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whatstheproblembaby · 4 years ago

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Fic: Remember Me

Shelagh is a little confused when she wakes up at Nonnatus House, but everything will be all right when Patrick comes for her, won't it?

PG, ~2170 words, hurt/comfort out the ASS.

Read here on AO3!

She didn’t want to, but Shelagh eventually succumbed to the force of her waking mind. Rolling over, she stretched out an arm toward where Patrick should be, looking forward to a quick morning cuddle before they had to get up and tend to their children and patients.

Instead, her arm flopped over the edge of the bed, her fingers clipping the nightstand.

“Wha-” she grunted, vocal cords not quite awake yet. “Patrick?”

Shelagh blinked, and took in-

“Nonnatus?”

She sat up and fished her glasses off the nightstand, thinking that clearing her vision might also help clear her mind. She thought she had fallen asleep in her own bed last night, but she did have to stay over at Nonnatus sometimes if Patrick had a late, last minute call and couldn’t drive her home from the surgery. Perhaps she had just gotten mixed up.

Less explainable, though, was the resistance she met when she tried to slide her glasses over her ears.

“Who gave me a cap?” Shelagh asked as though someone was there to answer her. She patted her hands over her head, feeling the still-familiar white fabric in confusion, then looked down to take in the rest of her attire. “And a nightgown?”

She appreciated the kindness, since sleeping in either her day dress or her nurse’s uniform would have left her wrinkled and uncomfortable, but the fit of the pajamas was perplexing. The nightgown was visually identical to the ones the sisters wore, which made sense. They each had two, so any one of them could have lent her their spare. All of the sisters were slightly taller than she was, though - so how could she feel her feet poking past the hem to press against the sheets? The skirt wasn’t rucked up any higher than it should be.

Shelagh decided not to question it and turned on the lamp before standing up and padding over to the wardrobe. It would be too informal to take breakfast in her borrowed pajamas regardless of how they fit, not to mention the awkwardness she would feel at being garbed like a religious sister once more, even if no one else would think much of it.

“Most of them weren’t even here when I was Sister Bernadette,” she muttered. Shelagh didn’t make a regular habit of talking to herself aloud, but she suddenly wanted the comfort of an expected voice, even if it was just her own. “They wouldn’t know it was...inappropriate. Still, I’d rather be in my own dress and ready to get on with the day when Patrick arrives for me.”

She pulled open the wardrobe door and had to blink several times. In a daze, she shut the doors, counted to five silently, and reopened them.

The contents were the same.

“Habits?” Shelagh said, her accent thickening somewhat in shock. “Why ever-”

A light rap on her door interrupted her question. “Sister? Are you coming to Lauds?”

“I think you have the wrong room,” Shelagh said as she made her way over to let Sister Hilda in. “I’m always happy to attend Lauds with you, of course, but I’m no longer a religious sister. Oh, were you aware that I was once-”

“No longer?” Sister Hilda cut in, a bemused smile on her face. “Sister, are you feeling quite the thing?”

“I don’t understand why you keep calling me Sister. I renounced my vows ages ago.” Shelagh suddenly felt dizzy. Between the wardrobe full of someone else’s clothes and Sister Hilda’s insistence on using the wrong title...it was overwhelming so early in the morning.

Sister Hilda took Shelagh firmly by the upper arms and guided her so they were sitting side by side on the bed. “Sis- pardon.” She cleared her throat when Shelagh glared at her attempt to use the title yet again. “You are scaring me. Are you sure that headache you had at supper last night has gone away?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Shelagh said, agitated. “And I did not have a headache at supper last night, which I ate, by the way, with my own husband and children!”

“With your - that’s quite enough,” Sister Hilda said. She pushed herself forcefully off the bed before chivvying Shelagh just as emphatically back into lying down. “I’m calling Doctor. I don’t know if you’re feverish or somehow sustained a head injury after Compline, but you are not in your right mind, Sister Bernadette. You will stay here until the doctor can have a look at you. Sister Frances can lead Lauds.”

Shelagh wasn’t sure which part of that speech she wanted to rebut first, but she finally spluttered out “Wh-what about Sister Julienne?” just before Sister Hilda exited the room.

“Mother Julienne is visiting the Hope Clinic in South Africa, as you well know!” The door closed decisively behind Sister Hilda.

“Mother Julienne?” Shelagh echoed. “Oh, what in the world is going on?”

While she was of the mind to flout Sister Hilda’s orders on principle, Shelagh thought she may as well wait there. One way or another, she would get to see Patrick, and she couldn’t exactly wait in the entrance hall in her nightie.

“Wouldn’t that be a shock, though?” she said, a mischievous smile growing on her face as she imagined the look on Patrick’s. She chuckled softly as the door opened again.

“Well, I’m glad you’re laughing, Sister,” Patrick said as he bustled in with Sister Hilda hot on his heels. “One of us should be in a good mood this morning.”

“Oh, Patrick, not you, too!” Shelagh said, shaking her head at his incorrect title for her. “Did Sister Hilda not tell you it was me she’s worried about?”

“You see?” Sister Hilda said, gesturing at her. “Something’s wrong.”

“Clearly,” Patrick said. Shelagh frowned as he hooked his stethoscope over his neck and dug a thermometer out of his bag. “You were right to call me.”

“Really, Patrick, that’s enough,” Shelagh said, moving to swing herself out of bed. “The children will be late for school if we mess about with this sad attempt at a comedy show any longer.”

“Sister, it’s incredibly unprofessional for you to keep calling me by my first name,” Patrick said, catching Shelagh by the arm to keep her in place. As he popped the thermometer into her mouth, he sat next to her on the bed and continued, “And honestly, I was unaware you even knew my first name. Is it in Mother Julienne’s old files somewhere?”

Shelagh’s mouth gaped, the thermometer falling into her lap. “Wh - of course I know your first name. You’re my husband, in case you’ve forgotten!”

Sister Hilda stepped forward, aghast. “Sister! I realize you likely don’t know what you’re saying, but that is beyond the pale! Dr. Turner would never behave so inappropriately toward a woman of God.”

“It’s all right, Sister, I’m not offended,” Patrick said as he pressed a hand clinically to Shelagh’s forehead. She wanted to reach up and cling on, reassure herself, but the lack of affection in Patrick’s eyes stopped her cold. “She’s not feverish. You’re sure she didn’t hit her head yesterday?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Where are the children?” Shelagh interjected. She tried to keep the panic she was feeling out of her voice - Sister Hilda and Patrick didn’t need any more reasons to think she was mentally unwell. “May? Angela? Teddy? Did you leave them with Timothy?”

Patrick recoiled as though she had slapped him. It was Sister Hilda who responded, very softly.

“Dr. Turner’s son died of polio in 1958. You were still in the sanatorium, Sister - do you remember? I can ask Nurse Franklin for more details if it would help.”

“I...I….” The gravity of what Sister Hilda was saying struck her, and Shelagh couldn’t find words, couldn’t find air. She started crying, gentle tears quickly giving way to great, painful heaves that almost drowned out the sound of Patrick instructing Sister Hilda to call an ambulance and the Linchmere over her head. “No, please...Patrick! Don’t - I’m not-”

Her vision started fluttering, and everything went black.

__________________________

Patrick climbed the dark stairs slowly, exhausted after assisting with a long but ultimately rewarding delivery of a new mother of twins. He loosened his tie as he quietly entered his room, not wanting to wake-

“Shelagh!”

His wife was thrashing and sobbing on her side of the bed, her breath coming in frantic gasps between soft cries of “No - Patrick, no!”

“Shelagh, my love, I’m right here,” Patrick said, crossing the room in an instant to drop down beside her on the mattress and start rubbing her back. “I’m right here, wake up.”

“Patrick?” Shelagh’s fitful movements eased ever so slightly, her head tilting toward the sound of his voice.

“Open your eyes, darling, I’m here,” Patrick coaxed. He gently encouraged her to turn onto her other side, facing him, and as she rolled, her eyes opened.

The look of relief and fear that mingled on her face as she came back to consciousness caused him physical pain in his chest.

“Oh...oh, Patrick,” she said, tears welling in her eyes as she sat up. “Tell me you know who I am.”

“What? Shelagh, you’re my wife, of course I know who you are,” he replied, confused.

She threw herself into his arms almost before he had finished his sentence. “Thank God. Thank God.”

Patrick reached out quickly to turn on the bedside lamp before settling against the headboard and pulling Shelagh firmly into his lap. He ran a hand up and down her back soothingly, waiting until her tears calmed enough that she should be able to speak.

“Tell me what happened.”

“It was - oh, it was the worst nightmare,” Shelagh said. She made to slide out of his lap, but he tightened his grip, only allowing her to shift so she was sitting sideways rather than facing him. He handed her the hankie from his trouser pocket so she could wipe her eyes as she continued, “I woke up and I was at Nonnatus House, which was just unusual, but then Sister Hilda started insisting that I was still a sister, and Sister Julienne was actually Mother Julienne and away in South Africa, and you...you….”

She broke off to blow her nose.

“You came to examine me after Sister Hilda called...and you didn’t believe me either. You were going to call the Linchmere. But even worse than that….our children. Timothy.”

“No one believed you about them, either,” Patrick guessed, pressing a kiss to the side of Shelagh’s head when her flinch informed him he was right. “But Tim?”

“In my dream, he didn’t survive polio. Oh, Patrick,” Shelagh sobbed out, tucking her head into the juncture of Patrick’s neck and shoulder.

“Shhh....shhhh, darling,” Patrick said. He removed her headscarf so he could stroke her hair, her back, as the collar of his shirt got progressively wetter. “It was terrible, but it was only a dream. Timothy and the little ones are here. I’m here, and I know you, and I love you.”

After a few long moments, he felt Shelagh’s cries ease, and the vise around his own heart loosened too.

“I’m sorry,” she said, emerging from his neck. “I don’t mean to carry on over a dream.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Patrick said fiercely. “Your emotions aren’t any less real because they came from a nightmare. What you can do for me, though, is get up and rinse your face. I’ll make everything comfortable for when you’re done.”

Shelagh looked a little reticent as she stood, but she did make her way to the lavatory to wash up. Patrick scrambled to get into his pajamas, turn down the bed, and get the pillows fluffed and rearranged before she returned.

“That does feel better,” she admitted as she reappeared. “Thank you, dearest.”

“All in a day’s work,” Patrick teased gently, lounging on his back. His smile grew as one bloomed hesitantly on her face. “Now come here.”

Shelagh snagged her headscarf from where he’d left it on her pillow and tied it on before crawling into bed and snuggling close. Patrick anchored one arm firmly around her back and brought the other up to stroke the arm she had draped over his chest.

“This is already better than how I fell asleep before,” Shelagh said, voice muzzy.

“As it should be.” Patrick tilted Shelagh’s head up just long enough to kiss her softly, smiling against her mouth at her sleepily inept attempts to kiss him back. “Rest, love. There will be no more nightmares tonight.”

Shelagh’s head fell lightly against his shoulder, and Patrick dipped his to rest it on her crown. He had relied on the sound of Shelagh’s heartbeat and the warmth of her body to sleep when his memories of Northfield and the war had overwhelmed him, and he could only hope the same would be true for her now.

In the morning, she informed him that it was.

#call the midwife #call the midwife fic #turnadette #turnadette fic #jen does words #g: hurt/comfort #let's not talk about how much id i released here mkay

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cunninglinguist618 · 4 years ago

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Grammar Shaming Is Not Only Rude, It’s Just Straight-Up Outdated

By: Dara Katz

| Mar. 5, 2021

There’s a reason that those who know a bit about grammar become its enforcers: Nobody else really seems to care about it. Like a lonesome fine arts restorer in the basement of The Met, grammarheads typically work independently, but with the steel-driven purpose to remove debris that’s collected on the face of language. Is there any first responder quicker on their feet than a grammar fanatic? (“Jambalaya and I <3,” reads the first comment on your post about putting your beloved dog down. Thanks, Aunt Hilda.) They are the watchmen of language, the last guard of dangling modifiers, Strunk and White and Oxford commas…and before you open a new email to blast me, we do not use serial commas at PureWow.

As an English major and now professional writer and editor, I too have felt that electric tinge when spotting and correcting a grammatical error. Is there anything more cathartic than slashing a red pen through a completely misguided capitalized letter like Zoro through a white sheet on a clothing line? But as much as I can appreciate the adrenaline rush of diagramming a sentence, I also, admittedly, have my own shortcomings: My idiom recall is wonky—for instance, the post office is the mail station—I’m a slow reader and a mediocre speller at best. Every syntactical and semantical choice I send out into the universe feels ripe with trip wires. One wrong step and the grammarheads have me in their crosshairs ready to shame me.

And while there’s nothing new about grammar shaming—the act of pointing out an “incorrect” usage of language—there is something stale about it. Yes, grammar is important. Its purpose is to help us communicate more clearly. A single comma can change everything: “Call me Daddy!” vs. “Call me, Daddy!” is the difference between a line of dialogue in a porno and a line of dialogue in a Taken film.

Copy editors, style guides, etc.—these are important for consistency of the written word in certain circumstances. Publications should employ a set of rules for the words that live on their pages. Teachers teaching grammar should be able to require students to execute it correctly. Screenplays should be punctuated clearly so we know if the scene should be delivered in more of a sexy-pizzaman tone or a Liam-Neeson’s-daughter-being-kidnapped tone.

But grammar is not physics. It does not exist without us in the natural world. It is something we, collectively—from the macro societal scale to the linguistic politics of our nuclear families—make up as we go along. As fast as the folks at AP, MLA and Chicago work to enforce their style guides, the nature of how language evolves means that those creating the rules around language will always be ten steps behind.

And let’s be honest, most of the time, despite grammatical missteps, we can understand what a person is trying to communicate. Watching a recent episode of The Real Housewives of Dallas, Tiffany, a highly educated anesthesiologist, laughs and corrects Kameron, an archetypal blonde bimbo (a costume that she strategically chooses to step in and of at her own liking), for a series of grammatical errors—conflating the adjectives “two-faced” and “contradictory” and also not knowing the meaning of “cathartic.” Kameron responds by asking Tiffany if she likes making people feel stupid, and while we can get into the Tiffany v. Kameron feud another time (#teamTiffany: I believe Kameron’s chicken feet comments are actually far more harmful), Kameron raises a fair point. (Here’s an actual clip of the conversation.)

Tiffany thinks she’s helping Kameron by teaching her to speak correctly, but Kameron feels belittled. Even without Tiffany’s correction, everyone got what Kameron was saying. So what’s the point of calling her out? Is it just to humiliate her? And, not to get philosophical, but if we know what Kameron’s saying, even if she is saying it “incorrectly,” then she’s still saying it. Sure, Kameron Westcott is rich as hell and probably had one fine education, but who are we to monitor how her brain works? Or how anyone’s brain works?

Which brings me to one of the most important reasons we should stop the shaming: dyslexia. Dyslexia is a learning disability characterized by difficulty reading. And while dyslexia takes many shapes and forms, it often extends to grammar learning. According to The Yale Center for Dyslexia and Creativity, “Dyslexia affects 20 percent of the population and represents 80 to 90 percent of all those with learning disabilities.” Twenty percent of the population? That means that every one out of five times you correct a person’s misuse of something as stupidly complicated as a homophone (words that sound exactly like each other but are spelled differently), you are potentially telling this to someone who’s already been told something like this every damn day of their life. There are brilliant minds who can’t for the life of them figure out which witch or which their, they’re or there to use. It is not a reflection of someone’s intelligence. It is not a blatant disregard for the rules. It’s literally the way 20 percent of the population’s brains work.

But it doesn’t end there. What seems like a minor correction or “trying to help” can actually just make someone who’s already vulnerable within society feel even more exposed—essentially punishing someone for a disability, for their socio-economic upbringing or culture. The more we understand about dyslexia, the less we should care about whether someone used the wrong “their.” The more we understand that the system is broken, that while one class of sixth graders is learning about the past participle while another is reading at a third-grade level, the less we should care if a candidate’s resume has a spelling error. The more we understand about the power of language and identity, the less we should care about trying to make those we deem “other” sound more like us.

At its best, grammar policing enforces rules that help us communicate more clearly. At its worst, it’s a set of arbitrary rules that allows some people to climb the ladder while holding others back. And isn’t the whole point of language to set us free?

Either way, if we needed Liam Neeson to come rescue us, we have a feeling he’d get the gist, with or without the comma.

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pokemon-next-generation-quotes · 5 years ago

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Hilda: Watch it. You’re on thin ice.

Clay: What are you gonna do. I have ‘bout a hundred pounds and almost a foot on you.

Hilda: I am tiny and full of rage and your kneecaps look awfully unprotected right now.

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pokemon-my-beloved · 4 years ago

Conversation

Hilda: Babe, babe, do the thing!

N: *genuinely smiles*

Hilda, breathlessly: Oh my Arceus.

#source: tumblr #incorrect pokemon quotes #hilda #hilda pokemon #n harmonia #ferriswheelshipping #pokemon #pokemon black #pokemon white #pokemon gen 5 #gotta queue em all #og post #unova

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fillianore-moved · 6 years ago

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this is just a very long and unfortunate list of incorrect quotes i’ve compiled for the fe3h squad + my oc (aka cassia montal, who’s the assistant teacher at the monastery and is romancing jeritza)! i just needed a way to develop her and all the relationships there more, and this is the result, so it’s completely self-indulgent, lazy and frankly pretty silly, but still i had fun and developed her and her relationships a lot during this process! @highoverseer and @koroleyva i’m tagging you two because idk anyone else who’d care at all for this flaming pile of trash packed into a fe3h package uwu 🌷🌼🌸

-------------

byleth: how long have you been sleeping with cassia?

jeritza: that’s disgusting. and wrong. i don’t even get… why would... i…i’ve never had sex with anyone, anywhere. it’s none of your… you have… the nerve, the audacity… cassia is my colleague, technically. and she is terrible, face-wise. and how… how... do i know, frankly, that you’re not sleeping with her? maybe you are. maybe you’re trying to throw me off? hmm? check and mate.

------------

cassia dies.

annette is sobbing

dimitri is heartbroken

edelgard is trying to do a satanic ritual with hubert to bring her back

claude is stapling memes to her coffin

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byleth: you dropped your dyn- dy- dyna… mite…

byleth: uh… what else have you got in there?

cassia: oh… gunpowder, nitroglycerin, notepads, fuses, wicks, glue, and… paperclips. big ones.

cassia: uou know. just office supplies.

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cassia to annette: when you turn 18, people are gonna try and tell you to buy drugs or cigarettes because you can. no. you know what else is legal to buy at 18? blades. get yourself a damn sword. a big knife is also okay.

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cassia: we both look very beautiful tonight.

jeritza: you know, if you- if you’d just said I look beautiful, I would’ve said “so do you”.

cassia: i couldn’t take that chance.

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dorothea: you need a hobby.

cassia: i have a hobby.

dorothea: staring at jeritza’s face isn’t a hobby.

cassia: you’re right. it’s a profession and i excel at my job.

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cassia, looking in the mirror at 3am trying to practice self love: you’re doing great you stupid bitch..

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manuela: i didn’t want to do this, but i know one way we can get the money.

cassia: you’d make a decent prostitute.

manuela: i’d make an amazing prostitute, but i was actually talking about this guy I know.

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byleth: admit it! you like cassia!

jeritza: oh, come on. i mean, am i attracted to cassia? sure. do my days feel better when I’m around her? yeah. does she get me in ways no person ever has? indubitably. do i fantasize about her? sure, of course, but only in two positions. but do I like her? the answer is no.

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cassia: when have i done anything rash or irresponsible?

claude: i keep a list if you wanna see. it’s alphabetized.

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byleth: whose turn is it to give the pep-talk?

cassia: (sighing) felix’s…

felix: fuck shit up out there, but don’t die.

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annette: is anyone else scared?

cassia: not really. i’ve already lived longer than i expected.

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flayn: what is the best way to kill someone?

byleth: kindness.

cassia: If we’re being stealthy, potassium cynaite. otherwise, anything from a knife to a bazooka works...

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cassia: *crying*

byleth: i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulties of your life

cassia: you are the WORST at this comfort thing

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claude: if edelgard, dimitri and i were drowning, who would you save?

cassia: you morons can’t even swim?

edelgard: teacher, it’s a hypothetical question.

dimitri: yeah, who would you save?

cassia: my time and effort.

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annette: The cookie isn’t sweet enough, and the texture is runny because it’s not fully baked. if I have to rate this, i would give it three points.

cassia: i made it myself…

annette: it’s out of three points.

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edelgard: if I ask you a boy question, will you promise not to be weird?

cassia: i promise.

edelgard: so, there’s this guy-

cassia: you can do better.

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cassia, torturing a prisioner: we have ways of making you talk…

cassia: flayn, what are you doing here? you’re not allowed in here

flayn: (hands her a drawing)

cassia: did you draw this? this is so good! i promise we’ll hang it in the entrance of the dungeon so everyone can see it before they get tortured!

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sylvain: i rarely give compliments, teacher, but that shirt looks great. i bet it would look even better on byleth’s assistant’s bedroom floor.

jeritza: …

cassia: sylvain, are you … hitting on jeritza for me?

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cassia: it’s hard being byleth’s assistant teacher sometimes, but i love the my students and that’s all that-

caspar, in the background: teacher cassia! I tried to make spaghetti in the coffee pot and accidentally broke it!

cassia: *inhales*

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post time-skip, black eagles route

cassia: i need some peace and quiet...

edelgard: i’ll be quiet!

hubert: and i’ll be peace!

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jeritza: everything’s going to be fine. it’s just a crush.

cassia: hey, jeritza!

jeritza: i love you.

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post time-skip, blue lions route

dimitri, talking about cassia: i know you think my judgment’s clouded because i like her a little bit.

dedue: you doodled your wedding invitation

dimitri: no, that’s our joint tombstone.

dedue: ... my mistake.

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post time-skip, hubert’s support

edelgard: (whispering to hubert) start with a compliment! tell her she looks thin.

hubert: (to cassia) you seem malnourished.

------------

post time-skip, edelgard’s support

ferdinand, watching cassia train: she can’t be good at everything. maybe she’s a bad kisser.

edelgard: no, she’s good at that too.

ferdinand: what?

edelgard: what?

------------

sylvain: I'm grounded?

cassia: yes, you're grounded.

byleth: you disobeyed an order.

dimitri: and now we're going to bury you until you learn your lesson.

cassia:

byleth: dimitri, that's not how grounding works.

-----------

dorothea: i promised byleth we wouldn’t do anything illegal.

cassia:

cassia: Why would you lie to our resident parental figure like that?

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linhardt: i slept for almost 12 hours but I might still be tired so let’s go for 12 more just in case

cassia: linhardt that’s a coma

linhardt: sounds festive

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cassia: don’t worry, i have a permit.

seteth: …this just says ‘i do what i want.’

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cassia: there are no mistakes, just happy little accidents

cassia: ... and lorenz

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post time-skip, golden deer route

cassia: this is it

cassia: this is the darkest timeline

hilda: we just ran out of alcohol you dramatic little bitch

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post time-skip, blue lions route

felix: cassia?

cassia, sighing: jeritza used to call me cassia…

felix: because it’s your fucking name

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cassia: WHO THE FUCK ATE ALL MY MACAROONS?! IM GOING TO KI-

annette: it was me.

cassia: KISS YOUR HEAD SO SOFT BABY, YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU THE MOST RIGHT?

---------

post time-skip, black eagles route

edelgard: so what are we gonna do?

cassia: i don’t know... pizza maybe?

edelgard:

hubert:

ferdinand:

edelgard: about the war, cassia

----------

during a mock battle

ferdinand: start waving your white flag!

hilda: THE ONLY THING I WILL BE WAVING IS YOUR DECAPITATED HEAD ON A STICK IN FRONT OF YOUR WEEPING MOTHER.

cassia: ... Yikes...

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cassia: hey flayn, do you think I could fit fifteen macarons into my mouth?

seteth: you're a hazard to society.

flayn: and a coward. do twenty!

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byleth: your trainee said a swear word in class.

cassia: i’ll talk to them about it..

cassia, to lysithea: what the fuck, dude...

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rhea: this was a 100% successful trip.

byleth: we lost cassia.

rhea: this was a 100% successful trip.

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sylvain, flirting with a girl: so, are you from heaven?

cassia: yes, she's a ghost...

cassia: she died fifteen years ago...

cassia: like that pick-up line of yours.

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dedue: felix lost cassia…

dimitri: how do you lose a woman?!

ashe: you forget to cherish her.

-----------

cassia: you like me? you like my personality?

byleth: i was surprised too.

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lysithea: [covers cassia’s eyes] guess who? she’s sweet, she’s adorable~

lysithea: and she’s gonna be really mad if you get it wrong!

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ignatz: i lose at everything. i even lost my glasses.

cassia, staring at the glasses on top of his head: i’ll help you find them for five gold...

-----------

jeritza: what are you, a cop? fuck off!

cassia: jeritza...

jeritza: okay, sorry, one more time.

priest:

priest: do you take this woman to be y--

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rhea: cassia, can we speak privately for a minute?

cassia: ooooh, someone’s in trouble!

cassia : no, wait.

cassia : it’s me.

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cassia: wait, stop, think!

caspar: no, no, and no.

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bernadetta: i’m just worried about hurting their feelings!

cassia: hurting their feelings…? you just walk around all day caring about peoples’ feelings?

bernadetta: yes, of course. don’t you?

cassia: no.

-----------

byleth: you’re smiling, did something good happen?

cassia: can’t I just smile because I feel like it?

dorothea: seteth tripped and fell in the courtyard.

------------

claude: i trust cassia.

hilda: you think she knows what she’s doing?

claude: ... i wouldn’t go that far.

-----------

cassia: oh, yes, i’ll live.

cassia: but i won’t enjoy it.

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cassia: you piss me off so much.

rhea: i literally just said “hello.“

cassia: yet here i am, boiling with rage.

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cassia: don’t worry, you’ve got everything you need to defeat them.

marianne: the power to believe in myself?

cassia: no, a knife.

cassia: stab them.

----------

petra: i’ve never done anything wrong in my life

cassia: i know this and i love you

----------

ignatz: *trips on nothing*

cassia: ha, you’re so clumsy.

(5mins later)

cassia: *aggressively punching the air* what’s your–fucking problem huh?? what–did he ever–do to you??

-----------

byleth: now we’re going to compliment the person to our right.

cassia: *looks at seteth fondly*

cassia: nothing brightens up a room like your absence.

------------

shady guy, coming up to cassia: if you care about your student you’ll come with me..

cassia: which student?

shady guy: lorenz hellman gloucester

cassia:

cassia: *turns around and walks away*

-----------

cassia: did it hurt?

jeritza: *rolls eyes* let me guess, when i fell from heaven?

cassia: no

jeritza: what?

cassia, grinning: did it hurt when you fell for me?

jeritza: ...

------------

marianne: does this make me a bad person?

cassia: marianne, there is not a force in history that could make you a bad person...

-----------

cassia: you and me? we both want the same thing.

cassia: but we’re gonna have to work... near each other.

seteth: you mean together, cassia?

cassia, turning around angrily: did you hear me say together??

-----------

cassia: annette’s at that very special age where she has only one thing on her mind.

manuela: boys?

cassia: murder.

----------

cassia: *hugs dimitri*

dimitri: what's this? what's happening?

cassia: it's going to be alright.

dimitri: why are you squeezing me with your body?

cassia: it's a hug, dimitri. i'm hugging you.

-----------

cassia: claude, can we talk, one ten to another?

claude: i’m an eleven, teacher, but continue.

-----------

mercedes: oh fiddlesticks.

cassia: look, i understand this is a tense situation but let's watch the fucking language.

-----------

linhardt: i’m busy.

cassia: do you think drinking 36 glasses of wine consecutively would make my battle senses and crest powers even more heightened or would I just die?

linhardt:

linhardt: i’m on my way.

------------

cassia: we’re engaged

jeritza: IN COMBAT

jeritza: *pulls out his sword*

------------

manuela: why does everybody always assume I'm having a stroke?

cassia: age.

dorothea: diet.

------------

leonie: i sort of did something and i need your advice. but i don’t want a lot of judgment and criticism.

cassia: ... and you came to me?

------------

cassia: what do we say when life disappoints us?

dimitri: called it.

cassia: NO--

------------

cassia: *sees someone do something stupid*

cassia: what an idiot.

cassia: *realizes it’s sylvain*

cassia: oh, that’s my idiot.

------------

cassia: ferdinand, we tried things your way.

ferdinand: no, we didn't.

cassia: i did it in my head and it didn't work.

------------

manuela: between claude, ignatz, lorenz, and raphael - if you had to - who would you punch?

cassia: no one! they are my golden deer! my students! i wouldn't punch any of them.

manuela: lorenz?

cassia: ... yeah.

------------

cassia: you need them to think that you are stronger than you actually are.

ashe: that’s what you do, right?

cassia: oh, no. my power is no illusion. i can fucking demolish you.

------------

cassia: before i do anything, i ask myself, would rhea do that? and if the answer is yes, i do not do that thing.

------------

flayn: do you really think we should stay outside or do you just not want to deal with this right now?

cassia: two things can be true...

------------

cassia: name a way to be nice to others.

dimitri: don't kill them.

cassia:

cassia: setting the bar a little low, dima, but I'll allow it.

-----------

cassia: remember that time you made me lick the swing set?

dorothea: no, i said "cassia don't lick the swing set!" then you said "don't tell me what to do!" and then you licked the swing set.

-----------

cassia: what are the signs of depression?

byleth: why are you asking?

cassia: manuela was doing laundry earlier and she dropped a sock and i heard her say “why has the goddess forsaken me?”

-------------

cassia: i just realized. i had a terrible childhood.

manuela: yeah, i know.

cassia: what do you mean, “you know”?

manuela: look at the way you stand... people who had good childhoods don’t stand like that.

--------------

cassia: you have to learn to love yourself.

marianne: but don’t you hate yourself?

cassia: yes, but this is about you, stay focused.

--------------

hilda (with lysithea probably): REMEMBER THE PACTS FORGED BETWEEN OUR PEOPLES LONG AGO.

cassia: stop it, it's 4 in the morning.

hilda: YOU PLEDGED ETERNAL SERVITUDE.

cassia: i did not.

hilda: IN EXCHANGE WE WOULD COME TO YOUR AID IN YOUR HOUR OF NEED.

cassia: i'm not feeding you.

hilda: REMEMBER THE PACTS.

--------------

annette: hey, can you do me a favor?

cassia: i’d kill for you, but go on.

-------------

in the garden

mercedes: annette, can you grab that hoe?

annette: *grabs cassia’s arm*

mercedes: wait, that's not what I meant...

------------

flayn: hey cassia, can i go get some candy?

cassia: what did seteth say?

flayn: no.

cassia: then why do you think i’ll let you?

flayn: because seteth’s not the boss of you.

cassia, internally: it’s a trap it’s a trap it’s a trap

-----------

dorothea: if I die, my ghost is gonna haunt you!

cassia: then your ghost is going to see some disgusting stuff.

------------

hubert’s support in a nutshell

hubert, in the margins of his notebook: mywife is soft nd ilikeher

hubert: my wiwwwfie wife is visiting a noble family with the empress and i miss her

hubert: MY EWFIE IS HOME MY WIFE

------------

felix: see? this is my “i don’t care” face.

cassia: that’s your normal face.

-------------

cassia: of course, i care about everyone in this house equally!

claude: we were attacked while you were away.

cassia: is marianne okay???

-------------

cassia: if edelgard jumped off a cliff, would you?

hubert: *stares into the distance with a blank expression*

cassia: hubert!

hubert: well- er- i mean, it depends.

cassia: DON’T JUMP OFF A CLIFF!

hubert: well, i wasn’t planning on it.

cassia: but if edelgard did, you would!?

hubert: *stares into the distance yet again*

cassia: HUBERT!

-------------

lysithea: if i run and leap at cassia, she will almost certainly catch me in her arms.

lysithea: COMING IN! *runs at cassia*

cassia: NO! I’M HOLDING COFFEE!

cassia: *drops the cup and catches her*

------------

leonie: why are you helping me so much?

cassia: because my life is a mess right now and i compulsively take care of other people when i don’t know how to take care of myself.

------------

hubert’s support, post time-skip

dorothea, barging into the library: you two ARE having sex!

hubert: really? cassia, why didn’t you tell me? i would’ve put my book down.

------------

cassia: we have fun, don’t we?

ashe: i have never been more stressed out in my entire life.

------------

cassia: why are we laying on the ground?

sylvain: you got knocked down so i laid next to you so everyone would just think we were chillin’.

------------

petra: i did something terrible.

cassia: it’s okay, i have a shovel.

petra: wait, what do you think i did?

cassia: it doesn’t matter, no one will ever know.

------------

seteth: time for bed.

flayn: cassia says that I can stay up as long as I want, and YOU need to die.

seteth:

seteth: what the heck, cassia-

------------

ingrid: i think rhea is in trouble!

cassia: alright... struggling to give a fuck, if i’m honest.

------------

marianne: i made a friendship bracelet for you!

cassia: i’m not really a jewelry person.

marianne: oh, you don’t have to wear it.

cassia: no, back off, i’m gonna wear it forever.

-----------

manuela: i’m playing a new drinking game. it’s called “Every time i’m depressed, i take a drink.”

dorothea: that game exists. that’s called alcoholism.

manuela and cassia: *take a swig simultaneously*

--------------

during hubert’s support

cassia: i love you. you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.

hubert: i’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you?

cassia: yes.

hubert: … now i’m starting to feel a little sorry for you.

--------------

cassia: alright, listen up you little shits.

cassia: not you, bernadetta. you’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

--------------

cassia: do you ever wanna talk about your emotions, felix?

felix: no.

sylvain: i do!

cassia: we know, sylvain.

sylvain: i’m sad...

cassia: we know, sylvain.

--------------

cassia: since when is babysitting them my—

cassia: oh, my god, that’s exactly my job.

#i'm trying to pinpoint her personality and i finally think i've got it #so like... just a completely self indulgent long list of convos that never took place #obv these are from various different tv shows/movies/books/etc #also if anyone already used these in a similar manner - sorry also we've ascended #for everyone who knows anything about the game - i have like 10 s support routes prepared for her akljdkksj because no control thot life #THIS IS A WIP and i'll add more of these from time to time~#oc: cassia montal

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