#i think i caused myself grief by blending colours

[xsuesartblog]

best way to describe how i feel about this was on insta i said it felt like the artistic equivalent of being hit in the head with a brick

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 6

A/N Where does the time go?  I lugged my laptop 7,000km round trip with the sole intention of working on this fic, but that apparently didn’t happen.  For those who found the last chapter hard to bear, I apologize in advance.  I am not quite finished being cruel.  With that said, trigger warning for character death, childhood disease, suicide ideation.  The chapter title is Sleeping in the Clouds.

The first five chapters are available on my AO3 page.

Five Months Later

A persistent mechanical bleating lifted Claire from the indeterminate depths of medicated sleep.  The emergency contact number she provided to all her patients was programmed to forward to her mobile, where a particularly aggravating ringtone ensured she would never miss a call.  Even at one am on a Tuesday night.

Fumbling for the device, she glanced at the unfamiliar number before answering.

“Doctor Beauchamp speaking.”  Her voice was gritty and rough.  She reached for a half-filled tumbler of water while waiting for the caller to identify themselves.  Over the line she could make out muted traffic noise, and perhaps a distant foghorn, but no-one spoke.

“Hello?” she inquired, torn between concern that a patient needed her and frustration that she might have been woken by a misdialed number.

“If you’re one of my patients, you need to talk to me so that I can help you.”

There was an intake of breath, a weepy sniffle, and then the click of the call being terminated.  A prickle of gooseflesh washed over her.  She couldn’t say exactly how, but she knew who had called, and that he needed her.

One of the grim perks of her job was that she had backdoor access to reverse look-up for telephone numbers, in cases where there was a threat of self-harm or harm to others.  As Claire hastily donned socks and grabbed a winter coat, she waited on hold for the PSAP operator to provide an address.

“We’re in luck, Doctor Beauchamp.  It wasna a mobile number.  In fact, tis a telephone booth.  Gote Lane, in Queensferry.  Down near the... umm, next tae the bridge.”

Without so much as a thank you, she hung up and frantically punched the app for an Uber.

Fifteen nail biting minutes and an excessive tip later, she stood in front of an empty phone booth.  Predictably, the directory had been torn out, leaving only a thin metal cord and car-key graffiti inside the cramped interior.  But on top of the phone itself she found a familiar ecru business card, her name and credentials embossed in black font.

“Damn it, Jamie,” she muttered to herself, palming the card.

If he’d hung up and started walking towards the bridge, she might be able to catch him if she ran all out, but something called her towards the nearby shore instead.

The tide was out, leaving a narrow strip of beach and sharp, slimy rocks exposed to the heavy air.  Her nostrils were assaulted by the briny vegetative rot of the retreating sea.

On a weathered bench facing the river, encircled by a cone of foggy streetlight, sat a man, his eyes trained on the smudgy lights of the Queensferry bridge hovering high above.  Even bundled in a heavy black jacket and watch cap, she would recognize his long limbs and the set of his shoulders anywhere.  She let out a long breath of relief.

She approached the bench cautiously, not certain if her presence would be welcome.  Instead of turning to greet her footsteps, Jamie addressed the bridge.

“Maggie passed t’day.  I called ‘cause I wanted ye tae know, but then I couldna find the words tae tell ye.”  Despite his refusal to look at her, his words were calm and without a hint of the bitterness she’d expected.

“Oh, Jamie.  I’m so terribly sorry.  I didn’t know her well, but she was a very special little girl who loved you dearly.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of her words, but didn’t reply.  She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, suddenly aware that she was still wearing her pajamas, her hair doubtless a veritable cumulus of tangled curls.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.  “I still have some contacts at the hospital, I could...” she broke off, knowing it was ridiculous to offer professional assistance when she’d been the one to sever their relationship.

“Would ye, if it’s no’ too much tae ask, would ye mind jus’ sittin’ here with me fer a bit?”

He finally turned to look at her, and she could see the spider web of red veins that surrounded his irises, testimony to his heartbreak.  His mouth, usually such an accurate barometer of his mood, was strangely inert.  She nodded, unable to deny him such a simple request.

It was the time of night when the daytime symphony of the city broke into its component parts, every passing car, every lapping wave a single instrument singing its own plaintive song.  They sat in silence for long enough that she could feel the damp creeping up the legs of her pajamas.

“Maggie loved tae cross that bridge,” Jamie said at last.  “She’d lower her window, rain or shine, and stick her wee arm out, sayin’ it felt like she was flyin’.”

Claire smiled at the image, trying to picture the little girl with the giant imagination.

“What colour was her hair, Jamie?” she asked.  “Was it red, like yours?”

“Nah, dark, like Jenny’s and our Da.  But wi’ curls like mine and my Ma’s.  A little like yours, actually, Sassenach.  That is, before the chemo took it away.”

She grimaced, not knowing what topic to choose that wouldn’t lead Jamie on a path directly back to his grief.

“She fought sae hard,” he continued before she could attempt another distraction, “but the cancer wouldna let her win.”  Tears were rolling down his cheeks, glinting in the sodium light like stars, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.  “She was the best person I knew.  Sounds strange tae say of a wee lass, but she truly was.  An’ it made me a better person tae love her.  What the fuck am I gonna do now?”

Jamie was looking straight at her, as though he truly expected her to offer useful guidance.  All her training, her professional distance, fell away in the face of one broken man.  She swallowed, searching for words that weren’t a platitude.

“You’re going to go on living, because she can’t.  Because your happiness, when you are ready to feel it again, will be a gift to her memory.”

Jamie sniffed, then wiped his sleeve across his face.  He placed his hand on the bench between them.  Without allowing herself to think, Claire reached for it, finding his skin surprisingly warm.  There was an agonizing fermata, when all the instruments held their breath, and then he turned his palm upwards to meet her own.  Beneath the fog the river slipped by, blending endlessly into the sea.

"Look, Jamie, I know it’s not the right time, but I want to tell you that I’m sorry.  For the way I treated you, and ended things, and...”

“Nay, Sassenach, it’s me who should apologize.  I had no right tae throw my diagnosis at ye like some kinda weapon.  An’ when I think of how I heedlessly brought up yer becoming a mother.  I, of all people.  Weel, suffice it tae say I’ve spent many an hour regretin’ my words an’ actions.”

She squeezed his hand, wordlessly declaring them equal in remorse.

“How have ye been?” he inquired, peering at her as though trying to read her state of mind on the planes of her face.  She chuckled, looking away when the intensity of his gaze became too much.

“About the same, I suppose.  Better some days than others.  Geillis has started ordering my lunches for me, so I no longer have any excuse not to eat.”  Jamie nodded, seemingly pleased with this news.

“And you?  Are you still seeing Dr. Rafferty?  I... uhh, I know his office requested your file.”

In fact, Giles Rafferty had called her the week after her confrontation with Jamie, wondering why his new patient’s record of treatment contained no more than his biographical details and the time and date of each of his appointments.  She told him the same thing she’d told Geillis when she asked the same question in significantly cruder terms: that her weekly interactions with Jamie had never led to a professional diagnosis or a recommended course of treatment.

“Aye. He’s a good man, although tragically immune tae my charms.  Unlike some.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Fraser,” she warned, although his rakish grin warmed her from the inside out.

“I’ll be darkening his doorway wi’ some frequency, after t’day,” he continued with a return to solemnity.

And yet you called me, Claire wanted to say, but didn’t.  When his beloved niece had slipped away, hers had been the number he had dialed, despite everything.  The very idea made her thoughts flit about like fireflies.

“I missed ye, Sassenach,” he confessed quietly after a time.

“I missed you too, Jamie.”

They sat together through the thin hours of the night, talking, sharing memories of Maggie, but mostly in silent companionship.  As dawn brightened the eastern sky, the fog began to lift, revealing an overcast sky.  The lights of the bridge blinked out, and the city’s music began anew.  Claire wished futilely that day would never break, knowing that it would bring them both the pain of two very different kinds of goodbye.

Her hand, when Jamie finally let it go, felt strange, as though it had been separated from its source.  She tucked it quickly into her pocket.

“I.. errr, I need tae be goin’,” Jamie said by way of apology.  “Ian and Jenn will be needin’ me.”

“Yes, of course.  I’ll just, um, call myself an Uber.”

They were both standing, neither seemingly knowing how to part.

Jamie opened his mouth, paused, shook his head in frustration, then looked away.  Her traitorous hand escaped her pocket and found its way to his chest.

“I’ll be thinking of you.  All of you.  If there’s anything, anything at all..”

“How long until your no’ my doctor anymore?  Ethically speakin’.”  He was looking at her in a way that made the fireflies whirlpool about.

“What?” she asked to buy herself some time to breath.

“Before I go an’ face everything that is wrong about t’day, I want tae ken, how long must I wait before I can kiss ye again wi’out riskin’ yer reputation?”

“There’s no written timetable,” she stalled.  “It’s a question of a doctor exerting undue influence or the exploitation of the patient’s trust, and there’s really...”

“Those rules are meant tae protect the patient, aye?  So I should be allowed tae waive them, no’?”

“Jamie...”

“Fine, let me rephrase my question.  Doctor Claire Beauchamp, when can I, James Fraser, ask ye tae look upon me as a potential suitor and no’ a former patient?  Six months?  A year?  Two years?”

“You really are the most infuriatingly stubborn man,” she huffed.

“Aye, I ken.  Sae, two years?  Do we have an agreement, Sassenach?”

“Fine, yes, two years, but Jamie, I don’t expect you to...”

A finger was placed across her lips, silencing her protests.

“Two years are naught if I can kiss ye again once they have passed.  Until then, Claire, please take care of yerself.”

She stood by the bench long after Jamie was gone, staring out across the river.  A flock of geese flew by in formation, broad wings nearly touching the surface of the water as it reflected the steel gray clouds above.  She thought of little Maggie, and her birdhouse surrounded by clouds.  A sob wrestled its way up her throat, surprising in its urgency.  And then, she allowed herself to cry.

[istanleyff7]

TOTP, Episode Aerith, Scenes 15-21

Final Fantasy VII Remake: Traces of Two Pasts Episode 2: Aerith Scenes 15-21 A Light Novel by Kazushige Nojima Translated by Stanley (@istanleyff7 on twitter) Scene 15

"My mother and I think alike. There are too many names, and we didn't know whether they're good or not. So we said, that's good enough. This name will be somewhat fine. Whew, perfect.'

"But you're Aerith now, aren't you? So there was an issue after all?

"Yeah it was a big one. In terms of the number of incidents, I don't think you’ll beat me to it, Tifa."

She let out a huge sigh, and Tifa then showed sympathy for her struggles.

Scene 16

It was the day after they decided on the name 'Rona'. Marvin came down in the morning, Roger in the evening. And the day after that, Bauman came down in the morning and Lewis in the evening. All of them brought gifts for Rona, the daughter of a relative taken in by Elmyra Gainsborough. She was the wife and the representative of Clay, the second in charge, who was the representative of Gabriel, the first in charge. Apparently, the news spread quickly to everyone who was related to the business. The old-fashioned room on the second floor turned into a vibrant space full of primary colours because of the children's souvenirs.

Aerith particularly liked the 'animal cards' and 'plant cards' that Bauman had brought over. With Elmyra's permission, she pasted the cards on the wall. She was able to lose track of time gazing at the illustrations of unknown creatures. It's not that she didn't like the other gifts - such as the books and the dolls. Whatever it was, the experience of receiving things like gifts and souvenirs was new and exciting. Except in the mornings and evenings when she had to attend to her guests, mainly the members that were the third in charge, Elmyra still spent her time outside. Rodin secretly told Aerith that Elmyra no longer went to the station but roamed around the slums. She wonders if Clay was wandering the streets because he couldn't go home for some reason. That's what she thinks.

Scene 17

"And then, the night came."

Tifa then nodded quietly next to her.

"My mother, Ifalna, came that night and looked down the corridor with a troubled look on her face. I got out of bed, opened the door and looked down the aisle. I could see the light downstairs. I went down and saw my mother, Elmyra, washing the dishes and scrubbing them clean in the kitchen. I could smell the grass. It had a thick, stuffy smell. I thought I heard voices, and I saw a trooper standing at the door."

Scene 18

Aerith thought that Shinra's soldiers had come to take her away. Startled, he called for Elmyra, but she did not move. Her voice was not heard, and the trooper turned to look at her. Then he took off his helmet. He was the man she had only seen in pictures.

"Clay?"

His face was dirty, and when looked closely, he could be seen covered in mud. He really looked like he had been wandering around a lot.

"Welcome back, Clay."

However, Clay was only just looking around his surroundings and looked like he was unsure where to go. Elmyra didn't notice him, even though the Clay she loves was right over there!

"Mummy!"

Sure enough, she can't hear her.

“Clay!”

Clay closes his eyes tightly and opens them again. He probably thought that this would change the scene in front of him. What was he seeing? He closed and opened them again and rubbed them with the back of his hands repeatedly. He let out a loud sigh and then crouched down at where he stood. Even though she tried to get closer, her legs would not move.

"Clay!"

As expected, Aerith couldn't be heard. Clay sprawled his body on the floor, and it looked like he used all his strength to do so. His lips were moving. Aerith wondered what he was saying and then focused on his consciousness.

“Elmyra, I'm sorry,” Aerith felt that he said that.

"Clay, no! Mummy, please look here!" Aerith yelled.

After that, she woke up. She was on her own bed. However, she firmly believed that it was not a dream. Clay passed away. Moments before his death, his spirit connected with the planet, and he probably went to see the place he had wanted to visit the most before he died. She wondered if he had seen Elmyra.

Aerith got out of bed, went downstairs, and saw Elmyra standing in the kitchen, washing the dishes. There was no longer any unusual smell.

"Mummy."

How should she tell her?

"Mummy, don't cry."

Elmyra turned around with a puzzled expression.

"What's wrong?"

"A man you really really love just died. His heart came a long way to say goodbye. But he couldn't stay 'cause he had to return to the planet."

Elmyra looked at her in silence.

"Are you saying that Clay is dead?"

"Yes. But, I think he had properly returned to the planet."

"Aerith. Go back to your bed."

There was undeniable anger in her voice. Aerith's chest tightened.

"Mummy..."

"Go back to your bed."

"Clay had returned to the planet. He'll always be connected with you, Mummy. That's why..."

Elmyra forcefully took Aerith in her arms, carried her up the stairs and put her back in bed as if she were luggage. She slammed the door and left, with her anger lingering in the room. Aerith covered herself with her blanket and cried. She wasn't crying because she had angered Elmyra. She was sad that Elmyra could not see Clay.

She felt Ifalna's presence was very close to her. Even though she had her blanket, she knew it was her.

"Mummy..."

She peered out of the blanket and saw a kind face, but Ifalna looked different than usual. Aerith could see the wall through her face, and she could see through Ifalna's body. She looked like Clay just before he disappeared.

"Mummy!"

Aerith jumped up in a panic. Her mother's face blended in with the patterns on the wall. Her lips were moving, and she was saying something, but Aerith couldn't hear anything. She reached out to feel Ifalna, but she lost her balance and fell off the bed. Her whole body hurt, but she bore with it and searched for her mother. Her whole body was disappearing, and her mouth was moving. As expected, she couldn't hear her voice, and she completely disappeared. There was no longer a sign of anyone.

↞↠

The next day was quiet. When Aerith woke up, Elmyra had already left the house. She had prepared a simple meal for her and left a note saying that she would be out until evening before returning home and that she would not have any guests today. Aerith finished her meal and went back upstairs to her room. She opened a drawer from her desk and took out a small pouch. In it, was a white materia that Ifalna had given her. She placed it on the palm of her hand and grasped it tightly. She then felt at ease. That was the only thing that did not change.

In the evening, the door opened quietly. The sound of footsteps, followed by the pull of a chair, can be heard if listened carefully. Aerith concealed her footsteps and headed downstairs. She saw Elmyra sitting at her usual seat at the dining table, sprawled on the table, and could hear her weeping. Elmyra probably noticed Aerith's presence and turned around to look at her. Her eyes were deep red.

"The news came from Shinra. The helicopter he was on crashed into the forest. Because he went away from the crash site, it seems that they discovered him late. He probably tried to exit the forest. Why didn't he just stand by and wait? He was always like that."

"He wanted to see you, Mummy. That's why he walked. He came to see you."

"And then he returned to the Planet? Stop talking about that already."

"But..."

"Why did he return to the Planet! His home is here, isn't it? Shouldn't this be the only place he returns to? That's a reason why he couldn't do that, and because of that, he's dead. No matter what anyone says, Clay's already..."

Elmyra raised her cries and bawled like a child. Aerith chest tightened by the sight of an adult crying.

"But even so, he returned to the Planet! We are connected with the Planet! That's why he'll always be together with you!"

"Aerith, I beg you. Stop it already, please."

"But I lost my Mummy Ifalna too! I won't believe that she didn't return to the Planet, I won't!"

↞↠

Over the next few days, Elmyra and Aerith were companions overcome by grief. They spent their time together, huddled together, and the warmth of each other's body was an antidote that relieved their loneliness. Butch and colleagues took turns to come and check on them after hearing of Clay's death. It seemed that Rodin told his colleagues to deliver Elmyra some food after finding out that Elmyra had even lost the will to do her house chores. Carlo appeared on behalf of Meguro, who was not feeling well. It was Aerith's first time meeting him. He was a tall, thin young man and had black, wet-looking hair combed down backwards. He seemed restless and always had some part of his body moving. Aerith was afraid of him at first because he gave a strong hooligan-like impression, but he was kind to Aerith from the start. To her surprise, Carlo volunteered to do all the house chores. Elmyra disliked him, but she tolerated him coming in and out of the house. Her spirits must have been so low.

A week or so has passed. There was a loud noise of tableware breaking in the kitchen. It did not seem like minor damage. Elmyra and Aerith were upstairs, but they couldn't ignore it and went to take a look at the situation.

Elmyra stared at the vast number of broken fragments scattered about the floor. Carlo drooped his head to the side.

"Is this expensive?"

"I have no idea. These were collected and given by Gabriel when Clay and I first got together."

"That probably isn't cheap... Or should I say, it's perhaps an exceptionally top-grade item? My apologies, Elmyra. I looked in the cupboard and saw a lot of dust... I can’t stand things being dusty, so I couldn't help myself but clean it..."

Elmyra was still staring at the fragments, ignoring Carlo, who was looking at her. Carlo, having given up on words of forgiveness, squatted down and began to pick up the broken pieces.

"Hey, Carlo. Can you go home now?”

"Elmyra," he said in a shameful voice. "Give me a chance."

"It's not that. If you pick up the pieces like that, won't you hurt yourself? I'll clean up afterwards. You go back. I'll talk to Meguro and tell him that you've helped a lot. Yes, that's the truth. You've helped me out."

Carlo's face lit up.

"You are so simple. You have to hide your emotions more to get ahead in this world."

"Ahhh, right."

Carlo slapped himself on the face, and his expression changed.

"Well then, I'll get going now, and call me if anything comes up. And, about the injury on your face, I'm sorry."

"I fell on my own, you know."

"No..." Carlo shook his head in denial. "I don't know how to apologise to Clay otherwise."

His voice was trembling. They looked at Carlo in surprise. He was crying.

"'He was a good man. He was always there for me when I made a fool of myself, scolding me and even connected me to Gabriel. I can't believe he's gone..."

"Hey, don't cry. It isn't cool."

The usual Elmyra was back. Carlo rubbed the area around his eyes with his arm and grinned.

“You too,” he awkwardly remarked and left.

"Well then..." Elmyra said as she looked around the house, "They've cleaned the place pretty well, but it's far off my standards! I'll have to clean the whole house. Aerith. No, Rona. Do you have the energy to help?"

"Yup!"

Aerith was surprised by her own cheerful voice.

Scene 19

"Then we did a major cleanup of the whole house together. Firstly, we cleared the broken fragments, then we opened all the windows and used a feather duster and a broom to get rid of the dust and the tears — Mum loves to clean, she has many brooms and mops in the house. She cut the handle of one of them with a saw for my use. We wiped the house down the next day. Once the house was clean, it was time to remodel the home. We decided to change the curtains in my room and the cover of my bed. It was then that we went shopping for the first time. It was the first time that we went out together.”

Scene 20

They were walking down an alleyway that continued from the front of their house and went past the neighbourhood "Sector 5 House" orphanage. Children around the same age as Aerith leapt out and blocked their way.

"You're Rona, right?", "Rona? She's Rona?", "You're an orphan?" , "Nope, I heard she's an adopted kid. How lucky!", "Come live here!", "How cute...", "Why are you so flashy?"

Aerith was disorientated by the rapid succession of crude remarks pouring down onto her and hid behind Elmyra. She felt uncomfortable because she wasn't addressed by 'Rona' when it was just the both of them back home. After Carlo left, the self-consciousness that she's Rona was also diminishing. She was feeling nervous, and then someone touched her hair from the side. Startled by the suddenness, Aerith let out a small shriek.

"Ayumu, stop it!"

An older boy yelled.

"If you pick on Rona, you'll get in trouble."

"I wasn't picking on her!"

"Yeah, she wasn't. I was just shocked. She isn't a bad kid."

"If that's the case, it's fine, but..."

"No, no, this is not fine." Elmyra butted in. "Jean, who would y'all get in trouble with?"

"Carlo said so."

Elmyra frowned at the reply of Jean, the older boy.

"Did you hear about Rona from Carlo?"

"Yup, that's right. If we make Rona from the Gainsborough household cry, he'll make us cry threefold."

Elmyra let out a sigh.

"Well, Rona, don't be shy. Say hi to them. These kids are from the Sector 5 House. They're like neighbours to us, so be nice to them, okay?"

Aerith was now ready.

"Hello, I'm Rona. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you!" A cheerful voice replied.

"I'm Sarah", "I'm Zoey", "I'm Glad", "I'm Yoko", "This is Ayumu. She's my sister."

Ayumu was the girl who touched her hair.

"'I'm Jean,' said the older boy at last. "You can come and play with us whenever you want."

"Okay, thank you."

"Do you want to play now?"

Ayumu invited her. The children all looked at her with eyes of expectancy, and that tickled Aerith. It was the first time that so many children of the same age, even though it's six of them, were staring at her. When she was at a loss as to how to respond, Elmyra stepped in to help.

"My bad, you all, but we're going shopping today. I'd like Rona to choose lots of things, so I can't leave her here. Please let her play with you all next time."

Elmyra took Aerith by the hand, and after a short distance, she looked back to see the children staring at her. One of the children, who introduced herself as Sarah, waved her tiny hand across her chest. After she waved back, the other children waved wildly in return. What a happy sight, wasn't it? Until they were out of sight, Aerith turned around and continued to wave her hand.

"It seems like you all can get along, doesn't it?"

"Yup!"

Aerith was then introduced to numerous acquaintances of Elmyra, including a café owner and the town doctor. They were all very friendly. Before they parted, Elmyra told them about Clay's death as if it were just another topic. Before they could express any surprise or words of condolences or sympathy, she would add, "I miss him, but having her helps me take my mind off him."

Before the slight smile on their faces faded off, Elmyra would walk away.

"I'm sorry, Aerith, for using this as an excuse to end the conversation. But I don't want to talk too much about Clay. It's probably better for me to talk about it, but for now, let me do this, please."

"Okay. I'm fine with it. But, I'm Rona, right?"

"Ahhh, yes. Rona. Even when it's just the both of us, I'll still have to address you as 'Rona'."

↞↠

It was one week after the introduction of Rona. Aerith was playing with the children in front of the Sector 5 House when she saw Meguro walking down the road. His pure white suit stood out against the earthy-coloured road. She was told earlier that he was coming over to visit and promised Elmyra that she would play at the House until then. A boy, probably around ten years old, was walking behind him. He was wearing relaxed-fitting trousers, a bright white shirt and had a bored look on his face. There was also a girl who walked up behind him. She was wearing a skirt, with the hem almost touching the ground, which was a rarity in the slums. She pinched her area around her thighs, and it looked like she had difficulty walking. She was wearing an ornate blouse and a large hat. With one look, they were three people who appeared to be well off.

"Oh!"

'Rona' (Aerith) understood the meaning of what she was seeing. Even though the impression was that Meguro was coming over alone, that was not the case. He had brought his children with him. In other words, the real Rona had come.

She apologised to her playmates and ran down the road. She then ran through the planked road in the garden and darted into the house.

"'Mummy, it's Mr Meguro. He's with his children. The real Rona is here!"

Elmyra did not seem too disturbed.

"'He didn't tell me that he would be with his children."

"What should we do?

"You mean the name? He isn't a shallow guy. He'll understand. I'm sure he already knows it too."

Meguro first introduced his son, Marcellus, then his daughter, Rona. Rona was looking at Aerith, who was not hiding her curiosity. Meguro then opened his attache case and took out three white flowers. He gives one to Marcellus and the other to Rona. Elmyra looked at the remaining one, which Meguro was holding onto.

"I'm sorry that these flowers are fake, but there's no way I would steal flowers from your garden."

Elmyra nodded and pointed at the photo frame on top of the table. It had a picture of a father and son, Clay and Gabriel, together. They looked as though they were brothers. Meguro and his children placed a flower in front of the picture. They crossed their fingers in front of their chest, put their palms together and closed their eyes. Aerith wondered what they were doing, and she looked at them with her mouth agape. Eventually, they opened their eyes and looked at Meguro. Aerith hurriedly closed her mouth.

"Is it unusual to pray? I'm old-fashioned, so this is how I convey my thoughts to the dead."

"Can you actually convey your thoughts?"

Marcellus snorted after she asked, and he probably felt fear the next moment as Meguro glared at him. Aerith glanced at Rona for a moment. Their eyes met, and Rona smiled.

"That's what I believe, and the important thing is to believe. Gabriel used to tell me often that it is the foundation of everything."

Elmyra was listening, and she quietly nodded.

"Well, Elmyra. I would have immediately come over, but my body didn't allow me to," Meguro said apologetically.

"It's alright. You sent Carlo over, didn't you? He really helped me out."

"How was Carlo?"

"He worked as though he was a different person, I can't help but wonder if something strange happened.”

"Clay was someone he adored dearly like his own brother, you know. I think he wanted to repay Clay by helping you out. He probably was so aggressive towards you all the time because he didn't like that you took him away from him, Elmyra.

"That's childish of him. Nope, I was the same as him too. Clay always took Carlo with him when he goes out for the night,  and I can't tell you how many times I've complained about it."

"Hey, I'm thirsty," Marcellous muttered to his father. He was pouting.

"What should you do if you're thirsty?"

The boy looked annoyed for a moment, but he quickly realised what he should do and asked Elmyra for a drink.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't notice. I'll be right with you."

As Elmyra was preparing the drinks, Rona came running up to Aerith.

"I was born in March. What month were you born in Aerith?

"I was born in February."

"Ahhh, so you're only a month older than I am."

"She's not Aerith. She's Rona, isn't she? She stole your name," Marcellus condemned.

"I don't mind at all, okay?" Rona uttered with a smile.

She truly didn't seem to mind. However, there was a premise amongst everyone that Aerith stole her name. Aerith felt pain in her breathing as if her heart had been clenched."

"About that..."

Elmyra was carrying a tray of lemonade. She handed them out to everyone, interrupting Aerith.

"Meguro, I was thinking of a new name for Aerith at your suggestion, but I didn't decide on it properly, and Aerith had to introduce herself suddenly. And at that time, she replied 'Rona' on the spur of the moment."

"After I heard from Mr Meguro about Rona, I wondered what she was like. I wondered if I could meet her and wondered whether we could get along. I kept thinking about Rona, so I said her name."

"It's my fault that I didn't control the situation properly. Since the word has been spread across the neighbourhood, may we leave her name like that?"

Meguro gave a composed nod.

"Of course. There shouldn't be an issue."

"I'm happy about it!" Rona's voice lit up. "After all, you liked the name, didn't you? My mama thought up the name 'Rona' and named me that."

"But she died after giving birth to you, though."

Marcellus struck his sister in the shoulder, and the expression on Rona's face completely went away.

"Marcellus, if you blame Rona for that again, I'll throw you out of the house," Meguro declared with a low voice.

"Okay." Marcellus nodded. He looked like he was sulking.

He was foaming and playing with the lemonade, blowing it through a straw inserted in the glass. He was having fun gushing the lemonade out from the glass and getting the table wet. It's going to be tough getting along with this boy, Aerith thought. But Elmyra trusts Meguro, and that was his son. She decided to make peace with it all and went ahead with it.

"Then we will also..." Meguro uttered, "address you as Rona, not Aerith. It's important to make a habit of these things regularly."

"Rona, nice to meet you," said the real Rona.

"Nice to meet you, Rona," Aerith replied. "Marcellus, nice to meet you too."

There was no response.

"Okay, children. We have some business to attend to, so you all can go outside and play. Only in the garden, though. Don't go into the alley."

"Understood."

Marcellus replied firmly and drank his lemonade in one gulp. Rona imitated him in a hurry and Aerith also did so, but she choked and spilled some on the table. Elmyra laughed and pressed her to go off quickly.

When they went out into the garden, they saw Jean and his friends from Sector 5 House watching them from the garden entrance.

"'Pathetic orphans!” Marcellus spat and waved at them.

"'Hey~!”

"What should we do, big brother? Orphans are scary."

"We don't have to worry since we've got a powerful dad."

The conversation between them made Aerith nervous. She had a feeling that something terrible was going to happen.

"Come on, y'all!" Marcellus called out for them in a cheerful voice.

"Is it alright if we come over?" Jean asks again.

"Of course. Let's play 'Tickling Ogre'."

"What's that? We don't know what that is."

Jean came into the garden accompanied by a group of children from the Sector 5 House. There were around two or three faces Aerith didn't recognize.

“It's a game that's popular in the Sector 4 Slums. Ahh, you all won't know that since you all live in an orphanage.”

Aerith did not overlook the gloominess that dwelled in Jean's eyes. But Ayumu was still young and unaware of Marcellus' malicious intent.

"Sounds interesting! Can you teach us how to play 'Tickling Ogre'? Hey, what're your names?" asked Ayumu.

"I'm Marcellus."

"I'm Rona."

The siblings introduced themselves. Aerith braced herself nervously.

"Ehhh? There are two Ronas!" Ayumu looked at Jean with an amazed look on her face.

"It's not a rare coincidence," Jean replied with a know-it-all look.

"It's a coincidence, alright."

Marcellus said in a low voice and looked triumphantly at Aerith.

"She stole the name of my little sister over here. Her real name is Aerith. She's Aerith, the name thief. Right?"

There was a grin on Marcellus' face. All the children who were there looked at Aerith.

"I'm not a thief! I'm not a thief!

"All thieves say that," Marcellus, who has finally shown his true colours, mocked her.

"Stop it, big brother!" Rona pleaded, but Marcellus didn't seem to hear her.

"I'm not a thief!"

That was the only thing she did not want to admit.

"Name thief."

"I'm not!"

Her voice was hoarse. She thought to herself that she should not cry, but tears rolled out of her eyes.

"I'm not!"

"You're an orphan, aren't you? You know what? You suit being at an orphanage. But you went into Clay's house. How clever!” Marcellus showed his disgust.

"Shut up!"

Someone rammed himself into Marcellus. It was Jean. With a short period of anguish, Marcellus falls on his back. Another boy pinned Marcellus down. His name was X. He doesn't usually play with the others much and instead helps the teachers. He was a small boy, but he must have been three or four years older than Aerith.

"Stop it! Get out of the way!"

"Don't make fun of the House!" X shouted.

"Shabby orphans, poverty-stricken orphans," Marcellus' abusive language did not stop.

"Fight! Fight!" the girls cheered on.

The children's violence made Aerith cower in fear.

"Stop it!" Rona shouted. "Big brother, apologise to them!"

X grabbed the collar of Marcellus' shirt and shook him.

"The first one that should apologise is Aerith! She's the name thief."

Marcellus did not give in. Jean looked down the alley and then at the door of the Gainsborough house.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault. I used Rona's name without her permission."

"You used it without her permission? Tell them you stole it!

"That's not true."

X slapped Marcellus on the cheek.

"Stop it!"

Aerith felt as though she had been struck. She did not feel like standing up for Marcellus, but she felt this was too much.

"Stop it, X.”

"Not unless he apologises. I can't forgive him for making a fool of us and the House.”

"Apologise!"

X shouted and was about to strike him again.

"Aerith first!"

Aerith wanted it to be over.

"I'm sorry. I stole Rona's name. I'm sorry, Rona. I'm sorry, Marcellus."

She was in tears. Jean moved and helped X up to his feet. Marcellus, now free, staggered to his feet.

"Hmm. You finally admit it."

There was a trickle of blood oozing from the cut on his mouth. His whole body was trembling. He looked as if he was doing his best to keep up a bold front.

"You're next. Apologise for insulting our House."

Marcellus slowly looked at Jean, then at the children of the House.

Then he grinned...

"Poverty-stricken orphanage!"

Firstly, Jean, X and the children whose names she did not know because it was the first time she saw them, jumped onto Marcellus one after another. Another fight had begun. Rona then let out a scream and ran to the Gainsborough house. That was it! She should have called for help from the start! Aerith also chased after Rona. Just as Rona was about to put her hand on the door, it opened, and Meguro appeared. He understood the situation at an instant.

"Hey!"

It was an angry voice that sounded like it gushed from the depths of the earth. Aerith could not imagine Meguro other than what he usually was, and she shuddered. The same was for the children who were fighting. Elmyra was astonished as she appeared by the doorway. Leaving Aerith, Rona and Elmyra behind, Meguro shortened the distance between him and the children.

"Run!" either Jean or X shouted.

The children of the House quickly disappeared into the alley. Meguro grabbed Marcellus by the ear as he stood there and brought him back to the Gainsborough house. Marcellus stumbled along, exclaiming that it hurt.

"I'm seriously fed up with you."

"They came into the garden. I tried to chase them away, but they started it."

"That's the reason for your actions?"

"It was firstly Aerith's fault."

"It has been settled. Rona and I gave her permission. It has nothing to do with you."

"But...!"

"You have to be smarter than that! How many times do I have to tell you for you to understand? Listen, Marcellus. You don't have a mother. Whenever you mess up, they'll say it's because you don't have a mother. You'll be smearing mud on the face of your mother and me, you understand?" Meguro continued to pull Marcellus's ear while scolding him.

"Meguro, that's about time to stop it."

Elmyra could not keep watching this and gently pressed down Meguro's hand.

"Yeah, I know."

Meguro then let go of Marcellus' ear―

"Aerith, I'm sorry. Please forgive Marcellus. He's a moron, but he did what he did because he thought of his little sister. Please forgive him for Rona's and my sake."

Marcellus was behind Meguro, glaring at her. Aerith was okay to accept whatever conditions so that she could put an end to this mess now.

"It's okay. It's my fault. I'm really sorry."

Aerith faced Meguro, Marcellus and Rona and apologised to them individually. Lastly, she looked up at Elmyra, and she gave her a tiny nod.

"Well then, Elmyra. Let's finish up the job. Rona and Aerith, you can go inside. Marcellus, you'll stay here and reflect."

Once inside the house, Aerith was looking out of the window at Marcellus. She wondered if that was what monsters were like. Soon it was time for Meguro and the others to leave.

"I'll stop by the orphanage to warn them. They are not to enter the Gainsborough garden. And if anything happens to Aerith... no... Rona, the orphanage may disappear. I probably should nail that into them that much."

"No, Meguro. I'll talk to them. I'm very close to the adults there. I'd like to keep things peaceful."

"...Well, if you like it that way, then it's fine. It's your property. But if you ever need my face, feel free to turn to me. Don’t need to hesitate."

He was no longer the kind-looking gentleman that Aerith met at first. That was a front for the children.

While she was vaguely thinking about that, Rona ran up to her and whispered, "My name, I'll let you use it, okay? You're special, Aerith."

Rona was both kind and cruel.

Scene 21

"Hey, is the Sector 5 House that Jean and the others were from, different from the Leaf House?"

Tifa, who had been listening in silence, raised the question.

"It's the same, it's the same. If I recall correctly, the 'Lower Class Sector 5 House' was the official name, and Sector 5 House was the common name. That name was changed to the 'Leaf House'. I didn't know it at the time, but there was a rumour that its proprietors were selling kids away."

"Ehhh!?"

"It seems that neither the children nor teachers knew about it. Negotiations were then held with the house's proprietors by X, and he bought the house over. He was one of the kids that stood up against Marcellus and had grown up."

"I see. There was a fellow Avalanche member who had been aiding the orphanage he was raised in, so I thought he was related to this, but it seems like it's different..."

Tifa looked disappointed.

"Biggs?"

"You know him!?"

"I never met him, but a lot of the teachers and kids were talking about him. He was respected... ahhh!?"

Due to shock, Aerith's voice unconsciously became louder.

"X is Biggs!"

"What do... you mean?"

"He didn't have a name because he was picked up as a baby. So the people in the House decided to call him 'X' until his name was decided. He liked the alias, and he kept calling himself 'X'. He declared that he would give himself the best name one day."

When the kids at the House found out that Aerith's name 'Rona' was fake, the reactions were mixed. But only X, talked about the situation about his name and consoled her. It was better to decide one’s name on one’s own.

Aerith saw Tifa's eyes welling up.

"Amazing, Biggs... You were amazing... I have to tell Barret about this too." ↞↠ You’re on page 93/142 of Aerith’s segment of the Light Novel. to be continued Next Scenes: Scenes 22-27 Previous Scenes: Scenes 10-14 Back to Content Page (click/tap here) follow @istanleyff7​ on twitter for updates support the TOTP translation project financially here (click/tap here)

[aks3raao1]

You know, there's a thing with characters that foil each other and serve as the "good" and "bad" respectively (Toga/Himiko, Tenko/Izuku, Nagito/Hajime, Ryoko/Hajime, Atsushi/Akutagawa) but that trope felt rather annoying to write, especially in the world I am trying to write about (ALTERNATIVE's world is basically MHA X BSD but like. 1000 times more fucked up and the Specialised are always prejudiced against. A terrible lot).

The title itself, ALTERNATIVE is to symbolise Romila's POV of "infinite choices and paths present for every being" and how she starts off the story with a decisive line of,

"Many people ask me if this could have been avoided. They beg for me to tell them that things could have been better. There are others too, who try to justify that this was the only way for things to have been. If you ask me, both are living in states of denial. One can't accept the stupidity of humanity for disregarding common sense for violence and prejudices. Another can't accept humanity's choice for having better circumstances if the one with the power chose to."

The thing is, the running theme is that the story is a bittersweet one, despite there not being many deaths of the main characters, but there was always a junction where you can see it could have been avoided, that there was an "alternative" for things to have gotten better, especially in the first book.

Another reason for the title is that it's basically an "ALTERNATIVE" to this world of ours, where super powers and stuff like those exist.

The subtitles of both the books (Myriad of Colours, Colour of Death) signifies Romila's power, "Aura Tracker" which lets her view people's aura as colours (Myriad of Colours is to signify the different kinds of people she meets, Colour of Death is about what affects her the most (death) and how she's constantly seeing that colour everywhere, especially now that it's war).

The thing about ALTERNATIVES is that Romila could have chosen to be a doormat (like Koldin tends to be at the beginning (his rp self is like THAT due to circumstances different to ALTERNATIVE's actual storyline. Also because Hack's a nicer person to be around than Romila is) in order to nOt hAvE cOnFliCt™) to not get into conflict and put up a super nice persona for people but she didn't. She decided to focus on hanging onto her reasons for doing what she does and using it to create a caustic personality to shield herself because she knows that she will regret being a doormat (Her Despair takes the form of Koldin Hopkins).

Now Koldin could have certainly put his hatred for society at the forefront and taken a caustic personality but instead chooses to be nice. Because he doesn't want to become as hurtful as the rest, that's how he wants to disentangle himself from society. However he, like Romila (who just took standing up for herself to extremes), takes this to the extremes causing him to gain the personality of a nice boy™.

However this also goes into why they made the choices they did (which is what Romila realises during the Mansion of Death arc), because for Romila, she didn't really have the psychology for actually becoming a doormat (because a) Her mom wouldn't have it b) She hated to be called weak c) She didn't have anyone to fall back to after the inevitable consequences of being a doormat d) She felt that if she were to live with monsters, then it's easier to blend in by being one (this comes useful to her when she infiltrates into the Government) e) She saw doormats getting suicidal which frightened her) or not becoming fully caustic (since her standing up for herself wasn't. Liked. By. Anyone. And seen as aggressive and she basically went, "Well if they see me as bad, I will show them BAD" which led to her breakdown causing the incidents at the Mansion Of Death (especially a twisted hatred against Koldin for extremely understandable reasons).

For Koldin, being meek and peaceful had let him get by in the streets and his skills to difuse fights had come in handy. Later when Dr. Hopkins took him in, he was well. A member of the Radicals who were known to be extremely merciless towards the Specialised (he had defected but Koldin had a REALLY good reason to be wary) so he figured if he stayed nice, he wouldn't be kicked out of the house and Dr. Hopkins being Dr. Hopkins just assumed that it was his normal and that behaviour carried into school. He figured that it was a horrifying thing to be aggressive and then saw how Romila got treated and decided that yep, he was right, that confirmed his world view alright and it was more reason to be super nice. While Romila saw Koldin as a person who everyone took advantage of (a thing she hated. To be exploited just like that) and went, yep that confirmed hers and it was more reason to be super angry.

However the thing is that, Romila was chided for being anything, which caused her to just give up to be peaceful (because what would she do? Anything she tried to do got her scolded) while Koldin (thankfully) found a support system. It really goes to show the difference a good friend can do.....

As it is, when I first began writing this, the most obvious choice presented itself to me. Koldin is the "hope" and Romila is the "despair" (on the protagonist, deutergonist side) but that seemed stupid and boring as it wouldn't make sense. Since I am trying to make a point of showing with how Romila's world view gradually changes from "there are wrong and right choices" to the fact that it doesn't have to be rigid and that *now* she wouldn't be hurt if she used what her vulnerable side wanted (a world free of prejudices and unnecessary cruelty) with the talents she had. That kindness mixed with her usual personality won't literally kill her.

And for Koldin, being a doormat means that he got taken advantage of a lot by different people and since he refused to actually stand up for himself ("Ah...aha......it seems that I can't..." "Can't what?" "Feel angry for myself......it's always anger that comes from the ones I love being hurt" "Then love yourself too, you will feel angry again" ~ Koldin's conversation with his inverted self in the Labyrinth) he got. Taken advantage of. By virtually everyone. However he decided that if being nice would keep him keep his self and his name self then it would be fine. He did not want to be the source of grief (his actual parents tossed him out because of his Specialisation). The Mansion Of Death actually causes him to snap for that reason, because Romila literally puts him in a torture dream "for the greater good" and then proceeds to kill his dear friend. One thing Koldin HATED. Killing friends. (Due to them being run over by a car, which led to his paralysed left arm)

Now on the other side, their respective friends:

Romila:

Luja: Cynical and annoyed by people's stupidity but not to caustic extents and she wants to be a scientist and isn't haunted by the possibility of dying.

Kratanos: Full of anger and hatred against the world but not entirely blinded by it and is focused to using that anger for reformation of the world (she becomes a therapist later, to help people)

They both have her caustic parts but they also let themselves embrace another side which makes them her "balance".

Koldin:

Anand: Believes that there's no requirement for violence unless it's absolutely necessary.

Karishma: Figures it's a better idea to just listen to rules but doesn't hesitate to break them if she sees that they are bs

They both have his peacefulness, but don't hesitate to do what they think they should do, which makes them his "balance".

The point is that, the case of choosing alternatives isn't possible with a tunnel vision. Even so, there are choices that literally can't be made due to the individual and circumstances. Sometimes the choice is to choose more than one choice. Well, that's one dramatic storyline......

It reminds me of DDLC side stories since everyone has a bit of the other person's solutions and more of a opposite personality (don't take this the wrong way, there are many stories like that and it's honestly a favourite to think abt but it's just that DDLC does it well especially since it's only a school environment). Tbh, I like dramatic storylines that rlly dig deep into a character's perspective (reasons why I'm in love with Hack and Axel in particular). My whole thing is that I'd rather read a story with interesting and in depth characters than one where only the plot is good so I say you made the great call of the century with Koldin and Romila's characters.

What you thought before getting into it is rlly how every great character arc starts. You focus on one, somewhat forget the other one until you review every single character for inspiration and then BAM! PARALLELS! It's really admirable how, even in this messed up world of specializations, you didn't purely focus on the plot bc it honestly sounds interesting enough to just stick around for Romila's life and journey. You could have ended it all with just that, but no, you smacked Koldin in there and said "be my interesting on par character that can kick Romila's gut" and IT WORKED SPECTACULARLY!!!

I really love ur writing and hoping to one day read (and maybe print out) every story you've ever written bc GODDAMNIT I NEED THE FEELING OF THOSE WORDS ON WORN PAPER WITH AN ARTISTIC COVER AND AN AMAZINGLY HEAVY WEIGHT

Aka, paperback. Bc that's how I like to roll and that's how good I think it is. 1000% worthy of a bestseller

[reversecreek]

snickers feverishly at myself for bringing in a 5th... who do i think i am? unstoppable? invincible? suddenly ripples my titanium plated pecs. maybe so. u can find her pinterest here n her playlist here. 

* margaret qualley, cis female + she/her  | you know bradley milligan, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, all of their life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to looking for knives by dyan like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole snow angels trampled through by your father’s footprints, casually reading a newspaper that’s catching flame & stubbing a cigarette against the wing mirror of a parked cop car thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is november 11th, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt she/her  )

HISTORY:

bradley has this memory of meeting her grandmother for the first time n everything in the room was frozen still. even the air. she didn’t feel like she cld move n she got the impression this is how it’d always been in the milligan lineage. the only thing that was allowed to act of it’s own accord was her grandmother’s eyes as she tracked every slightest flinch of muscle. when her father left the room her grandmother reached out and took bradley’s hand n bradley looked at this like it was smthn she’d never seen before until her grandmother leaned close and all she could stare at was a nicotine stain on one of her front teeth. “he’s cold, isn’t he? he’s always been cold. i don’t think he’s mine.” bradley could tell from how tight she held her hand that he was. she could tell by the way she smiled as she said it, too. the way she felt obliged to smile back.

growing up in a huge white house in aquila drive w pruned hedges sounds idyllic n looks it too. swanky cars w tinted windows in the long driveway. always men filing in and out under the cloak of night wearing expensive suits n smiles worthy of a politician’s billboard. bradley’s mum alyssa thought so too n that’s hw she got into this whole mess tbh. tony milligan is very good at advertising. he cld package a jarred human heart as strawberry jam and convince u to spread it on ur toast if he wanted to. he could make u smile politely as u ate ur own. 

alyssa ws this very pretty blonde kind of mysterious presence in a room. everyone wanted to kno her story or fk her but noone rly treated her like a person more just like a puzzle to solve. john green syndrome alert..... literally manic pixie dream girled bt on turbo charge. there were vague whispers she’d run away from home when she appeared in town out of nowhere bt nothing concrete. tony decided he wanted to crack the case n once he set his mind to something there was no changing it. they wound up embroiled in a whirlwind romance. head over heels. he came at romance hard and fast as a freight train. alyssa knew he was into shady things but not quite the full extent of it n honestly she didn’t care bc she wanted security n a family to call her own n tony promised that. they were married within a year. 

tony came frm money bt he wanted to carve his own path n make his own legacy. destined fr greatness he’d tell her. we’re destined for greatness. it sounds nice doesn’t it! alyssa thought so too.

(drugs mention tw) slowly over the yrs he essentially forged his own crime organisation tht only grew. he opened a strip club down the seedier side of irving called ‘no angels’ n this became the front thru which his gang ran drugs in the back (predominantly coke n they pride themselves fr having a Superior Blend apparently) as well as laundering cash n this also was kind of their home base to hang

(abuse tw) their marriage increasingly lost it’s shine n alyssa came to realise she’d been sold a lie n she didn’t rly know this person or what he was capable of right around the time bradley was born. by then it was kind of like Wow i am rly in this n there is not an exit door huh. i won’t go into details bt things were not good at all. bradley witnessed n experienced a lot of things she shouldn’t have growing up. she didn’t understand why other kids drew home in all these different coloured crayons like they were bright places to be. she didn’t understand why everyone got so excited when the bell rang at the end of the day bc she just felt sick. she rationalised tht this was normal when she was younger bc sometimes kids talked abt the monsters under their beds giving them nightmares n she thought mayb they were talking abt their dads too. as she got older she realised tht actually her world wasn’t the same as anyone else’s n she also realised no-one wld ever be able to tell her why. she started becoming friends with the angry feeling in her chest tht she used to try and swallow around this time. often she’d wander the mall for a while to put off going home. smoke on random park benches. watch trains rattle thru town from the vantage point of a random rooftop. 

(abuse, missing person implied, murder implied & grief tw) when bradley was 12 she woke up and all of her mum’s clothes were gone frm their drawers. no shoes anywhere. a framed photo of them at the beach holding bradley as a baby vanished from over the mantelpiece. when bradley asked her dad what was going on, tony essentially said “it was exhausting her. being here. being your mother. she didn’t want to do it any more, so now she’s gone” n then he hugged her. little details leaked into the mix over the yrs. at one point tony dismissed her as having flown overseas to a foreign country to drink in the sun like she’d always wanted even tho alyssa always told bradley she liked the snow best (once she even walked outside as it fell in a thin lace nightgown when tony was out n when bradley said “mom you’re gonna get cold” she only tugged her down and made her do snow angels until her lips looked blue). the most significant memory bradley can never shake from her head is her mother cupping a yellow tulip at the park n saying she hated them. when bradley asked why she only turned and smiled at her as she stroked the hair from her face n then said “because they look so happy”. after bradley’s mum vanished a long flower bed at the bottom of the garden was suddenly overrun with dozens of freshly planted yellow tulips. whenever bradley looked at them out of her window she got this sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach like she was visiting a cemetery. she suspected what had happened to her mum (especially as rumours circulated within tony’s organisation abt alyssa being unfaithful with someone tht used to work fr him) bt she cld never bring herself to truly accept it. thus she ws stuck in this strange purgatory state of not-quite-anger at her mum for “leaving” and not-quite-grief.

bradley rly started to transgress in school after her mum was gone. alyssa was always kind of a character when she’d pick bradley up (wasn’t doing well n acted kind of ‘eccentric’ i suppose u cld say) so tony managed to spin it all as a child acting out in the wake of an unfit mother uprooting n abandoning. bradley became........ interesting. JKHGFSSKJGHFSGHSKFGHFG. she’d snap n resort to violence very easily. very desensitised to it. students were kind of scared of her tbh. as this progressed into proper high school she got in w the more rowdy popular crowd solely bc she was so fking.... wild for lack of a better word. rly would just do anything fr the thrill. had no sense of ‘i shouldn’t do this bc it’s dangerous’. partied harder than anyone. bit back harder than anyone. no filter. hung w a lot of guys honestly bc they had less morals n either found her scariness cool or wanted to fk <3

(hospitalisation, depression & drugs tw) she’s had. a few stints in psychiatric institutions fr various reasons tbh. missed a small chunk of her senior yr fr this but it wasn’t widely known just kind of rumoured. she showcases a lot of similar symptoms to her mum who struggled w severe depression (which was difficult to cope w when ur husband was often pouring ur prescription down the drain fr kicks) n in order to compensate fr the lows she takes a lot of things to kick them into highs. drinks n snorts too much. bradley i love u bt i’m begging u to seek healthier coping mechanisms......

as the yrs went on (especially once alyssa had gone) tony rly started trying to integrate bradley into the business side of things...... she literally. is named bradley bc he was expecting a boy n he was like well let’s still call her bradley. n had in mind she’d still fulfil the role he wanted her to of being his little protege so to speak.... both sexist n ugly all in one fell swoop...... an example of this is he literally. bought her a mint green switchblade for her 14th birthday n named it tinkerbell bc it would “die without attention” aka using it. tht sounds like a healthy gift to give a child tony congratulations sis <3

in an ideal world bradley wld have gone to uni to study psychology bc she jst wants to know how the fk her dad is literally like that bt she probably stuck around n is now managing no angels along with billy n marco (billy’s in her dad’s gang n is, u guessed it, a cunt, n marco is his sort of right hand man so to speak) bc tony’s in the closest neighbouring city overseeing a second ‘no angels’ opening up there to expand into a franchise n widen their income margins. bradley wld also be sort of used as a honey trap type deal once she got older if they needed to lure ppl places n sometimes still is bt it depends. the guys in the club all know not to mess w bradley bc she’s tony’s daughter n literally kind of scary herself sometimes bt there’s also this certain allure tht comes with being the boss’ daughter n it kind of comes across in how they act or talk abt her. yes i will kill them all n no i won’t feel bad abt it <3

think that’s kind of all u need to kno history wise... blinks one eye out of sync w the other..... runs to personality

PERSONALITY:

a phrase i wld always use to describe bradley in old intros is “like a cup of black coffee with one grain of sugar that u don’t taste until the last sip”. also dark chocolate. lime. liquorice. she’s an acquired taste n i feel like u either love her or u hate her. 

cannot express how unpredictably chaotic she is..... frequently throws a drink in a stranger’s face jst to start something bc she’s bored. loves to hurl cheese slices across the room so they slap onto someone’s face out of nowhere. likes smashing things. stubbing cigarettes out on faces in framed family photographs. will literally pick a lock n then smash the window besides it to defeat the whole purpose just bc she found how neat it was boring. does anything fr the adrenaline n thrill. gets into far too many fights n fights dirty. probably been thrown out of every bar in town at least three times. banned from a bunch too.

she’s witty bt she has a dark sense of humour..... can be quite mean.......... loves to roast ppl for no reason........ honestly has some nathan young frm misfits aspects in that sense like jst seems untouchable emotionally n like she doesn’t take anything seriously n is fking outrageous about it.....

has this quality abt her tht kind of scares herself sometimes. it’s like she recognises parts of her dad in her. she’s very perceptive (bc she’s had to be over the yrs trying to read every micro-expression of her dad’s to predict what’s next) n like emotionally intelligent in a way which is ironic bc her own emotions r just an absolute minefield.... bt. she can read people quite well. gets this eerily calm look abt her sometimes n it’s jst like god what’s. she thinking. what’s she’s gna do. i’m shaking. a cool n controlled kind of rage can often be scarier than the explosive type n bradley does that well. grits my teeth n tugs on my collar....

very strong on the surface. hates being vulnerable. has this ingrained idea that crying is childish or rly any kind of emotional display within herself. 50% not taking things seriously 50% angry. tht’s how she comes across....... internally? whole different story. bt ppl don’t see that.

very cavalier abt some things. will flash her tits n not even think abt it. jst very out there...... one of her closest friends is a homeless man named joe who wears neon purple fishnets on his head n loves to spit on ppl from over an underpass. finds eccentric ppl like this funny n surrounds herself w them. loves to be kept on her toes.

LOVES driving stolen cars down the wrong side of the highway. it’s a lot.

fiercely loyal to a fault to a select few bt if u wrong her personally this can switch pretty quick. quite a force to b reckoned w n will hold a grudge. bt like. if ur a Chosen One she’d bury a body for u no questions asked. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS

deals to u: bradley isn’t like full time into dealing bt she does do it sometimes.... treats it kind of like a hobby bc the lesser ranked can do tht shit as far as she’s concerned bt.. sometimes also jst gets bored n is like. why not. might be chaotic. mayb they’ll try to rob me <3 we love the thrill <3 or like..... if ur friends w her she’ll deal to u n no she will not do a friends discount <3 or if she does there will definitely be some sort of stipulation attached <3

high skl crew: if ur muse is local n ws an absolutely demonic hell spawn in high skl tht went to 1974547254 parties n was outrageously chaotic n rude then. bradley probably was friends w them <3 her friendships tend to be surface level bt they’d definitely go out a bunch bt whether they actually knew a lot abt her life is debatable bt we could explore options fr this

people who work at no angels: no angels is her dad’s strip club in irving that she kind of helps to run now. it’s kind of a shifty environment. the place where ud have an outrageous bachelor party. u go for the first time w a fake id n u get served bt u also get ur wallet stolen n ur convinced someone spat in ur drink n u also kind of think there might b a hit on u now after u made eye contact too long w a broad shouldered man smoking in a back booth. scary environment. testament to her dad as a person. maybe ur muse is a dancer there or works the bar or security or whatever u name it....

ma’am are u ok?: ur muse found bradley passed out across two bus seats one time in smudged dark eyeliner a silver slip dress n the world’s chunkiest combat boots this town hs ever seen. sometimes she winds up in spots like this when she goes too hard n it’s absolutely dangerous n reckless bt that’s jst bradley <3 mayb they forged an unlikely friendship frm this strange meeting or maybe even? dare i say it? a romance? opposite worlds colliding? good influence? let’s go crazy. release ur inhibitions. feel the rain on ur skin.

hook-ups: bradley’s cavalier abt this stuff..... very unemotional typically..... mayb we cld do an unrequited thing that wld be angsty n fun altho i won’t lie i don’t kno if she’d be the one to catch the feelings.... she rarely sleeps over bt once when she woke up in someone’s bed she hiked over to straddle them carefully as possible so they wldn’t wake up n then pressed her knife to their neck as a fun little surprise where she said boo when they opened their eyes.... she’s a lot clearly.

watermelon slugger, hiiii: bradley has this habit where she gets a bunch of watermelons n then goes to a rooftop n throws them over the edge to watch them explode when they hit the pavement.... maybe ur muse almost got hit by one once n were like WTF???????? another quirky meet cute moment like the bus one <3 can’t stop w them <3 maybe she randomly invited ur muse to do it w her when they were like. a stranger of f the street. she was bored. decided to adopt them as a science experiment. we cn elaborate on this probably....

ouch charlie: similar territory bt she also sometimes shoots pedestrians w a bb gun from rooftops. mayb ur muse wld always get hit by one on a certain route they walked n finally one day they saw her head ducking down behind a ledge n then they see her in the street one day n are like HEY IT’S YOU............. WTF? n bradley’s like ya i’m christ risen again it’s a lot to take in i know...

rly jst anything... mutually destructive friends... exes.... in one rp a character tried to get close to bradley so he cld write an expose all book about her n her family which i found so fking funny so i’ll request that again.... people she’s fought.... ppl whose gf/bf she’s fk’d n it’s caused enemy status.... someone whose place she broke into and shaved their eyebrows off in the night only to draw them on again in crudely thin permanent sharpie lines.... roommates cld be fun n sexy i’d love that actually.... jst anything rly. go wild. kisses everyone tenderly on cheeks.

[docholligay]

Writing Survivors and WINNNERSSSSSSS

This was an EXCEEDINGLY simple question, because sometimes Holligays deserve to get their ego stroked. As a treat! : Which of my fics is your favorite? 

the two that immediately spring to mind (aside from your friday nov 13 fluff about which i've already furiously emailed you) are roughly recalled as follows: 1) usagi invites rei out for ramen to pitch her new goal of becoming a food critic. she uses the word "zesty" to describe her meal, and i feel the precise blend of exasperated, protective adoration you describe coursing through rei. i also recall the descriptions of the setting being quite vivid, as well as coloured so well by the shifting emotional landscape of our pov character. 2) haruka is sad at a fancy event, and slips out to wallow (most sympathetically, of course). ah, but how vague! possibly an au...certainly it is cold outside? she may not be wearing more than a jacket, which i believe she may offer to usagi, who comes looking for her. the details are fuzzy, but i was so struck by your use of the word "bright" in this piece that i've thought of this fic roughly every other time i've read the word "bright" since. oh, and who could forget "we know the devil?" but i've said quite a bit about that one already, and the deadline fast approaches (i think)! TOO BAD ---- @rasiqra-revulva Oh my god I forgot that Usaig and Haruka one!!!! 

I can't remember the titles of them now, but two of my absolute favorites that you've written are the 'Imaginary Friend' one with Haruka with the ghost Michiru and 'In the walls'. Both of them deal with haunted houses, and both characters deal with them in very different ways. And that is probably why I like them both so very much. Neither of them has a 'happy' ending (although Haruka might just make it out of hers with a bit of luck) and that lack of a happy ending comes from the weakness of each character. In addition, both stories are tremendously creepy. I think about both quite a bit when I'm noodling around with horror writing. ---@shavedjudomonkey Thank you! I LOVED imaginary friends, I’m not sure I’ve ever done better.

A Stopped Clock? i am bad with titles but the one after one of the OW character reveals where Tracer had her stabilizer broken! I sponsored that one and *did not* expect to get so much out of it and the prose throughout is so good, so vivid and effective, how dare you be so good at making me care about these characters when the actual writers don't, 1000000/10 would sponsor again --- @katrani  There are parts of A Stopped Clock that are some of my FAVORITE writing. Man, I feel like this year I haven’tdone anything with tht sort of quality, but thank you!! 

An Unwanted Favor, most definitely. First off, I love the title, partially for how its meaning is only really conveyed once the twist hits, but also for how succinctly it sums up the difficult place Mina finds herself in: on the receiving end of something done as a kindness, with no say in the matter. Haruka's decision is somehow both selfless and selfish, and yet we know from her message and how she's portrayed, that even if it was a bit hurtful, it was truly done with only the best of intentions. Mina's hurt, and she can't even yell about it, and probably actually feels a little bit guilty about wanting to in the first place. It's a very tricky emotional position to be in, and it's even harder to convey in writing.

 I love too, how your strong your characterizations are of the senshi. I know I'm an outlier among your followers, but I'm really only familiar with Sailor Moon in the most basic of ways. I watched about a season and a half of the dub and played the SHIT out of Drops, but that's about it, outside of your (and Jet's) fics. But, as with the people who love your Overwatch fanfics despite never playing a moment of the game, I often find myself really enjoying the senshi purely through your loving depictions of them. I especially love the description of Rei's prodding at Mina as lancing a boil (emotional healthcare through minor emotional violence), especially the bit where the words come out before she's done formulating them (deeply relatable).

 And, this is maybe overreaching a bit, but there's one line that I always read a lot of significance into. Sometimes when I write things, I find that there's certain lines that are like keystones for me, that I'll structure entire paragraphs around. Sometimes it's because they explain things so well that the work falls apart without them, or sometimes it's just that I think they're really clever, or have great rhythm, and drive things along nicely. But my favorite keystones are the ones that, in literary terms,  "fuck me up real bad". It's when I write something that hits ME like a ton of bricks right after I've written it, usually cause it's brutally sad, and I know that even if nobody reads the thing, or has that same reaction to it, sometime in the future I'll come back and read it and go "that's some real shit right there." 

 All that just to say, that "maybe this is my reward for doing okay. I get to be with her again" always hits me like one of those lines. I read that, and it fucks me up, and on some level I imagine you writing that line back then and going "aw hell yeah" to yourself, in one of those moments one really only gets when you're totally on your game, and it makes me smile. Maybe I'm wrong! But I'd prefer not to know, if that's the case. We all have our headcanons, and that one's mine. ---- @blastoise_m  Oh my god thank you so much!! I’m so glad you loved it so much, it’s been so long since I even thought about it and this made me smile so much! 

CURRENT "Endings and Beginnings" in the MAS-verse - so many of your MAS stories are rich with emotion and pain and reality and *life* intertwined in such amazing combinations, but I first read this one at a time when I was grieving an old loss turned fresh, at a time when I needed it, and always, to this day, it makes me cry happy tears. I love it - how even grief can turn into something beautiful, and my world would be a much sadder place without this particular, spectacular story. --- @amberlilly

AND YOU DID NOT LEAVE A NAME SO YOUR ENTRY WAS TOSSED BECAUSE I CAN’T VERIFY YOUUUUUU -- ALL OF THEM but especially Ruka Hood, for being both EXTREMELY fun and for just how good the characters are and how you explore them, and A Simple Game (I think?? The senshi civil war one) because the scene where Michiru drowns her entire family in the aquarium is SO GOOD, and finally St. Ralph bc I’m a repressed catholic gay to the end

Randomized survivors under the cut!

Holligay Answers For Her Crimes

Holligay Loves Food (questions/prompts sent in)

Holligay Screams About Her Favorite Characters (any media)

Nonfiction/Personal writing (prompts sent in, however vague or specific)

Holligay Rants/Raves About (positive or negative, prompts sent in)

Holligay History posts (Y'all will have to actually send in questions/prompts, mind)

Outline for a more satisfying final season of She Ra Holligay style / HBO style

[s-trawberryv-eins]

Have We Met?

NOT MY GIF

Have We Met? 

Summary: Caroline Stark and Bucky Barnes meet for the first time. Again.

Warnings: funeral flashbacks, mentions of grief, injury

Please read here before reading!

Stark!OC x Bucky Barnes

Word count: 1285

A/N: I despise the ending of this. It may change. Apologies 😊

-

CAROLINE’S LAB

AVENGERS COMPOUND

UPSTATE NEW YORK

In the months after her father’s funeral, Caroline threw herself into her work. Every waking moment was spent in the lab or in her workshop. A great deal had been lost during the Battle of Earth, so she worked tirelessly to replace it.

After the battle, Dr Banner returned to the compound, and a fast friendship grew between the two geniuses. They both saw Tony in the other, both a comfort and a curse. They worked together on many a project, both new and old. Bruce had even been the one to persuade her to see a therapist after it became apparent that she struggled to adapt after being resurrected to a new world.

However, since Caroline had been forced to reveal her true identity, she saw less and less of the professor, and found herself quite isolated. Pepper caught on, eventually sending Morgan on missions of her own: Project Cheer Sissy Up, as they called it. The youngest Stark took her solo missions very seriously, of course, going so far as to request her very own lab coat and goggles.

It was a mid-April evening, and the girls were busying themselves with their respective tasks when FRIDAY spoke up, startling Morgan.

“Good evening, girls-“ A gasp interrupted the AI.

“You made me colour outside the lines, FRI!” Whined the smallest Stark, earning a chuckle from her sister.

"Apologies, Miss. Sergeant Barnes requests access Doctor." Tearing her eyes away from the screen in front of her, Caroline studied the look on Morgan’s face. Her head was tilted, and her brows were drawn together in confusion.

“But Caroline, I’m working.” Unable to stop herself from smiling if she tried, the doctor jumped out of her seat to plant a kiss on the girl’s head.

“Let him in, Friday, thanks." Barnes had never stopped by before, not that she could blame him. Banner usually helped when needed. The super-soldiers trust issues were all but world famous. It didn't come as a surprise to her that he avoided the one who lied about who she is.

As the door was pushed open, only Bucky’s head appeared, lingering in the doorway as a sheepish look appeared on his face. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’d normally to go Bruce, but he said this is a little ways out of his expertise.”

“Come in, Sergeant, take a seat. What exactly is the – oh.” Barnes stepped out from behind the door, revealing his vibranium arm. The arm itself was a nonissue for her. Knowing his story, and being surrounded by robot tech all her life, she didn’t bat an eyelid. What she wasn’t prepared for, however, was a vibranium arm all but dragging along the floor behind him. Entirely disconnected from its socket, hanging on lamely by a few wires, she jumped forward and grabbed it, supporting it herself rather than risking the wires breaking.

“Shit!” Both adults turned on their heels to face the child, who was staring at the arm with wide eyes before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“Who taught you that?” There was a long pause.

“Mom.”

“It was Dad, wasn’t it?” With a fond roll of her eyes, she offered an apology to Bucky who only chuckled at the whole exchange. Gesturing to a seat, she placed the robotic limb on the table between them and gathered her tools before taking a seat herself.

“I’m sorry for never really introducing myself,” the solider began as Caroline began to work at replacing the broken fixtures and mending the wires. "I'm sorry for never offering my condolences after your-“

“It’s fine.” She cut him off before the words could even form on his tongue, eyes flicking over to her busy mini-me. "thankyou, but, it’s fine. I didn’t really expect any of you would want to talk to me again anyway." An icy tension clouded above them, both unsure what to say.

“I saw you.” Keeping his voice low as to not alert the child of the subject of their conversation, he continued. “I saw you at the funeral. Afterwards, I think. You were sat on a bed upstairs. I, uh, got lost.” Caroline had stilled, her movements frozen as he recalled that October day. The worst day of her life, she’d decided. At least when Pepper returned from the battle to break the news to her children she didn’t need to hide. The memory singed into her brain. Limbs tangled together in an attempt to keep each other glued together. Hoarse voices, shattered hearts, tear stained everything. At the funeral she’d stayed hidden. Blended in, not made a scene. Only Pepper witnessed the aftermath of this decision late that night, when the guests had departed.

“You were crying, but everyone was so I guess I didn't think much of it. If I’da known, Caroline…” Blue eyes search for brown, but she refused to look away from his arm, not confident in her ability to hold it together.

"I shouldn’t have been there. Not after everything…” the stifled sob that fell from her lips shut him up. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was talking about. The Winter Solider had murdered her grandparents’ way back when. In the years since finding out about it, she'd never figured out how to fell about it.

“Please, Sergeant.” Her voice was weak and she cursed herself for it. “not whilst my sister is here.” Willing herself to meet his eyes, she was taken about by the guilt that visibly tormented him. In an attempt to lessen the unease, she smiled gently, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Let’s get you fixed up. Fancy telling me how you’ve shredded some of the best tech I’ve ever seen?” A smile appeared on both of their faces.

"Can I blame it on Sam?”

-

2 HOURS LATER

Tools clattered loudly as they were tossed carelessly on to the table. "All finished. Next time you wanna tear your limbs off, do it in the morning so that I can go home on time." Her attempt at a harsh tone was betrayed by the smile that painted her lips. Pepper had collected Morgan a while ago, the two living a short drive from the compound.

“Let me walk you back?” Flexing his newly fixed bionic, Bucky pulled his t-shirt over his head. Caroline forced her eyes to remain on his face rather than drift towards his ridiculous torso. “It's the least I can do.”

“Sure. Thankyou.” Evidently, she’d been staring at his face a little too hard, the smirk on his face causing hers to flush pink. Turning on her heel towards the door, she addressed the AI and touched her warm cheeks gently, embarrassment obvious. “FRIDAY, please lock up behind us?”

“Of course. Goodnight, Doctor. Sergeant."

-

Arriving outside her apartment door, Bucky leaned over the railing, looking through the glass wall of the fortress-like compound. "You can see our common room from here. That’s kinda cool.” The doctor observed as the soldier gazed around, the novelty of his home clearly still present.

“Thankyou for walking me back. I know you normally go to Banner for your arm, and if you want to keep it that way, it's totally fine, I get it,“ cringing at her own terrible rambling, Caroline sucked in a breath and started again. “My door is always open if you need anything. Dr Morgan and I would never say no to some extra company."

“Understood, Doctor. Goodnight." Remaining in the doorway until he was out of sight, she noted the sense of relief she felt after spending an evening with someone new. It was refreshing. Perhaps she would try again.

[thefloatingstone]

Would you please make me a list of your rcommended comics(books or web-series any genre original content or fanworks)

Oh that’s a god one! Thank you so very much 💙 Let me see what I have on my shelf and on my hard drive. (I don’t know if I’ve ever made a list of my favourite comics before or not here on tumblr?)

in no particular order;

1: Usagi Yojimbo by Stan Sakai

I dunno if it ever really shows or not, but Japanese historical settings are something I’m really into! I think it’s one of those dormant interests that flares up every now and then. Anyway. Usagi Yojimbo has basically been tied for my favourite comic for over 10 years now. It’s a series of stories, both short and with longer arcs, following the character of Miyamoto Usagi (roughly based on Miyamoto Musashi) travelling around the country of Japan in the early 1600s as a Ronin after the lord he served was defeated and killed in battle. Usagi, being one of his samurai, is not killed in the same battle which, considering his lord was killed, is a massive disgrace in historical Japanese culture. Basically along the thought of “If your lord died and you didn’t you must not have fought hard enough to protect him.”

Anyway, the comic is both a history lesson on Edo period Japan, a travel diary, a slice of life comic, a Chanbara, an action comic, some times even a horror or ghost story, a tragedy involving unfulfilled love and lost families, a lesson on traditional Japanese Yokai and other mythology, and now and then high fantasy.

10/10. HIGHLY recommend. The author Stan Sakai is also a wonderful person I’ve had the pleasure to meet a few times at Comic Con. And considering he like... remembers who I AM despite being an extremely famous comic artist... I dunno. I have endless respect for the man and he’s shown me great kindness in the past.

Also you know... black and white comics. They’re my jam, yo!

2: Bone by Jeff Smith

I have no idea if I even have to say anything because Bone might just, without hyperbole, be the greatest comic ever drawn.

At 1300+ pages drawn over the course of 10 years, the story starts out as a cartoon, full of hijinks and fun adventures and jokes and very slowly, reality starts setting in, things get more dangerous, the stakes get higher, the bad guys much darker. And by the time you reach book 3 of the 9 book story, you’re suddenly in a story of the “epic” variety. Not in the internet slang term but in the actual definition of the word.

You have massive wars between men and monsters, you have clashing cultures and ideologies, conflicting motivations and goals, and of course saving the world.

And it manages to do so without you EVER feeling “Excuse me but this was a cartoon book about funny jokes. This shift in tone is really weird and doesn’t work with the cartoony characters.”

It just blends and grows beautifully. And has remained as my favourite comic for... *counts* lord... 14 years now.

The book was recently released in a new colour version in case you prefer hat, but I honestly recommend “The Brick” single volume black and white version. It’s cheaper, first of all, but also I cannot express how masterful the blacks and whites of Bone are. They’re essentially Watterson level.

(also Jeff Smith is ANOTHER comic artist who is just like... the nicest person. Like REALLY nice. He’s been kind to me on occasions in that “you really didn’t have to be that nice” kind of way)

3: The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck by Don Rosa

It’s published by Disney officially... but the Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck is essentially a fancomic. The only reason its not is because Don Rosa became SO GOOD at making duck comics Disney hired him to make them officially and he was SO GOOD at it became one of the most important Duck artists just after Carl Barks (the creator of Scrooge) himself.

The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck is a comprehensive biography of Scrooge McDuck’s life, not just made up by Don Rosa, but pieced together from Carl Barks’ own comics where he would have Scrooge make passing mention to events in his past or people he met. Don Rosa essentially took all these passing remarks and mentions and drew out a timeline, starting with Scrooge age 13 leading all the way up to his reunion with his family when Donald as an adult met up with him again.

It starts with Scrooge, from a poor family in Glasgow in 1877, boarding a ship for America to seek his fortune. We follow him through the years as with each chapter, he comes close to being rich and successful, only for it to fail or fall apart at the last minute, until, eventually, we see him catch his break and become the obscenely rich and successful person he’s fought and worked and bled so hard to be.

...and then the comic continues. And we see him lose himself. Greed, the constant need for MORE money and MORE success keeps going. The need to show HOW rich and successful he is takes over, until we see him and his family fall apart. And the comic echoes Citizen Kane as Scrooge realises the best time of his life was when he was seeking riches, not after he finally succeeded.

And then Donald and his nephews appear, and Scrooge’s life gets a second wind. His lust for adventure flares up again, his need to seek fortunes and treasures burns as strong as ever. And he keeps going.

The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck is a story about looking for your place in the world and fighting to create it with your own two hands, but it’s also about how you should think hard where you place your value in life, and it’s never too late to re-direct course and try again.

There is also “The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck Companion” which is a collection of stories that didn’t fit in with the original comic and would have disrupted flow. Basically like how a fanfic will have oneshots related to a larger story

Also, the producer of the band “Nightwish” created a soundtrack to accompany the original comic as a sort of “What If” in what he imagined the story would sound like if it was made into a movie

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4: Cucumber Quest by Gigi D.G. ( @ggdgart )

A newer comic I stumbled upon which has skyrocketed into being a fave and I can already tell, that’s not a position it’s gonna relinquish. Cucumber Quest is a more cartoony and comedic story than the previous comics on this list. But that by no means makes it of any less value or dulls the moments that this comic decides to punch you in the gut with emotions HARD.

The art and colours are glorious and something I hope to study so I can better my own art hopefully, and the writing and humour is of a calibre that I just know I could not replicate it if I even tried. Full of puns, absurdism, awkward jokes and a whole lot of FEELINGS, It manages to make me both laugh myself into a coughing fit as often as it makes me yell “OH NOOOO!!!” when something dramatic happens.

The story follows our main character Cucumber, a put-upon out-of-his-depth wizard-to-be who is tasked with saving the world from the evil Nightmare Knight who has been summoned from his thousand year slumber by an evil sorcerer who wants to take over the world (as you do). With him is his little sister, the sword wielding Almond, who is WAY more into this “being a hero” thing than he is (and probably better at it too) as the duo make friends and travel to the various kingdoms to defeat the Nightmare Knight’s lackeys, working their way up to fighting the Nightmare Knight himself and sealing him away once more!

That all sounds.... really straightforward, doesn’t it? Well... that’s what everybody else in the comic thinks too. ...Shame that real life is never easy and straightforward.

From evil henchmen that start crushing on cool “Good Guys” with cool swords, good guys who don’t REALLY want to hurt the bad guys because they don’t seem so bad? To cool good guys with cool swords suddenly learning that being in danger is not as much fun as it sounded when they started this. To big evil final boss bad guys who are just tired of all of this...

What’s also awesome is the entire comic... all OVER 800 PAGES OF IT... is completely free to read online! But you can also buy physical copies of the first 4 volumes in book form to support the author! 

http://cucumber.gigidigi.com/cq/page-1/

I HIGHLY recommend this one too! It has canon LGBT characters! It has found family plots! It has scary bad guys that just need a hug! It has magical girl transformations! Literally anything you could want is in this comic. Including emotional wrecking angst! Did I mention FEELINGS???

(I couldn’t pick a single page so here are 3 random ones without context. Seriously almost EVERY page is so good I struggled very hard to choose)

-

-

5: The Property of Hate by @modmad

Hey. Do you like fantasy worlds made of imagination? How about protagonists with grey morality who act like super primand proper gentlemen when they’re actually huge nerds? How about reluctant “Well I guess I’ve ADOPTED you now you annoying gremlin” adult-kid relationships? How about puns? How about abstract and colourfull character designs? Or saving the world?

The Property of Hate is Modmad’s original comic that they’ve been working on a few years now. it follows our lead character, RGB or “Problematic Mary Poppins” as I like to think of him, as he asks a young child if she’d like to be a hero and help him save his world? When she agrees, he takes her to a fantasy land... completely NOT preparing her for what she’s signed up for. The story then follows the duo through the abstract and shifting world as RGB slowly divulges information on what exactly our Hero has to do to save the world. It turns out it’s a lot more complicated and messy than merely “beat the bad guy” or anything like that.

Not to mention it seems this fantasy world has its own rules of reality and dangers. Emotions and abstract thoughts have real physical form here, and something like an “idea” can quite literally run around and create havoc, while something like dreams can fuel or destroy, and emotions like grief can cause irreparable damage.

Our Hero also learns RGB himself is a lot more complex and messy than he first appears. Seeming to be a good person trying to do good things (despite being a little stand offish and rude at times) but seems to also be carrying a past and the weight of having done some very very bad things “for the greater good”. And our Hero, as well as we, the readers, start wondering how much we should trust him, even though, just like our Hero, deep deep down we just know we WANT to trust him. And maybe he needs saving just as much as the world itself does. Even when he’s at his scariest and... not quite himself.

The Property of Hate is also available online completely for free. Modmad does have books for sale but I believe it’s on-demand or something along those lines. Please feel free to message them here on tumblr and they are happy to chat to their readers and interact.

http://thepropertyofhate.com/TPoH/The%20Hook/1

I think I’ll leave it there despite meaning to do 10 at first because this is already EXTREMELY long.

Hopefully you found something that seems interesting! Let me know if you decide to check any of these out and whether you ended up liking them or not! I’d love to hear your opinions.

And thank you for indulging me <3

(I’m trying to remember to add my ko-fi link to all longer posts like this I make. Especially since I keep forgetting ☕️Buy me a Ko-fi ☕️ )

[primatechnosynthpop]

#5 for the fluff/general prompts list (not sure if we're supposed to add a pairing too, but if so- Ducknirva)

It's been a few weeks since Minerva's arrival on earth, and the initial chaos of... everything that happened on that fateful day is finally slowing down. It's surprising how easily Duck adjusts to having his otherworldly mentor living in his apartment complex, now with the ability to barge in on him at any moment of the day. For the first few weeks, having her there honestly goes a long way in distracting him from the overwhelming grief and panic brought on by everything that happened.

After nearly a month of being on earth, Minerva understandably gets a little stir-crazy. She paces around Duck and Leo's apartments, her footfalls heavy enough that the downstairs neighbors start complaining about it. Eventually, after hearing her get up to pace around in the middle of the night for the fifth time in the span of two hours, Duck sits up in bed with a groan and pulls her aside for a chat in the hallway.

"Listen, Minnie, I know it's tough bein' cooped up in here," he tells her, laying a hand on her forearm (he would have gone for the shoulder, but she's so tall that he can't quite reach it). "But you don't exactly blend in with ordinary humans. And knowing how the folks around here reacted to finding out cryptids are real... I don't think they'd take too kindly to aliens either."

Minerva harrumphs, pulling herself up to her nearly seven-foot height and crossing her arms over her chest. Between her height, the very slight blueish tint to her skin, and her pointed ears, she must understand that she doesn't look ordinary. A twinge of guilt squeezes at Duck's heart for basically telling her she can't go out and interact with people, but what's he supposed to do? Letting people know about her could put her in danger, and that's the last thing he wants.

"I can disguise myself," she tells him. "And I have learned many things from observing you and your fellow humans! If you grant me the opportunity, Duck Newton, I can pass myself off as an ordinary citizen of earth."

Duck thinks it over for a minute, carefully looking her up and down. The bright blue tattoos are a bit unusual, but there's nothing inherently alien about them; her height and complexion could be passed off as being those of a normal human as well. The ears are easy enough to cover up. Her boisterous personality might be a little harder to conceal, but she does sound awfully confident in herself.

"Alright, then," he says after a long moment. "Tomorrow morning, we'll go out together, and I'll show you around the town. But you've gotta promise to play it cool, alright? Don't draw too much attention to yourself."

A broad grin breaks across Minerva's face, and she nods her head eagerly.

"I look forward to our outing greatly, Duck Newton!"

--The next day--

"This is the opposite of what I told you to do."

Minerva blinks up at Duck from where she sits on a park bench, holding an ice cream drumstick in one hand and petting a stray dog with the other. The beanie she put on to hide her ears has risen up, exposing the pointed tip of her left ear, and the button-up shirt and slacks she borrowed from Duck's wardrobe now sport a colourful array of scuff marks and grass stains. The top few buttons of the shirt have come undone, and for a moment Duck's gaze is drawn to her exposed cleavage, but he hastily looks away and focuses his line of sight on her face.

"I fail to see what you mean, Duck Newton," she says, but her gaze is lowered and her tone borders on a mumble; it's clear she realizes that she's made a few mistakes.

Sighing, Duck shakes his head and moves to sit next to her on the bench. The stray dogs hops off Minerva's lap when he sits down, and it scampers off down the sidewalk. It's late afternoon now, with the sky just beginning to turn orangey-pink, and there are a few other people out walking around, but the park is fairly empty at the moment. It's a good place to sit and talk, he thinks, and the frustration ignited by Minerva's attention-drawing behavior melts away as he takes in a few breaths of crisp evening air.

"Listen, Minerva," he begins, "I ain't mad at you. I get it, y'know? You spend so many years all by yourself, and a town full of people starts to look pretty exciting. I'm glad you had fun today, really."

He waits a moment, giving Minerva a chance to respond, but she says nothing. Her posture is visibly stiff, empty hand curled into a fist at her side even as she lifts her other hand to her mouth to take a bite out of her ice cream. Without really thinking about it, Duck lays his hand atop Minerva's. She flinches at the touch. Frowning, Duck retracts his hand and folds it in his lap before continuing to speak.

"You've gotta understand, if I thought the folks around here would be more accepting of you, I wouldn't have told you to... to not be yourself, because you're great the way you are, it's just..."

He trails off, letting his eyes fall shut with a heavy sigh and rubbing his temples. All of a sudden, he feels like he's the one in the wrong. Minerva has a way of doing that to him--mixing up his emotions, making him all confused about stuff that ought to be common sense.

"What I mean to say is, you didn't do anything wrong. It's that not all the citizens of Kepler are too eager to welcome an alien into their ranks. And I just don't want you exposing yourself to some idiots who are gonna have a problem with you. 'Cause, sure, you could probably take anyone here on in a fight," he adds, flashing her a weak attempt at a sly grin. "But word spreads fast around here, and if we had a whole angry mob on our hands, that might give even you a bit of trouble."

Minerva chuckles softly at that. She finally meets his gaze, lips curled into a melancholy smile and eyes glimmering with an emotion that Duck can't pinpoint. She reaches out to rest her hand on his leg, and for reasons he doesn't really understand, his skin heats up at the contact.

"I appreciate your concern for me, Duck Newton," she says. "And... and I apologize. It was foolish of me to act recklessly."

"Nah, it's fine," he assures her with a wave of his hand. "You didn't really cause any trouble today. Just, from now on, maybe be a bit more careful."

She nods, seeming to brighten up a bit. Relieved that things haven't escalated into an argument (because, god, the more time goes on the more he finds that he really can't stand arguing with Minerva) Duck returns her smile and gives her hand a quick squeeze.

They sit in companionable silence for a while, during which time Minerva gulps down the rest of her ice cream. Watching her chomp at it, holding the cone so hard that it cracks in her grip and the ice cream starts dribbling down her hands, something warm grows inside Duck's chest. He can't put a name to the feeling just yet, but it makes his smile grow wider until he's sure he looks like an absolute sap. He stifles a snort of bemusement when she starts licking her hands clean, but refrains from commenting. Really, he realizes, it's on him for not doing a better job of teaching her about earth customs. Before going out with her again, he'll have to give her a more thorough run-down on how to blend in.

Once she's done her ice cream, Minerva wipes her hands off on her pants and then claps them together, startling Duck back to attention.

"The sun is going down," she observes with a nod to the gradually darkening sky. "Shall we retire to the apartment building?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan," Duck agrees. "One more thing before we go, though," he adds before she can get to her feet. "Your beanie got kinda crooked when you were rollin' around, playin' with the dog."

"Oh?" Minerva raises a hand to feel for the hat at the side of her head; her mouth quirks into a frown when her fingers curl around the hem. "Ah, I see! Then it's no wonder you were worried about other people looking at me strangely!"

She speaks in her typical energetic fashion, such that Duck can't quite tell whether or not she's making a joke, but something about just being in her presence coaxes a laugh from him anyway. He reaches over to gently tug the beanie back down over her ears, his fingers brushing against their pointed tips as he does so, and for the briefest moment he could swear that Minerva's cheeks darken. (He briefly considers pointing out the top buttons of her shirt as well, but that would mean acknowledging that he was looking at her chest, so he keeps quiet about that.)

They stand up, and to Duck's surprise, Minerva slips her hand into the crook of his arm as they go to leave the park. He surprises himself in turn by leaning into the touch, and Minerva hums in contentment. They walk in tandem down the sidewalk back toward the apartment, snow and dead leaves crunching under their shoes. And if other people stop to give them odd looks, Duck doesn't even notice.

[notexactlywhatitsaysonthering]

Lost but not forgotten - the loneliness of recurrent miscarriage

After my first marriage tore me apart with infidelity, I started writing to help others and to help myself. My story evolved and I found love after heartbreak. I even went on to remarry. A bright new hope, new challenges and blended family life with all the possibilities (through this blog) to help others living in this kind of family unit. I longed to move on and tell the story of our blended family welcoming someone new - a key person who ties us all together. And with each loss, I convinced myself that it will happen when the time is right. The nonsense mantras that we tell ourselves when something in life hasn’t gone to plan.

Each loss becomes easier in some ways, and far more painful in others. I am now a little numb to the news when it initially comes, but after five losses, the pain during the aftermath is devastating.

There is a deep loneliness to suffering recurrent miscarriage.

It feels like we have done this so many times now, the joy of a positive test followed by visits to the early pregnancy unit for reassurance. I hate everything about that place from the colour of the waiting room walls to the smell of the corridors and all the memories that come with it. The elation of being shown the flicker of a heartbeat, which gave us so much hope, followed two weeks later by yet more sorrow.

I have two beautiful children by my first marriage; I am one of the lucky ones. But I keep getting pregnant because I want to give my husband and I the one thing that we do not have - a little bit of us. Someone, as I said, who binds us all together.

I have read every article and searched every pregnancy forum for answers: everyone has a different opinion and no two are exactly the same. We have had tests and will no doubt need more, but it is so frustrating when there is no clear problem and no quick solution. I have been told by the professionals that miscarriage is very common and there is every chance that things will be fine next time. And while I know that statistically many women will experience one miscarriage in their lifetime, only 1% of women will suffer recurrent miscarriage (the occurrence of three or more consecutive miscarriages).

It really is the wrong 1% club to be a part of.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I took this whole process for granted. Having had two children in my twenties with no complications, I thought I would just be able to do it all again with no problems. I wrote about pregnancy loss after one miscarriage and an ectopic pregnancy. Since then, our road has been no easier with three more losses, the latest of which was almost one week shy of three months. My heart and my body feel broken.

The problem with recurrent miscarriage is the only thing that can relieve the sadness that engulfs every corner of your being, is to be pregnant again. There is a desperation to fill the void with the very thing that has been robbed from you. Each time hoping, that this will be the one that sticks. And when it doesn’t, you are literally catapulted back to square one. 

Each one lost but not forgotten.

It is lonely in the 1% club. The old you, that could welcome the weekend with a glass or two of something is gone. You are ‘trying’, but you have been trying for so long and as you have failed so many times, sticking to rules feels vital. Then, you have one less factor to blame when it all goes wrong. You long for an uncomplicated routine, to be able to plan ahead and for the weightlessness of not carrying grief around like a heavy but invisible burden. The secrecy that shrouds the first 12 weeks of pregnancy puts your life on hold. We have been in that phase five times in the last 15 months and it is both difficult and emotionally exhausting, most especially for the woman. Friends and family feel you pull away as you hide, waiting to see if this time, you can eventually share some happy news with them. And then you don’t. You feel as though you have hidden for no reason and that time has been wasted with nothing to show for it.

I have found it easier to cope knowing that some sort of support system was in place. A few key people who know my secret beyond my husband and are there, no matter the outcome. I have found comfort talking to friends who have also experienced loss and who understand the feelings that come hand in hand with the hormonal rollercoaster of miscarriage.

I haven’t shied away from my losses and I haven’t kept them to myself. It is a topic that is so sensitive and so very personal but recent research has highlighted the importance of asking for help and the links between miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy and anxiety and/or long term post-traumatic stress. Current articles have stressed that women need more support following early pregnancy loss as it can have a severely negative impact on mental health. It is a topic that we shy away from discussing; we don’t open up because it is not the done thing to mention our fertility, or lack of. But despite how difficult it might feel, talking is important and it is always okay to as for help.

Where do I go from here? When you have suffered recurrent miscarriage one of the things many people ask is “do you think you can go on and keep trying?” My answer is simple, “yes, absolutely yes.” In my mind, this journey and all this pain has to count for something. I do believe that I will hold our baby some day and when we do, we will be all the more grateful as a result of our story. Until then, I will ask for help, I will seek more answers and try to remember the woman I was before I joined the 1%. She is lost (for now) but not forgotten and as lonely as it sometimes feels, you are never alone.

For those suffering with any kind of pregnancy loss, I have listed some helpful websites below:

https://www.ectopic.org.uk

https://www.miscarriageassociation.org.uk

http://www.sad.scot.nhs.uk/bereavement/pregnancy-loss-stillbirth-and-neonatal-death/

https://www.acog.org

https://www.figo.org/news/what-psychological-impact-miscarriage-0015410

https://www.tommys.org/our-organisation/research-by-cause/miscarriage/piepe-study

[weirdspookystories]

Expiration

  I woke up today feeling the same dreadful pressure, storm-like and dense. I tasted a little blood while becoming achingly aware of a headache’s familiar groan press behind my eyes. I gritted my grinding-worn teeth. I had been unwell for so long, it seemed, but I tolerated it, as always.

   I had been a con artist, a psychic medium faking spiritual power. My work as an imitation medium introduced me to grief and death, and I took advantage of the most vulnerable and emotionally weak. What I did disgusts me now, but hindsight is 20/20. 

     My father was forced into petty crime to feed us after losing his job. Fortunately, before I could be forced by circumstance into a more self-destructive career, I saw from showbiz there was a market available in offering comfort to those most vulnerable. Everyone has to eat, so I became a predator, preying particularly on mourners and the lonely old. I saw them feed in a way too, seeking desperately for something comforting or profound. It made it easier to justify morally, but really, I think now that maybe I was just hoping for something profound too. 

     In a strange way, while never speaking to the dead, being immersed in the other place awoke me to the possibilities of real psychic power. I need to make this confession because I did make contact with something beyond all sensory or logical explanation. I must give up my misguided career now for some relief from the burden of secrecy, reaching out for someone who might understand, as all my clients once did. The cycle ends now.

   It began en-route to a potentially challengingly skeptical appointment. It was an idyllic day. The sun was setting on a mild Thursday and the birds were singing, but also audible on the soothing breeze was implacable whistling. A sound like a person whistling a single unsteady tone. I was reminded vaguely of previously-forgotten dreams or buried memories with a sense of unknown nostalgia. A cool breeze put me in a stranger mood still, and I doubted whether I should even attend the session. This felt like a portent, but I'm not sure if that's just because months later I'm trying to make some sense of things. I ran over all I knew of this new client, their address, and the vaguely confusing statement that they… had a message for me. I was nervous, as I should have been.

   The house I arrived at was exceptionally pristine, though it blended perfectly into the neighbourhood seamlessly in all other ways. It was unremarkable, but the outer tidiness drilled it into my mind nonetheless. Perhaps this resident was an obsessive cleaner, or hired a gardener, I thought, in an attempt to comfort myself, to rationalise the growing worry. That wasn't unexpected though, many of my clients were normal people who happened to have a few…eccentricities. Being devoutly religious, or a committed believer in the paranormal, was almost a prerequisite of seeking out a medium.

   This house, however, seemed far beyond eccentric. Being too well-kept was simply the first oddity I noticed, opening me up to the other subtle wrongnesses of the place. The colourful front garden was immaculate to the point that I felt I was untidy; simply being there, I was out of place, and I felt sickening heaviness welling in my stomach. I was drawn against my will to the front door, where I noticed how dilapidated the building itself was, behind the bright veneer of the garden, like camouflage. The place smelt damp just from the doorstep, and I knew there was something dangerous here. I clenched my jaw and rung the bell.

   The sequence of events at this point is a shifting blur of unreachable memories and sickening sensations which are difficult for me to interpret, let alone put into words, in more ways than one.

    Vertigo-inducing smoke and an industrial smell like burning plastic. Nausea and double vision before I began separating from my very self. Stranger than the distance I felt from home and life was a stark sense of peace conflicting with deep insight; simultaneous awareness and detachment. Writhing, dizzying colours and images which would probe deep into my subconscious for years. From the psychedelic movement, swirling smoky geometries formed to vaguely reveal the shadowy form of a hooded old woman. I felt I was underwater, suffocated, vision blurred, but weightless and in a state of confused peace. I tried to focus and I fell into the unwavering, searching eye of the surreal psychic tornado.

    She spoke to me somehow, telepathically perhaps, and I understood innately her message. She told me she was my future, and in disoriented panic I tried pushing her from my mind. In an instant the She became a draconic, skeletal Them, and I understood their great power. Their vibrant skull-head was horselike, with a single eye socket where a nose might be. The beautiful, horrifying eye was a featureless void of stars and galaxies. I stopped resisting them. They were from another plane, or perhaps none, I believed, but I expended all my energy on trying to focus on messages whistled to me like wind to idly contemplate what was actually happening. I interpreted that I had been coming to this house daily, for months. My memories were fading into view, slow and heavy too. I felt a dreadful pressure come with the revelation, storm-like and dense. I felt the groan of a headache press behind my eyes and the vision drifted into the background of my mind like trees invisible through a forest fire.

   That’s all I can remember before I died.

   It was in the ambulance that I awoke, but now something important about myself was different. To this day I don’t know what happened to me. I was found after collapsing on the doorstep of an abandoned building on the edge of town, by a passer-by. Random luck that I was found at all. It was almost as confusing for the EMTs, who couldn’t ascertain at all what had caused death, assuming some form of brain injury, or my resurrection for that matter. Tests showed relatively normal brain function too.

   I know I'll see the deity again soon, and already have, in fact, in sleepless fever dreams I wake from by vomiting blood. I can’t eat or drink but I do not hunger. I am cursed, and I don't have much time, so today I return to the same house, as I have done every day. I don't understand why, but I must. Perhaps to atone, or perhaps to be delivered from this hell. Something is inevitable, inescapable, but I don’t know if it will be death or something far different. Some believe pain is divine, and, if so, I am as much a god as the hooded woman from the confusing place. I ache to know the truth because it is too late for anything more by now.

Perhaps She is a version of me, perhaps She is my future after all. Leaving Her was leaving myself.