander became a malevolent creature with grotesque features, but as previously stated, the 'day' he's referring to was actually a month because the Magic Crafters had to wait for Cosmos to arrive back from Peace Keepers. Upon his arrival, he was greeted with frantic pleas for him to go to Alpine Ridge and save Zander from himself. Their leader was able to remove a majority of the shards, but some fused with Zander, and that's how he obtained his crystalline appearance.

Zane:

The worrywart bookworm, he's very shy around those he doesn't know, and he won't talk to people he's unfamiliar with. He prefers to watch someone from afar for weeks prior to actually speaking with them, and, no, it's not a healthy thing to do, but he can't help it. Speaking with strangers takes a lot of energy and leaves him utterly defeated if he feels he's done it wrong the 'wrong' way. It doesn't help that his speaking voice is low with a noticeable stutter, so it's no surprise that he prefers not to speak at all. 

His ability, aptly named 'mimic', allows him to learn spells and magics through 'absorption' which means all he requires is one demonstration and he quietly conjures up a page for it. He's learned so many spells that he needs a one hundred- and fifteen-pound book to hold them all. He's become a powerful mage thanks to this ability with the only limitations being that the book must be close to him, and he has to open it to cast his spells.

He admires Spyro's unbreakable spirit and doesn't mind at all when he tags along with him during errands. But he has a terrible habit of spoiling Spyro and Sparx with whatever they want. 'I-I can't deny them anything, look at t-them, they're adorable, Kelvin. Aw, I'm going to give them one more piece of candy, I'll be right b-back.' He lets them read the table of contents of his spell book; he may let them cast a few before bed if no one's around.

The spell book was originally his journal, his name is engraved on the cover in swirling gold. There's one actual entry followed by a million different spells, hexes and incantations; jarring would be putting it lightly.  'You want t-to read it? It's very boring, I wrote about the weather, m-mind you this was before my ability manifested'. Wow, it's his first entry... And it's about a... Heavy snowstorm.  He was right, that was kind of boring.

The first time he had to interact with anyone outside his realm, he froze up, which still haunts him to this day. He was a teenager then, so it's not hard to see why he cringes at the memory, oh, and this interaction just had to occur with Jarvis and Lucas, the liveliest dragons in the known realms. Lucas is polite enough to not bring it up, but it's the first topic Jarvis brings up when he sees Zane.

Indecisive when making decisions for himself, but if it's to aid others, he'll jump right in to help. 'Jumping right in', means maybe casting a spell from afar or doing most, if not all, the work in their place. Yes, he's an ABSOLUTE pushover and a people pleaser, he doesn't want to upset anyone, but he isn't completely spineless either. He won't give up the hood and he won't, will not, under any circumstances, lend the book to anyone without his guidance.

He can't fly due to an injury sustained during his adolescent, one reason he wears the hood is to cover a star-shaped scar on his head. He got caught spying on a coven of Armored Druids while casting 'mimic', and he's been unable to raise or lower his wings properly ever since. Kelvin was kind enough to share 'levitation' with him, and now it's hard to keep his feet planted on the ground for more than a millisecond.

[pathparazzi]

Thoughts re: Academia

I haven't been on this blog at all and there's really not much I can say other than I haven't had the time or energy. Being a functioning adult is brutal at times, and in academic medicine, I felt robbed of myself. Even when I am not on service, I feel loath to do anything productive. My apartment remains in a state of partial disarray at any given time. I see chores that take no time pile up in front of me. I should clean that spill on the floor or put those towels away, yet I don’t. I don’t remember being like this even when I was burned out in training or during the early pandemic.

I have been working at a mid-tier academic center for the past year now, and so much has happened since I first started posting on this Tumblr. During the end of my fellowship, my fellowship director was removed from the premises for an investigation that resulted in no wrongdoing. After almost forty years of service to his institution, which refused to defend him, he resigned. A devastating loss for that department. Why stay at a place where the people you trained turn on you and the institution you helped to bring to prominence abandon you?

I nearly didn’t get a job because of how badly my current institution’s HR system was so utterly understaffed that I had to onboard myself, only for them to cancel the contract on the day before I started. And then they nearly forgot to send the amended contract to me and they sent it to the wrong email. One of my colleagues’ loved ones was murdered by their progeny. One of the residents had a life-threatening stroke. One assistant’s house burned down and lost everything including her beloved pet. One of the senior trainees was such a shitshow and they quit in the middle of their training in bad standing after terrorizing us and the clinical services for the better part of their time here.

It has been an absolutely dramatic year, and I have experienced enough racism and several professional slights against me that I’m simply over it. As lovely and wonderful as my director is as a person, this does not translate to good leadership. I am angry at them because they lied to me about what this job entailed and what I could get out of it, that I would have a proper mentor instead of someone long in the twilight of their career, who hasn’t even seen what I have in our respective subspecialties. I feel that this place has robbed me of a year of my life, and I have nothing to show for it except work experience. Maybe I’m being too critical.

I have no friends in the area except two people who are so hard to hang out with. They’re incredibly bright and well-educated, but they are also incredibly boring. I rarely use that term on people, but they are socially inept at worst and heavily disconnected from pop culture and current events at best. The friends I had have moved away or are in the process of moving out. When I leave, it’ll be a clean exit. I will owe them nothing.

The academic pathology scene is nothing short of chaotic presently. Hopkins is bleeding people. BIDMC is shoring up in the wake of the Dana Farber merger, but knowing how administratively incompetent that hospital is at the higher levels, it’s nowhere near ready to absorb an expected 40-50% increase in specimen volume. Hiring is slow and unhurried when the process should be expedited and prioritized.

Brigham and Mass General aren’t exactly doing well for themselves, given that so many of their staff are leaving after long careers there. Oregon Health and Sciences is experiencing some sort of staffing malfunction because the person who helped to recruit me left for private practice and they haven’t been able to hire anyone senior.

That said, I am going into private practice. I was afraid to do so earlier, but I think it is ultimately the way to go. I sent in my CV one day and immediately received a phone call the next. Things have moved along fast and efficiently with also a bit of breathing room built in. There’s less bullshit, and people are happier overall.

I am also coming to terms with the fact that I need a work-life balance. People say that academia has work-life balance, but those people are lying. I used to see so many people come in on the weekends or stay late to write papers and do ancillary work. It’s only now post-pandemic that people are realizing that they’re wasting their lives constantly writing and for what? To get a pat on the back? To get a little line on their CV so years down the road they can be called full professor? I think people are learning to choose themselves and I applaud that. Academia has been a shitshow and it needs to reform and pay these brilliant, hardworking, self-sacrificing people what they are worth if it is to go on in a meaningful way.

Moving forward, I’m hoping to revive this corner of my life by posting pictures of pathology every so often. Knowledge is meant to be shared, and I’ve always wanted to make a slide repository/image archive for those who are looking. It'll hopefully be my little hobby that keeps me somewhat sane.

[umbralsound-xiv]

A Light In The Darkness.

I had awoken before her, and thought to make better use of this time by preparing breakfast. Hopefully i could be done fast enough to rejoin her before she had even known i had gone...

Far from the usual clatter of breakfast, the kitchen is near-silent, as Eir works on the first meal of the sun. Their usual teacups settled on the tray, he's almost done with their little platter; fruit cut into hearts, moons and stars, and small swans made of rolanberries. Settling her medicine on the edge of the tray, all that remains is to pour the tea; he'd silently hoped the whistle of the kettle wouldn't be the first thing she'd hear…

Sayuri stirs amongst the pillows and blankets, a small, pleasant sigh leaving her as she still felt the warmth of them - but her ability to feel the warmth made the lack of a certain Viera's presence all too obvious, making her pout weakly to herself while a hand slowly trailed along the beside just in case she was wrong. She finally opts to open her eyes, only to be met with more darkness - something that swiftly brings her to full wakefulness as she scrambles up to sit. "-- No-.." She chokes forth the word quietly, hands raising to cup over her own face. "..Nononono.." She bites back any will to scream out in her fear - she knew it was temporary. At least.. the first time had been. Yet despite this knowledge, it doesn't halt the tears that well up in her eyes and the quiet sob that escapes her.

Her words are a distant murmur from the upstairs and the boiling of the kettle, barely audible as Eir poured the tea. He catches the tail end of her words, pacing to the top of the staircase to listen. "Sayuri?" He calls out, not too loud in the event she was still sleeping, awaiting a response.

His call makes her ears twitch and hands drop down from her face, teeth gritting to keep herself from sobbing aloud. Against better judgement, her hands waft in the air to find the exit of their sleeping area, managing to crawl her way out and up to her feet. In her hurry to attempt to get to her comfort zone that is her husband, her hand doesn't quite catch onto the edge of the bookshelf near the bed, making her barge into it and lose her balance to promptly crash back down to the floor with a cry, along with the thuds of whatever books fell with her.

"---Sayuri!" Eir abandons the tray to bound down the stairs, taking the flight in only a few leaping steps and then around the corner to join her. Crashing to his knees, he reaches for her, gaze tracing over her frantically for the source of her woes. "---What… What happened?"

---I knew making breakfast so early was a bad idea, i should have waited, should have ensured what state she would wake in, but... Oh, Sayuri, i am so sorry...

Sayuri's teary eyes flicker around, hands patting in both the air and on the floor until she finds her way to Eir - or until he reaches her first. Her inability to look directly at him and reach for him instantly rather telling. Her sobs break free as she seeks to crawl into his arms and bury her face against him.

"Oh…. No no no… Again? No…" Eir all but slumps to sitting on the floor, allowing Sayuri to crawl into his arms for comfort. "…I am sorry, i am sorry i was not there when you woke…" He cradles her, rocking her gently as he buries his face into the side of her hair. "…I am here… I am here, my Moon…"

She clings to him tightly, keeping her face against him for a prolonged time to hide away and muffle her crying that eventually trails into faint sniffles as she settles into the comfort of Eir's embrace, only then, does she decide to speak. "..I-.. I h-hate.. this.." She whimpers.

"I know… I know. I hate it too…" Gently he trails his hands through her hair, holding her tightly. "Just this sun, and the next, and all should be back as it was…" He hoped quietly, only half believing it himself but making an effort to sound convincing. "It hurts to see you suffer so… But i would be nowhere else but with you."

A long, shaky breath left her, her head pushing into him a little further. Despite her upset, she manages a weak, almost pained smile. "..I c-can still.. f-feel your w-warmth.."

That look is almost enough to break his heart, tears lining his eyes. A hand reaches to her cheek to gently caress, but he doesn't betray how he feels save for the small increase in warmth at his face for suppressing the sorrow. "I am glad for that much…" He fights a smile, even if she can't see it. "…Silver linings, yes?"

Her head tilts into his palm, nuzzling against it gently. As ever, she herself is far from warm, and her distress has certainly made her colder than her natural state. Frosty little lines cling to her cheeks from where her tears trailed, faint droplets at the end of the said paths frozen to her cheeks at this point. Ice laces her forearms and likely becomes more apparent to Eir by the fact that they are pressing into his back. Her head sinks into a weak nod at his words, yet the smile remains just as faint and pained.

Ice? ...If she is in pain, she does not show it. This... This is good, at least? That this Hell she is enduring is not for nothing...

Though Sayuri cannot feel the cold, Eir most certainly can. His thumb traces over one of the rivulets of ice on her cheek, lips parted in a wavery breath. "---Sayuri?" Eir asks, some muted joy in his tone. "How… How are you feeling this sun?" A pause, then. "…Does it hurt?"

".. O-other than from walking into s-something..?" She half-laughs, even if it's very short lived, and her features sink into a small frown afterwards. ".. N-no? I.. I f-feel fine.."

He gives another soft stroke of her cheek, before one hand reaches for her shoulder, trailing down to her icy hands. Taking it gently in his own, he pulls it before him, stroking the back of her hand. "…Sayuri… Your ice. It is back and…" A smile, then as his forehead meets hers. "…You are not in pain… Save for walking into something."

Her arm reluctantly uncoils from him as he pulls her hand to himself, fingers gently curling around his. "..It-.. it is..?" Sayuri's unfocused eyes widen, and promptly threaten to well up with tears again. "..I-.." A faint pause, then, as her forehead rests against his. "..H-he didn't.. lie.."

"…He did not. I am glad he did not, though i wish he could have done away with all of this suffering, but… Sayuri… You…" Gently, his head nudges against her own. "…Your aether. They have not taken it from you. And we need only endure another sun after this one, and all will be as it should be…"

Eir's words swiftly make her unable to hold her tears back, a little sob followed by a faint but more joyous sounding laugh leaving her as she pushes her head back against his. "..S-soon.." She smiles, this one a touch more genuine.

"Soon. So soon…" He brings his lips against her own for a kiss, sinking against her as a kiss of celebration, before he parts. "…I thought to make the most of a kiss before you take your potion. I have breakfast ready upstairs… If you want me to bring it down?"

Her arm still around him offers a squeeze as their lips meet, a soft laugh leaving her in response to his words. "..Y-yeah.." She murmurs.

"…Yeah." Eir echoes, giving her a gentle squeeze. He shuffles to the curtain, to gently guide her back to her comfortable, pillow-filled palace, then slowly parting to move to his feet. "I will not be a moment, yes?" He says, before bolting up the stairs.

Sayuri shuffles herself underneath a blanket with Eir's guidance, safe in her pit of pillows where she can't blindly run into bookcases. She offers a small nod, as she bundles herself up.

...Some silver lining, to all of this. It is not for nothing. She will have her ice back, and soon, and... All will be as it should be. She can be without suffering. Any God watching knows she has suffered enough.

A barrelled set of footfalls up the stairs later, and a gentle and more steady descent not so long after, Eir arrives with the tray in tow, set in the flat of the floor just in the entry way as he stepped in to join her, bundling himself up beside her. "…Nothing heavy, just fruit." A small frown, then. "…I spent a little time trying to make it look pretty. Hearts, moons, and stars and such. I made swan-shaped rolanberries too, but…" A small shrug of his shoulders, then. "…You will have to take my word for it. What would you like first?"

".. Oh." It leaves her quietly, and a touch sadly, ears drooping back as she's unable to see the lovely work of the shaped fruits. She leans herself in Eir's direction to gently bump against him, in her inability to find his face for a smooch. ".. Thank you. I have no doubt it looks lovely." She murmurs. ".. Heart."

Eir kisses her right back, though rather than reach for the food, simply opts to smile in that amused way he often did with her. "…I am right here. Not going anywhere…" He muses.

".. Good." She smiles, nudging her head against him.

He picks up a heart-shaped piece of melon, and the vial soon after, which he pushes into her hand. "…Three more left, after this one. I am holding something for you to eat after. And, i made more ginger tea in the event you still feel unsettled."

She merely nods and closes her hand around the vial, as unhappy as ever to take it - but certainly not making any complaints now that she knows it's actually helping and not just causing her suffering. The cork is removed and the vial brought to her face, lightly tapping against her lip to ensure her aim before she drains the vial, and grimaces in disgust at the taste.

"Do you think he made it taste so terrible because he has no concept of real food to compare it to?" Eir tilts his head, half making a joke as he offers her the slice of watermelon, reaching for the tea to follow it up. "Though… I do not think it all the same fare…"

Sayuri swiftly presses the watermelon slice into her mouth to quell the awful taste, one brow slightly lofting. ".. Well.. I doubt.. he was fed what we were.." She pauses, accepting the cup as it's settled in her hands. ".. According to Vex, only those under the same rank as her ate as awfully as us."

"I have eaten some truly dreadful food in my time alive, and that was certainly the worst thing i have ever put in my mouth. No exceptions." Eir reaches for his drink, and a small slice of star-shaped mango. "Even military rations were better than this, if not bland and unseasoned. I craved fruit for cycles during my conscription. Even picked up wild spices and put them in my pockets during my rounds to make anything taste nicer."

It became something of a source of amusement for some of the others. I was teased, yes, but it was not... Unkind. ...I was lucky to have them as friends.

".. Mh, I don't know.." She pauses, uncertain how to voice her thoughts. ".. I have some strong contenders, for every person I have bitten and torn something off." Another pause, to sip from her tea. ".. It's a bit of a list, now." Her head tilts, eyes shifting in Eir's direction without truly settling on him. ".. I can imagine. Not.. a lot of time for pleasant food for the soldiers."

"…At least some of that biting was with purpose. Wounding, defending, disarming. May that bastard never have gloves that fit." Eir huffs, before shaking his head, realising she can't see, and speaking. "…No. Not completely unpleasant food. Better after my promotion. But… Fruit was a rarity. Juny smuggled me an apple for my namesday, once cycle. I think the only part i did not eat was the stem."

".. I'd like to say I've never bitten anyone without purpose." Another pause. ".. Whether or not the purpose is an acceptable one, is a different story. Sure, plenty of the slavers.. But.. I have also bitten Masashi, in the past." An ear perks up as she listens, a small smile settling on her lips. ".. That was kind of him."

"…When you were training, i imagine?" Eir asks, reaching for another piece of fruit, and nudging the platter a little closer for her. "…You have bitten me. I did not complain." He murmurs, briefly offering an unseen smirk that soon softens. "…It was. He… Was." Eir falls into an uncharacteristic quiet, looking over the fruit on the platter. "…Though perhaps good that… You never met."

".. Not always." She admits. "I was.. much worse as a child, many things set me off. Masashi.. often bore the brunt of that, disciplining me when needed and giving me tough love when I absolutely deserved it. He did it so Yasu and Kazan didn't have to, so that they wouldn't lose my trust." Noting the nudge, Sayuri does reach for the platter - finding a pointy shaped fruit which she fishes up with her claws to then eat, lofting a brow. "And of all the people I have bitten, you tasted the best." A small grin, then, which soon fades at the silence. ".. How so?"

I still remember the taste of that apple. Likely mediocre at best compared to some of the fancier fruits i have eaten, but it had been so long since i had fresh fruit... He stole it from one of the fruit bowls during a meeting of medicus, and gifted me it for one of my namesdays... The thought of it... Got me through some of my more difficult suns.

"…Then it was wise of him to do so. Trust.. It is precious now. I imagine just as difficult to earn, if not more so, when you were a child. And when you were old enough to understand… you must have appreciated it. He is a good person, if… Not a little intimidating." Eir drains his tea, setting it aside. "…Juny was… He was kind. Talented and funny. Though i know your stance on Garleans is different to how it was when we met… Juny was more devout than most to their cause."

".. Hard to earn the trust of one who has known nothing but abuse." She mumbles, circling her finger against the cup still in her hands. "He ensured that my parents were a source of comfort by taking the role of my mentor, and I am very thankful for it. That.. and everything he has taught me." A faint smile, then. "He was one of the first people I met after Kazan bought me to the East. He, alongside my father's retainer, waited for our arrival to Kugane. He intimidated me too, but only showed me kindness." She drains her own cup, yet continues to hold it - uncertain where it'd be safe to put it. Her ear perks a touch, head sinking along into a small nod of understanding at his words. ".. Perhaps for the best we did not, but.. he was dear to you. I would've liked to thank him for being there for you."

"He has only ever been kind to me too. Kind and… Perhaps a little silently judgemental, i feel. But i suppose that is only normal, considering." He gives a small, bashful little smile. "Juny was…" A trail, and a long, awkward silence as Eir glances away. "…There is no doubt in my mind, that i am alive because of him. That sun i almost perished in Werlyt, i was saved by his hands, and no small number of scrapes and wounds besides were tended to him. I know you likely would not see eye to eye. But thanking him… I can understand, that." Taking her cup to settle beside his own, his brow furrows just a little. "…I was blind for moons when we first grew so close. Though i managed to adapt… I am glad, that this is a temporary thing for you…"

".. For his sake, I damn well hope he has been nothing but kind." A small pout settles on her lips. ".. Well, you are married to someone he's protective of, he'll ease up eventually." Her head turns in Eir's direction, a short silence lingering as she considers his words. ".. We'd likely disagree on things about Garlemald, but.. By the sounds of it, we'd agree on things about you. And saving your life..? I could.. hold my tongue about that in particular." The cup leaves her hands, and she leans herself towards him. ".. I'm glad it was curable for you."

"I hope so." Eir quietly muses, tucking her in one of his arms. "…There was a very realistic possibility it would not be. That i would have lived my life blind, never seeing your beautiful face from that fateful sun. I would have loved you all the same, of course. The only picture i had of you was one from memory… And what things i could discern by the touch of my hands alone."

"He will. Unless he wants to deal with me when I just might be able to kick his ass." She huffs, sinking into his embrace with a content sigh. "And I would've loved you no less for it." She murmurs, resting her head against him. "From memory.. When I had red hair."

"When you had red hair. And we were not yet… So close. Though i had long wished for it all the same." Eir quietly admits with a small hum, holding her close as he settled a kiss to her crown. "…I hope this warmth is a permanent thing. I still get the joys of having your cold, and you get the comfort of a warm embrace. There a good many things i would like to experience with you, if it is…"

Her ears wiggle happily as he kisses her crown, offering a gentle nudge in return. ".. Mmh? Like what?"

"I… I mean. Aside from the obvious." A warmth blossoms from his face, before he continues, clearing his throat. "…Going somewhere sunny, and feeling the warmth on your skin. A hot spring. Cosying up by a campfire. Though suppose you have already experienced some of the pleasant things like cups of tea and blanket-laden snuggles with your husband…"

"..I will happily re-experience the cup of tea and blanket-laden snuggles with my husband. The latter, moreso." She murmurs, offering a small smile.

"Well, you have those no matter what." Eir nestles into her a little closer, arms curled around her in a gentle embrace. "…I just hope it stays. If there has been one glimmer of joy in your recovery that was not your aether, it has been this."

"I know, but.. it's been.. really nice." She murmurs, snuggling herself into him. ".. I hope so too."

"…We can hope. If it goes, perhaps… We can seek something out for that too. We at least know it is possible, if nothing else." Eir kisses her on the forehead with a pleased sigh, then. "…I would ask what you wished to do, this sun. I know our options are a little limited, with your current circumstances. So i will assume you do not mind burying into the pillows for a sun…" A pause, then. "…Or at least, another sun."

We... Have spent most of her recovery here; not that i mind even in the smallest way. Books, chattering, cups of tea. It has been peaceful. Even on the hard suns. To know she finds me as a source of comfort is... ...Is it selfish, to feel such a thing?

".. Do I mind staying in and snuggled up with my husband?" She smiles faintly. "Not one bit."

"…Good. Though i will have to depart to cook dinner at some point. Though i am not adverse to carrying you upstairs and setting you on the counter while i work, if you want company?"

A faint pause, ears tilting back and her body sinking further against him. "..I don't want to be alone." She mumbles.

"…Then you will not be. I will wrap you in a blanket and set you on the sofa? That way you need not be without me, or warmth. Or i can carry you to the kitchen, and you can wrap your arms around my waist while i cook?"

".. My preference is to be with you, but.. I don't want to keep you from being able to move as you need to.."

"…You will not. So long as you eat something, it matters not what it is." Eir cuddles her close. "…My Moon… If it is time with me that matters most, i can always make something simple. You need not be without me this sun, if you want me near."

Sayuri turns herself enough to be able to coil her own arms around him, squeezing him tightly. There's a moment of silence, before she leans her head to bump it into him and hide her face away. ".. I'm sorry I'm being clingy." She mumbles.

"…Sayuri…" His voice is full of softness, and if there were much point in doing it, he'd have gently tilted her face to look at him. Instead, he offers a gentle trace of his hand at her shoulder. "You are my wife. You can never be too clingy. Too needy. When i meant i would cherish every moment with you, i meant everything from the grandiose to the quiet. I love you…" He buries his face into her, offering a gentle squeeze… And some small wavery exhale. "…I love you more than i have words to tell you."

Sayuri offers another squeeze, nudging her head against him. ".. I love you too." She murmurs, exhaling a soft sigh afterwards. ".. You are my comfort. My safety. I-.." She pauses, contemplating how to word what she wants to say. ".. Despite.. that everything is shrouded in darkness.. Knowing you're with me.. makes it easier.."

"…Those words you just said. Do… You remember my vows?" Eir asks, giving a little pause. "…You are the moon. The light in my darkness. Even in the most difficult times… Your bright light is a constant. If this is how you feel, with me… Know that what you are feeling now is how i feel with you, always."

".. Shining so brightly that any hardship would pale in comparison." She quotes. Yes, she remembered. There's a prolonged pause, before she continues to quote the very words he had spoken during their wedding. "I promise to be with you, through every happiness, every difficulty, sorrow or joy." She tightens her wrap of him and drags herself a little closer.

...She remembered. The words i spoke to her, on our wedding day. Though i suppose i should not be surprised... They... Must have meant so much, to her.

"…I meant every word, Sayuri. I will live every day as proof of that." His arms embrace her tightly, taking a deep exhale that left him with a waver. Notably, burying his face in her hair as his temperature began to climb. "…I… I want to be with you, always…"

".. I know." She murmurs, keeping herself tightly against him. It takes a moment for her to notice, but eventually, she does. ".. You're really warm."

"I…" Eir hadn't consciously noticed himself, but simply opts to bury his face into her. "…I am fine. Worry not. Just warm, and comfortable, enjoying every moment i am able to with my wife…"

Sayuri presses her face more firmly against him to determine exactly where her own head was, before pushing herself up until her head found his, where she then presses a soft smooch against his cheek. ".. I'm not going anywhere. Less so, this sun." She manages a small smile.

"…And i am going nowhere. Not without you." He smiles at the gentle affection, pressing a kiss to her lips before shuffles more firmly into the pillows. "…Which means likely, nowhere this sun. But if that means i can stay here, wrapped up cosy in the pillows…" Eir sighs peacefully. "…That is fine by me."

A smile swiftly furnishes Sayuri's lips as they meet with his. She snuggles herself into his side and nestles herself there, with no intention of moving away from her location anytime soon. ".. Maybe the garden for some air later..?"

"…Certainly. Though i know you will not be able to see the flowers, you will surely be able to smell them. Perhaps we will have lunch there…?" Eir gives a small murmur as he pulls her close, not intending to leave the comfort of the pillows. "…But for now, i do not want to move. I just want to hold you close…"

".. I know they're there. I can admire them in my head." She murmurs, nuzzling herself into him a little further and sinking into the comfort.